"Snaffles—a word with you," interrupted Cumberland.

"One moment, sir," said Snaffles to me, as he crossed over to where Cumberland was standing.

"Come and look at Punch; and let's hear what you think of him," said Coleman, drawing me towards the stable.

"What does Cumberland want with that man?" asked I.

"What, Snaffles? I fancy he owes a bill here, and I daresay it is something about that."

"Oh, is that all?" rejoined I.

"Why, what did you think it was?" inquired Coleman.

"Never mind," I replied; "let's look at Punch."

And accordingly I was introduced to a little fat, round, jolly-looking cob, about fourteen hands high, who appeared to me an equine counterpart of Coleman himself. After having duly praised and patted him I turned to leave the stable, just as Cumberland and Snaffles were passing the door, and I caught the following words from the latter, who appeared rather excited:—

"Well, if any harm comes of it, Mr. Cumberland, you'll remember it's your doing, not mine".

Cumberland's reply was inaudible, and Snaffles turned to me, saying:—

"I've only one horse at home likely to suit you, sir; you'll find her rather high-couraged, but Mr. Cumberland tells me you won't mind that".

"I have been mentioning what a good rider you say you are," said Cumberland, laying a slight emphasis on the say.

"Oh, I daresay she will do very well," replied I. "I suppose she has no vice about her."

"Oh dear, no," said Snaffles, "nothing of the sort.—James," added he, calling to a helper, "saddle the chestnut mare, and bring her out directly."

The man whom he addressed, and who was a fellow ~37~~with a good-humoured, honest face, became suddenly grave, as he replied in a deprecatory tone:—

"The chestnut mare? Mad Bess, sir?"

"Don't repeat my words, but do as you are told," was the answer; and the man went away looking surly.

After the interval of a few minutes a stable door opposite was thrown open, and Mad Bess made her appearance, led by two grooms. She was a bright chestnut, with flowing mane and tail, about fifteen-and-a-half hands high, nearly thorough-bred, and as handsome as a picture; but the restless motion of her eye disclosing the white, the ears laid back at the slightest sound, and a half-frightened, half-wild air, when any one went up to her, told a tale as to her temper, about which no one in the least accustomed to horses could doubt for an instant.

"That mare is vicious," said I, as soon as I had looked at her.

"Oh dear, no, sir, quiet as a lamb, I can assure you. Soh, girl! soh!" said Snaffles, in a coaxing tone of voice, attempting to pat her; but Bess did not choose to "soh," if by "sohing" is meant, as I presume, standing still and behaving prettily; for on her master's approach she snorted, attempted to rear, and ran back, giving the men at her head as much as they could do to hold her.

"She's a little fresh to-day; she was not out yesterday, but it's all play, pretty creature! nothing but play," continued Snaffles.

"If you are afraid, Fairlegh, don't ride her," said Cumberland; "but I fancied from your conversation you were a bold rider, and did not mind a little spirit in a horse: you had better take her in again, Snaffles."

"Leave her alone," cried I, quickly (for I was becoming irritated by Cumberland's sneers, in spite of my attempt at self-control), "I'll ride her. I'm no more afraid than other people; nor do I mind a spirited horse, Cumberland; but that mare is more than spirited, she's ill-tempered—look at her eye!"

"Well, you had better not ride her, then," said Cumberland.

"Yes, I will," answered I, for I was now thoroughly roused, and determined to go through with the affair, at all hazards. I was always, even as a boy, of a determined, or, as ill-natured people would call it, obstinate disposition, and I doubt whether I am entirely cured of the fault at the present time.

"Please yourself; only mind, I have warned you not to ride her if you are afraid," said Cumberland.

~38~~"A nice warning," replied I, turning away;—"who'll lend me a pair of spurs?"

"I've got a pair here, sir; if you'll step this way I'll put them on for you," said the man whom I had heard addressed as "James,"—adding, in a lower tone, as he buckled them on, "for Heaven's sake, young gentleman, don't mount that mare unless you're a first-rate rider."

"Why, what's the matter with her? does she kick?" inquired I.

"She'll try and pitch you off, if possible, and if she can't do that, she'll bolt with you, and then the Lord have mercy upon you!"

This was encouraging, certainly!

"You are an honest fellow, James," replied I; "and I am much obliged to you. Ride her I must, my honour is at stake, but I'll be as careful as I can, and, if I come back safe, you shall have half a crown."

"Thank you, sir," was the reply, "I shall be glad enough to see you come back in any other way than on a shutter, without the money."

Of a truth, the race of Job's comforters is not yet extinct, thought I, as I turned to look for Coleman, who had been up to this moment employed in superintending the operation of saddling Punch, and now made his appearance, leading that renowned steed by the bridle.

"Why, Fairlegh, you are not going to ride that vicious brute to be sure; even Lawless won't mount her, and he does not care what he rides in general."

"Nevermind about Lawless," said I, assuming an air of confidence I was very far from feeling; "she won't eat me, I daresay."

"I don't know that," rejoined Coleman, regarding Mad Bess with a look of horror; "Cumberland, don't let him mount her."

"Nay, I can't prevent it; Fairlegh is his own master, and must do as he likes," was the answer.

"Come, we can't keep the men standing here the whole day," said I to Coleman; "mount Punch, and get out of my way as fast as you can, if you are going to do so at all"—a request with which, seeing I was quite determined, he at length unwillingly complied, and having, after one or two failures, succeeded in throwing his leg over the cob's broad back, rode slowly out of the yard, and took up his station outside in order to witness my proceedings.

"Now, then," said I, "keep her as steady as you can for a minute, and as soon as I am fairly mounted give her her head—stand clear there."

~39~~I then took a short run, and, placing one hand on the saddle, while I seized a lock of the mane with the other, I sprang from the ground and vaulted at once upon her back, without the aid of the stirrup, a feat I had learned from a groom who once lived with us, and which stood me in good stead on the present occasion, as I thereby avoided a kick with which Mad Bess greeted my approach. I next took up the reins as gently as I could, the men let go her head, and after a little plunging and capering, though much less than I had expected, her ladyship gave up hostilities for the present, and allowed me to ride her quietly up and down the yard. I then wished Cumberland (who looked, as I thought, somewhat mortified) a good-afternoon, turned a deaf ear to the eulogies of Mr. Snaffles and his satellites, and proceeded to join Coleman. As I left the yard my friend James joined me, under the pretence of arranging my stirrup leather, when he took the opportunity of saying:—

"She'll go pretty well now you're once mounted, sir, as long as you can hold her with the snaffle, but if you are obliged to use the curb—look out for squalls!!!"



CHAPTER V — MAD BESS

"Away, away, my steed and I, Upon the pinions of the wind, All human dwellings left behind, We sped like meteors through the sky,

With glossy skin and dripping mane, And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain Up the repelling bank.

We gained the top, a boundless plain Spreads onward.

My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore, And throbbed awhile, then beat no more, The sky spun like a mighty wheel, And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, Which saw no farther."

Mazeppa.

OUT of consideration for the excitable disposition of Mad Bess we took our way along the least bustling streets we could select; directing our course towards the outskirts of the town, behind which extended for some miles a ~40~~portion of the range of hills known as the South Downs, over the smooth green turf of which we promised ourselves a canter. As we rode along Coleman questioned me as to what could have passed while he was seeing Punch saddled, to make me determine to ride the chestnut mare, whose vicious disposition was, he informed me, so well known, that not only would no one ride her who could help it, but that Snaffles, who was most anxious to get rid of her, had not as yet been able to find a purchaser. In reply to this I gave him a short account of what had occurred, adding my more than suspicion that the whole matter had been arranged by Cumberland, in which notion he entirely agreed with me.

"I was afraid of something of this sort, when I said I was sorry you had made that remark about cheating to him this morning—you see, he would no doubt suppose you had heard the particulars of his gambling affair, and meant to insult him by what you said, and he has done this out of revenge. Oh, how I wish we were safely at home again; shall we turn back now?"

"Not for the world," said I—"you will find, when you know me better, that when once I have undertaken a thing, I will go through with it—difficulties only make me more determined."

"Ah!" said Coleman, "you should get somebody to write a book about you, that is the kind of disposition they always give to the heroes of novels, the sort of character that will go and run his head against a brick wall to prove that it is the harder and thicker of the two—they knock out their brains though, sometimes, in doing it, when they happen to have any—it is very pretty to read about, splendid in theory, but I much doubt its acting so well if you come to put it in practice."

"You may laugh at me, if you please," replied I; "but depend upon it, a man of energy and determination will undertake great deeds, aye, and perform them too, which your prudent, cautious character would have considered impossibilities."

"Perhaps it may be so," was the reply; "I know I am not the sort of stuff they cut heroes out of—woa, Punch! steady, old boy; holloa, what ails him? this is getting serious."

During this conversation we had been gradually leaving the town behind us and approaching the downs, and had arrived at a point where the road became a mere cart-track, and the open country lay spread for miles before us. Our two steeds, which had up to the present time ~41~~conducted themselves with the greatest propriety, now began to show signs of excitement, and, as the fresh air from the downs blew against their nostrils, they tossed their heads, snorted, and exchanged the quiet jog-trot pace at which we had been proceeding, for a dancing, sidelong motion, which somewhat disturbed Coleman's equanimity, and elicited from him the expressions above recorded. The road at the same time becoming uneven and full of ruts, we agreed to turn our horses' heads, and quit it for the more tempting pathway afforded by the green-sward. No sooner, however, did Punch feel the change from the hard road to the soft elastic footing of the turf, than he proceeded to demonstrate his happiness by slightly elevating his heels and popping his head down between his forelegs, thereby jerking the rein loose in Coleman's hand; and, perceiving that his rider (who was fully employed in grasping the pommel of his saddle in order to preserve his seat) made no effort to check his vivacity, he indulged his high spirits still further by setting off at a brisk canter.

