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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92e8c4d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53455 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53455) diff --git a/old/53455-0.txt b/old/53455-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index cb3ef1e..0000000 --- a/old/53455-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5987 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rank and Talent; A Novel, Vol. I (of 3), by -William Pitt Scargill - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Rank and Talent; A Novel, Vol. I (of 3) - -Author: William Pitt Scargill - -Release Date: November 5, 2016 [EBook #53455] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANK AND TALENT, VOL 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Heather Clark and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - RANK AND TALENT; - A NOVEL. - - BY THE - AUTHOR OF “TRUCKLEBOROUGH-HALL.” - - When once he’s made a Lord, - Who’ll be so saucy as to think he can - Be impotent in wisdom? - - COOK. - - Why, Sir, ’tis neither satire nor moral, but the mere passage - of an history; yet there are a sort of discontented creatures, - that bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest - the doings of any man to their base malicious appliment. - - MARSTON. - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - LONDON: - HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. - 1829. - - - - -RANK AND TALENT. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - “Law is the world’s great light, a second sun - To this terrestrial globe, by which all things - Have life and being; and without which - Confusion and disorder soon would seize - The general state of men.” - - BARRY. - - -The Summer assizes for the county of ----, in the year 18--, excited -in the county-town where they were held rather more than the usual -sensation; but in the remote and smaller town of Brigland, they roused -a stirring interest. Long before the day of the trial, every vehicle -which could be hired was engaged to carry the curious to the assizes, -to hear the action brought by poor old Richard Smith against the Hon. -Philip Martindale, for an assault and false imprisonment. The defendant -was by no means popular at Brigland, and there were circumstances, -which rendered the injury done to the plaintiff peculiarly hard and -oppressive; and whenever the sympathy of the multitude is with the -poor oppressed against the rich oppressor, that sympathy is very -strong, and indignation is not choice in the terms of its expression, -nor does cool deliberation precede judgment. It was the common, and -almost universal wish, that the defendant might have to pay heavy -damages; and that he might hear from the lips of the plaintiff’s -counsel some home truths, which might mortify his pride, and abate his -arrogance. - -In addition to the excitement which this action produced, there was -also another, though smaller stimulus to curiosity, in the first -appearance on the circuit of a young barrister, who was a native of -the town in which the assizes were held. These two circumstances, -therefore, filled the court at an early hour with anxious and curious -expectants. - -The plaintiff’s attorney had put his brief into the hands of the young -barrister; the defendant had retained a more experienced advocate, one -well versed in the theory of the law, and, what is far more to the -purpose, deeply skilled in the ways of the world, and the practice of -courts--one who had the professionally desirable art of mystifying a -jury, and of persuading twelve men out of their senses--one who would -be sure of every cause he undertook, were it not for the summing up of -the judge--one who, by means of a loud voice and swaggering manner, -was a terror to nine-tenths of the simpletons who entered the witness’ -box--one who never cross-examined a female witness without making her -blush, or terrifying her to tears--one who could talk very solemnly -about “our holy religion,” and could convert into a joke the clearest -principles of morality, or the deepest sufferings of humanity. It was -a great amusement to the country people and the county magistrates to -hear this very clever man; and poor old Richard Smith was very much -alarmed when he found what a dexterous and terrific adversary was -employed against him, and he expressed his fears to his own attorney, -who comforted him by saying, “Had your cause been a bad one, I would -have retained Mr. ----.” - -After one or two causes had been disposed of, that of Smith _versus_ -Martindale was called. Then, for the first time, and in his native -town, did Horatio Markham open his lips in a court of justice. -Notwithstanding the profound and anxious silence which prevailed in the -court, scarcely one-half of the persons there could hear distinctly the -commencement of his speech; but by degrees he gained confidence, and -his voice was more audible. The audience, however, was not very highly -pleased with what he said. Many thought that he stated the case much -too feebly. Some thought that he was afraid of the defendant’s counsel; -and others thought he was fearful of offending the defendant himself. -The Hon. Philip Martindale, who was on the bench, listened with but -slight attention to the speech; and when it was finished, honoured it -with a contemptuous sneer. This sneer was reflected in most courtly -style by the gentlemen who sat on either side of him; the high-sheriff -was one, and a clerical magistrate was the other. - -Witnesses were then called to prove the case. From them it appeared -very clear that the Hon. Philip Martindale had, upon very defective -evidence, and against very credible evidence, committed Richard Smith -to jail as a poacher; and the said Hon. Philip Martindale had also with -great severity, not to say cruelty, struck the said Richard Smith, -in order, as the defendant had said, to punish the old man for his -insolence. What this insolence was, would not have appeared to the -court, had it not been for the dexterity of the defendant’s counsel, in -cross-examining one of the plaintiff’s witnesses. - -This witness was a very pretty, modest-looking young woman, who seemed -to suffer quite enough from the publicity in which she was placed by -being brought to speak in open court. The temptation was too strong for -the defendant’s counsel to resist; and he therefore took abundant pains -to show his wit, by asking a long string of impertinent questions, and -repeating the answers to those questions in a loud insulting tone. -He and those who follow his example, are best able to say how far -such a mode of proceeding can answer the ends of justice--how far it -is consistent with the gravity and decorum of a court, and with the -character of a gentleman--how far it is calculated to impress the -multitude with a sentiment of reverence for the expounders of the -law--and how far it is likely to advance those who adopt it, in their -own esteem. - -The cross-examination of this young woman, who was the plaintiff’s -niece, led to a re-examination, in which it was made manifest to the -court, as it had been previously known to most then present, that the -severity of the Hon. Philip Martindale towards poor old Richard Smith -arose from the vigilance with which the old man guarded his niece, and -preserved her from the artifices of the defendant. When this fact came -out in evidence, there was an involuntary and indescribable expression -of contempt in the court; and the honourable defendant endeavoured -to smile away his mortification, but did not succeed, though he was -countenanced by the high-sheriff on one side of him, and a clerical -magistrate on the other. The contrast between impertinence and decorum -was never so strongly manifested as in the cross-examination and -re-examination above alluded to; and it has been said that the witty -barrister himself was not quite at his ease, and that he broke down in -an attempted jest upon gravity. - -The counsel for the defendant called no witnesses, but made a witty -speech; in which he proved by arguments which made the multitude laugh, -that it is a very slight inconvenience to be imprisoned for a few -months; that seduction is a very venial offence, and highly becoming -a gentleman; that it is a great condescension in a man of high rank -to knock down a poor cottager; that gray hairs are a very ludicrous -ornament; that it is very insolent in a poor man to interrupt a rich -man in his pursuit of vicious pleasure; that the game-laws are so very -excellent, that persons only suspected of violating them ought to be -punished. Then he gave the jury to understand, that if they should be -foolish enough to give a verdict for the plaintiff, they must award the -least possible damages. Then he sat down, and took a great quantity -of snuff, and winked at the high-sheriff. In spite of all the wit and -coxcomical impertinence of this redoubtable advocate, the jury found a -verdict for the plaintiff, giving him one hundred pounds damages. - -This verdict, and the unpretending sobriety of the young barrister’s -mode of arguing his case, occasioned much conversation in the town, and -gave also ground for some observations among the gentlemen of the bar. -Some of these gentlemen had known Horatio Markham from the very first -day that he had entered his name in the Temple. They were acquainted -with his taste and the line of his reading, and they knew that the -oratorical writers of antiquity and of modern times occupied a place -on his shelves and a share of his attention; and they expected that -when he held such a brief as that of which we have made mention, he -would indulge a little in declamation. It was therefore a matter of -surprise to them when he confined himself so strictly to the record, -and suffered his case to rest so independently on its own strength. -The opposing counsel was completely at fault. He had calculated so -confidently on Markham’s eloquence, and was so familiar with the -common places of declamation, that he was quite prepared with a -copious supply of extemporaneous witticisms, with which he designed -to overwhelm the young gentleman, and throw ridicule on his cause. -It was therefore a disappointment to him when he found that all this -previous preparation was labour lost. But though most of the barristers -on the circuit joined with the witty counsel for the defendant in his -vituperation of those who had been instrumental in procuring such -a verdict, yet secretly they were not displeased that their tyrant -had been so fairly set down. Markham was absolutely beginning to -be a favourite on the circuit. The judge himself all but publicly -complimented him on the able and gentleman-like manner in which he had -managed his cause; and even the honourable defendant was mortified that -there was nothing in Markham’s language to which any exception could be -taken. - -When the court had broken up, the young barrister most unblushingly -walked into a linen-draper’s shop, and passing on to a little back -parlour, took off his gown and wig, and sat down to dine with his -father and mother. The old people were proud of their son, and the -young man was not ashamed of his parents. But he had seen many -instances of young persons who had scarcely deigned to acknowledge -those to whom they were not only bound by the ties of nature, but to -whose self-denial they owed their distinction and station in life. -These little think how much substantial reputation they lose, and how -little shadowy honour they gain. - -As the family of the young barrister was sitting at dinner, there -entered to them unannounced, and without apology, an elderly man, in -very singular attire, and of very singular appearance. Markham had -a recollection of having seen him in court. His countenance had an -expression of archness, and he seemed by his looks as though he were -on the eve of uttering some choice piece of wit; there were also -observable indications of impetuosity and strong self-will. His head -was nearly bald; his shoulders of ample breadth; his stature short; -his voice shrill; and his manner of speaking quick and dogmatical. -Without taking any notice of the father and mother of the barrister, he -addressed himself directly to Horatio. - -“I suppose you don’t know me--my name is Martindale.” - -“The Hon. Philip Martindale?” replied the young man with great -composure; for he was quite ignorant of the person of the defendant in -the recent action. - -“The Hon. Philip Martindale!” echoed the stranger, with a tone and -with a look which answered the question very decidedly. “The Hon. -Philip rascal!--no, sir; my name is not made ridiculous by any such -lying adjunct. My name is John Martindale; and it is my misfortune to -be called cousin by that hopeful spark who was defendant in the action -this morning. I am come, sir, to tell you that I think you did yourself -honour by the manner in which you conducted the poor man’s cause.” - -Horatio Markham perceived that, though the gentleman was somewhat of an -oddity, he was a man of some consequence, and apparently a man of good -feeling; he therefore replied: - -“Sir, you are very polite; you.…” - -“No such thing,” interrupted Mr. Martindale; “I am not polite, and hope -I never shall be polite. My cousin Philip is a very polite man.” Then -directing his conversation to Mr. Markham the elder, he continued: “I -congratulate you, sir, on having for a son a young man who can make a -speech without fine words and metaphors.” - -This seemed to the father a singular ground of congratulation, and he -did not know how to reply to it: fortunately, the speaker did not wait -for a reply; but turning again to the young man, he said: “You must -come and spend a few weeks with me in my cottage at Brigland. I will -have no excuses, so tell me when you will come. Will you go home with -me tonight?” - -Markham recollected that he had in his boyhood heard frequent talk and -many singular anecdotes of Mr. John Martindale of Brigland; but as his -general character was one of benevolence and shrewd sense, he was not -reluctant to accept the invitation, especially as it was given in such -terms as not to be refused without that degree of rudeness which did -not seem suitable from a young man of humble origin towards an elderly -person of high rank. He therefore professed his readiness to spend a -short time with his new friend, and fixed the following day for the -purpose. The stranger then took his leave. