~419~~ "And have I been happy, do you think? Frank, it was cruel of you to doubt me—you, to whom I have told everything—you, who of all the world should have been the last to mistrust me; I never could have doubted you."

"It was cruel; it was ungenerous in the extreme, I own it—and yet, believe me, dear Clara, I did not doubt you lightly; proofs, that to my short-sightedness appeared incontrovertible, were brought against you; the letters I wrote, entreating you if but by a line or message to relieve, my anxiety, remaining unanswered—letters which I was assured you had received—your sudden intimacy with that hateful Wilford—"

"Stay!" she exclaimed, interrupting me, "let me explain that at once; it is easy to show you how that is to be accounted for—"

"Indeed, Clara, it is unnecessary," I began.

"If not for your satisfaction, at least for my own, let me explain how this sudden good understanding with one so lately a stranger to me arose:" she continued, "Richard Cumberland, on his return, seemed resolved to throw off all disguise, and determined to make me feel that I was in his power; his attentions became most intolerable, and all my endeavours to repulse him appeared but to increase the evil. This went on till I was obliged to remain in my own room the greater portion of every day, and actually dreaded the approach of dinner-time, when I knew I should be forced to endure his society. The arrival of Mr. Fleming, or Wilford, as you say his real name is, was therefore a great relief to me. Cumberland, for some reason or other, appears most anxious to keep on good terms with him—why, I cannot tell, for I am much mistaken if he does not both hate and fear him. Mr. Wilford, who, whatever his real character may be, possesses great tact and penetration, and can behave like a most refined and polished gentleman, appeared to discover by intuition that Cumberland's attentions were distasteful to me, and contrived in a thousand different ways to relieve me from them, always doing so with the most perfect sang-froid and apparent unconsciousness. Although, from the first moment I saw him, I felt an instinctive mistrust and fear of him, I could not but feel grateful for the delicate tact with which he came to my assistance; and as the only effectual way to distance Richard Cumberland appeared to be conversing with Mr. Wilford, I can well understand even a more intelligent observer than my faithful old Peter fancying that I gave him encouragement. I was ~420~~ further induced to admit his society from the fact, that he never attempted in the slightest degree to take unfair advantage of the unusual intimacy which circumstances had produced between us. He had never even alluded to Cumberland's attentions (though he must have been long aware of them, and of the annoyance they occasioned me) till that unfortunate morning when the encounter took place between you in the Park.

"At the breakfast-table that day, some scheme had been proposed which would have involved my riding alone with Mr. Cumberland; on my endeavouring to avoid doing so, provoked beyond endurance, he forgot his usual caution, and made some brutal allusion to the time when his will, and not my caprice, would be the law, doing so with such coarse violence that I left the room in tears. Mr. Vernor summoned me shortly afterwards to walk with him, in order, as I believe, to lecture me; but his purpose was frustrated by Mr. Wilford's joining us. Just before we met you, my guardian was accidentally called away, when Mr. Wilford expressed his indignation at the scene which had taken place at breakfast, and his surprise that I found it possible to endure such insolence, adding, that he had ventured to remonstrate with Mr. Cumberland on the subject, but had been angrily repulsed. I really felt obliged to him for what I deemed his disinterested kindness; and, in the course of conversation, allowed him to elicit from me an account of my early engagement to Richard Cumberland; and the words which you so strangely overheard, referred, as you may easily believe, to that."

"Of course they did," exclaimed I. "What a self-tormenting idiot I have made of myself! However, I was only rightly served for ever having doubted your faith; but, dearest Clara, you must be subject no longer to the insolent attentions of Cumberland, or the sinister designs of Wilford; and it is at length my happiness to possess the power, as well as the will, to save you from further molestation; strange things have come to light."

I then informed her of the existence of Mr. Frampton, and his relationship to her; told her of his generous intentions in my behalf, and how, thanks to these circumstances, her consent was the only thing wanting to our immediate union. With mingled surprise and pleasure she listened to my recital; and with downcast eyes and most becoming blushes, gave ear to my entreaties for pardon, and hopes that she would not throw any unnecessary delay in the way of our marriage. Before ~421~~ I left her, I had received full forgiveness for my unjust doubts and suspicions, and was allowed to indulge in a not unfounded hope that Mr. Frampton's recovery of his niece would only prove the precursor to my obtaining a wife. It was agreed that, on the following day but one, Mr. Frampton—who had to go to London to consult with his lawyer touching the legalities of the affair—should come to Barstone, and, bearding Mr. Vernor in his den, establish his claim. As Wilford was not to return till the same day, and as I proposed accompanying Mr. Frampton, I thought I should be alarming Clara unnecessarily if I were to inform her of Wilford's designs. I therefore merely cautioned her against him generally, begging her never to trust herself with him alone, and adding, that I hoped she would see nothing more of him before she was placed under the protection of her uncle, of whom I drew—as he so well deserved at my hands—a most favourable picture, though I did not attempt to conceal his eccentricities either of manner or appearance, considering it better she should be prepared for them beforehand. So we rode on side by side, happy in each other's society, the bright sunshine, which threw its golden mantle over the gnarled limbs and wide-spreading branches of the old trees beneath which we passed, being scarcely brighter or more genial than the joy which shed its sunlight on our hearts, replacing the dreary shadows of the past with fair hopes and gladsome prospects for the future; and when we parted, which was not till we had ridden a circuit of some miles, and exercise had brought back the rose to Clara's pale cheeks, and joy the smile to her lip, we did so in the full assurance that, after our next meeting, man's self-interest and injustice should be powerless to interfere further with our happiness. Were these bright hopes ever fated to be realised?

After cautioning old Peter to watch over his young mistress as a mother over her child, telling him I should return in time to frustrate any plan Wilford might devise, and begging him, if anything unexpected should occur, instantly to despatch a messenger to me, I took leave of Clara with one of those lingering pressures of the hand which tell, better than words, of full hearts, to which it is indeed grief to separate; and setting spurs to my horse, I rode back to Heathfield as different a being from what I was when I left it, as though I had literally "changed my mind" for that of some other individual.

My first care on reaching the Hall was to relieve Mr. Frampton's anxiety, and when he learned that his niece ~422~~ was not the jilt he had deemed her, but quite perfection (for that was what I stated, with the same quiet certainty of promulgating an incontrovertible fact, with which I should have declared twice two to be four), his delight knew no bounds, and the way in which he shook my hands, and slapped me on the back, and told me, with many grunts, that I should "marry the girl," even if he had to thrash old Vernor with his own hand in order to obtain possession of her for me, was enough to do any one's heart good to witness. I had no lack of talking to get through myself either; first Harry Oaklands had to be told the successful issue of the day's adventure, then Fanny was to be taken into our confidence; and next, the greatest caution was to be observed, and many deep and politic schemes concocted, in order to bring my mother to a proper comprehension of the whole matter without completely overwhelming her—all which cunning devices were frustrated by Mr. Frampton, who got at her surreptitiously, and told her the entire affair in a short, sharp and decisive harangue, which completely upset her for the rest of the evening, and left a permanent impression on her mind, that somehow or other I had behaved very ill. Early on the following morning Mr. Frampton went off to town to consult his lawyer, promising to return in time for dinner, if possible, but at all events so as to be ready to start on our Barstone campaign the first thing the next day, that no time might be lost in freeing Clara from the disagreeables, if not positive dangers, which surrounded her. As I was crossing the hall after seeing Mr. Frampton off, Lawless seized me by the arm, and drawing me on one side, began: "I say, Frank, I want a word with you; there's something gone wrong with Freddy Coleman. I never saw him so down in the mouth before; there's a screw loose somewhere, depend upon it."

"Something wrong with Freddy," repeated I, "impossible! why I was laughing with him a quarter of an hour ago; he was making all sorts of quaint remarks on the chaise that came for Mr. Frampton, and poking fun at the post-boy. Where is he?"

"Eh? wait a bit, I'll tell you directly; he had a letter brought him just as Governor Frampton started, and as he cast his eye over it, he first got as red as a carrot, then he turned as pale as a turnip, and bolted off into the library like a lamplighter, where he sits looking as if he had been to the wash, and come back again only half-starched."

"That's better than if he were 'terribly mangled,' to carry on your simile," returned I; "but didn't you ask him what was the matter?"

~423~~ "Eh? no, I've made such a mess of things lately, that I thought I'd better leave it alone, for that I was safe to put my foot in it one way or other, so I came and told you instead."

"Well, we'll see about it," replied I, turning towards the library; "perhaps he has received some bad news from home: his father or mother may be ill."

On entering the room we perceived Coleman seated in one of the windows, his head resting on his hand, looking certainly particularly miserable, and altogether unlike himself. So engrossed was he that he never heard our approach, and I had crossed the room, and was close to him, before he perceived me; consequently, the first word I uttered made him jump violently—an action which elicited from Lawless a sotto voce exclamation of, "Steady there, keep a tight hand on the near rein; well, that was a shy!"

"Freddy," began I, "I did not mean to startle you so; but is anything the matter, old fellow?"