"Pull him in," cried I, "you'll have him run away with you; pull at him."

Whether my advice was acted upon or not I was unable to observe, as my whole attention was demanded by Mad Bess, who appeared at length resolved to justify the propriety of her appellation. Holding her in by means of the snaffle alone had been quite as much as I had been able to accomplish during the last ten minutes, and this escapade on the part of Punch brought the matter to a crisis. I must either allow her to follow him, i.e., to run away, or use the curb to prevent it. Seating myself, therefore, as firmly as I could, and gripping the saddle tightly with my knees, I took up the curb rein, which till now had been hanging loosely on the mare's neck, and gradually tightened it. This did not, for a moment, seem to produce any effect, but as soon as I drew the rein sufficiently tight to check her speed, she stopped short, and shook her head angrily. I attempted gently to urge her on—not a step except backwards would she stir—at length in despair I touched her slightly with the spur, and then "the fiend within her woke," and proceeded to make up for lost time with a vengeance. The moment the mare felt the spur she reared until she stood perfectly erect, and fought the air with her forelegs. Upon this I slackened the rein, and, striking her over the ears with my riding-whip, brought her down again;—no sooner, however, had her forefeet touched the ground than she gave 42~two or three violent plunges, which nearly succeeded in unseating me, jerked down her head so suddenly as to loosen the reins from my grasp, kicked viciously several times, and, seizing the cheek of the bit between her teeth so as to render it utterly useless (evidently an old trick of hers), sprang forward at a wild gallop. The pace at which we were going soon brought us alongside of Punch, who, having thoroughly mastered his rider, considered it highly improper that any steed should imagine itself able to pass him, and therefore proceeded to emulate the pace of Mad Bess. Thereupon a short but very spirited race ensued, the cob's pluck enabling him to keep neck and neck for a few yards; but the mare was going at racing speed, and the length of her stride soon began to tell; Punch, too, showed signs of having nearly had enough of it. I therefore shouted to Coleman as we were leaving them: "Keep his head up hill, and you'll be able to pull him in directly". His answer was inaudible, but when 1 turned my head two or three minutes afterwards I was glad to see that he had followed my advice with complete success—Punch was standing still, about half a mile off, while his rider was apparently watching my course with looks of horror. All anxiety on his account being thus at an end, I proceeded to take as calm a view of my own situation as circumstances would allow, in order to decide on the best means of extricating myself therefrom. We had reached the top of the first range of hills I have described, and were now tearing at a fearful rate down the descent on the opposite side. It was clear that the mare could not keep up the pace at which she was going for any length of time: still she was in first-rate racing condition, not an ounce of superfluous flesh about her, and, though she must have gone more than two miles already, she appeared as fresh as when we started. I therefore cast my eyes around in search of some obstacle which might check her speed. The slope down which we were proceeding extended for about a mile before us, after which the ground again began to rise. In the valley between the two hills was a small piece of cultivated land, enclosed (as is usual in the district I am describing) within a low wall, built of flint-stones from the beach. Towards this I determined to guide the mare as well as I was able, in the hope that she would refuse the leap, in which case I imagined I might pull her in. The pace at which we were going soon brought us near the spot, when I was glad to perceive that the wall was a more formidable obstacle than I had at first imagined, being fully six feet high, with a ditch in ~43~~front of it. I therefore selected a place where the ditch seemed widest, got her head up by sawing her mouth with the snaffle, and put her fairly at it. No sooner did she perceive the obstacles before her than, slightly moderating her pace, she appeared to collect herself, gathered her legs well under her, and, rushing forward, cleared wall, ditch, and at least seven feet of ground beyond, with a leap like a deer, alighting safely with me on her back on the opposite side, where she continued her course with unabated vigour.

We had crossed the field (a wheat stubble) ere I had recovered from my astonishment at finding myself safe, after such a leap as I had most assuredly never dreamt of taking. Fortunately there was a low gate on the farther side, towards which I guided the mare, for though I could not check, I was in some measure able to direct, her course. This time, however, she either did not see the impediment in her way, or despised it, as, without abating her speed, she literally rushed through the gate, snapping into shivers with her chest the upper bar, which was luckily rotten, and clearing the lower ones in her stride. The blow, and the splintered wood flying about her ears, appeared to frighten her afresh, and she tore up the opposite ascent, which was longer and steeper than the last, like a mad creature. I was glad to perceive, however, that the pace at which she had come, and the distance (which must have been several miles), were beginning to tell—her glossy coat was stained with sweat and dust, while her breath, drawn with short and laboured sobs, her heaving flanks, and the tremulous motion of her limbs, afforded convincing proofs that the struggle could not be protracted much longer. Still she continued to hold the bit between her teeth as firmly as though it were in a vice, rendering any attempt to pull her in utterly futile. We had now reached the crest of the hill, when I was not best pleased to perceive that the descent on the other side was much more precipitous than any I had yet met with. I endeavoured, therefore, to pull her head round, thinking it would be best to try and retrace our steps, but I soon found that it was useless to attempt it. The mare had now become wholly unmanageable; I could not guide her in the slightest decree; and, though she was evidently getting more and more exhausted, she still continued to gallop madly forwards, as though some demon had taken possession of her, and was urging her on to our common destruction. As we proceeded down the hill our speed increased from the force of gravitation, till we actually seemed to ~44~~fly—the wind appeared to shriek as it rushed past my ears, while, from the rapidity with which we were moving, the ground seemed to glide from under us, till my head reeled so giddily that I was afraid I should fall from the saddle.



We had proceeded about half way down the descent when, on passing one or two stunted bushes which had concealed the ground beyond, I saw, oh, horror of horrors! what appeared to be the mouth of an old chalk-pit, stretching dark and unfathomable right across our path, about 300 yards before us. The mare perceives it when too late, attempts to stop, but from the impetus with which she is going is unable to do so. Another moment, and we shall be over the brink! With the energy of despair I lifted her with the rein with both hands, and drove the spurs madly into her flanks;—she rose to the leap, there was a bound! a sensation of flying through the air! a crash! and I found myself stretched in safety on the turf beyond, and Mad Bess lying, panting, but uninjured beside me.

To spring upon my feet, and seize the bridle of the mare, who had also by this time recovered her footing, was the work of a moment. I then proceeded to look around, in order to gain a more clear idea of the situation in which I was placed, in the hope of discovering the easiest method of extricating myself from it. Close behind me lay the chalk-pit, and, as I gazed down its rugged sides, overgrown with brambles and rank weeds, I shuddered to think of the probable fate from which I had been so almost miraculously preserved, and turned away with a heartfelt expression of thanksgiving to Him who had mercifully decreed that the thread of my young life should not be snapped in so sudden and fearful a manner. Straight before me the descent became almost suddenly precipitous, but a little to the right I perceived a sort of sheep-track, winding downwards round the side of the hill. It was a self-evident fact that this must lead somewhere, and, as all places were alike to me, so that they contained any human beings who were able and willing to direct me towards Helmstone, I determined to follow it. After walking about half a mile, Mad Bess (with her ears drooping, and her nose nearly touching the ground) following me as quietly as a dog, I was rejoiced by the sight of curling smoke, and, on turning a corner, I came suddenly upon a little village green, around which some half dozen cottages were scattered at irregular distances. I directed my steps towards one of these, before which a ~45~~crazy sign, rendered by age and exposure to the weather as delightfully vague and unintelligible as though it had come fresh from the brush of Turner himself, hung picturesquely from the branch of an old oak.

The sound of horse's feet attracted the attention of an elderly man, who appeared to combine in his single person the offices of ostler, waiter, and boots, and who, as soon as he became aware of my necessities, proceeded to fulfil the duties of these various situations with the greatest alacrity. First (as of the most importance in his eyes) he rubbed down Mad Bess, and administered some refreshment to her in the shape of hay and water; then he brought me a glass of ale, declaring it would do me good (in which, by the way, he was not far from right). He then brushed from my coat certain stains which I had contracted in my fall, and finally told me my way to Helmstone. I now remounted Mad Bess, who, though much refreshed by the hay and water, still continued perfectly quiet and tractable; and, setting off at a moderate trot, reached the town, after riding about eight miles, without any further adventure, in rather less than an hour.

As I entered the street in which Snaffles' stables were situated I perceived Coleman and Lawless standing at the entrance of the yard, evidently awaiting my arrival.

When I got near them Coleman sprang eagerly forward to meet me, saying:—

"How jolly glad I am to see you safe again, old fellow! I was so frightened about you. How did you manage to stop her?"

"Why, Fairlegh, I had no idea you were such a rider," exclaimed Lawless; "I made up my mind you would break your neck, and old Sam be minus a pupil, when I heard you were gone out on that mare. You have taken the devil out of her somehow, and no mistake; she's as quiet as a lamb," added he, patting her.