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - “I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly, - Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion - To poise my breath; for he that laughs and strikes - Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again.” - - MARSTON. - - -Brigland-Abbey was one of those desirable mansions which auctioneers -love to describe, but which are beyond all power of advertising -flattery. It stood on a gradually descending and very extensive sweep -of land; at the back of which rose a dense and ancient forest, and -in front flowed a stream which had been artificially widened into -the semblance of a fair and placid lake. The building was in harmony -with the scenery; graceful, stately, extensive. The architect had -successfully imitated the florid Gothic style of building; and over -the principal entrance was a window of enormous magnitude, and most -brilliant colouring. Through this window the beams of the declining -sun cast on the marble pavement of the great hall a luxuriant mass of -variegated light, forming one of the most magnificent specimens of -internal beauty which any mansion in this kingdom has to boast. This -beautiful estate was the property of Mr. John Martindale, but the -residence of the Hon. Philip Martindale. The elder Martindale had, for -the place of his abode, a fancifully constructed cottage, immediately -opposite to the great gates that opened into the park; and so well -placed was this residence, that it had a most beautiful and imposing -view of the great building. For when Mr. Martindale had finished the -erection of the splendid abbey, it was remarked to him, as it has been -remarked to many others who have built splendid mansions, “Now you -should have another house opposite to this, that you may enjoy the -pleasure of looking at this magnificent pile.” - -On this principle the proprietor acted; residing in a dwelling called -the cottage, and giving up the great house to his hopeful cousin. He -found a peculiar pleasure in this whim; for thereby he became master -of the master of the great house; and nothing pleased him more than to -be mistaken for a person of no consequence, and then to be discovered -as the opulent and remarkable Mr. Martindale. Some of his neighbours -used to report that he had a right to a title, but that he would not -prosecute his claim, because he despised titles as mere foolery. These -good people were wrong in their conjecture; but the supposition was not -displeasing to Mr. Martindale. - -As we are on the subject, we may as well state here that he was an -old bachelor, of extensive wealth; and that he was third, fourth, or -fifth cousin to a Mr. Martindale, who had recently been created Lord -Martindale, but whose income was not quite equal to his title. Now, -though Mr. Martindale professed a great contempt for titles, the -fact is, that on his remote relative’s obtaining this distinction, -he took more notice of him than ever he had before, and gave very -strong indications that it was his intention to make the Hon. Philip -Martindale his heir. He had established the young gentleman at the -Abbey, tempting his vanity by the offer of a residence far too -magnificent for his means, and too extensive for his establishment. - -The young man’s vanity was pleased with this arrangement, for he very -sensibly felt that he was the occupier of the great house; but he -was not so deeply sensible of the fact, that he was quite under the -command of his opulent and humorous relative. He looked forward to the -possession of ample means at the decease of Mr. Martindale; but he -was desirous of supplying his deficiencies, if possible, before that -time. It might, indeed, be imagined that the heir-apparent to a barony, -and the expectant of most ample wealth, might have made his selection -among the daughters of opulence. There were, however, difficulties and -objections. The young gentleman himself was, especially, particular -as to rank and connexion. None of his family had ever been engaged in -or connected with trade, so far as he could ascertain; and most of the -large fortunes which appeared at all accessible, had been the obvious -result of commercial engagement of some kind or other. He might have -had rank; he might have had wealth; but he could not have both. - -The occupant of the cottage observed his relative’s vanity, and was -in the habit of mortifying it, even though he was not quite free from -some tincture of the same in his own temperament. He also was not -insensible to the fact, that his honourable cousin was not overstrict -in his morals; but his mode of reproving irregularities did not much -tend to their correction. The old gentleman was not a magistrate, but -was, as far as he thought fit, the dictator of his cousin’s proceedings -in the office of magistrate: not that the transaction alluded to in the -first chapter was with the approbation or even knowledge of the elder -Martindale. Such, however, was the oddity of this gentleman’s humour, -that had Horatio Markham declaimed with what some would have considered -merited severity against the magistrate for his violation of the laws, -he would have been the first to take fire at the insult offered to his -relative. He was unprepared for so much temperance, so much good sense, -and so little common-place. This circumstance, together with the fact -that Markham was of plebeian origin, led Mr. Martindale to invite the -barrister to Brigland, that he might amuse himself with his cousin’s -annoyance and embarrassment. - -As Markham was entering the village on the side of the park, he -naturally paused to admire the beauty of the Abbey; and while he was -thus engaged, Mr. Martindale rode up to him, and without any preface of -common-place salutation, called out-- - -“That is a fine house, Mr. Barrister. I dare say you would rather pay -a visit to an honourable in the Abbey, than to a plain mister in a -cottage.” - -Horatio apologised that he had not observed Mr. Martindale; but as he -began to discern his peculiar humour, he replied: “I was certainly -admiring the taste of the architect, and his judgment in selecting so -fine and commanding a situation: the very ground, by its disposition, -seemed to ask for a mansion of no ordinary magnificence.” - -“Oh, ho--you understand how to pay compliments. I suppose you did not -know that your humble servant, plain John Martindale, was the designer -and builder of this mansion. Did you never hear the proverb, that fools -build houses, and wise men live in them?” - -“Is the occupier of that mansion a wise man, sir?” replied Horatio. - -“I cannot say that he is. And so from that you would infer that it was -not a fool who built the house. Well, well, you shall see him soon, -and judge for yourself. I told my honourable relative that I should -insist upon bringing you to the Abbey.” - -Horatio Markham bowed, and they entered the cottage. This building was, -in its construction and appearance, almost indescribable. There was no -semblance of arrangement or regularity about it. It was very large, -and at the same time thoroughly inconvenient. Its furniture was in -some points very elegant, and in others mean. While it was in course -of building, Mr. Martindale had changed his mind about the plan of it -fifty times, or more; and in the furnishing, there had been evidently -as much caprice. There was a room called the library; but which that -room was, a stranger would have been puzzled to guess; for not a single -apartment through the whole house was free from books, and in no one -room were the books arranged in any order. There were books upon the -tables, and books upon the chairs, and books on the floors. The very -staircases were not free from them; and whenever a visitor came to -the cottage to spend a day or two, it was an essential part of the -preparation to remove the books from the bed on which they were lying. - -Now Mr. Martindale was very particular about his books, and would not -suffer any of his domestics to meddle with them. In his younger days -he had been a reader of books; and when he came to his property, he -began to purchase, and cease to read. It was indeed conjectured by some -that his large property, which came to him from a distant relative, and -in some measure unexpectedly, had, in a degree, disordered his mind. -There might, perhaps, be some foundation for this suspicion; but it is -a fact, that even before his acquisition of great wealth, he had been -remarked for many singularities. - -“Now, Mr. Barrister,” said the occupier of the cottage, “what time -would you like to dine? You have villainous late hours in London, I -know. Some of the great folks there don’t dine till to-morrow morning. -If I should ever sport a house in town, and give dinners, I think I -shall send out my cards inviting my company to dinner on Tuesday next, -at one o’clock on Wednesday morning. Will five o’clock be too soon for -you, Mr.?” - -“Not at all, sir.” So the business was settled; and then Mr. Martindale -proposed a walk into the town to call upon the clergyman, whom he -designated by the not much admired name of parson. - -“Good morning to you, Mr. Denver; will you condescend to dine at the -cottage at five o’clock to-day? In the mean time, let me introduce to -you my friend Mr. Markham, a barrister; who has distinguished himself -by obtaining a very proper verdict against my hopeful young cousin, the -Hon. Philip Martindale.” - -Mr. Denver accepted the invitation, politely bowed to Mr. Markham, -and expressed great sorrow at the event which was alluded to by Mr. -Martindale. - -“He is a wild youth, Mr. Parson; why don’t you preach to him, and make -him better?” replied Mr. Martindale.--“If I were a parson, I would -take much better care of my parishioners than nine out of ten of you -black-coated gentry. You are afraid of offending great folks. Now, -you would not dare to go up to the Abbey this morning, and tell my -honourable cousin that he ought to be ashamed of himself.--Eh! what say -you, Mr.? Will you take my arm, and walk up to the great house, and set -about rebuking the wicked one?” - -Mr. Denver gently smiled, and said: “I fear, sir, that we should not -find Mr. Philip at home this morning.” - -“Not find him at home!” exclaimed Mr. Martindale; “why not? Where is he -gone?” - -“He left Brigland early this morning in a post-chaise; and the lad who -drove him the first stage saw him take another chaise, and proceed -towards London.” - -“What! go to London at this time of year!--Let me know nothing about -it!--What is he gone for?” - -“I cannot conjecture,” replied the reverend divine, “what can be Mr. -Philip’s motive for visiting the metropolis at this unusual season.” - -“Conjecture!” said Mr. Martindale; “no, I suppose not. But it is so -very odd that he should go in such a violent hurry, and not say a word -to me on the subject.” - -In this, the old gentleman was wrong; for it was by no means unusual -for the Hon. Philip Martindale to make an excursion for a day or two -without saying any thing about the matter to his worthy relative. These -excursions were sometimes to Moulsey, and sometimes to Epsom, and -sometimes to Newmarket, and sometimes to St. Mary Axe; and as these -excursions were on a species of business with which the old gentleman -had no sympathy, the young gentleman thought it superfluous to announce -his departure and arrival. A present advantage arising from this -arrangement was, that he enjoyed a greater reputation for steadiness -than he really deserved, though without a knowledge of these matters -his indulgent and opulent relative thought the young man rather too -wild. A future disadvantage, however, was likely to compensate for the -present advantage; for it was next to impossible to carry on this game -without detection, and also very difficult to escape from the vortex. - -The knowledge of Philip’s absence without leave discomposed the old -gentleman, and rendered him not very well disposed for the enjoyment of -company; he had, however, the consolation of anticipating the exercise -of a little extra tyranny over his dependent relative, in consequence -of this transgression. It is a truth, and a sad one too, that many -persons, situated as Mr. John Martindale, are not always really sorry -for an opportunity of showing their authority by means of the eloquence -or annoyance of rebuke. Had Philip, by any exertion of his own, or -by any spirit of pride, removed himself from a state of dependence, -it would have been a serious loss to his cousin; and even the very -appearance of an act of independence disturbed the old gentleman, and -rendered him for a considerable time silent and sulky. - -Soon after dinner, however, Mr. Martindale recovered his spirits. He -became quite cheerful with the thought that he should make the young -man do penance for his transgression. He was, however, not altogether -at ease, because his curiosity was excited as to the object of the -young gentleman’s excursion. Mr. Denver was unable or unwilling to -satisfy his curiosity; and therefore, without making any apology to -his guests, the old gentleman withdrew from table, and walked up to -the Abbey, with a view of ascertaining, if possible, from some of the -servants, the cause of their master’s sudden absence from home. - -When three persons have dined together, and have been talking about -nothing, or next to nothing, and when one of the three withdraws, it -is not very unusual or unnatural that he should form a topic for the -remaining two to discourse upon. This was the case when Mr. Martindale -left the clergyman and the barrister together. - -“It is very singular,” said Markham to his companion, “that a man -of such large fortune as Mr. Martindale, should, after building so -splendid a mansion, content himself with residing in such a cottage as -this.” - -“So it appears to us, who have no such choice,” replied Mr. Denver; -“but to Mr. Martindale, who is rolling in riches, some other stimulus -is necessary than the mere outward manifestation of wealth; and I dare -say that he enjoys more pleasure from the whim of having a dependent -relative in the great house, than you or I should from dwelling there -ourselves. This I can venture to say, that Philip Martindale has not -received any great addition to his happiness from being placed at the -Abbey. The old gentleman scarcely allows him a maintenance, and is -constantly dictating to him in the merest trifles imaginable.” - -“What a miserable existence it must be to live dependent on another’s -caprice!” exclaimed Horatio. - -“Not very pleasant, to be sure,” replied the clergyman; “but it is in -expectation of hereafter enjoying an independency; and what else can -the young man do? Lord Martindale, his father, has but very contracted -means, and a large family to provide for. Indeed, I believe that his -lordship himself is, in a great degree, dependent on Mr. Martindale to -keep up the dignity of his rank.” - -“And does the old gentleman exercise such authority over Lord -Martindale and the rest of his family, as he does over the young -gentleman who resides at the Abbey?” - -“Not quite so much, I believe: he was desirous that his lordship and -family should reside at the Abbey; but Lady Martindale so strongly -objected to the measure, that it was given up; and Mr. Philip, after a -little hesitation, assented to his relative’s proposal to take up his -abode here, though Lady Martindale strongly urged him not to relinquish -his profession.” - -“Profession!