"You've frightened me out of six months' growth," was the reply; "matter! what should make you think that?"

"Well, if you must know," returned Lawless, "I told him I thought there was a screw loose with you, and I haven't changed my mind about it yet either. Any unsoundness shown itself at home, eh? I thought your governor looked rather puffy about the pasterns the last time I saw him, besides being touched in the wind, and your mother has got a decided strain of the back sinews."

"No, they're well enough," replied Freddy with a faint smile.

"Then you've entered your affections for some maiden stakes, and the favourite has bolted with a cornet of horse?"

"That's more like it," returned Coleman, "though you've not quite hit it yet—but I'll tell you, man, if it's any satisfaction to you to hear that others are as unlucky as yourself, or worse, for what I know. I'm not greatly given to the lachrymose and sentimental, in a general way, but I must confess this morning to a little touch of the heartache. You see, Frank," he continued, turning to me, "there's my cousin Lucy Markham, the little girl with the black eyes—"

"You forget that she was staying with us last week," interrupted I.

"To be sure she was," resumed Freddy; "this vile letter has put everything out of my head—well, she and ~424~~ I—we've known each other since we were children—in fact, for the last four or five years she has nearly lived with us, and there's a great deal in habit, and propinquity, and all that sort of thing. 'Man was not made to live alone,' and I'm sure woman wasn't either, for they would have nobody to exercise their tongues upon, and would die from repletion of small-talk, or a pressure of gossip on the brain, or some such thing; and so a complication of all these causes led us in our romantic moments to indulge in visions of a snug little fireside, garnished with an intelligent household cat, and a bright copper tea-kettle, with ourselves seated one in each corner, regarding the scene with the complacent gaze of proprietors; and we were only waiting till my father should fulfil his promise of taking me into partnership, to broach the said scheme to the old people, and endeavour to get it realised. But lately there has been a fat fool coming constantly to our house, who has chosen to fancy Lucy would make him a good fooless; and although the dear girl has nearly teased, snubbed, and worried him to the borders of insanity, he has gone on persevering with asinine obstinacy, till he has actually dared to pop the question."

"Well, let her say 'no' as if she meant it," said Lawless; "women can, if they like, eh? and then it will all be as right as ninepence. Eh! don't you see?"

"Easier said than done, Lawless, unfortunately," replied Coleman; "my fat rival is the son of an opulent drysalter, and last year he contrived to get rid of his father."

"Dry-salted him, perhaps?" suggested Lawless.

"The consequence is," continued Coleman, not heeding the interruption, "he is as rich as Croesus; now Lucy hasn't a penny, and all her family are as poor as rats, so what does he do but go to my father, promises to settle no end of tin on her, and ends by asking him to manage the matter for him. Whereupon the governor sends for Lucy, spins her a long yarn about duty to her family, declares she'll never get a better offer, and winds up by desiring her to accept the dolt forthwith; and Lucy writes to me, poor girl! to say she's in a regular fix, and thinks she'd better die of a broken heart on the spot, unless I can propose any less distressing but equally efficient alternative."

"What does your governor say? that she'll never have a better offer?" asked Lawless.

"Yes," replied Freddy, "and, in the common acceptation of the term, I'm afraid it's a melancholy truth."

"Hum! yes, that'll do," continued Lawless ~425~~ meditatively. "Freddy, I've thought of a splendid dodge, by which we may obtain the following advantages. Imprimis, selling the governor no end; secundis, insuring me a jolly lark—and 'pon my word I require a little innocent recreation to raise my spirits; and, lastly, enabling you to marry your cousin, and thus end, as the pantomimes always do, with a grand triumph of virtue and true love over tyranny and oppression! So now, listen to me!"



CHAPTER LII — LAWLESS ASTONISHES MR. COLEMAN

"'Now, all your writers do consent that ipse is he; now, are you not ipse, for I am he?' "'Which he, sir?' "'He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon—which is, in the vulgar, leave the society—which, in the boorish, is company of this female—which, in the common, is woman—which together is, abandon the society of this female; or clown.... I will o'errun thee with policy; therefore tremble, and depart.'" —As You Like, It.

"AS far as I understand the matter," said Lawless, nodding sapiently, "the great obstacle to your happiness is the drysalter, and the chief object you desire to attain is his total abolition, eh?"

Coleman assenting to these premises, Lawless continued, "Supposing, by certain crafty dodges, this desirable consummation arrived at, if you could show your governor that you had four or five hundred pounds a year of your own to start with, one of his main objections to your union with this female—young woman would be knocked on the head?"

"My good fellow," returned Freddy with a slight tone of annoyance, "I'm as fond of a joke as any man, but when I tell you that I am foolish enough to take this matter somewhat deeply to heart—that if Lucy is forced to marry the brute, she'll be wretched for life, and I shall not be much otherwise—I think you'll choose some other subject for your mirth."

"Why, Freddy, old boy, you don't suppose I'm poking fun at you, do you? Why, I would not do such a thing at any price—no! 'pon my honour, I'm as serious as a judge, I am indeed; but the best way will be to tell you my plan at once, and then you'll see the logic of the thing. In the first place, your governor says that Lucy is to ~426~~ marry the drysalter, because he's the best offer she's ever likely to have, doesn't he?"

"Yes, that's right enough, so far," replied Freddy.

"What's the drysalter worth? whereabouts is the figure?"

"Two thousand a year, they say," returned Freddy with a sigh.

"And I shall come into nearer five, in a month's time," returned Lawless; "got the whip hand of him there, and no mistake."

"You!" exclaimed Coleman, astonished.

"Eh, yes! I, my own self—the Honourable George Lawless at your service, age five and twenty—height five feet nine—rides under ten stone—sound wind and limb—five thousand per annum, clear income and a peerage in perspective—ain't that better than a drysalter, eh?"

"Why, Lawless, you are gone stark staring mad," interrupted I; "what on earth has all that got to do with Freddy and his cousin?"

"Don't stop him," cried Coleman, "I begin to see what he is aiming at."

"Eh! of course you do, Freddy, boy," continued Lawless; "and it's not such a bad dodge either, is it? Your governor lays down the broad principle that the highest bidder shall be the purchaser, and on this ground backs the drysalter; now if I drive over this morning, propose in due form for your cousin's hand, and outbid the aforesaid drysalting individual, the governor must either sacrifice his consistency, or accept my offer."

"Well, and suppose he does, what good have you done then?" asked I.

"Eh, good?" returned Lawless, "every good to be sure; and first and foremost knocked over the drysalter—if I'm accepted, he must be rejected, that's a self-evident fact. Well, once get rid of him, and it's all plain sailing—I find a hundred reasons for delaying to fulfil my engagement; in a month's time I come into my property (the jolly old aunt who left it me tied it up till I was five and twenty—and the old girl showed her sense too, for ten to one I should have made ducks and drakes of it when I was young and foolish); very well—I appoint Freddy agent and receiver of the rents—(the fellow that has it now makes five hundred a year of it, they tell me); and then suddenly change my mind, jilt Miss Markham, and if Governor Coleman chooses to cut up rough, he may bring an action of 'breach of promise,' lay the damages at five thousand, and so get a nice little round sum to buy ~427~~ the young woman's wedding clothes when she marries Freddy. That's the way to do business, isn't it, eh?"

"'Pon my word it's a grand idea," said Coleman; "how came you ever to think of it? But, my dear Lawless, are you really in earnest about the receivership?"

"In earnest? to be sure I am; I always intended it."

"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you," replied Freddy, in a tone of grateful surprise; "it's the kindest thing in the world; but about the first part of your plan, I don't know what to say."

"You never can think of carrying out such a mad scheme," remonstrated I; "I thought, of course, you were only in jest."

"Can you propose anything better, eh?" asked Lawless.

"Why, I don't know," returned I, musing. "Suppose Freddy were to go and tell his father of his attachment, and say that the receivership, with a small share in the business, would enable him to support a wife comfortably—how would that do?"

"No use," said Freddy; "as long as that aggravating drysalter, with his two thousand per annum, is in the field, my father would consider it his duty to say 'No'."

"Eh? yes, of course," rejoined Lawless, "fathers always do consider their duty to be intensely unpleasant on all such occasions, and it's a duty they never neglect either—I will say that for them. No! depend upon it, mine is the only plan."

"Really, Frank, I don't see what else is to be done," urged Freddy; "the danger from the drysalter is great and imminent, remember."

"Well, you and Lawless can settle it between you: you are a pair of eccentric geniuses, and know how you like to manage your own affairs better than a sober-minded man such as I am."

"I tell you what, Mr. Sober-minded-man, I mean to take you with me on my expedition; I shall want somebody to pat me on the back—besides, your proper, well-behaved manner will give an air of respectability to the affair."

"Really you must—" began I.

"Really I won't," retorted Lawless; while Coleman, seizing me by the arm, drew me on one side.

"Frank, without any joke, I think this freak of Law-less's may enable me to get rid of my rival—this Mr. Lowe Brown—and I should take it as the greatest kindness if you would go with him, and keep him in order; of course I must not be seen at all in the matter myself."