"You were very near being right," replied I; "she did her best to break my neck and her own too, I can assure you"

I then proceeded to relate my adventures, to which both Lawless and Coleman listened with great attention; the former interrupting me every now and then with various expressions of commendation, and when I had ended he shook me warmly by the hand, saying:—

"I give you great credit; you behaved in a very plucky manner all through; I didn't think you had it in you; 'pon my word, I didn't. I shall just tell Cumberland and ~46~~Snaffles a bit of my mind, too. Here, Snaffles, you confounded old humbug, where are you?"

"Oh, don't say anything to him," said I; "it's never worth while being angry with people of that kind; besides, Cumberland made him do it."

"That does not signify; he knew the danger to which he was exposing you, perhaps better than Cumberland did. He had no business to do it, and I'll make him beg your pardon before We leave this yard. Here, you ostler fellow, where's your master?" shouted Lawless, as he turned into the yard, where I soon heard the loud tones of his voice engaged in angry colloquy with Snaffles, whose replies were inaudible.

In a short time the latter approached the spot where I was standing, and began a very long and humble apology, saying that he should never have thought of giving me the mare if he had not seen at a glance that I was a first-rate rider, and much more to the same purpose, when Lawless interrupted him with:—

"There, cut it short; Mr. Fairlegh does not want any more of your blarney; and mind, if anything of the sort occurs again, I shall hire my horses somewhere else, and take care to let all my friends know why I do so. Now, let's be off; it's getting near dinner-time."

So saying, he turned to leave the yard, a movement which, as soon as I had found my friend James, returned his spurs, and given him the promised half-crown, I proceeded to imitate: and that ended the episode of Mad Bess.



CHAPTER VI — LAWLESS GETS THOROUGHLY PUT OUT

~45~~

..." What 'tis To Have a stranger come— It seems you know him not No, sir! not I." —Southey.

"Either forbear... or resolve you For more amazement: if you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed." —Winter's Tale.

"Since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.... You shall try but one fall." —As You Like It.

ON reaching home the door was opened by Thomas, who accosted us with:—

"Here's such a bit of fun, gentlemen! The new pupil's arrived, and ain't he a rum un, jest? Oh, I never!"

~47~~"Why, how do you mean? what's he like, then?" asked Lawless.

"Oh, he's very well to look at, only he's as tall as a life-guardsman; but he's sich a free and easy chap, and ain't he got a pretty good notion of making himself comfortable, too!—that's all. But come in, gents, you'll soon see what I mean. He chucked the flyman who brought him here half a guinea, and when I asked him if he did not want the change, for the fare was only half a crown, he merely said 'Pooh!' and told me not to talk, for it tired him."

With our feelings of curiosity somewhat excited by this account we hastened into the pupils' room, anxious to behold the individual who had so greatly astonished Thomas.

Seated in Dr. Mildman's arm-chair, and with his legs resting upon two other chairs, so arranged as to form a temporary sofa, reclined a young man, apparently about eighteen, though his length of limb, and the almost herculean proportions of his chest and shoulders, seemed rather to belong to a more advanced age. He raised his head as we entered, disclosing a set of features which, in spite of an expression of languor and indifference, must have been pronounced unusually handsome. His complexion was a rich nut-brown; the high forehead, white as snow, contrasting well with the dark hue of his hair, which, in short clustering curls, harmonised well with the classical outline of his head, reminding one involuntarily of the young Antinous. The short curling upper-lip, and well-chiselled nostril, told a tale of pride and resolution, strongly at variance with the mild sleepy appearance of the large dark hazel eyes, to which the long silken lashes that shaded them imparted an almost feminine expression. He did not attempt to alter his position as we approached, but, merely turning his head, gazed at us steadfastly for a moment, and then observed in a slow, half-absent manner:—

"Oh, the other pupils, I suppose—how do you do, all of you?"

Lawless, who was foremost, was so much surprised, and so little pleased at this nonchalant style of address, that he made no reply, but turning on his heel proceeded to leave the room, in order to divest himself of his hunting costume, muttering as he went, "Cool enough that, by Jove, eh!"

The duty of doing the polite having thus devolved upon Coleman, he winked at me by way of preliminary, and, ~48~~making a low bow in the true dancing-master style, replied as follows:—

"Your penetration has not erred, Mr. Oaklands; we are the other pupils; and in answer to your obliging inquiries, I have much pleasure in informing you that we are all in perfect health and very tolerable spirits; and now, sir, in return for your kind condescension, allow me, in the absence of my superiors, to express a hope that you are feeling pretty comfortable—ahem!"

Having thus delivered himself, Coleman drew up his figure to its utmost height, and, folding his arms with an air of pompous dignity, awaited an answer.

"Oh yes, I'm comfortable enough," was the reply; "I always am; only I'm so done up, tired as a dog—the least thing fatigues me; I'm as weak as a rat! Don't they give you sofas here, Mr. What's-your-name?"

"My name is Norval—I mean Coleman; my father divides his time between feeding his flocks on the Grampian Hills, and fleecing his clients in Lincoln's Inn; though I must confess that ever since I can remember, he has dropped the shepherd, and stuck to the solicitor, finding it pays best, I suppose. Regarding the sofa, we have not one at present, but Dr. Mildman went to town this morning; I did not till this moment know why. But now I see it all—he was doubtless aware you would arrive to-day, and, finding he could not get a sufficiently comfortable sofa for you in Helmstone, he is gone to London on purpose to procure one. There is still time to write by the post, if there is any particular way in which you would like to have the stuffing arranged."

This speech made Oaklands raise his head, and look Coleman so fixedly in the face, with such a clear, earnest, penetrating gaze, that it appeared as if he would read his very soul. Having apparently satisfied himself, he smiled slightly, resumed his former attitude, and observed in the same half-sleepy tone:—

"No, I'll leave all that to him; I am not particular. What time do you dine here?"

I replied (for the look I have described seemed to have had the wonderful effect of silencing Coleman), "At five o'clock".

"Very good; and I believe there's a Mrs. Mildman, or some such person, is there not? I suppose one must dress. Will you be so kind as to tell the servant to bring some hot water, and to look out my things for me at a quarter before five? I hate to be obliged to hurry, it tires one so."

~49~~Having said this, he took up a book which was lying by his side, and, murmuring something about "talking being so fatiguing," soon became buried in its contents.

Whilst I was dressing for dinner Lawless came into my room, and told me that he had been speaking to Cumberland with regard to the way in which he had behaved to me about the mare, and that Cumberland professed himself exceedingly sorry that the affair had so nearly turned out a serious one, declaring he meant it quite as a joke, never expecting that when I saw the mare I should venture to mount her.

"So you see," continued Lawless, "he merely wanted to have a good laugh at you—nothing more. It was a thoughtless thing to do, but not so bad as you had fancied it, by any means."

"Well," replied I, "as he says so, I am bound to believe him; but his manner certainly gave me the impression that he intended me to ride her. He went the right way to make me do so, at all events, by hinting that I was afraid."

"Ah! he could not know that by intuition, you see," said Lawless; "he thought, I daresay, as I did, that you were a mere molly-coddle, brought up at your mother's apron-string, and had not pluck enough in you to do anything sporting."

"It's not worth saying anything more about," replied I; "it will never happen again: I am very much obliged to you, though."

"Oh, that's nothing," said Lawless; "if Cumberland had really meant to break your neck, I should have fallen out with him; that would have been too much of a good thing: however, as it is it's all right."

And so the conversation ended, though I felt far from satisfied in my own mind as to the innocence of Cumberland's intentions.

On reaching the drawing-room I found the whole party assembled with the exception of Mr. Henry Oaklands, who had not yet made his appearance. At the moment of my entrance Mrs. Mildman, who had not seen the new arrival, and who, like the rest of her sex, was somewhat curious, was examining Coleman (who stood bolt upright before her, with his hands behind him, looking like a boy saying his lesson) as to his manners and appearance.

"Very tall, and dark hair and large eyes," continued Mrs. Mildman; "why, he must be very handsome."

"He seems as if he were half-asleep," observed I.

~50~~"Not always," said Coleman; "did you see the look he gave me? he seemed wide-awake enough then; I thought he was going to eat me."

"Dear me I why he must be quite a cannibal! besides, I don't think you would be at all nice to eat, Mr. Coleman," said Mrs. Mildman, with a smile.

"Horrid nasty, I'm sure," muttered Mullins, who was seated on the very edge of his chair, and looked thoroughly uncomfortable, as was his wont in anything like civilised society.

At this moment the door opened, and Oaklands entered. If one had doubted about his height before, when lying on the chairs, the question was set at rest the instant he was seen standing: he must have measured at least six feet two inches, though the extreme breadth of his chest and shoulders, and the graceful setting-on of his finely formed head, together with the perfect symmetry and proportion of his limbs, prevented his appearing too tall. He went through the ceremony of introduction with the greatest ease and self-possession; and though he infused rather more courtesy into his manner towards Mrs. Mildman than he had taken the trouble to bestow on us, his behaviour was still characterised by the same indolence and listlessness I had previously noticed, and which indeed seemed part and parcel of himself. Having bowed slightly to Cumberland and Lawless he seated himself very leisurely on the sofa by Mrs. Mildman's side, altering one of the pillows so as to make himself thoroughly comfortable as he did so. Having settled it to his satisfaction, he addressed Mrs. Mildman with:—

"What a very fatiguing day this has been; haven't you found it so?"

"No, I can't say I have," was the reply; "I daresay it was warm travelling: I'm afraid, in that case, Dr. Mildman will not have a very pleasant journey—he's gone to town to-day."