--what profession? I think I remember that name in the -Temple.” - -“Yes, he was at the bar; and I have heard that he was rather -successful, considering the short time that he had practised; but as -soon as his father became a peer, and his wealthy relative offered him -this magnificent seat, he gave up practising, and cut his old friends.” - -“Then he has made a very foolish exchange; for the old gentleman, as -you call him, does not seem likely to gratify his heirs by a speedy -departure from this life, and in all probability his domineering habits -will rather increase than diminish as he grows older. But from the -brief which I held yesterday, it seems that Mr. Philip Martindale is a -man of very profligate habits. How does that suit his cousin?” - -“Why, yes, the young man is rather gay; and so indeed was the old -gentleman formerly, or his old acquaintance very much belie him. Now, -however, he is occasionally very grave in his way, and frequently gives -his cousin very serious lectures, which are not of much avail; for Mr. -Martindale’s style of reproof is more jesting than rebuking: he says -whatever he thinks; and has the oddest mode of thinking of any man that -I know. He says any thing to any body, and where he is known nobody -heeds him.” - -“It struck me yesterday, that there was something very peculiar in the -manner in which Mr. Martindale spoke of his cousin; for the charge -against the young man was of a very disgraceful nature, and I thought -it not very becoming to treat it with any degree of levity.” - -“You must make some allowance for the exaggerations of briefs; though -I must acknowledge that Philip Martindale was very much to be blamed. -Old Richard Smith is a very respectable man for his station in life; -and the young woman whom he calls his niece, has always conducted -herself in a very proper and becoming manner. But they will not be -able to remain at Brigland after this event, unless the old gentleman -takes their part very decidedly. I understand that Mr. Philip is very -much mortified at the result of the trial; and you, I hear, sir, are in -very high favour at Brigland, on account of the success of the trial. -The old man says that he is very desirous of thanking you for your -exertions. Even Philip Martindale spoke handsomely of you, though you -were employed against him; and he was disgusted at his own counsel, -whose impertinence, he believes, provoked the jury to their verdict.” - -To a much longer speech than this had Horatio Markham given his -attention, when he and the reverend divine were interrupted by the -return of Mr. Martindale in a downright passion. The cause of that -passion we shall narrate in the following chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - “There was a time,-- - And pity ’tis so good a time had wings - To fly away,--when reverence was paid - To a grey head; ’twas held a sacrilege - Not expiable, to deny respect - To one, sir, of your years and gravity.” - - RANDOLPH. - - -Mr. Martindale, as we have said in the preceding chapter, left his -company, and walked up to the Abbey to ascertain, if possible, from -some of the servants the cause of their master’s sudden journey. The -old gentleman was not in the habit usually of entering the house -by the grand entrance; but on the present occasion, seeing the -great doors partly open, he directed his steps that way; and as he -approached, he heard voices with which he had not been familiar, and -when he opened the door, he saw two vulgar-looking fellows gaping -about in broad astonishment at the splendid decorations of the great -hall, interspersing their profound remarks with unseemly puffings of -tobacco-smoke from two pipes with which they were regaling themselves. -It was not on trifling occasions that Mr. Martindale was struck dumb -with astonishment; but at the sight which he then saw, he was so far -thunderstruck that he did not instantaneously commence the pouring -forth of his interrogatory eloquence. He gazed for a moment or more on -the two men, and they gazed as long at him; but their looks were not so -full of astonishment as his were: at length he spoke in very hurried -tones. - -“Who are you? What do you want here? What do you mean by smoking your -filthy pipes in this place? Have the goodness to walk out directly.” - -To this speech one of the men calmly replied, “We have as much right -here, sir, as you have, and perhaps more; for I guess you are only one -of the upper servants, and we are sheriffs’ officers.” - -“Sheriffs’ devils!” foamed forth the old gentleman; “and who sent you -here, I pray? I will have no sheriffs’ officers here, I can tell you.” - -This language was not respectful to the men of office, and therefore -it was more sharply taken up by the speaker, who, laying aside his -composure, very loudly answered: - -“Come, old fellow, let us have none of your insolence, or I shall soon -let you know who is master.” - -Furiously again Mr. Martindale was beginning to reply, by repeating -the word “Master! master! master!” when the noise brought the butler -to the scene of contention. This butler was more properly a spy over -the actions of the Hon. Philip Martindale than a servant of his: he was -the immediate pensioner of the old gentleman; but he was also somewhat -attached to his nominal master, and he therefore acted the part of a -traitor rather treacherously. He knew, but had not communicated to Mr. -Martindale, the intention of the young gentleman to make a journey -to London, and he knew also the business on which he had gone; and he -had also, on previous occasions, known more than he had thought fit -to communicate to his employer. When this trusty domestic made his -appearance, Mr. Martindale addressed him very impetuously: - -“Oliver! what does all this mean? Here are two insolent dirty fellows -calling themselves sheriffs’ officers, and strutting about as if the -house was their own. Where do they come from? What do they want here? -And pray, where is your master? I must insist upon knowing the meaning -of all this.” - -Mr. Oliver looked foolish and confused, and while he was beating his -brains for a plausible lie, one of the officers began to save him all -further trouble of invention by saying: - -“Why, if you must know the meaning of all this, I will tell you. The -Hon. Philip Martindale is--” - -“Is gone out shooting,” interrupted the trusty Oliver: “he went out -early this morning, sir.” - -“Shooting with a long bow,” muttered the officer. “Shooting at this -time of year, you rascal!” exclaimed Mr. Martindale: “why, you puppy, -this is only the beginning of August.” - -“I don’t mean shooting game, sir, but shooting with bow and arrow. -He--he--is gone to--an archery meeting.” - -“What! is he gone to an archery meeting in London? But pray, Mr. -Oliver, can you tell me why he has been so careful of his own carriage -as to take a hired chaise?” - -“He was afraid, sir, that the journey might be rather too long for his -own horses.” - -“Yes,” interrupted the officer, “it would have been too far for his -own horses to travel.” - -“Hold your tongue, you puppy!” was the only acknowledgment which the -speaker received for this corroboration of the trusty Oliver’s speech: -then turning again to Oliver, Mr. Martindale continued: - -“So your master is grown mightily merciful to his horses all on a -sudden; and was he also afraid that his travelling chariot would be -tired of the long journey? Was it too far for the carriage to travel?” - -“I guess it was rather too far for his carriage to go from home,” -replied the officer. - -“Fellow!” cried Mr. Martindale, “I want none of your fool’s prate.” - -“Perhaps not,” replied the man; “you seem to have enough of your own.” - -“Silence, you puppy! do you know who you are speaking to? I will not -put up with this insolence in my own house. This is my own house; I -built it: every article in it is mine.” - -“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the officer, “I did not know you: but -I will immediately explain.…” - -“If you will have the goodness, sir, to step this way,” interrupted -Oliver, “perhaps my master may be returned by this time. I will tell -you all the particulars.” - -Mr. Martindale had kept this fellow a long while in his employment, and -had estimated his fidelity by his treachery, forgetting that they who -have a double game to play make a double profit upon it; for while the -old gentleman had been bribing him to betray the young one, the young -one had been paying him to deceive the old one: so that by this double -diplomacy Oliver had become, to use a phrase of Dr. Johnson’s, “a very -pretty rascal.” By deceiving both parties he had injured both; but they -had only themselves to thank for it. Had they been simple enough to -follow the old maxim, that honesty is the best policy, they would both -have gained their ends more effectually: the elder Martindale would -have experienced from the younger greater deference and confidence, and -the younger Martindale would have experienced from the elder a greater -degree of liberality. - -On the present occasion, it never for a moment entered the mind of the -old gentleman that the sheriffs’ officers could be at Brigland Abbey -on any serious professional engagement. It may indeed be asked, if he -did not think that, what was he thinking of? What, indeed! That is a -question which he himself could not answer. Having however no suspicion -of what was really the case, he was the more easily drawn away by the -crafty Oliver from the impending explanation which was threatened by -the officer. - -Having thus drawn Mr. Martindale away from the immediate explanation -which was just coming upon him, Oliver’s next concern was to construct -something of a plausible story to account not only for the presence -of the officers at the Abbey, but for their rude behaviour, which to -his mind appeared totally insoluble on any other theory than that of -their being in possession by virtue of their office. To acknowledge -this truth appeared to him as the most effectual means to bring ruin -on himself and his master. As soon, therefore, as he had conducted the -old gentleman into the library, he began to apologise for the presence -and rudeness of these men; and Mr. Martindale being removed from the -sight of those who had excited his anger, began to grow a little more -cool, and was better prepared to hear explanation. Fortunately for -Oliver and his master, the curiosity of the old gentleman was not so -strongly excited by the presence of the officers as by the absence of -the Hon. Philip Martindale. He therefore very easily believed the story -which the trusty butler invented, that these officers had been on a -visit to one of the servants, and that they were rather intoxicated; -but the difficulty to be solved was the absence of the master of the -house, and his travelling with post-horses and a hired chaise. Now Mr. -Oliver would have been utterly unworthy of his place and occupation -as a professional tell-tale and a hired spy, had he been unable to -invent, or unready to utter, a most wilful, deliberate, and glorious -lie. Having therefore disposed of the difficulty of the presence of the -officers, he went on very deliberately to say: - -“Did not my master call at the cottage this morning? I am sure he -intended to do so; but perhaps he was too early. I think he must have -called, but perhaps you were not stirring, sir.” - -“Not stirring, you dog; why I was at the mineral spring by five -o’clock, or very little after.” - -“Oh! then that accounts for your not seeing my master before he went, -for he set out just after the turret-clock struck five; and very likely -he saw you walking across the meadow, and knew it would be useless to -call at the cottage.” - -“But I wonder why he did not tell me of his engagement yesterday; for -he must have known it then, if he set out so early this morning.” - -“I believe, sir,” replied the trusty one, “that I am to blame for -that; for a note was brought here yesterday morning, and I forgot to -deliver it till just as my master was going to bed. The note was from -Sir Andrew Featherstone, to say that the archery-meeting was fixed for -this day instead of next Wednesday, in order to accommodate the young -ladies from Hollywick Priory, because they must accompany their uncle -to Cheltenham on Monday at the latest; and so, sir, my master was -forced to go in a hurry; and as he had taken the carriage-horses to -the assizes yesterday, and as the other horses had not been much used -to the chariot, so he ordered me to go down to the Red Lion to bespeak -a pair of chaise-horses, and I by mistake ordered chaise and horses; -and as it was very late when I returned, my master would not make any -alteration, and he took them as I had ordered.” - -“Well,” replied Mr. Martindale, “but Parson Denver told me that your -master was gone to London; now Sir Andrew Featherstone has not an -archery-meeting at his townhouse.” - -“That must be a mistake of Mr. Denver’s; for I am sure that my master -is not gone to London. I can show you, sir, the very letter which my -master received from Sir Andrew Featherstone.” - -Thereupon the trusty Oliver left the worthy old gentleman for a few -minutes to his own meditations; and as he knew that it would be in vain -to look for a letter which had no existence but in his own imagination, -he used this interval in properly tutoring the sheriffs’ officers in -case they should again meet Mr. Martindale. - -“It is very unfortunate, sir,” exclaimed the butler, when he returned -to the library, “but I believe my master must have carried the letter -with him; for I saw it on his dressing-table this morning, and I read -it when his back was turned; but I think he went into the room again -before he left home, and he has, no doubt, taken the letter with him.” - -“Ay, ay, never mind; I don’t want to see any of Sir Andrew -Featherstone’s foolish letters. Archery, forsooth! and for young women -to make such an exhibition of themselves! It is absolutely indecent. -I am sorry that Philip should lend himself to encourage any such -ridiculous foolery. What crotchet will seize the fashionable world -next, I wonder. I suppose we shall have the tread-mill converted into -a machine for the amusement of elegant females. It will be a pretty -species of gymnastic exercise. Now, Oliver, I beg you will not say a -word to your master of my having made inquiries after him, and see that -these drunken officers are sent away as soon as possible. It is quite -disreputable for the servants to keep such company.” - -Mr. Oliver made all the professions and promises which were required -of him, and was not sorry to get so easily rid of his difficulties. -The old gentleman then recollecting that he had left his guests to -entertain each other at the cottage, prepared to return home, but in -his way he met old Richard Smith, whom indeed he did not personally -know; but as the poor man knew Mr. Martindale, he pulled off his hat, -and made a very humble obeisance to the rich man. There was something -very striking in the appearance of Richard Smith, especially when his -head was uncovered. His hair was of a silvery whiteness, and it hung -about his neck in full and graceful ringlets; his forehead was bold -and high, and almost without a wrinkle; and his fine eyes, but little -dimmed with age, presented the appearance of strength and vigour -contending with time. His figure was tall, and but just beginning -to bend under the weight of years. The manner in which he made his -obeisance was also impressive; there was dignity in his humility, and -his bow was neither slavishly obsequious nor vulgarly insolent. There -was in his whole appearance a manifestation of that indelible nobility -with which nature endows some individuals of the human species in every -rank and condition of life, and which all the drilling and tutoring of -artificial society can neither imitate nor improve. The venerable look -and the graceful demeanour of the old man induced Mr. Martindale to -take especial notice of him, and ask his name, and place of abode, and -employment. - -“My name, sir,” replied the old man, “is Richard Smith; my abode is at -Brigland; and I am past labour.” - -“Eh! what! Smith! Richard Smith!