~428~~ "Well, if you are really in earnest, and want me to go, I'll do it," replied I; "though I don't see that I shall be of much use."

"Shall I write and put Lucy up to it, or not?" rejoined Coleman meditatively.

"If you take my advice, you will not," replied I; "in fact, the success of your scheme depends very much on keeping her in the dark as to Lawless's not being a bona fide offer. Either her simple woman's mind would dislike the trickery of the thing altogether, or she would excite suspicion by falling into the plot too readily. I would merely write her a cheering note, telling her that you were likely to get an appointment which would enable you to marry; urging her to be firm in her refusal of your abomination, Mr. Brown; hinting that a broken heart would be premature, if not altogether superfluous, and giving her a few general notions that the affair would end happily, without touching upon Lawless at all."

"Perhaps it would be as well," replied Freddy; "at all events it will add greatly to the fun of the thing."

"And let me tell you, that's a consideration by no means to be lost sight of," put in Lawless, who had overheard the last remark. "Depend upon it, it's a man's duty—partly to himself, partly to his neighbour—never to miss an opportunity of recruiting his exhausted and care-worn frame, and all that sort of thing, by enjoying a little innocent recreation: 'nec semper'—what do ye call it?—'tendit Apollo,' eh?"

"That's quite my view of the case," said Freddy, whose elastic spirits were fast recovering their accustomed buoyancy. "I hate the dolefuls—Care killed a cat."

"If that's the worst thing Care ever did, I'll forgive her, eh?" said Lawless, "for cats are horrid poaching varmints, and make awful havoc among the young rabbits. Well, Fairlegh, have you made up your mind?"

"Yes," replied I, "I am at your service for this morning; but understand, I merely go as a spectator of your prowess."

"As you like, man. I'll order the chestnuts—go and polish up a little—and then for walking into Governor Coleman, and bowling out the drysalter."

The chestnuts whirled us over to Hillingford in less than an hour. Lawless, delighted at being allowed to put his project into execution, was in wild spirits, and kept me in fits of laughter the whole way, by his quaint remarks on men and things.

"Is the governor visible, John?" was his address to the ~429~~ footman who answered the door, and who, apparently not being favoured by Nature with any superfluous acuteness of intellect or sweetness of disposition, merely stared sulkily in reply.

"The fellow's a fool," muttered Lawless, "and can't understand English. Hark ye, sirrah," he continued, "is your master at home?"

As the hero of the shoulder-knot vouchsafed an affirmative reply to this somewhat more intelligible query, we alighted, and were straightway ushered into the drawing-room, where we found Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, and, as Lawless afterwards expressed it, "a party unknown," who was immediately, with much pomp and ceremony, introduced to us by the name of Mr. Lowe Brown, an announcement which elicited from my companion the whispered remark, "The drysalter himself, by jingo! this looks like business, old fellow; there's no time to be lost, depend upon it".

"Ah I Mr. Lawlegh," exclaimed Mrs. Coleman, shaking hands cordially with Lawless, "I thought we were never going to see you again, and I'm sure I was quite delighted, though the servant kept you so long waiting at the gate, till I got Mr. Brown to ring the bell; and Mr. Fairless too, so kind of him, with those beautiful chestnut horses standing there catching cold, in that very high gig, which must be so dangerous, if you were to fall out, both of you."

"No fear of that, ma'am," replied Lawless; "Fairlegh and I have known each other too long to think of falling out in a hurry—firm friends, ma'am, as your son Freddy would say."

"Poor Freddy," returned Mrs. Coleman affectionately, "did he send any message by you, to say when he is coming home again? We shall have some good news for him, I hope—for he was always very fond of his cousin Lucy."

"Family affection is a fine thing, ma'am," said Lawless, winking at me, "and ought to be encouraged at any price, eh?"

"Very true, Mr. Lawlegh, very true; and I am glad to find you think so, instead of living at those nasty clubs all day, turning out wild, smoking cigars like a German student, and breaking your mother's heart with a latchkey, at one o'clock in the morning, afterwards, when you ought to have been in bed and asleep for the last three hours. Good-bye, and God bless you."

The six concluding words of Mrs. Coleman's not ~430~~ over-perspicuous speech were addressed to Mr. Lowe Brown, who rose to take leave. This gentleman (for such I presume one is bound to designate him, however little appearance might warrant such an appellation) was a snort, stout, not to say fat personage, with an unmeaning pink and white face, and a smug self-satisfied manner and look, which involuntarily reminded one of a sleek and well-conditioned tom-cat. Old Mr. Coleman rose also, and shaking his hand with great empressement, left the room with him in order to conduct him to the door with due honour.

"Look at the servile old rogue, worshipping that snob's two thousand pounds per annum," whispered Lawless; "we'll alter his tune before long. Fascinating man, Mr. Brown, ma'am," he continued, addressing Mrs. Coleman.

"Yes, I'm glad you like him; he's a very good quiet young man, and constantly reminds me of my poor dear aunt Martha, who is a peaceful saint in Brixton churchyard, after this vale of tears, where we must all go, only she hadn't two thousand pounds a year, though she was so lucky at short whist, always turning up honours when she liked."

"Trump of a partner she must have been, and no mistake!" said Lawless enthusiastically. "I suppose she didn't leave the recipe behind her, ma'am?"

"No, Mr. Fairless, no! at least I never heard she did, though I've got a recipe of hers for cherry-brandy, which she was so fond of, and a very good one it is, poor thing! But Mr. Brown, you see, with his fortune, might look so much higher, that, as Mr. Coleman says, it's a chance she may never have again, and it would be madness to throw it away, in her circumstances too."

"Did Mr. Brown think of marrying your aunt, then, ma'am?" asked Lawless with an air of would-be innocence.

"No, my dear—I mean, Mr. Lawlegh, no—she died, and he went to Merchant Tailor's School together, that is in the same year; we were making it out last night—no, it's Lucy, poor dear, and a famous thing it is for her, only I'm afraid she can't bear the sight of him."



At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, and Lawless, giving me a sly glance, accosted him with a face of the most perfect gravity, begging the favour of a few minutes' private conversation with him, a request which that gentleman, with a slight appearance of surprise, immediately granted, and they left the room together.

During their absence, good Mrs. Coleman confided to ~431~~ me, with much circumlocution, her own private opinion, that Lucy and Mr. Brown were by no means suited to each other, "because, you see, Mr. Fairless, my dear, Lucy's clever, and says sharp funny things that make one laugh, what they call piquante, you know, and poor Mr. Brown, he's very quiet and good-natured, but he's not used to that sort of thing; and she, what you call, laughs at him"; ending with a confession that she thought Freddy and Lucy were made for each other, and that she had always hoped some day to see them married.

Dear, kind-hearted, puzzle-headed little woman! how I longed to comfort her, by giving her a glimpse behind the scenes! but it would have entailed certain ruin; she would have made confusion worse confounded of the best laid scheme that Machiavelli ever concocted.

When Lawless and Mr. Coleman returned from their tete-a-tete, it was easy to see, by the nattered but perplexed expression discernible in the countenance of the elder, and a grin of mischievous delight in that of the younger gentleman, that the stratagem had succeeded so far, and that a cloud had already shaded the fair hopes of the unconscious Mr. Lowe Brown.

"Ah—a—hem! my dear Mrs. Coleman," began her spouse, his usually pompous manner having gained an accession of dignity, which to those who guessed the cause of it was irresistibly absurd.

"A-hem—as I am, I believe, right in supposing Mr. Fairlegh is acquainted with the object of his friend's visit—"

"All right, sir!" put in Lawless; "go ahead."

"And as I am particularly requested to inform you of the honour" (with a marked stress on the word) "done to a member of my family, I conceive that I am guilty of no breach of confidence in mentioning that Mr. Lawless has proposed to me, in due form, for the hand of my niece, Lucy Markham, offering to make most liberal settlements; indeed, considering that the fortune Lucy is justified in expecting at her father's death is very inconsiderable—an income of four hundred pounds a year divided amongst thirteen children, deducting a jointure for the widow, should my sister survive Mr. Markham—"

"Never mind the tin, Mr. Coleman," interrupted Lawless, "you don't catch me buying a mare for the sake of her trappings. In the first place, second-hand harness is never worth fetching home; and in the next, let me tell you, sir, it's your niece's good points I admire: small head well set on—nice light neck—good slanting shoulder ~432~~ —pretty fore-arm—clean about the pasterns—fast springy action—good-tempered, a little playful, but no vice about her; and altogether as sweet a thing as a man need wish to possess. Depend upon it, Mr. Coleman," continued Lawless, who, having fallen into his usual style of speech, was fairly off, "depend upon it, you'd be very wrong to let her get into a dealer's hands—you would indeed, sir; and if Mr. Brown isn't in that line it's odd to me. I've seen him down at Tattersall's in very shady company, if I'm not much mistaken; he's the cut of a leg, every inch of him."