"Ah, so that short, stout young gentleman" (the first two adjectives he pronounced very slowly and distinctly) "told me."

"Mr. Coleman," insinuated Mrs. Mildman.

"Pleasant that," whispered Coleman to me.

"Take care," replied I, "he will hear you."

"I'm afraid," continued Oaklands, "the old gentleman will be quite knocked up. I wonder he does not make two days' journey of it."

"Dr. Mildman is not so very old," observed Mrs. Mildman, in rather an annoyed tone of voice.

~51~~"I really beg pardon, I scarcely know why I said it," replied Oaklands, "only I somehow fancied all tutors were between sixty and seventy—very absurd of me. My father sent all kind of civil messages to the o—— to Dr. Mildman, only it is so much trouble to remember that sort of thing."

At this point the conversation was interrupted by the announcement of dinner. Oaklands (from whom I could not withdraw my eyes, so unlike anything I had ever met with before was he) was evidently preparing to hand Mrs. Mildman down to dinner, as soon as he could summon sufficient energy to move, but, perceiving Cumberland approach her for that purpose, he appeared to recollect himself, smiled slightly as if at what he had been about to do, and, taking me by the arm, said:—

"Come, Master Curlylocks, you shall be my lady, and a very pretty girl you would make, too, if you were properly bemuslined"; adding, as we went downstairs together, "You and I shall be great friends, I'm sure; I like your face particularly. What a lot of stairs there are in this house! they'll tire me to death."

When we returned to the pupils' room after dinner Lawless found, lying on the table, the note Dr. Mildman had written in such a mysterious manner before he left home in the morning, and proceeded to open it forthwith. Scarcely had he glanced his eye over it, when he was seized with so violent a fit of laughter, that I expected every moment to see him fall out of his chair. As soon as he had in some measure recovered the power of speaking he exclaimed:—

"Here, listen to this! and tell me if it is not the very best thing you ever heard in your lives ". He then read as follows:—

"'It is not without much pain that I bring myself to write this note; but I feel that I should not be doing my duty towards your excellent father, if I were to allow such extreme misconduct on the part of his son to pass unreproved. I know not towards what scene of vulgar dissipation you might be directing your steps, but the simple fact (to which I was myself witness) of your leaving my house in the low disguise of a carter's smock-frock, affords in itself sufficient proof that your associates must belong to a class of persons utterly unfitted for the companionship of a gentleman. Let me hope this hint may be enough, and that conduct so thoroughly disgraceful in one brought up as you have been may not occur again. I presume I need scarcely say that, in the event of your ~52~~disregarding my wishes upon this point, the only course left open to me would be to expel you, a measure to which it would deeply grieve me to be obliged to resort.'"

His voice was here drowned by a chorus of laughter from all present who were aware of the true state of the case, which lasted without interruption for several minutes. At length Lawless observed:—

"I'll tell you what, it will be a death-blow to Smithson; a Macintosh made by him to be taken for a smock-frock! he'll never recover it ".

"Mildman might well look like a thunder-cloud," said Coleman, "if that was the notion he had got in his head; what a jolly lark, to be sure!"

"How do you mean to undeceive him?" inquired Cumberland.

"Oh, trust me for finding a way to do that," replied Lawless; "'the low disguise of a carter's smock-frock,' indeed! What fun it would be if he were to meet my governor in town to-day, and tell him of my evil courses! why, the old boy would go into fits! I wonder what he means by his 'scenes of vulgar dissipation'? I daresay he fancies me playing all-fours with a beery coalheaver, and kissing his sooty-faced wife; or drinking alternate goes of gin-and-water with a dustman for the purpose of insinuating myself into the affections of Miss Cinderella Smut, his interesting sister. By Jove! it's as good as a play!"

More laughter followed Lawless's illustration of Dr. Mildman's note. The subject was discussed for some time, and a plan arranged for enlightening the Doctor as to the true character of the mysterious garment.

At length there was a pause, when I heard Coleman whisper to Lawless:—

"Thomas was pretty right in saying that new fellow knows how to make himself comfortable, at all events".

"He's a precious deal too free and easy to please me," muttered Lawless, in an undertone; "I shall take the liberty of seeing whether his self-possession cannot be disturbed a little. I have no notion of such airs. Here, Mullins!"

And laying hold of Mullins by the arm, he pulled him into a chair by his side, and proceeded to give him some instructions in a whisper. The subject of their remarks, Harry Oaklands, who had, on re-entering the room, taken possession of the three chairs near the window, was still reclining, book in hand, in the same indolent position, apparently enjoying the beauty of the autumnal sunset, without concerning himself in the slightest degree about anything which might be going on inside the room.

~53~~Lawless, whose proceedings I was watching with an anxious eye, having evidently succeeded, by a judicious mixture of bullying and cajollery, in persuading Mullins to assist him in whatever he was about to attempt, now drew a chair to the other side of the window, and seated himself exactly opposite to Oaklands.

"How tired riding makes a fellow! I declare I'm regularly baked, used completely up," he observed, and then continued, glancing at Oaklands, "Not such a bad idea, that. Mullins, give us a chair; I don't see why elevating the extremities should not pay in my case, as well as in other people's."

He then placed his legs across the chair which Mullins brought him, and, folding his arms so as exactly to imitate the attitude of his opposite neighbour, sat for some minutes gazing out of the window with a countenance of mock solemnity. Finding this did not produce any effect on Oaklands, who, having slightly raised his eyes when Lawless first seated himself, immediately cast them upon the book again, Lawless stretched himself, yawned, and once more addressed Mullins.

"Shocking bad sunset as ever I saw—it's no go staring at that. I must have a book—give me the Byron."

To this Mullins replied that he believed Mr. Oaklands was reading it.

"Indeed! the book belongs to you, does it not?"

Mullins replied in the affirmative.

"Have you any objection to lend it to me?"

Mullins would be most happy to do so.

"Then ask the gentleman to give it to you—you have a right to do what you please with your own property, I imagine?"

It was very evident that this suggestion was not exactly agreeable to Mullins; and although his habitual fear of Lawless was so strong as completely to overpower any dread of what might be the possible consequences of his act, it was not without much hesitation that he approached Oaklands, and asked him for the book, as he wished to lend it to Lawless.

On hearing this Oaklands leisurely turned to the fly-leaf, and, having apparently satisfied himself, by the perusal of the name written thereon, that it really belonged to Mullins, handed it to him without a word. I fancied, however, from the stern expression of his mouth and a slight contraction of the brow, that he was not as insensible to their impertinence as he wished to appear.

Lawless, who had been sitting during this little scene ~54~~with his eyes closed, as if asleep, now roused himself, and saying, "Oh, you have got it at last, have you?" began turning over the pages, reading aloud a line or two here and there, while he kept up a running commentary on the text as he did so:—

"Hum! ha! now let's see, here we are—the 'g-i-a-o-u-r,'—that's a nice word to talk about. What does g-i-a-o-u-r spell, Mullins? You don't know? what an ass you are, to be sure!—

'Fair clime, whose every season smiles Benignant o'er those blessed isles'—

blessed isles, indeed; what stuff!—

''Tis Greece, but living Greece no more;'

that would do for a motto for the barbers to stick on their pots of bear's grease!—

'Clime of the unforgotten brave;'

unforgotten! yes, I should think so; how the deuce should they be forgotten, when one is bored with them morning, noon, and night, for everlasting, by old Sam, and all the other pastors and masters in the kingdom? Hang me, if I can read this trash; the only poetry that ever was written worth reading is 'Don Juan'."

He then flung the book down, adding:—

"It's confoundedly cold, I think. Mullins, shut that window."

This order involved more difficulties in its execution than might at first be imagined. Oaklands, after giving up the book, had slightly altered his position by drawing nearer the window and leaning his elbow on the sill, so that it was impossible to shut it without obliging him to move. Mullins saw this, and seemed for a moment inclined not to obey, but a look and a threatening gesture from Lawless again decided him; and with slow unwilling steps he approached the window, and laid his hand on it, for the purpose of shutting it. As he did so, Oaklands raised his head, and regarded him for a moment with a glance like lightning, his large eyes glaring in the twilight like those of some wild animal, while the red flush of anger rose to his brow, and we all expected to see him strike Mullins to the ground. Conquering himself, however, by a powerful effort of self-control, he folded his arms, and, turning from the window, suffered Mullins to close it without interruption. Still I could perceive, from ~55~~the distended nostril and quivering lip, that his forbearance was almost exhausted.

"Ah, that's an improvement," said Lawless; "I was getting uncommonly chilly. By the way, what an interesting virtue patience is; it is a curious fact in Natural History that some of the lower animals share it with us; for instance, there's nothing so patient as a jack-ass——"

"Except a pig," put in Mullins; "they're uncommon—"

"Obstinate," suggested Coleman.

"Oh, ah! it's obstinate I mean," replied Mullins. "Well, you know donkeys are obstinate, like a pig; that's what I meant."

"Don't be a fool," said Lawless. "Deuce take these chairs, I cannot make myself comfortable anyhow—the fact is, I must have three, that's the proper number—give me another, Mullins."

"I can't find one," was the answer; "they are all in use."

"Can't find one! nonsense," said Lawless; "here, take one of these; the gentleman is asleep, and won't object, I daresay."