--Are you the person that my graceless -cub of a cousin had the insolence to knock down and send to jail as a -poacher? I hope he has paid you the amount of damages awarded to you.” - -“It was only yesterday, sir, that the verdict was given, and I have -no desire to hurry the gentleman for payment: I wish him to make it -convenient to himself.” - -“What are you talking about, my good man? Do you think it can make any -difference to my cousin when he pays such a sum as one hundred pounds. -You fancy you are talking about a shopkeeper.” - -“I beg pardon, sir; I do not mean to speak disparagingly of the Hon. -Philip Martindale, but lawyer Flint told me this morning, that when he -applied to lawyer Price about the settlement of the damages and costs, -he was informed that they would be paid in a few days, but it was not -quite convenient at present.” - -“Nonsense, the lawyers want to cheat you; Philip has money enough to -pay you, and I will take care that you shall be paid. I will see Price -to-morrow, and he shall settle the business at once. I am afraid the -young man is not quite so steady as he ought to be. I don’t at all -approve of his behaviour to you and your niece, and I shall tell him my -mind pretty plainly.” - -The old man shook his head and sighed. Mr. Martindale observed his -emotion, and interrogated him more closely concerning the behaviour -of Philip, assuring him that, instead of being offended, he should -be thankful for any information concerning the conduct of his young -relative, in order that he might use his influence to correct it. - -“I am not thinking, sir,” replied Richard Smith, with great solemnity -of tone, “only of your honourable relative, but of the numbers in his -rank of life who make the miseries of the poor their amusement and -sport. I am thinking, sir, that it is a sad mockery of the seriousness -of legislation, that profligate and ignorant lads should sit as -lawgivers.” Mr. Martindale frowned, for he had bought a borough for -his hopeful relative; but as he stood in the attitude of listening, -the old man went on: “I think it a sad disgrace to the country, that -ignominious and painful punishments are denounced against those -offences only which the legislators have no temptation to commit.” - -“Well done, old gentleman,” replied Mr. Martindale, “you talk like a -philosopher. I am quite of your way of thinking. So you don’t think -that it is enough to make young gentlemen pay for their frolics; you -would have them sent to work at the tread-mill, or give them a public -whipping now and then by way of example.” - -“And do not you think,” said the old man more sternly, “that such -inflictions as these would be more effectual in checking the vices of -the higher orders, than a mere fine which is paid and forgotten, or -which places vice in the same scale as a luxury?” - -“Why, my good friend, you are a severe legislator; you seem to be angry -with my young spark. But now, if your system should be adopted, the -injured party would gain no redress; whereas now the wound is healed -by heavy damages; and surely it is much better to receive a pecuniary -compensation, than merely to have the satisfaction of knowing that the -offender is personally punished.” - -“Excuse me, sir, but you are not speaking according to your own -judgment. You must know that the professed end of the law is security -from injury. Substitute a pecuniary compensation for the punishment now -denounced against murder, and whose life is safe?” - -“You are angry, my friend, you are angry. You should not bear malice; I -will take care and see you righted; my cousin shall not have it said of -him that he oppresses the poor.” - -“Then, perhaps, sir, you will so far befriend me as that I may not be -turned out of my cottage; for lawyer Price told me that I should be -sent off as soon as the damages were paid.” - -At this request of the poor man, or rather at the occasion for the -request, Mr. Martindale was really vexed and angry. He had tolerated -many of his cousin’s vices under the name of youthful follies; but -when he found him guilty of the meanness of so despicable a species of -revenge, he was deeply mortified, and with great emotion replied: “The -very day that you are driven out of the cottage, Philip shall leave the -Abbey.” - -Having said this, he hurried home to his guests in no enviable frame of -mind. Mr. Denver was accustomed to the old gentleman’s peculiarities; -but Horatio Markham, who had never known, and who scarcely apprehended -what it was to be dependent on another’s caprices, felt uneasy and -constrained, and was beginning to wish that he could, consistently with -common politeness, reduce his visit to a day, instead of a week or -ten days. He was however soon relieved from his temporary uneasiness, -by the return of good humour to the tone and countenance of his host, -who proposed that, before visiting the Abbey, they should call at old -Richard’s cottage, and inquire into his circumstances. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - “Exceeding fair she was not, and yet fair, - In that she never studied to be fairer - Than nature made her.” - - CHAPMAN. - - -In pursuance of the arrangement proposed the preceding evening, Mr. -Martindale and his guest, immediately after an early breakfast, -went out in search of Richard Smith’s cottage. They had some little -difficulty to find the place; for, though the old man had lived -several years at Brigland, he was of such retired habits that he was -comparatively unknown in the parish: some persons knew him by sight -who did not know his name, and others had heard his name, who were -unacquainted with his person. - -The cottage in which he lived seemed to have been selected for its -very retired situation. It stood in a narrow lane, which, before the -building of the great house, had served as a thoroughfare from Brigland -Common to the meadows, which, since the erection of the Abbey, had been -included in the park. The cottage, though apparently so secluded and -almost embowered in wood, was by no means a gloomy abode; for through -a natural vista in the wood before it there was an extensive view of -highly-cultivated scenery, which showed between the over-arching trees -like a beautiful painting in a rustic frame. The light which shone -through this opening, drew the eyes of Markham and his companion to -notice the beauty of the landscape. - -There is a peculiar and almost indescribable effect produced on the -mind by the sight of well-known scenery taken from a new point, or -viewed with some variety or novelty of accompaniment. The feeling -thus excited, has not all its interest from novelty alone, nor is -it indebted for its interest to association. In viewing this scene, -Mr. Martindale enjoyed this pleasure: he had lived for many years in -Brigland, and had long been in possession of this estate, but here was -a beauty he had never seen before. - -While they were both admiring the scene before them, Horatio Markham -fancied that he could hear a distant sound of music, and stood for a -moment in a listening attitude. Presently the sound caught the ear of -Mr. Martindale; and the two companions looked at each other in mute -astonishment, when the faint tinkling of the unknown instrument was -accompanied with the human voice in notes of indescribable sweetness. -The voice was near enough to be distinctly audible; and Markham, who -had a more acute sense of hearing, and a more extensive knowledge of -music than his friend Mr. Martindale, soon perceived that neither the -words nor the melody were English. It was presently obvious that the -music was in the cottage of old Richard Smith. The two listeners waited -till the voice was silent, and then, without the ceremony of tapping at -the door, entered the poor man’s humble dwelling. - -The interior of the cottage was perfectly neat and clean, as might -have been anticipated from the style and appearance of the old man; -but there was in it more than neatness--there were symptoms that its -present tenants had seen better days. There were several articles of -furniture and embellishment which cottagers have neither means nor -inclination to purchase. Symptoms indeed of better days are to be -continually met with in many humble, even in many miserable dwellings; -but such symptoms consist generally of those articles which cannot find -purchasers, or which are in daily use, or of indispensable utility, or -which have an imaginary value far beyond their real value. And the poor -people are sometimes proud of these mementos of their high descent. -They can perhaps show, in an old black frame, and drawn on durable -vellum, their family-arms:--they may have large unwieldy portraits of -ancestors who were distinguished somehow or other in former days, but -they know not when, and have perhaps forgotten their very names:--they -still retain pieces of fine needlework, which make it manifest that -some female ancestor had received a boarding-school education; and many -a poor old couple eat their daily scanty meal on the remains of the -fine porcelain which some of their progenitors used and exhibited only -on days of high festivity. - -But the articles in Richard Smith’s cottage were of a different -character, and of much more recent date than such as those alluded -to above. There hung upon the walls some landscapes, which indeed a -person in poverty might have drawn, but which no poor man would keep or -would embellish with handsome modern frames. There were also several -engravings, which had not been published more than sixteen or seventeen -years. Instead of the usual cottage clock with clumsily painted figures -and elm-case, there stood on a bracket a neat time-piece, with the name -of a celebrated Parisian maker. Upon a set of hanging-shelves there lay -several volumes of fancifully and apparently foreign bound books. These -were for the most part Italian, but a few were French. - -While Mr. Martindale was talking to the old man, Horatio Markham, -according to a very common, but not very decorous practice of young -men who affect literature, was amusing himself with taking down and -opening one after another of the books; and seeing the character of -them, and that in their selection they gave proof of a correct and -polished taste, he could not but look more attentively at the old man’s -niece, with an endeavour to trace in her countenance an expression -of a style above that of a simple rustic. The human countenance -is susceptible of great variety of expression, and owes much to -surrounding circumstances: the very same set of features which in -one garb and place would savour of rusticity, would bear a different -interpretation in another garb and with other adjuncts. In like manner, -the imagination of the spectator does much in giving an interpretation -to features, and ascertaining physiognomical indications. So when -Horatio Markham saw the young woman in the witness-box giving, with -downcast look and trembling accents, her testimony as to the injury -sustained by a poor old man, he could see nothing more, for he thought -nothing more was to be seen, than a modest, simple, and tolerably -pretty face, having no remarkable or peculiar expression. But when he -saw the same person, with the same features and the same expression -of retiring modesty, surrounded with the productions of art, and -apparently the only person in the cottage to whom those productions -could be interesting, and by whom those books should be read and -enjoyed, he soon fancied that he observed indications of a superior -mind and a cultivated understanding. Nay, so far did his imagination -influence him, that the impulse which he first felt to address some -inquiries to the old man’s niece concerning the books and drawings was -absolutely repelled by a feeling of awe. He now began to paint to his -imagination a person of superior rank, and to be astonished that he had -not before observed that her whole style and expression was far above -her professed situation. - -As he was replacing on the shelf one of the books into which he had -been looking, a hard substance fell to the ground, and he stooped -immediately to pick it up; but the young woman was before him, and -Markham saw, or thought he saw, that the article which she had thus -hastily picked up, was neither more nor less than an ivory crucifix. -The object itself he would not have noticed, but he was very much -struck with the eagerness with which it was taken up and concealed. -Apologising for his awkwardness, and accepting an acknowledgment of -his apology, he turned from the books to look more minutely at the -pictures. The drawings were, without exception, scenes in Italy, -evidently executed by a practised hand, and bearing a date which -rendered it highly improbable that they should have been the production -of the old man’s niece. - -The conversation which passed between Mr. Martindale and Richard -Smith was indeed heard, but not heeded by Horatio Markham. It had a -reference chiefly to the nature of the injury for which the old man had -recently sought legal redress; and the account which Mr. Martindale -received concerning the conduct of his honourable relative, was not -by any means calculated to soothe the already irritated mind of the -old gentleman. Turning the discourse from these unpleasant matters, he -suddenly asked: - -“Did not I hear music just before I came in? Does this young woman play -or sing?” - -This question excited the attention of Markham, who cast his eyes -round the apartment, but all in vain, to find what musical instrument -it was which he had heard while he was standing near the cottage. To -the question thus asked no answer was given, but the young woman held -down her head and blushed; exhibiting, as Markham thought, much more -confusion than such an inquiry in such circumstances seemed to demand. -Mr. Martindale did not repeat the question, but proceeded to say: - -“Well, my good man, I have brought with me the young advocate who -pleaded your cause so effectually. I hope he will be as successful in -every cause that he undertakes, and that he will never undertake any -less honourable to himself.” - -“The law is a dangerous profession, sir; but we must not measure a -man’s integrity by the brief which he holds. The barrister professes -himself an advocate, not a judge; and if he refuses a brief because -he thinks the cause a bad one, he acts with prejudice, seeing only -one side of the question. Besides, sir, there are few causes which -may bear altogether the name of bad. Sometimes a cause may be bad -in law, but good in morals; sometimes an action at law may be good -so far as the moral feeling is concerned, and bad as to the letter -of some statute; and it is possible that some persons may