Want of breath fortunately obliging him to stop, Lawless's chief auditors, who had gleaned about as much idea of his meaning as if he had been haranguing them in Sanscrit, now interposed; Mrs. Coleman to invite us to stay to luncheon, and her husband to beg that his niece Lucy might be summoned to attend him in his study, as he should consider it his duty to lay before her Mr. Lawless's very handsome and flattering proposal.

"And suppose Lucy should take it into her head, by any chance, to say Yes" ("Never thought of that, by Jove!—that would be a sell," muttered Lawless, aside),—"what's to become of poor dear Mr. Lowe Brown?" inquired Mrs. Coleman anxiously.

"In such a case," replied her lord and master, with a dignified wave of the hand, pausing as he left the room, and speaking with great solemnity,—"in such a case, Mr. Lowe Brown will perceive that it is his duty, his direct and evident duty, to submit to his fate with the calm and placid resignation becoming the son of so every way respectable and eminent a man as his late lamented father, my friend, the drysalter."



CHAPTER LIII — A COMEDY OF ERRORS

"Content you, gentlemen, I'll compound this strife.... He of both That can assure my nieces greatest dower, Shall have her love." "I must confess your offer is the best, And let your father make her the assurance, She is your own." —Taming of the Shrew.

POOR pretty little Lucy Markham! what business had tears to come and profane, with their tell-tale traces, that bright, merry face of thine—fitting index to thy warm heart and sunny disposition! And yet, in the quenched ~433~~ light of that dark eye, in the heavy swollen lid, and in the paled roses of thy dimpled cheek, might be read the tokens of a concealed grief, that, like "a worm i' the bud," had already begun to mar thy sparkling beauty. Heed it not, pretty Lucy—sorrow such as thine is light and transient, and succour, albeit in a disguise thou canst not penetrate, is even now at hand. As the young lady in question entered the luncheon-room, returning Lawless's salutation with a most becoming blush, the thought crossed my mind, that in his position I should be almost tempted to regret I was destined to perform the lover's part "on that occasion only". Such, however, were not the ideas of my companion, for he whispered to me, "I say, Frank, she looks uncommon friendly, eh?—I don't know what to make of it, I can tell you; this is getting serious".

"You must endeavour by your manner to neutralise your many fascinations," replied I, striving to hide a smile, for he was evidently in earnest.

"Neutralise my grandmother!" was the rejoinder; "I can't go and be rude to the young woman. How d'ye do, miss?" he continued gruffly; "how d'ye do? you see, we left Fred—" (here I nudged him, to warn him to avoid that subject)—"that is, we left Heathfield,—I mean started early—Let me help you, Mrs. Coleman;—precious tough customer that chicken seems to be—elderly bird, ma'am, and no mistake—who'll have a wing?"

"Really, Mr. Lawless, you are very rude to my poor chicken; it's out of our own farm-yard, I assure you; and the turkey-cock, his sister, that's Lucy's mother, sent him here; she has thirteen children you know, poor thing, and lives at Dorking; they are famous for all having five toes, you know, and growing so very large, and this must be one of them, I think."

"They were Dorking fowls mamma sent you, aunt; you don't keep turkeys," interposed Lucy, as Lawless fairly burst out laughing—an example which it was all I could do to avoid imitating.

"Yes, to be sure, my dear, I said so, didn't I? I remember very well they came in a three-dozen hamper, poor things, and were put in the back kitchen because it was too late to turn them out; and as soon as it was light they began to crow, and to make that noise about laying eggs, you know, so that I never got a wink of sleep after, thinking of your poor mother, and all her troubles—thirteen of them, dear me! till Mr. Coleman ~434~~ got up and turned them out, with a bad cold, in his dressing-gown and slippers."

"Freddy begged me to tell you that he would write to you tomorrow," observed I, aside to Lucy; adding the enigmatical message, that "he had some good news to communicate, and that matters were not so bad as you imagined."

"Ah! but it doesn't—he can't know—Mr. Fairlegh," she added, looking at me with an earnest, inquiring glance; "you are his most intimate friend; has he told you the cause of his annoyance?"

"Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Fairlegh, on the very excellent match your sister is about to make—the Oaklands family is one of the oldest in the county," said Mr. Coleman with an air of solemn politeness.

"Oh! yes, we are all so glad to hear of it, your sister is so pretty, and we had been told there was some young scamp or other dangling after her."

"Um! eh? oh! that's rather too much, though," said Lawless, turning very red, and fidgeting on his chair; "pray may I ask, Mrs. Coleman, whether it was a man you happened to hear that from? because he must be—ar—funny—fellow—ar—worth knowing—ar—I should like to make his acquaintance."

"Why, really!—let me see—was it Jones the grocer, or Mrs. Muddles when she brought home the clean linen? I think it was Jones, but I know it came with the clean clothes, and they had heard it from some of the servants," returned Mrs. Coleman.

"I'll boil Shrimp alive when I get back," muttered Lawless, "and have him sent up in the fish-sauce."

"Yes," replied I to Lucy, as soon as the conversation again became general, "Freddy gave me an outline of the cause of his disquietude; but from a hint Lawless dropped in our way here to-day, Mr. Lowe Brown is likely to have a somewhat powerful rival, is he not?"

"Oh! then you know all, Mr. Fairlegh," she replied; "what am I to do? I am so unhappy—so bewildered!"

"If you will allow me to advise you," returned I, "you will not positively refuse Lawless; on the contrary, I should encourage him so far as to ensure the dismissal of Mr. Brown, at all events."

"But would that be light? besides, I should be forced to marry Mr. Lawless, it I once said Yes."

"I should not exactly say Yes," replied I, smiling at the naive simplicity of her answer; "I would tell my uncle that, as he was aware, I had always disliked the ~435~~ attentions of Mr. Brown, and that I begged he might be definitely informed that it would be useless for him to attempt to prosecute his suit any farther. I would then add, that it was impossible for me to agree to accept at once a man of whom I knew so little as of Lawless, but that I had no objection to his visiting here, with a view to becoming better acquainted with him. By this means you will secure the positive advantage of getting rid of the drysalter, as Freddy calls him, and you must leave the rest to time. Lawless is a good-natured, generous-spirited fellow, and if he were made aware of the true state of the case, I do not think he would wish to interfere with Freddy's happiness, or annoy you by addresses which he must feel were unacceptable to you."

"But what will Freddy say if I appear to encourage Mr. Lawless? you don't know how particular he is."

"If you will permit me, I will tell him exactly what has passed between us to-day, and explain to him your reasons for what you are about to do."

"Will you really be so kind?" she answered, with a grateful smile; "then I shall do exactly as you have told me. How shall I ever thank you for your kindness?"

"By making my friend Freddy a good wife, and being married on the same day that I am."

"That you are! are you joking?"

"Never was more serious in my life, I can assure you."

"Are you really going to be married? Oh! I am so glad! Is the lady a nice person? do I know her?"

"The most charming person in the world," replied I, "and you know her intimately."

"Why, you can't mean Cla——"

"Hush!" exclaimed I, as a sudden silence rendered our conversation no longer private.

"Lucy, my dear, may I request your company for a few minutes in my study?" said Mr. Coleman, holding the door open with an air of dignified courtesy for his niece to pass out. She had acquired double importance in his eyes, since the eldest son of a real live peer of the realm had declared himself her suitor.

"Allow me, governor—ar—Mr. Coleman, I mean," said Lawless, springing forward, "it's for us young fellows to hold doors open, you know—not old reprobates like you," he added in an undertone, making a grimace for my especial benefit at the retreating figure of the aforesaid irreverently apostrophised legal luminary.

"Ah!" said Mrs. Coleman, by whom this by-play had been unobserved, "I wish all young men were like you, ~436~~ Mr. Lawless: we see very little respect to grey hairs nowadays."

"Very little indeed, ma'am," returned Lawless, winking furiously at me; "but from a boy I've always been that way inclined: I dare say that you observed that I addressed Mr. Coleman as 'Governor' just now?"

"Oh yes, I think I did," replied Mrs. Coleman innocently.

"Well, ma'am, that's a habit I've fallen into from unconsciously giving utterance to my feelings of veneration. To govern, is a venerable attribute—governor signifies one who governs—hence my inadvertent application of the term to your revered husband, eh?"

"Ah!" returned poor Mrs. Coleman, thoroughly mystified, "it's very kind of you to say so, I'm sure. I wonder whether I left my knitting upstairs, or whether it went down in the luncheon-tray."

In order to solve this important problem, the good lady trotted off, leaving Lawless and myself tete-a-tete.

"I say, Frank," he began, as the door closed after her, "did you put the young woman up to trap at all? I saw you were 'discoursing' her, as Paddy says, while we were at luncheon, eh?"

"No," replied I, "it was agreed that she was not to be let into the scheme, you know."

"By Jove! then all those kind looks she threw at me were really in earnest! I tell you what, I don't half like it, I can assure you, sir! I shall put my foot in it here too, if I don't mind what I'm at. Suppose, instead of marrying Freddy, she were to take it into her head she would like to be a peeress some day, what would become of me, eh?"