When Mullins was shutting the window his head had been so turned as to prevent his observing the symptoms of anger in Oaklands, which had convinced me that he would not bear trifling with much longer. Presuming, therefore, from the success of his former attacks, that the new pupil was a person who might be insulted with impunity, and actuated by that general desire of retaliation, which is the certain effect bullying produces upon a mean disposition, Mullins proceeded, con amore, to fulfil Lawless's injunction. With a sudden snatch he withdrew the centre chair, on which Oaklands' legs mainly rested, so violently as nearly to throw them to the ground, a catastrophe which was finally consummated by Lawless giving the other chair a push with his foot, so that it was only by great exertion and quickness that Oaklands was able to save himself from falling.

This was the climax; forbearance merely human could endure no longer: Lawless had obtained his object of disturbing Harry Oaklands' self-possession, and was now to learn the consequences of his success. With a bound like that of an infuriated tiger, Oaklands leaped upon his feet, and, dashing Mullins into a corner with such force that he remained lying exactly where he fell, he sprang upon Lawless, seized him by the collar of his coat, and after a short but severe struggle dragged him to the ~56~~window, which was about eight feet from the ground, threw it open, and taking him in his arms with as much ease as if he had been a child flung him out. He then returned to the corner in which, paralysed with fear, Mullins was still crouching, drew him to the spot from whence he had removed the chair, placed him there upon his hands and knees, and saying, in a stern voice, "If you dare to move till I tell you, I'll throw you out of the window too," quietly resumed his former position, with his legs resting upon Mullins' back instead of a chair.



As soon as Coleman and I had in some degree recovered from our surprise and consternation (for the anger of Oaklands once roused was a fearful thing to behold), we ran to the other window, just in time to see Lawless, who had alighted among some stunted shrubs, turn round and shake his fist at Oaklands (who merely smiled), ere he regained his feet, and rang the bell in order to gain admittance. A minute afterwards we heard him stride upstairs, enter his bedroom, and close the door with a most sonorous bang. Affairs remained in this position nearly a quarter of an hour, no one feeling inclined to be the first to speak. At length the silence was broken by Oaklands, who, addressing himself to Cumberland, said:—

"I am afraid this absurd piece of business has completely marred the harmony of the evening. Get up, Mr. Mullins," he continued, removing his legs, and assisting him to rise; "I hope I did not hurt you just now."

In reply to this Mullins grumbled out something intended as a negative, and, shambling across the room, placed himself in a corner, as far as possible from Oaklands, where he sat rubbing his knees, the very image of sulkiness and terror. Cumberland, who appeared during the whole course of the affair absorbed in a book, though, in fact, not a single word or look had escaped him, now came forward and apologised, in a quiet, gentlemanly manner (which, when he was inclined, no one could assume with greater success), for Lawless's impertinence, which had only, he said, met with its proper reward.

"You must excuse me, Mr. Cumberland, if I cannot agree with you," replied Oaklands; "since I have had time to cool a little, I see the matter in quite a different light. Mr. Lawless was perfectly right; the carelessness of my manner must naturally have seemed as if I were purposely giving myself airs, but I can assure you such was not the case."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, with a half-embarrassed smile:—

~57~~"The fact is, I am afraid that I have been spoiled at home; my mother died when I was a little child, and my dear father, having nobody else to care about, thought, I believe, that there was no one in the world equal to me, and that nothing was too good for me. Of course, all our servants and people have taken their tone from him, so that I have never had any one to say to me, 'Nay,' and am therefore not at all used to the sort of thing. I hope I do not often lose my temper as I have done this evening; but really Mr. Lawless appears quite an adept in the art of ingeniously tormenting."

"I am afraid you must have found so much exertion very fatiguing," observed Coleman, politely.

"A fair hit, Mr. Coleman," replied Oaklands, laughing. "No! those are not the things that tire me, somehow; but in general I am very easily knocked up—I am indeed—most things are so much trouble, and I hate trouble; I suppose it is that I am not strong."

"Wretchedly weak, I should say," rejoined Coleman; "it struck me that you were so just now, when you chucked Lawless out of the window like a cat."

"Be quiet, Freddy," said Cumberland, reprovingly.

"Nay, don't stop him," said Oaklands; "I delight in a joke beyond measure, when I have not the trouble of making it myself. But about this Mr. Lawless, I am exceedingly sorry that I handled him so roughly; would you mind going to tell him so, Mr. Cumberland, and explaining that I did not mean anything offensive by my manner?"

"Exactly, I'll make him understand the whole affair, and bring him down with me in five minutes," said Cumberland, leaving the room as he spoke.

"What makes Cumberland so good-natured and amiable to-night?" whispered I to Coleman.

"Can't you tell?" was the reply. "Don't you see that Oaklands is a regular top-sawyer, a fish worth catching; and that by doing this, Cumberland places him under an obligation at first starting? Not a bad move to begin with, eh? Besides, if a regular quarrel between Lawless and Oaklands were to ensue, Cumberland would have to take one side or the other; and it would not exactly suit him to break with Lawless, he knows too much about him; besides," added he, sinking his voice, "he owes him money, more than I should like to owe anybody a precious deal, I can tell you. Now, do you twig?"

"Yes," said I, "I comprehend the matter more clearly, if that is what you mean by twigging; but how shocking ~58~~it all is! why, Cumberland is quite a swindler—gambling, borrowing money he can't pay, and——"

"Hush!" interrupted Coleman, "here they come."

Coleman was not mistaken: Cumberland had been successful in his embassy, and now entered the room, accompanied by Lawless, who looked rather crestfallen, somewhat angry, and particularly embarrassed and uncomfortable, which, as Coleman whispered to me, was not to be wondered at, considering how thoroughly he had been put out just before., Oaklands, however, appeared to see nothing of all this; but, rising from his seat as they entered, he approached Lawless, saying:—

"This has been a foolish piece of business, Mr. Lawless; I freely own that I am thoroughly ashamed of the part I have taken in it, and I can only apologise for the intemperate manner in which I behaved".

The frank courtesy with which he said this was so irresistible, that Lawless was completely overcome, and, probably for the first time in his life, felt himself thoroughly in the wrong. Seizing Oaklands' hand, therefore, and shaking it heartily, he replied:—

"I'll tell you what it is, Oaklands—we don't Mr. each other here—you are a right good fellow—a regular brick, and no mistake; and as to your shoving me out of the window, you served me quite right for my abominable impertinence. I only wonder you did not do it ten minutes sooner, that's all; but you really ought to be careful what you do with those arms of yours; I was like a child in your grasp; you are as strong as a steam engine."

"I can assure you I am not," replied Oaklands; "they never let me do anything at home, for fear I should knock myself up."

"You are more likely to knock other people down, I should say," rejoined Lawless; "and, by the way, that reminds me—Mullins! come here, stupid, and beg Mr. Oaklands' pardon, and thank him for knocking you down."

A sulky, half-muttered "shan't," was the only reply.

"Nay, I don't want anything of that kind; I don't indeed, Lawless; pray leave him alone," cried Oaklands eagerly.

But Lawless was not so easily quieted, and Oaklands, unwilling to risk the harmony so newly established between them, did not choose to interfere further; so Mullins was dragged across the room by the ears, and was forced by Lawless, who stood over him with the poker (which, he informed him, he was destined to eat red-hot if he became restive), to make Oaklands a long and ~59~~formal apology, with a short form of thanksgiving appended, for the kindness and condescension he had evinced in knocking him down so nicely, of which oration he delivered himself with a very bad grace indeed.

"And all went merry as a marriage-bell," until we were summoned to the drawing-room, where we were regaled with weak tea, thin bread and butter, and small conversation till ten o'clock, when Mrs. Mildman proceeded to read prayers, which, being a duty she was little accustomed to, and which consequently rendered her extremely nervous, she did not accomplish without having twice called King William, George, and suppressed our gracious Queen Adelaide altogether.



CHAPTER VII — THE BOARD OF GREEN CLOTH

"What have we here—a man or a fish?" —The Tempest.

'"The devil he baited a trap, With billiard balls and a cue;

And he chose as marker,

An imp much darker Than all the rest in hue. And he put on his Sunday clothes, And he played with saint and with sinner,

For he'd found out a way

To make the thing pay, And when losing, He still was the winner!" —Old Legend.

THE moment Dr. Mildman arrived at home the next day Lawless watched him into his study, and, as soon as he was safely lodged therein, proceeded, by the aid of sundry nails and loops previously placed there for the purpose, to hang his Macintosh right across the passage, so that no one could leave the study without running against it. He then ambushed himself near the open door of the pupils' room, where, unseen himself, he could observe the effect of his arrangements. Coleman and I, also taking a lively interest in the event, ensconced ourselves in a favourable position for seeing and hearing. After waiting till our small stock of patience was nearly exhausted, we were rewarded by hearing the study-door slowly open, followed by the tread of a well-known footstep in the passage. The next sound that reached ~60~~our ears was a quick shuffling of feet upon the oil-cloth, as if the person advancing had "shyed" at some unexpected object; then came the muttered exclamation, "Bless my heart, what's this?" And immediately afterwards Dr. Mildman's face, wearing an expression of the most thorough perplexity and bewilderment, appeared cautiously peeping from behind the Macintosh. Having apparently satisfied himself that no enemy was concealed there, and he had nothing further to fear, but that the whole plot was centred as it were in the mysterious garment before him, he set himself seriously to work to examine it. First he pulled out his eye-glass and, stepping back a pace or two, took a general survey of the whole; he then approached it again, and taking hold of it in different places with his hand, examined it in detail so closely that it seemed as if he were trying to count the number of threads. Being apparently unwilling in so difficult an investigation to trust to the evidence of any one sense, he replaced his eye-glass in his waistcoat pocket, and began rubbing a portion of the skirt between his hands; the sense of touch failing, however, to throw any new light upon the subject, as a sort of forlorn hope, he applied his nose to it. The result of this was an indescribable exclamation, expressive of intense disgust, followed immediately by a violent sneeze; then came a long pause, as though he were considering of what possible use such a garment could be. At length a ray of light seemed to break in upon the darkness, and once more laying hands on the Macintosh he proceeded, after unhooking it from the nails on which it hung, slowly and deliberately to put it on, with the back part foremost, somewhat after the fashion of a child's pinafore. Having at length accomplished this difficult operation, he walked, or rather shuffled (for his petticoats interfered greatly with the free use of his limbs), up and down the hall, with a grave, not to say solemn, expression of countenance. Appearing perfectly satisfied after one or two turns that he had at last solved the enigma, he divested himself of the perplexing garment, hung it on a peg appropriated to great-coats, and approached the door of the pupils' room.