consider -any litigation whatever as being inconsistent with the strict letter -of Christianity. We must also make great allowances for diversity -of temper and disposition: what may appear just to one man appears -perhaps too rigidly strict to another. I think, sir, that the -barrister’s profession is unduly calumniated. If, indeed, a client -comes to an advocate and says, ‘I wish to take an unfair advantage of -my neighbour, and I will pay you to assist me,’ then the barrister -would act improperly to sell his conscience to his client; but every -litigant sees, or fancies he sees, something of right in his cause, and -the barrister merely gives him legal assistance. The law is a dangerous -profession indeed, because it may lead to a confusion of right and -wrong; but while it endangers a man’s integrity, it also gives him -abundant and honourable opportunity of displaying an upright mind and -good principle. You will excuse an old man,” said he, turning towards -Markham; “garrulity is the privilege of age; but I have had experience -of the world. I see but little of it now; the time has been that I have -seen more.” - -Horatio Markham, though but five-and-twenty years of age--though he -had gained two causes in the Court of King’s Bench--though he had been -successful in his first brief in his native town--though he had at -other towns on the circuit held an extraordinary number of briefs for -a first journey--though he held those briefs by means of a reputation -going before him that he was a man of good talents--though he had more -than once received a marked compliment from his seniors both at the -bar and on the bench--and though he was of humble origin, and was -rationally expecting to rise in a profession which would place him in -a higher station than his parents or early acquaintance, yet, with -all this, he was not a coxcomb. Moralists and divines may speak as -contemptuously as they will of negative virtues; but in defiance of -their wisdom, we will contend that, humanly speaking, there was great -merit in Horatio, that he did not feel himself unduly elated by all his -honors. He attentively listened to the common-place harangue of old -Richard Smith, and replied to it with the respect due to old age. - -“You are very candid to the profession, sir; few will concede so much: -but it would be difficult to find any profession or employment which -is not subject to the reproaches of those who are not engaged in it. -Indeed, I have known that even individuals in the profession have also -spoken disrespectfully of its moral character and tendency.” - -“Then,” replied the old man, “they ought to leave it. A profession -cannot be indispensable that is essentially immoral. But, sir, I have -to thank you for the manner in which you conducted my cause. It was -well done of you that you spoke so temperately of the defendant, or -that you rather let facts speak for themselves. I have no spiteful -feeling against the gentleman, and for my own part could easily have -borne with what I received from him; but I have a serious charge here,” -pointing to his niece; “that poor child looks up to me for protection, -and I must not suffer any one to approach her disrespectfully. I love -her as if she were my own. She has, indeed, no other protector. I must -be almost fastidious and jealous in the care that I take of her: a life -dearer to me than my own depends upon her happiness.” - -As the old man was speaking, his face was suffused with a glow of -strong feeling; the young woman’s lip quivered, her eye glistened, and -she left the room where they were sitting. As she opened the door by -which she made her retreat, Markham, whose curiosity had been strongly -excited by all the appearances in the cottage, caught a glimpse of -a second or inner apartment, apparently fitted up with very great -neatness. Of its extent he could form no idea, but its ornaments were -of the same nature as those in the room in which he was sitting. Old -Mr. Martindale now felt his curiosity roused; he said: - -“I am quite curious to know the history of this young woman. Is she -really your niece?” - -“She is really my niece,” said the old man, “so far as that her mother -was my sister’s child.” - -“Are these drawings done by your niece too? You seem to have given her -a very good education.” - -“These drawings,” replied the old man, “are not hers; and as for her -education, such as it is, she received it before she was placed under -my care.” - -“Are her father and mother living?” continued Mr. Martindale; “but -I suppose not, by her being placed, as you say, under your sole -protection.” - -This last part of the sentence was uttered at an interval after the -first; for no immediate answer was returned to the interrogation -concerning her father and mother. Indeed, the poor man did not seem -very willing to enter into any very particular explanation upon the -subject; and Mr. Martindale himself, though he had expressed a -curiosity to know the history of the young woman, was not so very -curious as to persevere in putting a multitude of questions. - -There are some persons whose curiosity gains strength by opposition, -and others who will not condescend to be at the expense of any great -number of questions. Mr. Martindale was of this latter class. Indeed, -had he received ever so much intelligence, it would have been of little -use, for he would soon have forgotten it. There was another person -present whose curiosity had been much more strongly excited. Horatio -Markham felt himself fully convinced that the young woman was not a -daughter of a cottager: he could, as he fancied, see clearly enough, -by her manner and expression, that she was of much superior rank. It -was very ridiculous for a young barrister, who had scarcely seen any -society at all, who had been born and brought up in a country town, and -of a humble family, or, more properly speaking, of no family at all, -and who had spent most of his time in study;--it was very ridiculous -for him to affect to decide what manners designated or manifested -superior breeding. It is a species of vanity, however, in which Markham -is by no means singular. - -Mr. Martindale having given the old man an assurance of his protection, -and having now no more questions to ask, rose and took his leave, -accompanied by his young friend. - -“That was a pretty young woman at the cottage, Mr. Barrister; but you -must not fall in love with her. It will never do for professional men -to make love-matches. Love in a cottage is very pretty, very poetical, -very well to talk about.” - -Markham protested that he had not the slightest notion of falling in -love with a person who was a total stranger to him; but seriously, he -could not but acknowledge that there was something very superior in the -look and manner of the young woman, and that it might not have been -impossible for him to have received an impression, had he met with a -similar person in a suitable rank in life. He felt himself not well -pleased that Mr. Martindale should have thought it within the verge -of possibility that a gentleman of the bar should condescend so low -as to fall in love with a young woman, the niece of a poor cottager. -He forgot, however, that during the time he was in the cottage, he -had his eyes very much fixed upon the old man’s niece; he forgot -how very completely his attention had been absorbed; and while he -was speculating as to the causes which operated in bringing so much -elegance and gracefulness into so humble an abode, Mr. Martindale -thought him occupied in admiring the young woman’s pretty face. There -was certainly a tolerable share of that species of beauty called -prettiness in the composition of her features; but as she rather -exceeded the middle stature, and wore a general look of thoughtfulness, -the word pretty was not comprehensive enough for a description of -her person. When she appeared in the court as a witness, her fine -glossy black ringlets were totally concealed, and her dark eyes were -so bent towards the ground that their life and expression were not -visible. Markham had observed her but little; thinking probably that -his behaviour could not be more becoming than when it was totally and -directly opposed to that of the defendant’s counsel. He was, therefore, -not a little surprised when he saw so much beauty and gracefulness in -one whom he had taken for a mere country girl; and his curiosity was -still more raised when he observed the nature of the decorations of -the poor man’s cottage. The charm which struck him most of all was, -the total absence of all affectation or artifice both in the old man -and in his niece. Richard Smith, indeed, used language superior in -ordinary correctness to that of the usual inhabitants of cottages, -but did not give himself airs, as some poor men who fancy themselves -conjurers, because they happen to be a little better informed than -their neighbours; and the young woman appeared quite as free from any -species of affectation, either of manner or of dress. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - “And, madam, if it be a lie, - You have the tale as cheap as I.” - - SWIFT. - - -The Rev. Cornelius Denver, perpetual curate of Brigland, was one of the -best-tempered creatures in the world. He would not injure any one; he -had almost every one’s good word; he was full of smiles and courtesy; -he had nothing of the pomp or pride of priestly manners; he did not -keep his parishioners at an awful distance, or affect to exercise any -spiritual dominion over them by virtue of his calling; he was familiar -with all, and good-humoured to all; he had not the slightest tincture -of bigotry or party-spirit; in politics and religion he was most truly -liberal; he had, of course, his own opinions on these subjects, but -he called them into use so seldom, that he and his neighbours scarcely -knew what they were; he was equally obliging to all parties, and there -were many differing sects of religion in his parish; every possible -variety of sectarianism flourished at Brigland, and they all united in -praising the curate’s liberality. - -There were also many members of the established church in the -parish; but though they all praised their curate, they did not all -very frequently attend his ministrations. Old Mr. Martindale used -facetiously to say, that he should go to church much oftener if Mr. -Denver would make longer sermons, but that it was so tantalising to -be woke before his nap was half finished. But Mr. Denver served two -other churches beside Brigland, and one of them was almost eight miles -distant, so he had not much time to spare on Sunday; for he had two -services at his own parish, and one every Sunday at the other two. - -Our worthy curate was a married man, but he had no family; and that -circumstance gave him abundant opportunity to interest himself about -the affairs of all the town. Mrs. Denver assisted him greatly in this -public and universal sympathy. Mrs. Denver was said to be a very -intelligent woman, and had enjoyed that reputation for many years. Her -maiden name was Smith--no relation to old Richard Smith; and she had -borne that name so long, that she was tired of it, regarding it as -Archbishop Tillotson did the Athanasian Creed, wishing that she “was -well rid of it.” Many people thought that Mr. Denver married her from -a motive of pure good nature, because nobody else was likely to marry -her. She was of high family “originally,” as she used to say; being -descended from the Simsons of Devonshire, one of whom was knighted by -Richard the Third; and she was very particular in stating that her -ancestors did not spell the name with p, for that was an innovation, -and it was a very inferior family that was called Simpson. - -All the gossip of the town and neighbourhood flowed to the parsonage as -a centre, and again flowed from it as from a perennial and exhaustless -fountain. In justice to the worthy curate it must be stated, that so -far as he was concerned, there was nothing of censoriousness blended -with his collecting and communicating disposition: he was happy to hear -intelligence, and pleased to spread it; but he never pronounced an -opinion as to the propriety or impropriety of the matters of which he -heard and of which he spoke. It was not exactly so with Mrs. Denver; -her candour was not equal to that of her husband: not that she was at -all censorious, very far from it; but she could not help, as she said, -feeling indignant at the vices and wickednesses which abounded in the -world; and she was certainly not to be blamed for what she could not -help. Sometimes she would even be angry with her husband on account of -the placidity of his temper; and she would even acknowledge that she -could have no patience with the abominations of the age. It must be -also added, that Mrs. Denver was not quite equal to her husband in the -virtue of liberality towards sectarians. She had been brought up as -a member of the church established by law, and she could not see how -it was possible that any other religion should be true; and for her -part, she was fully determined not to countenance any false religion. -It was rather unfortunate for the poor woman, that, with the exception -of the Martindales, the principal people at Brigland were dissenters; -and so there were two or three drawing-rooms from which her orthodoxy -would have excluded her, but to which her love of the good things of -life attracted her. Mrs. Denver was decidedly loyal: her reverence for -majesty was unbounded. She was so grateful to Richard the Third for -having knighted one of the Simsons, that she thought she could never -say enough in favour of royalty. - -Now it came to pass in the progress of events, that while Mr. -Martindale and Horatio Markham were in Richard Smith’s cottage, Mrs. -Price, the wife of Philip Martindale’s attorney, had gained a piece of -intelligence which, as she received it, was imperfect and obscure, but -which she hoped and trusted that Mr. and Mrs. Denver might be able to -elucidate and complete. She therefore made a very early call at the -parsonage, and began by offering an apology for looking in so soon in -the day. The apology was most readily accepted: for the good people of -the parsonage knew that Mrs. Price would not have called so early had -there not been something important to communicate. As soon as she was -seated she began:-- - -“I suppose you have heard, Mrs. Denver, of the sheriffs’ officers being -in possession at the Abbey.” - -“Sheriffs’ officers in possession at the Abbey! Why, Mrs. Price, what -do you mean?” - -“Mean, Mrs. Denver! why I mean what I say; there are two sheriffs’ -officers now at the Abbey. They were sent in yesterday morning; and -old Mr. Martindale saw them there, and asked them what business they -had there, and they told him that they were in possession; and the old -gentleman asked what was the amount of the claim, and it was such an -enormous sum that it was more than he could pay. I don’t know all the -particulars, but I heard Oliver talking the matter over to my husband; -and Mr. Philip is gone to London in a hired chaise, for they would not -let him have his own carriage; and he is gone to get some money of the -Jews. He intended to travel all night, that