At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, his face beaming with dignity and self-satisfaction. Approaching Lawless, he motioned him to a chair, and then, seating himself exactly opposite, gave one or two deep hems to clear his throat, and then began:—

"I am empowered by my niece, standing as I may say in loco parentis—(for though her parents are not positively defunct, still they have so completely delegated to me all control and authority over their daughter, that they may morally be considered dead)—I am empowered, then, by my niece to inform you, in answer to your very flattering proposal of marriage, that although she has not had sufficient opportunity of becoming acquainted with your character and general disposition, to justify her in at once ratifying the contract, she agrees to sanction your visits ~437~~ here in the character of her suitor." (Lawless's face on receiving this announcement was as good as a play to behold.) "In fact, my dear sir," continued Mr. Coleman, warming with the subject, "as my niece at the same time has signified to me her express desire that I should definitely and finally reject the suit of a highly amiable young man of fortune, who has for some time past paid his addresses to her, I think that we may consider ourselves fully justified in attributing the slightly equivocal nature of her answer to a pardonable girlish modesty and coyness, and that I shall not be premature in offering you my hearty congratulations on the successful issue of your suit—a-hem I—" And so saying, Mr. Coleman rose from his seat, and taking Lawless's unwilling hand in his own, shook it with the greatest empressement.

"Thank ye, gov—that is, Mr. Coleman—uncle, I suppose I shall soon have to call you," said Lawless, with a wretched attempt at hilarity; "it's very flattering, you know, and of course I feel excessively, eh 1 uncommon, don't you see?—Get me away, can't you?" he added in an angry whisper, turning to me, "I shall go mad, or be ill, or something in a minute."

"I think the tandem has been here some time," interposed I, coming to his assistance; "the horses will get chilled standing."

"Eh! yes! very true, we must be cutting away; make ourselves scarce, don't you see?" rejoined Lawless, brightening up at the prospect of escape.

"Let me ring for the ladies," said Mr. Coleman, moving towards the bell.

"Eh! not for the world, my dear sir, not for the world," exclaimed Lawless, interposing to prevent him—"Really, my feelings—your feelings, in fact, all our feelings, have been sufficiently excited—steam got up—high pressure, eh?—some other day—pleasure. Good-morning. Don't come out, pray."

And so saying, he fairly bolted out of the room, an example which I was about to follow, when Mr. Coleman, seizing me by the button began:—

"I can see, Mr. Fairlegh, that Mr. Lawless is naturally uneasy and annoyed at Mr. Brown's attentions: but he need not be—pray assure him of this—Mr. Brown is a highly estimable young man, but his family are very much beneath ours in point of rank. I shall write to him this afternoon, and inform him that, on mature deliberation, I find it impossible to allow my niece to contract a matrimonial alliance with any one in trade—that will ~438~~ set the matter definitely at rest. Perhaps you will kindly mention this to your friend?"

"I shall be most happy to do so," replied I, "nor have I the slightest doubt that my friend will consider the information perfectly satisfactory." And with many assurances of mutual consideration and esteem we parted.

Oh! the masks and dominoes of the mind! what mountebank ever wore so many disguises as the heart of man? If some potent spirit of evil had suddenly converted Elm Lodge into the palace of Truth, the light of its master's countenance would have grown dark as he read the thoughts that were passing in my breast; and instead of bestowing upon me the attentions due to the chosen friend of the wealthy suitor to his portionless niece, he would have done his best to kick me down the steps as an impostor plotting to marry his son to a beggar. When will men learn to value money at its real worth, and find out that warm loving hearts and true affections are priceless gems that wealth cannot purchase!

We drove for some time in silence, which was at length broken by Lawless, who in a tone of the deepest dejection began:—

"The first tolerably deep gravel pit we come to, I must trouble you to get out, if you please".

"Get out at a gravel pit! for goodness' sake, why?" inquired I.

"Because I intend to back the tandem into it, and break my neck," was the unexpected answer.

"Break your neck! nonsense, man. Why, what's the matter now? Hasn't your mad scheme succeeded beyond all expectation?"

"Ah! you may well say that!" was the rejoinder. "Beyond all expectation, indeed! yes, I should think so, rather. If I'd expected anything of the kind, it's thirty miles off I'd have been at the very least by this time—more, if the horses would have done it, which I think they would with steady driving, good luck, and a feed of beans."

"Why, what is it you fancy you've done, then?"

"Fancy I've done, eh? Well, if that isn't enough to make a fellow punch his own father's head with vexation. What have I done, indeed! why I'll tell you what I've done, Mr. Frank Fairlegh, since you are so obtuse as not to have found it out by your own powers of observation. I've won the heart of an innocent and unsuspecting young female,—I've destroyed the dearest hopes of my particular friend,—and I've saddled myself with a ~439~~ superfluous wife, when my affections are reposing in the cold—ar—what do you call it, tomb, eh? of the future Lady Oaklands—If that isn't a pretty fair morning's work, it's a pity, eh?"

"My dear Lawless," replied I, with difficulty repressing a laugh, "you don't really suppose Lucy Markham means to accept you?"

"Eh! why not? Of course I do, didn't Governor Coleman tell me so? an old reptile!"

"Set your mind at ease," replied I; and I then detailed to him my conversation with Lucy Markham, and convinced him that her partial acceptance of his proposal, which had been made the most of by Mr. Coleman, was merely done at my suggestion, to ensure the dismissal of Mr. Lowe Brown. As I concluded, he broke forth:—

"Ah! I see, sold again! It's an easy thing to make a fool of me where women are concerned; they're a kind of cattle I never shall understand, if I were to live as long as Saint Methuselah, and take Old Parr's life pills twice a day into the bargain. Anything about a horse, now—"

"Then you'll postpone the gravel-pit performance ad infinitum?" interrupted I.

"Eh? yes! it would be a pity to go and sacrifice the new tandem, if it is not absolutely necessary to one's peace of mind, so I shall think better of it this time," was the rejoinder.

"By the way," resumed Lawless, as we drove through Heathfield Park, "I must not forget that I've got to immolate Shrimp on the altar of my aspersed reputation—call his master a 'scamp,' the amphibious little reprobate? a brat that's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, nor good red-herring—that spent his pitiful existence in making mud pies in a gutter, till I was kind enough to—"

"Run over him, and break his arm," added I.

"Exactly," continued Lawless, "and a famous thing it was for him too. Just see the advantages to which it has led; look at the education I have given him; he can ride to hounds better than many grooms twice his age, and bring you a second horse, in a long run, just at the nick of time when you want it, as fresh, with that featherweight on its back, as if it had only just come out of the stable; he can drive any animal that don't pull too strong for him, as well as I can myself; he can brew milk-punch better than a College Don, and drink it like an undergraduate; he can use his fists as handily as—Ben Caunt, or the Master of T——y, and polish off a boy a head taller than himself in ten minutes, so that his nearest ~440~~ relations would not recognise him; and he won five pounds last year in a Derby sweepstakes, besides taking the long odds with a pork-butcher, and walking into the piggycide to the tune of thirty shillings. No," continued Lawless, who had quite worked himself into a state of excitement, "whatever follies I may have been guilty of, nobody can accuse me of having neglected my duty in regard to that brat's education; and now, after all my solicitude, the young viper goes and spreads reports that a 'scamp,' meaning me, is about to marry your sister! I'll flay him alive, and put him in salt afterwards!"

"But, my dear Lawless, out of the host of servants at Heathfield, how do you know it was Shrimp who did it?"

"Oh, there's no mischief going on that he's not at the bottom of; besides, a boy is never the worse for a flogging, for if he has not done anything wrong beforehand, he's sure to make up for it afterwards; so it comes right in the end, you see."

Thus saying, he roused the leader by a scientific application of the thong, dashed round the gravel-sweep, and brought his horses up to the hall-door in a neat and artistlike manner.



CHAPTER LIV — MR. VERNOR MEETS HIS MATCH

"If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons. If he be leaden, icy cold, unwilling, Be thou so too." —Richard III.

"For the intent and purpose of the law, Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due." "Tarry a little, there is something else." —Merchant of Venice.

"Your looks are pale and wild, and do import some misadventure." —Romeo and Juliet.

ANY tender-hearted reader who may feel anxious concerning the fate of the unjustly suspected Shrimp, will be glad to learn that this hopeful candidate for the treadmill (not to mention a more airy and exalted destiny), escaped his promised castigation, for, the moment we alighted, Freddy Coleman dragged us into the library, and Lawless, in the excitement of relating the morning's adventure, entirely forgot his threatened vengeance. Lawless's account of the affair was, as may well be imagined, ~441~~ rich in the extreme, worth walking barefoot twenty miles to hear, Freddy Coleman declared afterwards; and an equally laborious pilgrimage would have been quite repaid by witnessing the contortions of delight with which the aforesaid Freddy listened to him.

"So you have positively settled the drysalter, and stand pledged to marry my cousin Lucy, if she approve of you on further acquaintance? What will you give me to hand her over to you?"