By the time he entered Lawless was seated at his desk studying Herodotus, while Coleman and I were deeply immersed in our respective Euclids.

After shaking hands with Oaklands, and addressing some good-natured remarks to each of us in turn, he went up to Lawless, and, laying his hand kindly on his shoulder, said, with a half-smile:—

~61~~"I am afraid I have made rather an absurd mistake about that strange garment of yours, Lawless; I suppose it is some new kind of greatcoat, is it not?"

"Yes, sir, it is a sort of waterproof cloth, made with Indian rubber."

"Indian rubber, is it? Well, I fancied so; it has not the nicest smell in the world. I certainly thought it was a smock-frock, though, when I saw you go out in it. Is not it rather awkward to walk in? I found it so when I tried it on just now, and buttoning behind does not seem to me at all a good plan."

"No, sir, but it is meant to button in front; perhaps you put it on the back part foremost."

"Hem!" said Dr. Mildman, trying to look as if he thought such a thing impossible, and failing—"it is a very singular article of dress altogether, but I am glad it was not a smock-frock you went out in. I hope," continued he, turning to Oaklands, with an evident wish to change the conversation, "I hope they took good care of you when you arrived last night?"

This was turning the tables with a vengeance! Lawless became suddenly immersed in Herodotus again.

"Oh! the greatest," was the reply; "I had so much attention paid me that I was almost upset by it. I was not quite overcome, though," he continued, with a sly glance towards Lawless, "and Mrs. Mildman gave us some very nice tea, which soon restored me."

"Well, I'm glad they managed to make you comfortable among them," observed Dr. Mildman, turning over his papers and books, preparatory to beginning the morning's study.

"Hadn't you better ask him when he expects the sofa will be down?" suggested Coleman to Oaklands, in a whisper.

"No, you jackanapes," was the reply, "and don't you make me laugh when that old gentleman is in the room, for there's nothing more fatiguing than the attempt to smother a laugh."

Coleman's only answer to this, if answer it could be called, was a grimace, which had the desired effect of throwing Oaklands into a fit of laughter, which he found it very hard labour indeed to stifle; nor had his countenance quite recovered from the effects of his exertions, when he was summoned to the Doctor's table to undergo an examination similar to that which had appeared so formidable to me a few days before; and thus terminated the notable adventure of the carter's frock, though I ~62~~observed that after a week or two had elapsed the Macintosh was handed over to Thomas, and Smithson was called upon to tax his inventive powers to furnish Lawless with a less questionably shaped garment of the same material.

A few days after this, as I was walking with Coleman, he suddenly exclaimed:—

"Well, of all the antediluvian affairs I ever beheld, the old fellow now coming towards us is the queerest; he looks like a fossil edition of Methuselah, dug up and modernised some hundred years ago at the very least. Holloa! he's going mad I believe; I hope he does not bite."

The subject of these somewhat uncomplimentary remarks was a little old gentleman in a broad-brimmed white hat, turned up with green, and a black cloth spencer (an article much like a boy's jacket exaggerated), from beneath which protruded the very broad tails of a blue coat, with rather more than their proper complement of bright brass buttons, while drab gaiters and shorts completed the costume.

The moment, however, I beheld the countenance of the individual in question, I recognised the never-to-be-mistaken mole at the tip of the nose of my late coach companion to London. The recognition seemed mutual, for no sooner did he perceive me than he stopped short, and pointed straight at me with a stout silver-mounted bamboo which he held in his hand, uttering a sonorous "Umph!" as he did so; to which somewhat unusual mode of salutation may be attributed Coleman's doubts as to his sanity.

"Who'd ever have thought of meeting you at Helmstone, I should like to know?" exclaimed he in a tone of astonishment.

"I was going to say the same thing to you, sir," replied I; "I came down here the very day on which we travelled together."

"Umph! I came the next; well, and what are you doing now you are here? Schoolmaster lives here, I suppose—tutor, you call him, though, don't you?"

I informed him of my tutor's name and residence, when he continued:—

"Umph! I know him; very good man, too good to be plagued by a set of tiresome boys—men, though, you call yourselves, don't you? Umph! Is he a man too?" he inquired, pointing to Coleman.

"I've been a man these seventeen years, sir," replied Coleman.

~63~~"Umph, a man seventeen years ago! a baby, more likely: what does he mean? what does he mean?"

I explained that he probably intended a pun upon his name, which was Coleman.

"A pun, Umph? he makes puns, does he? funny boy, funny boy, I daresay. How does the Doctor like that, though? Make puns to him, he'd punish you, Umph? Stupid things puns—made one myself then, though—just like me. Well, give the Doctor my compliments—Mr. Frampton's—I live at No. 10 Castle Street,—he knows me, and ask him to let you come and dine with me next week; bring funny boy too, if he likes to come;" and away he posted, muttering "Umph! plaguing myself about a pack of boys, when I might be quiet—just like me!"

We did not fail to deliver Mr. Frampton's message to Dr. Mildman on our return home, who willingly gave us the required permission, saying that he knew but little of the old gentleman personally, though he had resided for several years at Helmstone, but that he was universally respected, in spite of his eccentricities, and was reported to have spent great part of his life abroad. The next time I met my new friend he repeated his invitation to Coleman and myself, and, on the day appointed, gave us an excellent dinner, with quite as much wine as we knew what to do with; amused and interested us with sundry well-told anecdotes of adventures he had met with during his residence in foreign lands, and dismissed us at nine o'clock with a tip of a guinea each, and an injunction to come and see him again whenever we pleased.

For many succeeding weeks nothing of any particular moment occurred to interrupt the even tenor of the new course of life I had entered upon. The liking which Oaklands seemed to have taken to me at first sight soon ripened into a warm friendship, which continued daily to increase on my part, as the many noble and lovable qualities of his disposition appeared, one by one, from behind the veil of indolence which, till one knew him well, effectually concealed them. Coleman, though too volatile to make a real friend of, was a very agreeable companion, and, if it were ever possible to get him to be serious for a minute, showed that beneath the frivolity of his manner lay a basis of clear good sense and right feeling, which only required calling forth to render him a much higher character than he appeared at present. For the rest, I was alternately bullied and patronised by Lawless (though he never ventured on the former line of conduct when Oaklands was present), while Cumberland, outwardly ~64~~professing great regard for me, never let slip an opportunity of showing me an ill-natured turn, when he could contrive to do so without committing himself openly.

A more intimate acquaintance with Mullins only served to place beyond a doubt the fact of his being a most unmitigated, and not over-amiable, fool. The word is a strong one, but I fear that, if I were to use a milder term, it would be at the expense of truth.

For my tutor I soon began to conceive the warmest feeling of regard and esteem; in fact, it was impossible to know him well, and not to love him. Simple as a child in everything relating to worldly matters, he united the deepest learning to the most elevated piety, while the thoroughly practical character of his religion, carried, as it was, into all the minor details of everyday life, imparted a gentleness and benignity to his manner which seemed to elevate him above the level of ordinary mortals. If he had a fault (I suppose, merely for the sake of proving him human, I must allow him one), it was a want of moral courage, which made it so disagreeable to him to find fault with any of us, that he would now and then allow evils to exist, which a little more firmness and decision might have prevented; but, had it not been for this, he would have been quite perfect, and perfection is a thing not to be met with in this life.

Cumberland, after the eventful evening on which he acted as peacemaker between Lawless and Oaklands, had persevered steadily in his endeavour to ingratiate himself with the latter; and, by taking advantage of his weak point, his indolence and dislike of trouble, had, at length, succeeded in making Oaklands believe him essential to his comfort. Thus, though there was not the smallest sympathy between them, a sort of alliance was established, which gave Cumberland exactly the opportunities he required for putting into execution certain schemes which he had formed. Of what these schemes consisted, and how far they succeeded, will appear in the course of this veracious history.

The winter months, after favouring us with rather more than our due allowance of frost and snow, had at length passed away, and March, having come in like a lion, appeared determined, after the fashion of Bottom the weaver, "to roar that it would do any man's heart good to hear him," and to kick up a thorough dust ere he would condescend to go out like a lamb, albeit, in the latter state, he might have made a shilling per pound of himself at any market, had he felt suicidally inclined.