he might get home early -this morning, and send the officers away before the old gentleman could -know any thing of the matter.” - -“Bless me, Mrs. Price, why you astonish me! Who would have thought it? -Well, that’s what I always said; I knew it must come to that. You know -it was not likely that he could ever support the expense of that great -house; and really between ourselves, I never thought that old Mr. -Martindale was so very rich as some people said.” - -“I don’t know whether the old man is very rich,” replied Mrs. Price; -“I am sure the young one is very poor. My husband has advanced money -to him which has been owing a very long while; and I cannot see any -probability of his getting it again in any reasonable time; and then he -cannot even pay the damages in which he was cast in the action of old -Smith.” - -“Oh, now you talk about old Smith,” interrupted Mrs. Denver, “do you -know any thing about that man’s history? for I scarcely ever heard of -him before this action took place. Pray where does he live?” - -“He lives in the lone cottage in Old Field Lane, I understand. But -there is something very odd about that man. I thought perhaps you might -know something about him. As for his being a poor man, I don’t believe -any such thing. Every body says he has money; and my husband says that -he is very sure that Flint would never have undertaken that cause for a -poor superannuated labourer; and then Flint told my husband that there -was no hurry about the damages. I very much doubt whether the man’s -real name is Smith; for that is such a very convenient name for any one -to assume.” - -“Well, I have never heard any thing of him before; but now you mention -it, I think I remember to have seen him one morning when I walked up to -the spring with Mr. Denver.” - -At this moment the reverend gentleman entered the apartment where -the ladies were conversing, and he was immediately assailed with an -impetuous torrent of interrogations from both of them, as touching -the birth, parentage and education, life, character, and behaviour of -the above-named Richard Smith. To these inquiries he returned answers -not very satisfactory; and they all three began to blame themselves -and each other that they had suffered the old man to settle quietly -in the parish without making due previous inquiry concerning his -history and origin. He had been, as they all acknowledged, a very -quiet, inoffensive creature; but quietness was sometimes a symptom of -mischief: it was so with children, and why might it not be so with old -men too. - -Though Mr. Denver had it not in his power to indulge Mrs. Price with -any information, the worthy lady was too generous to withhold from him -any information which it was in her power to convey; and she liberally -repeated the story of the bailiff being in possession at the Abbey, and -of the Hon. Philip Martindale having made a journey to London for the -purpose of borrowing money of such as accommodated their particular -friends on the most liberal terms and with the strictest secrecy. Mr. -Denver was as usual astonished, amazed, thunderstruck at all that was -told him. By the way, some of the perpetual curate’s good friends used -to think that the good man was not altogether judicious in the use of -the word “thunderstruck,” which he always employed when he received any -intelligence from any of the ladies of Brigland. - -Mrs. Price went on to say, that old Mr. Martindale had expressed -his determination to disinherit Mr. Philip; but as that was a very -particular secret, she begged that it might not be mentioned. At -hearing this request, Mrs. Denver looked at her watch, for she thought -it high time that she should take her morning’s round, and endeavour to -ascertain whether this profound secret were known to any one else. Mrs. -Price took the hint, and departed. - -It is by no means the best method to keep a secret to endeavour to -find out how many others are in possession of the same. Many a secret -has been thus revealed, which might otherwise have been inviolably -and safely kept. On the subject of keeping secrets, a great deal may -be said; and the matter is surrounded with more difficulties than -superficial observers are apt to imagine. For what is the use or -benefit of knowing any thing, if we cannot let that knowledge be known. -If a secret be confided to us, an honour is thereby conferred; but if -that secret be not by us again talked about, directly or indirectly, -how can the world know how much we are honoured? Who would give a fig -to receive the honour of knighthood, if he were under an obligation to -let no one know it? or who would give fifteen pence (pounds some say -it costs) for a doctor’s degree, if he could never blazon the honour -to the world? We check ourselves in the discussion with the consoling -consideration that our business is with facts not with philosophy. -Suffice it then to say, that before the day closed, every inhabitant of -Brigland who had any care for other’s business, knew that old Richard -Smith was mysteriously wealthy, that bailiffs were in possession at the -Abbey, that the Hon. Philip Martindale was gone to London to borrow -money, and that old Mr. Martindale would never speak to the young -gentleman again. Then every body began to think that the Hon. Philip -Martindale was the most profligate young man that ever lived; then -all his follies became vices, and his irregularities most horrible -enormities; then the talk was very loud concerning his pride and his -overbearing manners; then Mrs. Dickinson, the landlady of the Red Lion, -began to fear that she should not be paid for her chaise. - -The good people of Brigland were unnecessarily alarmed for the result -of Philip Martindale’s indiscretions: it was not true that the old -gentleman knew for what purpose the bailiffs were in the house; nor -was it probable that, had he known it, he would therefore have cast -off his dependent relative. Power is not willingly or readily parted -with. So long as the honourable gentleman acknowledged by endeavours -to conceal his irregularities that he stood in awe of his opulent -relative, so long would he continue an interesting object of patronage -to the old gentleman. As, however, it may not be easy to gather from -the floating rumours of the gossips of Brigland what was the real truth -of the matter, it may be as well to state explicitly that the Hon. -Philip Martindale had paid certain debts of honour with that supply -which Mr. Martindale thought had been devoted to some other purpose, -and an impatient creditor had actually put into force a threat which -he had made of sending officers to the Abbey. The young gentleman -had recourse in this extremity to some good friends in the city, by -whose prompt assistance the supplies were raised, and the Abbey was -cleared of those birds of ill omen. Oliver’s story, as we have seen, -had satisfied the old gentleman; and he alone remained in ignorance of -a fact in his relative’s conduct, which certainly would have disturbed -him greatly, but which would not have provoked him to disinheriting. - -By the same conveyance which brought the means of liberating the -Abbey, old Richard Smith received through the hands of his attorney -a satisfaction also of his claim; and as Mrs. Price was all the day -occupied in telling the same story as she had told in the morning, it -came to pass that she told more lies at the end of the day than she had -at the beginning. In the mean time, the day was passing rapidly away, -and Philip Martindale did not return. Oliver was a little puzzled to -account for this delay to himself, but he could easily account for it -to the old gentleman. What a pity it is that those ingenious gentlemen -who can invent lies for the satisfaction of others, cannot invent any -for the solution of their own difficulties. Mr. Oliver was in some -degree of alarm, lest his stories, by some movement of his master, -might not well hang together; and had it not been for some very natural -fear that he might altogether lose his character and his place, he -probably would have been provoked to tell the old gentleman the truth: -he considered, however, that as he had so long played a double part, it -would be now too late to affect honesty. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - “I joy to see you here, but should have thought - It likelier to have heard of you at court, - Pursuing there the recompenses due - To your great merit.” - - TUKE. - - -It is now high time to introduce more particularly to our readers -the Hon. Philip Martindale. He has been glancing and flitting before -our eyes; but he has not stayed long enough to be fairly seen and -understood. He did not appear to great advantage at the assizes, where -he sat laughing or sneering at the progress of his own cause; nor -would he have made a very imposing figure, had we opened upon him on -the evening of the day of the trial, when, on his return home, the -trusty Oliver announced to him the arrival of two gentlemen, calling -themselves sheriffs’ officers. To delay any longer to introduce our -honorable acquaintance to our readers, would be intruding upon their -patience beyond reason. - -The Hon. Philip Martindale finding that it would not be possible to get -rid of this encumbrance by any other means than by discharging the -debt, and knowing that the debt could not be discharged without money, -and knowing that money was not at that emergency to be obtained but by -the medium of the people of Israel, sent his trusty Oliver to the Red -Lion to provide a chaise to carry him on his way to London. It would be -more agreeable to us, if it were possible, to bring our readers to an -acquaintance with the honorable gentleman lolling in his own chariot, -for that would be more befitting his rank in society, than to see him -travelling in so plebeian a vehicle as a hired chaise, drawn by a pair -of hack horses. But though the Hon. Philip Martindale was a man of high -rank, and somewhat proud of the station which he held in society, he -was not altogether unable or unwilling to condescend; and though the -Denvers, the Flints, the Prices, and all the other gentry, thought -him a very proud and haughty man, yet there were many in Brigland, -many in Newmarket, and many in London and its vicinity, who could bear -testimony to his condescension. - -To describe a journey to London in a post-chaise, along thirty or -forty miles of turnpike-road, bounded on the right hand by hedges -and ditches, and on the left by ditches and hedges, requires powers -of description and imagination to which we are too humble to make -pretension. As we are not presuming to descant on the history of the -journey, we may as well say a word or two concerning the person who -took the said journey. We are perfectly aware that it would be more -artist-like and effective, to let our characters speak for themselves, -and by their own acts or words develope their own peculiarities; -but this is not altogether possible to be done effectually; for the -same words from different lips have a different meaning; and there -is a peculiarity of tone and accent and look which does much towards -rendering the character intelligible. These matters may be imitated -in the drama on the stage, but they cannot be well transfused into -plainly-written dialogue. - -Without farther apology, then, we proceed to speak of the Hon. Philip -Martindale somewhat more particularly. We speak of this person in -the first place, for that was a first consideration with himself. He -was tall, but not thin; rather clumsily formed about the shoulders; -his gait was rather swaggering than stately; his features were not -unhandsome, but they wanted expression; his manner of speaking was not -remarkable for its beauty, for he had a habit of drawling which seemed -to strangers a piece of affectation; his style of dress was plain, -somewhat approaching to that of the driver of a coach, but any one -might see in a moment that he was a man of some consequence. As to his -mind, he was by no means a blockhead or a simpleton; nor was he to be -considered as ill-humored. He was of an easy disposition; and had he -been placed in a situation which required the exercise of his mental -powers to gain a living, he would have passed for a man of very good -understanding. - -But there is one kind of capacity required to gain a fortune, and -another to spend it. Philip Martindale possessed the former, but -he wanted the latter. Our readers are already aware that the young -gentleman had for a short time assayed a professional life, and had -given promise of fair success; but when he found that a title was -awaiting him, and that a dependence was offered him, he renounced his -profession, and gave up an independence for a dependence. Now ever -since he had changed his style of life, he had changed his habits -of social intercourse. While he had chambers in the Temple, he had -for companions men of literary acquirements and taste; and all he -knew of the prowess and powers of the celebrated dog Billy, or of the -no less celebrated heroes of the ring, was from the interesting and -beautiful reports which grace the columns of our newspapers: he was -then acquainted with no other coachman than the driver of his father’s -carriage, and he was not very intimate with him: at that time he was -as ignorant of the highest as he was of the lowest ranks; and if he -occasionally spent an evening at the Opera, he had nothing to do but to -attend to the performance. - -But when his circumstances changed, all other things changed too; he -renounced the middle of society for the two extremes. It was new -for him to have expensive horses; and it was pleasant for him to -talk knowingly about what he knew imperfectly; and coachmen, grooms, -and stable-boys, could talk best upon a topic which was a favorite -with him; and as he had never before been so flattered by homage and -deference, he thought that coachmen, grooms, and stable-boys, were most -delightful companions; and his acquaintance with them extended and -increased accordingly. Then it was that he began to feel the pleasures -of high rank. Nobody can enjoy the pleasures of high station who -associates only with his equals; it is when he looks into the depths -below that he can feel his elevation. The ring and the cockpit are -most admirable contrivances to bring men of high rank to a full sense -of their dignity. The Hon. Philip Martindale used them abundantly, -and doubtless with great advantage. As he descended, so also did he -ascend; and from association with black legs, he became qualified to -claim acquaintance with the highest ranks in society. The cockpit and -the betting-table are very appropriate vestibules to Almack’s; and the -slang of the stable is a very suitable accomplishment for a legislator. -Farther particulars concerning the Hon. Philip Martindale may be -learned from his history, as herein recorded. - -As soon as the honorable gentleman arrived in London, he proceeded -forthwith to his accommodating friends in the city, from whom he -procured the means of ridding the Abbey of its unwelcome guests; and -it was his intention to return immediately to dismiss the disagreeable -ones in person. But so full of accident and event is human