"Give you, eh? the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life—one that will find you something to think about for the next fortnight, and no mistake. The idea of putting the young woman's affections up to auction! why, you're worse than your old governor, he only wants to sell her to the highest bidder."

"Well, he's been sold himself this time, pretty handsomely," replied Freddy; "I only hope it will be a lesson to him for the future."

"It strikes me he'd be all the better for a few more lessons of the sort, eh? go through a regular 'educational course,' as they call it. Governors nowadays get so dreadfully conceited and dictatorial—they know best—and they will have this—and they won't have that. It's no joke to be a son, I can tell you.—'Latchkey, sir! only let me hear of your daring to introduce that profligate modern invention into my house, and I'll cut you off with a shilling.'"

"'The most unkindest cut of all,'" quoted Freddy. "Worse than 'cut behind' for the small boys, who indulge their locomotive propensities by sitting on the spikes at the backs of carriages, eh?" said Lawless. "Sharp set they must be, very!" put in Freddy. "Well, of all the vile puns I ever heard, that, which I believe to be an old Joe Miller, is the worst," exclaimed I. "Not to subject myself any longer to such wretched attempts, I shall go and dress for dinner."

"By way of obtaining re-dress! Well, I hope we shall be better suited when we meet again," rejoined Freddy, fairly punning me out of the room.

Mr. Frampton returned from town late that evening, but in high health and spirits, having been closeted for some hours with his legal adviser, who had given him clear instructions as to the course he was to pursue to obtain possession of his niece on the following day.

When I retired to my room that night, I was too much excited to sleep, but it was excitement of a pleasurable nature. I lay picturing to myself the next day's scene— ~442~~ the surprise and anger of Mr. Vernor—the impotent fury of Cumberland's disappointed avarice—the grotesque joy of old Peter Barnett—and, above all, the unspeakable delight of rescuing my sweet Clara from a home so unfitted to her gentle nature, and removing her to an atmosphere of kindness and affection; and with such pleasant thoughts wandering through my brain, towards morning I fell into a sound sleep. The sun was shining brightly when I again unclosed my eyes, and, hastily dressing, I hurried down to the breakfast-room, where I found Mr. Frampton already engaged in discussing a very substantial meal.

"Umph! I didn't expect you would have turned lie-abed this morning, of all the days in the year, Master Frank," was his salutation on my entrance.

"I really am ashamed of myself," replied I, sitting down to the breakfast-table; "but my thoughts were so busy, and my mind so filled with anticipations of coming happiness, that I did not contrive to get to sleep till quite morning."

"Umph! serve you right—you never should anticipate anything; depend upon it, it's the surest way to prevent what you wish for coming to pass. When I was in the Mahratta country, I anticipated I was going to marry the Begum of Tincumrupee—splendid woman! kept forty-two elephants for her own special riding, and wore a necklace of pearls as big as hazel nuts. What was the consequence? Instead of fulfilling my expectations, one fine morning she changed her mind, took up with a tawny, and ordered me to be strangled, only I got timely notice of her benevolent intentions, and lost no time in putting myself under the protection of my old crony, Blessimaboo, the Rajah of Coddleafellah. Umph!"

"Let me give you another cup of coffee, since the lady with the unpronounceable name did not succeed in her amiable design of destroying your swallowing powers for ever," returned I.

"Umph! I won't say No—there's nothing like serving out good rations to your men before they go into action; I've seen campaigning enough to know that."

"On the strength of which argument I shall cut you another slice of ham," rejoined I, suiting the action to the word. At length even Mr. Frampton's excellent appetite appeared exhausted, and he declared himself ready to face old Vernor if he should prove as cantankerous as a rhinoceros in hysterics; after which statement we proposed to start on our expedition. During his visit to ~443~~ town on the previous day, Mr. Frampton had purchased a very handsome light travelling carriage, which, with post-horses, was now in waiting to convey us to Barstone. On our way thither, my companion informed me of the particulars of his interview with his legal adviser, and the powers with which he was invested, and which were to be brought to bear upon Mr. Vernor, if, as was to be expected, he should attempt to resist the claim. As the effect of the information thus acquired will appear in the course of this veritable history, I need say no more concerning the matter at present. We then proceeded to lay down the plan of operations, which embraced an innocent little stratagem for more effectually taking "the change" out of Mr. Vernor, as Lawless would have termed it. It was agreed, in pursuance of this scheme, that I should open the conversation, by informing Clara's guardian that, owing to an unexpected change in my fortunes, I was now in possession of means amply sufficient to maintain a wife, and had therefore come to renew my suit for the hand of his fair ward, merely introducing Mr. Frampton as a friend of mine, who was prepared to furnish proof of the truth of my statement, if Mr. Vernor were not satisfied with my bare assertion. According to the way in which he should behave when this communication was made to him, were we to regulate our after conduct. I now learned for the first time that Frampton was not my benefactor's real name, but one which he had adopted when he commenced his wanderings, and which he determined to retain on learning, as he imagined he had done indisputably, that his family was extinct. This accounted for the otherwise strange fact, that Mr. Vernor should have remained in ignorance, up to the present period, of the existence of his ward's uncle. Lady Saville's maiden name, as I had been previously told, was Elliot, and my companion's real title, therefore, was Ralph Elliot. So occupied were we in discussing these interesting topics, that we had reached the gates of Bar-stone Park before our conversation began to flag; but the sight of the old quaintly built lodge, realising, as it did, the object of our visit, raised a host of varying thoughts and feelings too powerful for utterance; and, by mutual consent, we finished our drive in silence.

A servant, whose face was unknown to me, answered the door; and replying in the affirmative to my inquiry whether Mr. Vernor was at home led the way to the library.

"What name shall I say, sir?"

~444~~ "Merely say, two gentlemen wish to see Mr. Vernor upon business," was my reply; and in another moment I was once again face to face with Clara's guardian. He looked older and thinner than when I had seen him before, and care and anxiety had left their traces even on his iron frame: he was less erect than formerly, and I observed that, when his eyes fell upon me, his lip quivered, and his hand shook with suppressed irritation. Still his face wore the same cold, immovable, relentless expression as ever; and when he spoke, it was with his usual sarcastic bitterness.

"I cannot imagine under what possible pretext Mr. Fairlegh can expect to be regarded in this house in any other light than as an unwelcome intruder, after his late outrageous conduct," was the speech with which he received me.

"If you refer, sir, to the well-merited chastisement I inflicted on your nephew, I can only say, that Mr. Cumberland alike provoked the quarrel and commenced the attack; if you have received a true account of the matter, you must be aware it was not until your nephew had struck me more than once with his cane that I returned the blow."

"Well, sir, we will not discuss the affair any farther, as I presume it was scarcely for the purpose of justifying yourself that you have come hither to-day."

"You are right, sir," returned I; "and not to prolong a conversation which appears disagreeable to you, I will proceed at once to the purport of my visit. You have not, I imagine, forgotten the occasion of my former intrusion, as you termed it?"

"No, sir," he replied angrily, "I have not forgotten the presumptuous hopes you entertained, nor the cool effrontery with which you, a needy man—not to use any stronger term—preferred your suit for the hand and fortune" he added, laying a strong emphasis upon the last word, "of my ward, Miss Saville."

"That suit, sir, I am now about to renew," replied I, "but no longer as the needy fortune-hunter you were pleased to designate me. My friend here is prepared to show you documents to prove, if you require it, that I am, at this moment, in possession of an income amply sufficient to support a wife, and that, should my proposal find favour with your ward, I am in a position to offer her an establishment embracing not only the comforts but the refinements of life, and am prepared to make as liberal settlements as can reasonably be required of me: ~445~~ her own fortune I wish to have placed entirely under her own control."

As I spoke his brow grew dark as night, and rising from his chair, he exclaimed, "I'll not believe it, sir! This is some new trick—I know your scheming talents of old; but, however," he continued, seeing, no doubt, from my manner, that I was in a position to prove the truth of my assertions, "rich or poor, it makes no difference in my decision; I have but one answer to give—I have other prospects in view, other intentions in regard to the disposal of my ward's hand, and, once for all, I finally and unhesitatingly reject your offer."

"I believe, sir," replied I, restraining by an appealing glance Mr. Frampton, whose zeal in my cause was becoming almost ungovernable, and who was evidently burning to be at him, as he afterwards expressed it— "I believe, sir, I am right in imagining Miss Saville is of age, in which case I must insist upon your laying my proposal before her, and on receiving her decision from her own lips."

"She is of age, sir, but her late father, knowing how liable girls are, from their warm feelings, and ignorance of the ways of the world, to become the prey of designing persons, wisely inserted a clause in his will, by which it is provided, that in case of her marrying without my consent, her fortune shall pass into my hands, to be disposed of as I may consider advisable. I need scarcely add, that in the event of her marrying Mr. Fairlegh, she will do so without a farthing."

"Umph! eh? perhaps not, sir—perhaps not; you seem to me to look upon this matter in a false light, Mr. Vernor—Umph! a very false light; and not to treat my young friend with the degree of courtesy which he and every other honourable man has a right to expect from any one calling himself a gentleman. Umph! Umph!"