~65~~"This will never do," said Oaklands to me, as, for the third time, we were obliged to turn round and cover our eyes, to avoid being blinded by the cloud of dust which a strong east wind was driving directly in our faces; "there is nothing in the world tires one like walking against a high wind. A quarter to three," added he, taking out his watch. "I have an appointment at three o'clock. Will you walk with me? I must turn up here."

I assented; and, turning a corner, we proceeded up a narrow street, where the houses, in a great measure, protected us from the wind. After walking some little distance in silence Oaklands again addressed me:—

"Frank, did you ever play at billiards?"

I replied in the negative.

"It's a game I've rather a liking for," continued he; "we have a table at Heathfield, and my father and I often played when the weather was too bad to get out. I used to beat the old gentleman easily though at last, till I found out one day he did not half like it, so then I was obliged to make shocking mistakes, every now and then, to give him a chance of winning; anybody else would have found me out in a minute, for I am the worst hand in the world at playing the hypocrite, but my father is the most unsuspicious creature breathing. Oh! he is such a dear old man. You must come and stay with us, Frank, and learn to know him and love him—he'd delight in you—you are just the sort of fellow he likes."

"There's nothing I should like better," answered I, "if I can get leave from head-quarters; but why did you want to know if I played at billiards?"

"Oh, I have been playing a good deal lately with Cumberland, who seems very fond of the game, and I'm going to meet him at the rooms in F——Street to-day; so I thought, if you knew anything of the game, you might like to come with me."

"Cumberland is a first-rate player, isn't he?" asked I.

"No, I do not think so: we play very evenly, I should say; but we are to have a regular match to-day, to decide which is the best player."

"Do you play for money?"

"Just a trifle to give an interest to the game, nothing more," replied Oaklands; "our match to-day is for a five-pound note."

I must confess that I could not help feeling extremely uneasy at the information Oaklands had just given me. The recollection of what Coleman had said concerning some gaming affair in which Cumberland was supposed 66~to have behaved dishonourably, combined with a sort of general notion, which seemed to prevail, that he was not exactly a safe person to have much to do with, might in some degree account for this; still I always felt a kind of instinctive dislike and mistrust of Cumberland, which led me to avoid him as much as possible on my own account. In the present instance, when the danger seemed to threaten my friend, this feeling assumed a vague character of fear; "and yet," reasoned I with myself, "what is there to dread? Oaklands has plenty of money at his command; besides, he says they play pretty evenly, so that he must win nearly as often as Cumberland; then, he is older than I am, and of course must be better able to judge what is right or wrong for him to do." However, remembering the old adage, that "lookers-on see most of the game," I determined, for once, to accompany him; I therefore told him that, though I could not play myself, it would be an amusement to me to watch them, and that, if he had no objection, I would go with him, to which proposition he willingly agreed. As we turned into F——Street we were joined by Cumberland, who, as I fancied, did not seem best pleased at seeing me, nor did the scowl which passed across his brow, on hearing I was to accompany them, tend to lessen this impression. He did not, however, attempt to make any opposition to the plan, merely remarking that, as I did not play myself, he thought I should find it rather dull. After proceeding about half way down the street Cumberland stopped in front of a small cigar-shop, and, turning towards a private door, on which was a brass plate with the word "Billiards" engraved on it, knocked, and was admitted. Leading the way up a dark, narrow staircase, he opened a green baize door at the top, and ushered us into a tolerably large room, lighted by a sky-light, immediately under which stood the billiard-table. On one side was placed a rack, containing a formidable arrangement of cues, maces, etc., while at the farther end two small dials, with a brass hand in the centre for the purpose of marking the scores of the different players, were fixed against the wall. As we entered, two persons who were apparently performing certain intricate manoeuvres with the balls by way of practice immediately left off playing and came towards us. One of these, a little man, with small keen grey eyes, and a quick restless manner, which involuntarily reminded one of a hungry rat, rejoiced in the name of "Slipsey," and proved to be the billiard-marker; his ~67~~companion was a tall stout personage, with a very red face, rather handsome features, large white teeth, and a profusion of bushy whiskers, moustaches, and imperial of a dark-brown colour. His dress consisted of a blue military frock coat, which he wore open, to display a crimson plush waistcoat and thick gold watch-chain, while his costume was completed by a pair of black and white plaid trousers, made in the extreme of the fashion, with a broad stripe down the outside of the leg. This personage swaggered up to Cumberland, and, with a manner composed of impertinent familiarity and awkwardness, addressed him as follows:—

"How d'ye do, Mr. Cumberland? hope I see you well, sir. Terrible bad day, gentlemen, don't you think? dusty enough to pepper the devil, as we used to say in Spain, hey? Going to have a touch at the rolley-polleys, I suppose."

"We shall be disturbing you, Captain Spicer," said Cumberland, who, I thought, had tact enough to perceive that his friend's free and easy manner was the reverse of acceptable to Oaklands.

"Not at all, not at all," was the reply; "it was so terrible unpleasant out of doors that, as I happened to be going by, I thought I'd look in to see if there was anything up; and as the table was lying idle I got knocking the balls about with little Slipsey here, just to keep one's hand in, you know."

"Well, then, we had better begin at once," said Cumberland, to which Oaklands assented rather coldly.

As he was pulling off his greatcoat he whispered to me, "If that man stays here long, I shall never be able to stand it: his familiarity is unbearable; there is nothing tires me so much as being obliged to be civil to that kind of people".

"How is it to be?" said Cumberland, "whoever wins four games out of seven is the conqueror, wasn't that it?"

"Yes, I believe so," was Oaklands' reply.

"A very sporting match, 'pon my life," observed the Captain; "are the stakes high?"

"Oh no! a mere nothing: five, or ten pounds, did we say?" inquired Cumberland.

"Just as you like," replied Oaklands, carelessly.

"Ten pounds, by all means, I should say; five pounds is so shocking small, don't you think? not worth playing for?" said the Captain.

"Ten let it be then," said Cumberland; and after a few preliminaries they began playing.

68~I did not understand the game sufficiently to be able to give a detailed account of the various chances of the match, nor would it probably greatly interest the reader were I to do so. Suffice it, then, to state, that, as far as I could judge, Oaklands, disgusted by the vulgar impertinence of the Captain (if Captain he was), thought the whole thing a bore, and played carelessly. The consequence was, that Cumberland won the first two games. This put Oaklands upon his mettle, and he won the third and fourth; the fifth was hardly contested, Oaklands evidently playing as well as he was able, Cumberland also taking pains; but it struck me as singular that, in each game, his play seemed to depend upon that of his adversary. When Oaklands first began Cumberland certainly beat him, but not by many; and, as he became interested, and his play improved, so in the same ratio did Cumberland's keep pace with it. Of course, there might be nothing in this; the same causes that affected the one might influence the other; but the idea having once occurred to me, I determined to watch the proceedings still more closely, in order, if possible, to make up my mind on the point. After a very close contest Oaklands also won the fifth game; in the sixth he missed a difficult stroke, after which he played carelessly, apparently intending to reserve his strength for the final struggle, so that Cumberland won it easily. Each had now won three games, and on the event of the seventh depended the match. Again did Oaklands, who was evidently deeply interested, use his utmost skill, and his play, which certainly was very good, called forth frequent eulogiums from the Captain, who offered to bet unheard-of sums on the certainty of his winning (which, as there was no one in the room at all likely to accept his offer, was a very safe and innocent amusement), and again, pari passu, did Cumberland's skill keep pace with his. After playing neck and neck, till nearly the end of the game, Cumberland gained a slight advantage, which produced the following state of affairs:—It was Oaklands' turn to play, and the balls were placed in such a position, that by a brilliant stroke he might win the game, but it required great skill to do so. If he failed, the chances were so much in Cumberland's favour as to render his success almost a certainty. It was an anxious moment: for my own part, I felt as if I scarcely dared breathe, and could distinctly hear the throbbing of my own heart, while the Captain, after having most liberally offered to bet five hundred pounds to five pence that he did it, remained silent and ~69~~motionless as a statue, watching the proceedings, with his eye-glass screwed after some mysterious fashion into the corner of his eye. And now, carefully and deliberately, Oaklands pointed his cue—his elbow was drawn back for the stroke—for the last time his eye appeared to measure and calculate the precise spot he must strike to produce the desired effect—when suddenly, and at the exact moment in which the cue struck the ball, a sonorous sneeze from the rat-like billiard-marker resounded through the room; as a necessary consequence, Oaklands gave a slight start and missed his stroke. The confusion that ensued can "better be imagined than described," as the newspapers always say about the return from Epsom. With an exclamation of anger and disappointment Oaklands turned away from the table, while the Captain began storming at Slipsey, whom he declared himself ready to kick till all was blue, for the trifling remuneration of half a farthing. The marker himself apologised, with great contrition, for his delinquency, which he declared was quite involuntary, at the same time asserting that, to the best of his belief, the gentleman had made his stroke before he sneezed: this Oaklands denied, and appealed to Cumberland for his opinion. After trying in various ways to avoid giving a direct answer, and appealing in his turn to Captain Spicer (who was so intensely positive that the sneeze had preceded the stroke, that he was willing to back his opinion to any amount), Cumberland very unwillingly owned that, if he was forced to say what he thought, he believed Oaklands had made his stroke before the sneeze caused him to start, but that it was a near thing, and he might very possibly be mistaken. This was quite enough for Oaklands, who declared that he was perfectly satisfied, and begged Cumberland to play, which, with some apparent reluctance, he did, and, as was almost a matter of certainty, proved the conqueror.