life, that -this intention was not put into immediate effect. Just as our young -gentleman had left the door of a banking-house in Lombard Street, -close behind him, he saw on the opposite side of the way an old, or -more properly speaking a new acquaintance, who was as familiar as an -old one. The personage in question wore a scarlet coat, white hat, -yellow silk handkerchief, and crimson face mottled with purple. Without -bending his body, or moving a muscle, he touched his hat to the Hon. -Philip Martindale, who most graciously acknowledged the salute, and -made a movement to cross the way towards him; whereupon he of the -crimson face and scarlet coat hastened to anticipate his honorable -friend; and the parties met in the middle of the street, even as -Napoleon Bonaparte and the Emperor of Russia met in the middle of the -river. - -When the high-contracting parties were thus met, the Hon. Philip -Martindale commenced the discourse by inquiring of his friend, who -was in the guards, that is, was guard to a mail-coach, and who was -addressed by the name of Stephen, if he had succeeded in the commission -with which he had been intrusted: this commission was the purchasing -of a dog for fighting. Stephen expressed his great concern that this -important affair had not been concluded; but he was happy to have it -in his power to say, that he had heard of a capital bull-terrier to be -disposed of at Finchley; and as price was no object, he hoped to bring -him up next journey. In the mean time, he was very glad to inform his -honour that he had that very morning brought up a couple of game-cocks -in very high condition; and if Mr. Martindale would condescend to go -as far as Tothill Street, he might see them that very afternoon. - -This was too strong a temptation for the legislator to resist. Having -therefore made arrangements for remitting to Brigland the means of -discharging the claims upon him which were most urgent, he resolved -to remain in town for that night at least, and leave it to Oliver’s -ingenuity to account for his absence, if there should be any occasion -to account for it at all. He appointed, therefore, to meet his friend -Stephen in Tothill Street at five o’clock; and in the mean time, betook -himself to a coffee-house in the neighbourhood of Charing Cross to fill -up the interval. - -This interval was exceedingly tedious. There were many newspapers in -the room, but there was nothing in them. There was a clock, but it did -not seem to go; at least so he thought, but after looking at it for a -very long time he found it did go, but it went very slowly. Then he -looked at his watch, and that went as slow as the clock. Then he took -up the newspapers again one after the other very deliberately. He read -the sporting intelligence and the fashionable news. But he did not -read very attentively, as he afterwards discovered. Then he looked at -the clock again, and was almost angry at the imperturbable monotony of -its face. Then he took out his pocket-book to amuse himself by reading -his memorandums, but they were very few and very unintelligible. -Then he rose up from his seat, and went to the window, and looked at -the people in the street; he thought they looked very stupid, and -wondered what they could all find to do with themselves. He looked -at the carriages, and saw none with coronets, except now and then a -hackney-coach. Then he began to pick his teeth, and that reminded him -of eating; and then he rang the bell, which presently brought a waiter; -and he took that opportunity of drawling out the word “waiter” in -such lengthened tone, as if resolved to make one word last as long as -possible. - -While he was occupied bodily with his sandwich, he was also mentally -engaged in reflections on days that were gone; and he could not but -think that his hours were not so heavy when he was toiling at the study -of law, as now when his rank was higher, and when his residence was -one of the most splendid seats in the kingdom. He thought it was very -hard that he should stand in awe of an old humorist, and he had for a -moment thoughts of emancipating himself from trammels, and assuming to -himself the direction of his own actions; but then, on the other hand, -he also considered that without the assistance of the old gentleman, -he should not be able to clear off the encumbrances with which his own -hereditary estate had been burdened by his anticipations. His only -resource was an advantageous match; but the difficulty was how to -accomplish that object, and to preserve his dignity. - -In the same street in which Lord Martindale, his father, lived, there -was an heiress, but not altogether unobjectionable. Her origin was -plebeian; her wealth was commercial; her connexions decidedly vulgar, -notwithstanding all her pains to keep them select, and to curtail the -number of her cousins; her manners awkward, and her taste in dress most -execrable. Whenever Philip Martindale felt impatient of controul, he -thought of Miss Celestina Sampson, and of the many thousands which her -industrious father had accumulated by the manufacturing of soap; and by -thinking much on the subject, he had been gradually led to consider the -match as not altogether intolerable. He thought of many other persons -of as high rank as himself, and even higher, who had not disdained to -gild their coronets with city gold. There was nothing glaringly or -hideously vulgar in Miss Sampson’s manners, though she was not the -most graceful of her sex. Then her person was rather agreeable than -otherwise, especially when she was not over-dressed; and as for her -cousins, they might be easily cut. - -In truth, these meditations had so frequently occupied the young -gentleman’s mind, that there began to be actually some talk on the -subject among the friends of the parties. These thoughts were by some -fatality passing in his mind while he was waiting for the arrival of -the hour for which his engagement was made; and by a very singular -coincidence he was reminded of Miss Celestina: for while he was wishing -the time to move more rapidly, there entered into the coffee-room two -young gentlemen, who very noisily manifested their importance. They -lounged up to the table on which the papers were lying, and each helped -himself to one; then they sat down at separate and distant tables, each -spreading his paper before him, and lolling with his elbows on the -table, and his feet stretched out to the widest possible extent, as if -begging to have his toes trod on; and they ever and anon laughed aloud, -and called out the one to the other at any piece of intelligence which -excited their astonishment, or gave occasion to witty remark. Among -other announcements which they thus communicated to each other, was a -short paragraph in the fashionable intelligence which had altogether -escaped the notice of Philip Martindale; and as its announcement was -preceded by a very loud laugh, his attention was especially drawn to -it, and it was as follows: - -“It is currently reported that the Hon. Philip Martindale of Brigland -Abbey, eldest son of Lord Martindale, is about to lead to the hymeneal -altar the accomplished and beautiful daughter and heiress of Sir -Gilbert Sampson.” - -“There, Smart,” said the reader of the above paragraph, “you have lost -your chance for ever. What a pity it is you did not make a better use -of your time. By the way, do you know any thing of the Hon. Philip -Martindale?” - -“I know nothing about him, except that I have been told he is one of -the proudest men that ever lived; and I can never suppose that he would -condescend to marry the daughter of a soap-boiler.” - -“There is no answering for that,” responded the other; “necessity has -no law. Brigland Abbey cannot be kept up for a trifle; and if I am not -misinformed, this same Philip Martindale has been rather hard run on -settling-days.” - -At hearing this conversation, the young gentleman was greatly annoyed; -and in order to avoid any farther intelligence concerning himself, -he took his departure, for the hour appointed for meeting his friend -Stephen was now very near at hand. He was in very ill-humour with -what he had heard, and was quite shocked at the liberties which common -people took with the names and affairs of persons of rank. He had -composed in his own mind, and was uttering with his mind’s voice, -a most eloquent philippic against the daring insolence of plebeian -animals, who presumed to canvass the conduct of their superiors; and he -was dwelling upon the enviable privacy of more humble life, which was -not so watched and advertised in all its movements, till it occurred -to him that this publicity was one of the distinctions of high life, -and that even calumnious reports concerning the great were but a -manifestation of the interest which the world took in their movements. -It also came into his mind that many of those actions which seem -otherwise unaccountable and ridiculous, owe their being to a love of -notoriety; and he thought it not unlikely that some of the great might -play fools’ tricks for the sake of being talked of by the little. So -his anger abated, and he more than forgave the impertinent one who had -made free with his name in a newspaper. - -It has been said that we live in a strange world. We deny this position -altogether. Nothing is less strange than this world and its contents. -But if we will voluntarily and wilfully keep our eyes closed, and form -an imaginary world of our own, and only occasionally awake and take a -transient glance of reality, and then go back to our dreamings, the -world may well enough be strange to us. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - “How durst you come into this room and company without leave?” - - KILLEGREW. - - -Philip Martindale proceeded, as we have stated, from the coffee-house -towards Tothill Street, with a view of keeping his engagement with -his friend of the scarlet coat and crimson countenance. He had entered -into his memorandum-book the number of the house to which he had -been directed, but he omitted as useful a notice, namely, to take -down the division or apartment in which the gentleman of the pit had -his residence. For the fact is, that the ingenious bird-feeder and -fancier resided in an upper apartment, nearer to the sky by one flight -of stairs than the Hon. Philip Martindale imagined. The house was a -miserable contrast to the splendid mansion which he had left. Whether -it had ever been cleansed either by paint or water, since the day it -was built, seemed a matter of doubt. The windows had been broken, and -had been mended partially but not with glass. The very window-frames -seemed to be in such a state of dilapidation that a breeze might blow -them from their position. - -When the door was opened by a middle aged female, whose miserable -and dirty attire made her look twenty years older than she was, the -olfactory nerves of the young gentleman were assailed by a grievous -combination of various odours, among which onions, tobacco, and gin, -were the predominant. Asking of the miserable being who opened the door -whether Clarke was within, he was told to walk up stairs. Very slowly -and very cautiously did he mount the creaking staircase, setting his -foot gently and inquiringly upon each successive stair to ascertain -whether it would bear his weight: of one or two he had so much distrust -as to step completely over them. - -When arrived at the first landing-place, he heard a multitude of -voices, which he naturally supposed to proceed from some gentlemen of -the fancy. Without knocking at the door, he immediately let himself -in, and found to his great astonishment that he had mistaken the -apartment. He found himself surrounded by a group of dark-complexioned, -sallow-looking, unshorn beings; some of whom were sitting on the floor, -others on crazy boxes and broken chairs, and all of whom were smoking -cigars. The dingy dress which they wore, and the faded decorations -which were suspended on their left breast, immediately proclaimed them -to be emigrants. As soon as he entered the room, their voices were -stilled, and they turned their inquiring and sickened looks towards him -as if to a harbinger of some intelligence of good. The moment that he -felt where and with whom he was thus accidentally placed, his spirit -sunk within him; and he did feel a deep compassion for the miserable -objects which surrounded him. - -One of the party, by the freshness of his dress and the cleanliness of -his person, appeared to have arrived but recently among them. He was -a man of middle age, wearing a very respectable military dress; and -though of thoughtful look, he did not appear dejected or heartbroken. -To him Mr. Martindale addressed himself in the Italian language, -apologising for his accidental and unintentional intrusion. The -stranger replied in English, spoken with a foreign accent, but with -tolerable fluency, stating that he had just arrived in England, and -being directed to where he could find some of his fellow-countrymen, -he had but recently entered the house, and was grieved to see them so -situated. He also said that he himself was not much better provided -for, but that his wife and child were in England, though he could not -at present discover in what part of the country. He said that he had -received letters from them, but that those letters were lost, with part -of his own luggage. But he trusted, he continued, that he should find -out, by inquiry, where his family was; and he concluded a long harangue -by asking Philip Martindale, with great simplicity, if he knew where -Mr. Smith lived. - -This is a question which wiser men than the Hon. Philip Martindale -would be puzzled to answer; and it is a question which weaker men than -he would have smiled at. He was not a man without feeling, though he -was a man of the world; and it excited in his mind other thoughts and -feelings than those of a ridiculous nature, when he saw a foreigner -in England, whose discovery of his wife and child depended on the -finding out of the residence of a person of so common a name as Smith. -Forgetting, therefore, his engagement with Stephen the guard, he set -himself seriously and closely to interrogate the poor man, in order to -find some better and more definite clue to the discovery of his family -than the name of Smith. Thereupon the countenance of the foreigner -brightened up, his eyes sparkled, and the tear was on his cheek, when -he said: - -“Oh! sare, you are good. I thank you much for your great trouble: you -are all so good in England to the poor estranger when he is in misery. -It is sad to leave my own land; but what am I without my poor child?” - -“Well, my good friend,” replied Philip, “I hope and trust you will find -your child. But surely you must have some other knowledge of the person -with whom your family is residing than merely the name of Smith. You -have had letters from them, you say; can you not recollect from what -place those letters were dated?” - -“Oh, no! I could not recollect it once: it was no name in the -geography; it was in the province.” - -“Then, of course, it was not London;” replied Mr. Martindale. - -“No, no, no, it was not London; it was in the province: it was far away -from London thirty or