"Really I cannot be expected to discuss the matter farther," replied Mr. Vernor, with greater irritation of manner than he had yet suffered to appear. "I have not formed my opinion of Mr. Fairlegh hastily, nor on insufficient grounds, and it is not very probable that I shall alter it on the representations of a nameless individual, brought here for the evident purpose of chorusing Mr. Fairlegh's assertions, and assisting to browbeat those who may be so unfortunate as to differ from him. You must find such a friend invaluable, I should imagine," he added, turning towards me with a supercilious smile. "Umph! nameless individual, sir—nameless ~446~~ individual, indeed! Do you know who you are talking to?" Then came the aside, "Of course he does not, how should be? Umph!"

"I think you must by this time see the folly of attempting to prolong this absurd scene, Mr. Fairlegh," said Mr. Vernor, addressing me, without noticing Mr. Frampton's observation otherwise than by a contemptuous glance; "I presume we have come to the last act of this revival of the old comedy, 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife,' and I think you are pretty well aware of my opinion of the performance."

"Umph! eh?—I fancy you'll find there's another act before the play is ended yet, sir," returned Mr. Prampton, who was now thoroughly roused; "an act that, with all your cunning, you are not prepared for, and that even your unparalleled effrontery will be insufficient to carry you through unmoved. You say, sir, that by the will of the late Sir Henry Saville, his daughter's inheritance descends to you in the event of her marrying without your consent. May I ask whether there is not a certain contingency provided for, which might divert the property into another channel? Umph!"

"Really, sir, it is long since I looked at the will," exclaimed Mr. Vernor, for the first time dropping his usual tone of contemptuous indifference, and speaking quickly and with excitement—"May I inquire to what you refer?"

"Was there not a clause to this effect, sir?" continued Mr. Frampton sternly; and, producing a slip of paper, he read as follows:—

"'But whereas it was the firm belief and conviction of the aforesaid Clara Rose Elliot, afterwards Lady Saville, my late lamented wife, that her brother Ralph Elliot, supposed to have perished at sea, had not so perished, but was living in one of our colonies, I hereby will and direct, that in the event of the said Ralph Elliot returning to England, and clearly proving and establishing his identity, three hundred pounds per annum shall be allowed him out of my funded property, for his maintenance during the term of his natural life; and I further will and direct, that in the event of my daughter, Clara Saville, by disobedience to the commands of her guardian, Richard Vernor, forfeiting her inheritance as, by way of penalty, I have above directed, then I devise and bequeath the before mentioned funded property, together with Barstone Priory and the lands and rents appertaining thereunto, to the aforesaid Ralph Elliot, for his absolute use and behoof '."

~447~~

As he listened to the reading of this portion of the will, Mr. Vernor's usually immovable features assumed an expression of uneasiness which increased into an appearance of vague and undefined alarm; and when Mr. Frampton concluded, he exclaimed hurriedly, "Well, sir, what of that? The man has been drowned these forty years."

"Umph! I rather think not," was the reply, "I don't look much like a drowned man, do I? Umph!"

So saying, he strode up to Mr. Vernor, and, regarding him with a stern expression of countenance, added: "You were pleased in your insolence, just now, to term me a 'nameless individual'; these papers," he continued, producing a bundle, "will prove to you that Ralph Elliot was not drowned at sea, as you imagine, but that the nameless individual whom in my person you have treated with unmerited insult, is none other than he".

"It is false!" exclaimed Mr. Vernor, turning pale with rage. "This is all a vile plot, got up in order to extort my consent to this marriage. But I'll expose you—I'll—"

At this moment the library door was thrown violently open, and old Peter Barnett, his face bleeding and discoloured, as if from fighting, and his clothes torn and muddy, rushed into the centre of the apartment.



CHAPTER LV — THE PURSUIT

"Let not search and inquisition fail to bring again those... runaways." —As You Like It.

"Fetch me that handkerchief, My mind misgives." —Othello.

"Sharp goads the spur, and heavy falls the stroke, Rattle the wheels, the reeking horses smoke." —The Elopement.

ON the sudden appearance of old Peter in the deplorable condition described in the last chapter, we all sprang to our feet, eager to learn the cause of what we beheld. We were not long kept in suspense, for as soon as he could recover breath enough to speak, he turned to Mr. Vernor, saying, in a voice hoarse with sorrow and indignation:—"If you knows anything of this here wickedness, as I half suspects you do, servant as I am, I tells you to your face, you're a willain, and I could find in my heart to ~448~~ serve you as your precious nephew (as you calls him) and his hired bullies have served me".

"How dare you use such language to me?" was the angry reply. "You have been drinking, sirrah; leave the room instantly."

"Tell me, Peter," exclaimed I, unable longer to restrain myself, "what has happened? Your mistress—Clara—is she safe?"

"That's more than I knows," was the reply; "if she is now, she won't be soon, without we moves pretty sharp; for she's in precious unsafe company. While we was a-looking after one thief, we've been robbed by t'other: we was watching Muster Wilford, and that young scoundrel Cumberland has cut in and bolted with Miss Clara!"

"Distraction!" exclaimed I, nearly maddened by the intelligence; "which road have they taken? how long have they been gone?"

"Not ten minutes," was the reply; "for as soon as ever they had knocked me down, they forced her into the carriage, and was off like lightning; and I jumped up, and ran here as hard as legs would carry me."

"Then they may yet be overtaken," cried I, seizing my hat; "but are you sure Wilford has nothing to do with it?"

"Quite certain," was the answer; "for I met him a-going a-shooting as I cum in, and he stopped me to know what was the matter: and when I told him, he seemed quite flustered like, and swore he'd make Cumberland repent it."

"Mad, infatuated boy!" exclaimed Mr. Vernor; "bent on his own ruin." And burying his face in his hands, he sank into a chair, apparently insensible to everything that was passing.

"Now, Peter," I continued, "every moment is of importance; tell me which road to take, and then get me the best horse in the stable, without a moment's delay. I will bear you harmless."

"I've thought of all that, sir," rejoined Peter Barnett. "It's no use your going alone; there's three of them besides the postboys. No! you must take me with you; and they've knocked me about so, that I don't think I could sit a horse, leastways not to go along as we must go, if we means to catch 'em. No! I've ordered fresh horses to your carriage, it's lighter than the one they have got, and that will tell in a long chase; you must take me to show you the way, Muster Fairlegh."

"Well, come along, then. Mr. Frampton, I'll bring you your niece in safety, or this is the last time we shall meet, for I never will return without her."

~449~~ "Umph! eh? I'll go with you, Frank; I'll go with you."

"I would advise you not, sir," replied I; "it will be a fatiguing, if not a dangerous expedition."

"Ain't I her uncle, sir? umph!" was the reply. "I tell you I will go. Danger, indeed! why, boy, I've travelled more miles in my life, than you have inches."

"As you please, sir," replied I; "only let us lose no time." And taking his arm I hurried him away.

Glancing at Mr. Vernor as we left the library, I perceived that he still remained motionless in the same attitude. As we reached the hall-door, I was glad to find that Peter's exertions had procured four stout horses, and that the finishing stroke was being put to their harness as we came up.

"Who is that?" inquired I, as my eye caught the figure of a horseman, followed by a second, apparently a groom, riding rapidly across the park.

"That's Mr. Fleming, sir," replied one of the helpers; "he came down to the stable, and ordered out his saddle-horses in a great hurry; I think he's gone after Mr. Cumberland."

"What are we waiting for?" exclaimed I, in an agony of impatience. "Peter!—Where's Peter Barnett?"

"Here, sir," he exclaimed; making his appearance the moment after I had first observed his absence. "It ain't no use to start on a march without arms and baggage," he added, flinging a wrapping greatcoat (out of the pocket of which the butts of a large pair of cavalry pistols protruded) into the rumble, and climbing up after it.

"Now, sir," exclaimed I; and half-lifting, half-pushing Mr. Frampton into the carriage, I bounded in after him: the door was slammed to, and, with a sudden jerk, which must have tried the strength of the traces pretty thoroughly, the horses dashed forward, old Peter directing the postboys which road they were to follow. The rocking motion of the carriage (as, owing to the rapid pace at which we proceeded, it swung violently from side to side) prevented anything like conversation, while, for some time, a burning desire to get on seemed to paralyse my every faculty, and to render thought impossible. Trees, fields and hedges flew past in one interminable, bewildering, ever-moving panorama, while to my excited imagination we appeared to be standing still, although the horses had never slackened their speed from the moment we started, occasionally breaking into a gallop wherever the road would permit. After proceeding at this rate, as nearly as ~~450~ I could reckon, about ten miles, old Peter's voice was heard shouting to the postboys, and we came to a sudden stop. "What is it?" inquired I eagerly; but Peter, without vouchsafing any answer, swung himself down from his seat, and ran a short distance up a narrow lane which turned off from the high road, stopped to pick up something, examined the ground narrowly, and then returned to the carriage, holding up in triumph the object he had found, which, as he came nearer, I recognised to be a silk handkerchief I had seen Clara wear.