"'Pon my life, in all my experience, I never knew a gentleman lose a match in such a tremendously unfortunate way," observed the Captain. "I am certain that if you had not been flurried, Mr. Oaklands, sir, you could have done the trick as clean as a whistle. Allow me to place the balls as they were then—I know how they stood to a nicety—there, that's it to a demi-semi fraction; oblige me, sir, just as a personal favour, by trying the stroke once more."

Thus invoked, Oaklands approached the table, and, without a moment's deliberation, struck the ball, and succeeded in doing with perfect ease the very thing which a minute before would have won him ten pounds.

~70~~"There! I was super-certain you could do it; the match was yours, sir, as safe as the bank, if that wretched little abortion there hadn't made that disgusting noise. Play him again, sir; play him again: Mr. Cumberland's a pretty player, a very pretty player; but you're too strong for him, Mr. Oaklands; it's my firm conviction you're too strong for him."

"What do you say to giving me my revenge, Cumberland?" asked Oaklands.

"Oh! I can have no possible objection," replied Cumberland, with the slightest imaginable assumption of superiority in his tone, which annoyed my ear, and which I felt sure would produce the same effect upon Oaklands. The next game Oaklands won; and they continued to play the rest of the afternoon with various success, and for what appeared to me very high stakes. I calculated that, by the time they left off, Oaklands must have lost more than thirty pounds; and yet, in spite of this, to a superficial observer he appeared to be the better player of the two: he certainly made the most brilliant strokes, but he also made blunders, and failed now and then; while Cumberland's score mounted up without one's exactly knowing how; he never seemed to be playing particularly well, and yet there was always something easy for him to do; while, when Oaklands had to play, the balls got into such awkward positions that it appeared as if they were leagued against him.

Besides this, many things concurred to strengthen me in my pre-conceived idea, that Cumberland was accommodating his play to that of Oaklands, whom, I felt certain, he could have beaten easily, if he had been so inclined. If this were really the case, the only conclusion one could come to was, that the whole thing was a regularly arranged plot: the object of which was to win as much as he could of Oaklands' money. The marker's sneeze too, occurring so very opportunely for Cumberland's interest; and the presence of the Captain, who, by his eulogiums on Oaklands' skill, had excited him to continue playing, while, by his observations and advice, he had endeavoured (whenever it was possible) to raise the amount of the stakes; all this favoured my view of the case. Still these were but suspicions; for I was utterly without proof: and could I on mere suspicion tell Oaklands that he was a dupe, and Cumberland a knave? No, this would never do; so I determined, as people generally do when they are at their wits' end, and can ~71~~hit on nothing better, to wait and see what time would bring forth, and act according to circumstances.

Should any of my readers think such penetration unnatural in a boy of my age, brought up in a quiet country parsonage, let them remember that, though utterly ignorant of the ways of the world, I was what is called a quick, sharp boy; that I had been informed Cumberland was not a person to be trusted, nay, that he was known to have cheated some young man before; and that, moreover, my very unworldliness and ignorance increased my suspicions, inasmuch as it seemed to me that playing billiards, at a public table, for what I considered large sums of money, was neither more nor less than gambling; and gambling I viewed in the light of a patent twenty-devil-power man-trap, fresh baited (in the present case with a billiard cue and balls) by the claws of the Evil One himself; consequently, I was prepared to view everything that passed with the greatest mistrust; and, in such a frame of mind, I must have been blind not to have perceived something of what was going on.



CHAPTER VIII — GOOD RESOLUTIONS

"Blest are those Whose blood and judgement are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for Fortune's linger To sound what stop she please." —Hamlet.

"There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft." —Naval Song.

AS we were preparing to take our departure I observed the Captain exchange glances with Cumberland, who turned to Oaklands, saying:—

"Don't wait for me; I have one or two places to call at in my way back, and I shall only make you late;—when you get home, give Thomas a hint to keep back dinner five minutes or so—old Mildman won't say anything about it, if he fancies it's the servant's fault."

To this Oaklands replied, "that it was rather a shame, but he'd see what he could do for once"; and, with a very distant bow to the Captain, we left the room. As soon as we were in the street Oaklands accosted me with:—

"Well, Frank, what do you think of billiards?"

~72~~"Why," replied I, after a moment's thought, "as to the game itself, it's a very pretty game, and when you can play well, I have no doubt a very interesting one; too much so, perhaps."

"Too interesting! why, that's the beauty of it; almost every other game is a bore, and tires one, because one does not get sufficiently interested to forget the trouble of it; what can you mean by too interesting?"

"You won't be angry at what I am going to say, will you?" said I, looking up in his face.

"Angry with you, my dear boy! no fear of that; always say just what you think to me, and, if it happens to be disagreeable, why it can't be helped; I would rather hear a disagreeable truth from a friend any day, than have it left for some ill-natured person to bring out, when he wants to annoy me."

"All I meant to say was this," I replied; "it seems to me that you get so much excited by the game, that you go on playing longer, and for higher stakes, than you intended to do when you began,—surely," continued I, "it cannot be right to lose such sums of money merely for amusement; is it not gambling?"

"I believe you are right, Frank," replied Oaklands, after a short pause, during which he had apparently been revolving the matter in his mind; "when one comes to think seriously about it, it is a most unprofitable way of getting rid of one's money; you will scarcely credit it," continued he, half-smiling, "but I declare to you I have been playing almost every day for the last two months."

"So long as that?" interrupted I, aghast.

"There or thereabouts," said Oaklands, laughing at the tone of horror in which I had spoken; "but I was going to say," he continued, "that till this moment—looking upon it merely as an amusement, something to keep one from going to sleep over a newspaper in that vile reading-room—I have never taken the trouble to consider whether there was any right or wrong in the matter. I am very much obliged to you for the hint, Frank; I'll think it all over to-night, and see how much I owe Master Cumberland, and I'll tell you to-morrow what conclusion I have come to. I hate to do anything in a hurry—even to think; one must take time to do that well."

We had now reached home, and, mindful of his promise, Oaklands begged Thomas to use his interest with the cook, for the purpose of postponing dinner for a few ~73~~minutes, in order to give Cumberland a chance of being ready—to which Thomas replied:—

"Very well, sir, anything to oblige you, Mr. Oaklands," muttering to himself as he went off, "wonder what that chap Cumberland is up to now; no good, I'll be bound".

In another minute we heard his voice in the lower regions, exclaiming:—

"I say, cook, mustn't dish up for the next ten minutes; master ain't quite finished his next Sunday's sermon; he's got hitched just at thirdly and lastly, and mustn't be disturbed; not on no account";—which produced from that functionary the following pathetic rejoinder:—

"Then, it's hall hup with the pigeon pie, for it will be burnt as black as my blessed shoe by that time!"

As I was descending the stairs, ready to go out, the next day, Oaklands called me into his room, and, closing the door, said:—

"Well, Fairlegh, I have thought over all you said yesterday,—made up my mind—and acted upon it".

"Bravo!" replied I, "I am so glad, for, whenever you will but rouse yourself, you are sure to act more rightly and sensibly than anybody else; but what have you done now? Let me hear all about it."

"Oh, nothing very wonderful," answered Oaklands; "when I came to look at my pocket-book, I found I had lost, from first to last, above one hundred and fifty pounds."

"Good gracious!" cried I, aghast at the magnitude of the sum; "what will you do?"

Oaklands smiled at my look of horror, and continued:—

"About one hundred pounds of this I still owe Cumberland, for, after my ready money was gone, I merely set down on paper all I won or lost, as he said I could pay him at any time, just as it suited me best; and I thought I would wait till I got my next quarter's allowance, pay him out of that, and be very economical ever after. Well, when I saw what the sums amounted to, I found this plan certainly would not answer, and that I was getting into a mess; so I made up my mind to put an end to the thing at once,—and sat down to write to my father, telling him I had been playing billiards every day for some time past with a friend,—of course I did not mention who,—and that, without being at all aware of it, my losses had mounted up till I owed him one hundred pounds. I mentioned at the same time that I had a pretty long bill at Smithson's; and then went on to say that I saw the folly, if not worse than folly, of what I had been doing; and that I applied ~74~~to him, as the best friend I had in the world,—and I am sure he is too, Frank,—to save me from the consequences of my own imprudence."

"I am very glad you did that; it was much the wisest thing," interrupted I.

"As soon as I had written my letter," continued Oaklands, "I went to Cumberland, and told him that I found I had been going on over fast,—that I owned he was too good a player for me,—and that I therefore did not mean to play any more—and would pay him as soon as I received my father's answer."

"And what did he say to that?" inquired I.

"Why, he seemed surprised and a little annoyed, I fancied. He denied being the best player, and begged I would not think of paying him yet, saying that I had been unlucky of late, but that, if I would go on boldly, luck was sure to change, and that I should most likely win it all back again."

"And you?"

"Oh! I told him that was the true spirit of gambling; that I did not choose to owe so much to any man as I owed him, and that pay him I would. Well then, he said, that if I did not like to trouble my father about such a trifle, and yet was determined to pay him, it could be very easily managed. I asked how? He hummed and ha'd, and at last said that Smithson would advance me the money in a minute—that I should only have to sign a receipt for it, and need not pay him for years—not till I was of age, and not then if I did not like—that no one would be any the wiser—and he was going on with more in the same style, when I stopped him, by answering very abruptly, that such an arrangement was not to my taste, and that I was not yet reduced be borrowing money of my tailor."