"I didn't think my old eyes could have seen so quickly," was his observation as he approached; "we was almost over-running the scent, Muster Fairlegh; and then we should 'a been ruined—horse, fut, and artillery. Do you know what this is?"

"Clara's handkerchief! It was round her neck when I met her two days ago."

"Ay! bless her!" was the old man's reply. "And she's been clever enough to drop it where they turned off here, to let us know which way they have taken her. Lucky none of 'em didn't see her a-doin' it."

"How fortunate you observed it! And now where does this lane lead to?"

"Well, that's what puzzles me," returned Peter, rubbing his nose with an air of perplexity. "It don't lead to anything except old Joe Hardman's mill. But they're gone down here, that's certain sure, for there was that handkerchief, and there's the mark of wheels and 'osses' feet."

"Well, if it is certain they have gone that way," continued I, "let us lose no time in following them. How far off is this mill?"

"About a couple of miles out of the road, sir," replied one of the postboys.

"Get on then," said I; "but mind you do not lose the track of their wheels. It's plain enough on the gravel of the lane."

"All right, sir," was the reply; and we again dashed forward.

As we got farther from the high road, the ruts became so deep that we were obliged to proceed at a more moderate pace. After skirting a thick wood for some distance, we came suddenly upon a small bleak desolate-looking common, near the centre of which stood the mill, which appeared in a somewhat dilapidated condition. A little half-ruinous cottage, probably the habitation of the miller, lay to the right of the larger building; but no signs of ~~451~ Carriage or horses were to be perceived, nor, indeed, anything which might indicate that the place was inhabited.

As we drew up at the gate of a farmyard, which formed the approach both to the mill and the house, Peter Barnett again got down, and having carefully examined the traces of the wheel-marks, observed, "they've been here, that I'll take my Bible oath on. The wheel-tracks go straight into the yard. But there's some fresh marks here I can't rightly make out. It looks as if a horse had galloped up to the gate and leaped hover it."

"Wilford!" exclaimed I, as a sudden idea came into my head. "We have not got to the truth of this matter yet, depend upon it. There is some collusion between Wilford and Cumberland."

"Umph! rascals!" ejaculated Mr. Frampton. "But 'they shall both hang for it, if it costs me every farthing I possess in the world."

"It's Mr Fleming's black mare as has been hover 'ere," said one of the postboys, who, I afterwards learned, was a stable-helper at Barstone, and had volunteered to drive in the sudden emergency. "I knows her marks from any hother 'orse's. She's got a bar-shoe on the near fore-foot."

"Is there nobody here to direct us?" asked I. "Let me out. Who is this miller, Peter?" I continued, as I sprang to the ground.

"Well, he's a queer one," was the reply. "Nobody rightly knows what to make of him. He's no great good, I expects; but good or bad, we'll have him out."

So saying, he opened the gate, and going to the cottage-door, which was closed and fastened, commenced a vigorous assault upon it. For some time his exertions appeared productive of no result, and I began to imagine the cottage was untenanted.

"We are only wasting our time to no purpose," said I. "Let us endeavour to trace the wheel-marks, and continue our pursuit."

"I'm certain sure there's some one in the house," rejoined old Peter, after applying his ear to the keyhole; "I can hear 'em moving about."

"We'll soon see," replied I, looking round for some implement fitted for my purpose. In one corner lay a heap of wood, apparently part of an old paling. Selecting a stout post which had formed one of the uprights, I dashed it against the fastenings of the door with a degree of force which made lock and hinges rattle again. I was about to repeat the attack, when a gruff voice from within the house shouted, "Hold hard there, I'm a-coming," and ~452~~ in another minute the bolts were withdrawn, and the door opened.

"What do you mean by destroying a man's property in this manner?" was the salutation with which we were accosted.

The speaker was a short thick-set man, with brawny arms, and a head unnaturally large, embellished by a profusion of red hair, and a beard of at least a week's growth. The expression of his face, surly in the extreme, would have been decidedly bad, had it not been for a look of kindness in the eye, which in some degree redeemed it!

"What do you mean by allowing people to stand knocking at your door for five minutes, my friend, without taking any notice of them? You obliged us to use summary measures," replied I.

"Well, I wor a-laying on the bed when you cum. I slipped down with a sack of flour this morning, and hit my head, so I thought I'd turn in and take a snooze, do you see;" and as he spoke he pointed to his face, one side of which I now perceived was black and swollen, as if from a blow.

"That's a lie, Joe! and you knows it," said Peter Barnett abruptly.

"You speaks pretty plainly at all events, Master Barnett," was the reply, but in a less surly tone than he had hitherto used.

The man was clearly an original; and it was equally evident that Peter knew how to deal with him, and that I did not. I therefore called the former on one side, and desired him, if bribing was of any use, to offer the miller fifty pounds, if through his information we were enabled to overtake the fugitives. Upon this a conversation ensued between the pair, which appeared as if it would never come to a termination; but just as my patience was exhausted, and I was about to break in upon them, Peter informed me that if I would engage to pay Hard-man fifty pounds, and to protect him from Wilford's anger, he would tell me everything he knew, and put me on the right track. To this I agreed, and he proceeded to give me the following account:—

In the course of the previous day, a vagabond of his acquaintance, who called himself a rat-catcher, but was a professional poacher and an amateur pugilist, came to him, and told him that a gentleman who had a little job in hand wanted the use of the cottage, as it was a nice out-of-the-way place, and that, if he would agree, the gent would call and give him his instructions. He inquired ~453~~ of what the job consisted; and on being told that a girl was going to run away from home with her sweetheart—that being, as he observed, merely an event in the course of nature—he agreed. In the evening he was visited by Wilford, and a man who was addressed as Captain. They directed him to have a room in the cottage ready by the next morning for the reception of a lady; and at the same time a sealed paper was handed to him, which he was directed to lock up in some safe place, and in the event of the lady and her maid-servant being given into his custody unharmed, he was to deliver up the paper to a gentleman who should produce a signet ring then shown him. This being successfully accomplished, he and his friend the poacher were alike to prevent the lady's escape, and protect her against all intrusion, till such time as Wilford should arrive to claim her; for which services the worthy pair were to receive conjointly the sum of twenty pounds.

In pursuance of these instructions, he had locked up the paper, and prepared for locking up the lady. About half an hour before we made our appearance, a carriage had arrived with four smoking posters; it contained two females inside; the Captain and a gentleman (whom the miller recognised as Mr. Cumberland of Barstone Priory) were seated in the rumble, while his friend the poacher was located on a portmanteau in front.

Cumberland and his companion alighted, and the former immediately asked for the paper, producing the ring, and saying that the plan had been changed, and that the lady was to go on another stage. Joe Hardman, however, was not, as he expressed it, "to be done so easy," and positively refused to give up the paper till the lady was consigned to his custody. A whispered consultation took place between Cumberland and the Captain, the carriage door was opened, and the lady and her maid requested to alight. Joe then ushered them into the room prepared for them, the windows of which had been effectually secured, locked them in, and leaving the poacher on guard, hastened to get the paper, which, on receiving the ring, he delivered up to Cumberland. No sooner, however, had Cumberland secured the document than he made a signal to the Captain; they both threw themselves upon Hardman, and endeavoured to overpower him. He resisted vigorously, shouting loudly to the poacher for assistance, an appeal to which that treacherous ally responded by bestowing upon him a blow which stretched him on his back, and damaged his ~454~~ physiognomy in the manner already described. Having put him hors de combat, they took the key from him, released the lady, forced her and her maid to re-enter the carriage, and drove off, leaving him to explain her absence as best he might.

They had not been gone more than ten minutes when Wilford and his groom rode up at speed, and on learning the trick which had been played upon him swore a fearful oath to be avenged on Cumberland, and after ascertaining which direction they had taken, followed eagerly in pursuit.

He added, that his chief inducement for making this confession, was his conviction that something dreadful would occur unless timely measures were taken to prevent it. He declared Cumberland's manner to have been that of a man driven to desperation; and he had noticed that he had pistols with him. Wilford's ungovernable fury, on being informed how he had been deceived, was described by Hardman as enough to make a man's blood run cold to witness. Having, in addition, ascertained the route they had taken, and the means by which we should be likely to trace them, we returned to the carriage,—my heart heavy with the most dire forebodings,—and inciting the drivers, by promises of liberal payment, to use their utmost speed, we once again started in pursuit.



CHAPTER LVI — RETRIBUTION

"Fell retribution, like a sleuth-hound, still The footsteps of the wicked sternly tracks, And in his mad career o'ertaking him, Brings, when he least expects it, swift destruction, And with a bitter, mocking justice, marks Each sin that did most easily beset him. The eye that spared not woman in its lust, Glaring with maniac terror, sinks in death. The homicidal hand, whose fiendish skill Made man its victim, crushed and bleeding lies. The crafty tongue, a ready instrument Of that most subtle wickedness, his brain, Babbles in fatuous imbecility." —Holofernes, a Mystery.