forty mile.” - -“But did not you sometimes send letters to your family, and can you not -tell how you addressed your letters to them? Perhaps if you were to -consider a little while, you might be able to call to mind something -that might assist in discovering the place of their abode. If you had -letters, most likely some account was given of the place where they -lived: or if it were a small village, they may have mentioned the name -of the nearest post-town.” - -“Oh yes, it was very pretty place. It was thirty or forty mile from -London. It was very beautiful place. There was large, very fine palace -called Abbey. There was very fine lake.” - -This description reminded Philip Martindale of the place of his own -residence, and he therefore asked if the name of the place was at all -like Brigland. The foreigner looked thoughtful, and attempted to repeat -the word, saying: “Breeklan! Breeklan!” Then, after a pause of a few -seconds, his features underwent a complete change, and with a kind of -hysteric laugh or screech of exultation, he cried out: - -“Oh, that was it! that was it! Oh, good sare, it was Breeklan--oh, tell -me where is Breeklan, and I will see my child and my dear wife--oh, I -will see them once again--oh, you have save me from great misery.” - -Then he seized Philip Martindale’s hand and pressed it with great -emotion, repeating his solicitations; and the tears rolled down his -cheeks, and he smiled with such an expression of delight, that the -young gentleman was moved; and after he had given some charitable -donations to the rest of the unhappy ones in the miserable apartment, -he proceeded to conduct the newly-arrived stranger where he might find -a conveyance to take him to Brigland. - -Philip Martindale then returned to the house where the game-cocks were -to be seen, and there he met his friend Stephen the guard, and some -other friends of the fancy, by the fascinations of whose sweet society -he was detained in the metropolis somewhat longer than he designed, -and by whose winning ways he found himself poorer than was quite -convenient. The opinion he expressed concerning the fighting birds--the -particulars of the exhibition with which he was afterwards favoured -at the Westminster-pit--the brilliant conversation in which he there -engaged--the bets which there he laid and lost--the flattering homage -which he there received--the satisfaction which resulted from it--all -these and many other matters of a like nature we pass over unrecorded; -trusting that, where one reader blames the omission, fifty will commend -it. - -But though we describe not these scenes, it does not follow that we -should pass them over without reflection. One very natural reflection -is, that gentlemen of high birth and estate are much to be envied -for the pleasure which they enjoy in those scenes. There must be a -peculiar delight in such pursuits, or the superfine part of our species -could not possibly condescend, for the sake of them, to associate on -most familiar terms with persons whose birth is most miserably low, -whose understandings are most grievously defective, whose manners -are abominably coarse. Take from the side of one of these honorables -the jockey, the boxer, the feeder, or the coachman, with whom he is -all courtesy and good humor and familiarity, and place there a man -of middle rank in society, respectable in every point of view, with -what cool contempt would the dignity of high birth regard him. One -other reflection is, that such pursuits ought to be calculated to -raise these said gentle and noble ones very high in their own esteem, -inasmuch as they are not thereby raised in the esteem of others. Their -disinterested generosity is also much to be applauded, seeing that by -thus lavishing their wealth on those whose only support is the gambling -propensity of men of wealth, they take away from the public a large -number of such as might otherwise have exercised their wits in picking -pockets or breaking into houses. They who would suppress gambling -deserve the thanks of the ninnies who would be thus preserved from -being plundered in an honorable and gentlemanly manner; but what would -become of the rogues and sharpers who live upon the folly of right -honorable and high-born simpletons? Politic morality is perhaps one -of the greatest difficulties which legislators have to contend with. -Begging pardon for these reflections, we proceed with our story. - -We have stated that the Hon. Philip Martindale suffered in his purse -from his visit to the Westminster-pit. The following morning he -meditated much upon the subject; and he also applied the powers of -his mind to the ring, and recollected that he had there oftentimes -suffered as much in his purse as some of the pummeled heroes had -in their persons. Then while he was in the humor for thinking, he -endeavoured to calculate how much these amusements had cost him; and in -the course of that calculation it most unaccountably came into his mind -that many of the frequenters of these exhibitions had no ostensible -means of living, and that they yet lived well, and that of course they -must have lived upon him and others of high rank and birth. Following -that train of thought, and finding that several of the superfine ones -who had formerly patronised these sports had for some reason or other -gradually fallen off from them, he began to think that he would also -abstain from them, and confine himself to the more respectable and -gentleman-like avocations of the race-course and the hazard-table: for -there he should meet with a more numerous assemblage of persons of his -own rank; and as he had three horses entered to run at Newmarket, and -as one of these was an especial favorite, he had some expectation of -retrieving his losses, at least in part. He fully determined that he -would no longer associate with the vulgar ones of the ring and the pit. -Oh, what an excellent homily is an empty purse! - -Now it happened very fortunately for the trusty Oliver, and for his -master too, that when the latter had finished his meditations, and was -entering the shop of his gunsmith, he should meet there his worthy -friend Sir Andrew Featherstone. The greeting was cordial; for the -meeting was agreeable on both sides. Sir Andrew Featherstone was a -baronet of very ancient family:--that rendered him acceptable to the -Hon. Philip Martindale. But he had other recommendations--he was the -best-tempered man in the world. There are myriads of this description. -He kept a most excellent table, had a capital pack of hounds, and -two very beautiful daughters, whom we shall have great pleasure in -introducing to our readers in due course of time. The families of -the Featherstones and the Martindales had been intimate time out of -mind; and it was the wish of Sir Andrew to marry one of his daughters -to the Hon. Philip Martindale. But the young gentleman himself had -never given the subject a single thought. By one of those remarkable -coincidences which are happening every day, Sir Andrew mentioned the -archery-meeting, and expressed a wish that Philip would honor it with -his presence. The young gentleman found this reality as great a relief -to his mind, as his trusty Oliver had found the invention a relief -to his mind; and he immediately dispatched a note to his venerable -relative, stating his engagement, and fixing the day of his return to -Brigland. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - “A was an archer, and shot at a frog.” - - ANON. - - -The residence of Sir Andrew Featherstone was called Hovenden Lodge; -why it was called a lodge we cannot say. It was a large plain house, -situated in a small level park. The hand of improvement had been -very busy with it, but the genius of propriety had not presided over -the improvements. Several different styles of architecture had been -introduced, and to very ill effect; for the very square broad-sided -form of the building rendered it unsusceptible of decoration. But Sir -Andrew cared nothing about it--he left all those matters to the ladies, -who gave directions according to their own taste or lack of taste; -and all the return which he made for their architectural diligence -and their skilful improvements was to laugh at what he called their -absurdities. The usual order was quite reversed at Hovenden Lodge; for -while Lady Featherstone and her two daughters, Lucy and Isabella, were -drawing plans, or marching about the park, and pointing out to the -architect the improvements which they thought desirable, Sir Andrew was -standing by the kitchen fire and lecturing the cook, or translating -aloud recipes from his favorite French cookery-book, which was the -only book that he had ever purchased; and very highly did he value it, -fancying that few persons in this kingdom were aware of its existence. -He often however had, or we should more properly say, might have had, -the mortification of finding that he had been translating from French -into English that which had been previously translated from English -into French; for whenever his knowing lady reminded him that any recipe -was already in the English cookery-books, he would always contend -for or discover some delicate variation which gave the French the -advantage. He thought, too, that there was a peculiar piquancy in the -French terms, and that there was a particular relish in foreign names, -which he always took care to utter, but which his obstinately English -organs of speech rendered mightily amusing in their utterance. - -The greatest evil of the archery-meeting in Sir Andrew’s opinion was, -that it must be attended only with a cold collation, and that must -be in a marquee. It had been discussed repeatedly, but as frequently -decided against him, that it was absolutely impossible to have a hot -dinner. He did not like it, but he bore it very good-temperedly; and -was brimful of jokes, ready to let fly with every arrow. - -Lady Featherstone, who was never so happy as when she was patronising, -was delighted with the thought of the long table under the marquee, -and her own self smiling, nodding, and bowing most gracefully to every -body: she could undergo a cold dinner every day of her life, for the -happiness of thinking that every body said, “What a charming woman is -Lady Featherstone!” - -The young ladies were in proud and confident expectation of winning -the prize; but in still more proud and more confident expectation -of exhibiting their elegant selves to an admiring multitude. This, -indeed, is the great beauty of archery; it is an _elegant_ exercise, -or in other words, it gives an opportunity to young ladies to exhibit -themselves in elegant or attractive attitudes; and many a young woman -who would have scarcely any chance of a display, hereby acquires a -right to be stared at most perseveringly and inveterately. She may be -as long as she pleases taking her aim; and if she fears that she shall -not hit the target, she may take an aim elsewhere. - -And it is a very pretty thing too for young gentlemen in the last year -of being at school, or in the first of their undergraduateship. Dressed -in the archery uniform, they look so very much like Robin Hood: they go -back to old times in almost more than imagination; but more especially, -they have an opportunity of playing off the _polites_. At all events, -it is a very innocent amusement; and if properly managed by the -lady-patroness, it may rise into something of a matter of importance. -If any of the party be in possession of the powers of eloquence, they -may draw up a very pretty report of the meeting; and the editors of -country papers will feel much honored by inserting the said report; and -there will be a very pretty sprinkling of very pretty compliments to -the very pretty young ladies, who may be compared to Diana’s nymphs; -and there may be quotations from the old songs about Robin Hood and -Maid Marian; and very pretty talk about the greenwood shade and the -merry horn. Then the editor of the newspaper sells an extra number of -papers, which are sent in different directions to distant friends. - -The display of beauty and fashion which was exhibited in Hovenden Park -on the above-named occasion, bids defiance by its brilliancy to our -powers of description. Sir Andrew himself, though his occupation was -gone for that day at least, endured with a very good grace his absence -from the kitchen; and was prepared to hear and say all that was polite, -together with a little that was satirical. Before the business of the -day began, he said in the hearing of the exhibitors: “Where shall I -stand to be most out of the way; I think I had better take my station -in front of the target.” - -With many such sayings he entertained the young people; and some of -the young ladies laughed so heartily at his attempts at humor, that -they could hardly direct the arrows; and then, when any one shot very -wide of the mark, he smilingly said, “Well done, my good girl, that’s -right, take care you don’t spoil the target.” And notwithstanding all -the frowns and rebukes of Lady Featherstone, the facetious baronet -continued his interruptions much to the amusement and a little to the -annoyance of the party. - -We should not have mentioned this crotchet of Sir Andrew’s, but that -we think it may be not amiss to take this opportunity of observing -that persevering witticisms, forced out in rapid succession on all -occasions, and a series of smart sayings, good, bad, and indifferent, -uttered without abatement, may often excite the outward and visible -sign of merriment long after they have ceased to be agreeable. For -laughter is not always the sign of satisfaction, any more than tears -are always a token of sorrow. There is no man, however stupid, who -cannot occasionally say a good thing; and very few, if any, can -utter real wit in every sentence; and miserable is the annoyance of -everlasting efforts at facetiousness. It is only tolerable in those who -are very young or very weak. - -But as one great object of archery-meetings is display, we should be -guilty of injustice in omitting to notice a young lady of the party, -who came with the full intention of eclipsing every one there;--and she -succeeded. We refer to Miss Celestina Sampson. She came accompanied -by her father, Sir Gilbert Sampson; who, though a new man, was very -well received by Sir Andrew. Miss Sampson was not a beauty, but was -good-looking and rather pretty; of middle stature, light complexion, -and fine natural colour; good-humored and cheerful; ambitious of -elegance, but not well-informed as to the means; critical as to the -externals of behaviour, and much exposed herself to the same kind of -criticism; sadly afraid of vulgarity, though often sinning through -mere ignorance. Her appearance and dress attracted, as she designed, -universal attention; but not, as she hoped, universal admiration. She -had studied costume with more zeal than taste; and vibrating between -the costume of Diana and Maid Marian, she at last appeared, if like any -thing at all, a tawdry imitation of Fatima, in the play of Blue-beard. - -As Sir Gilbert Sampson was also present, we may say a word or two -of him. He had been a soap-boiler. True; but what of that?--he had -retired from business, and had washed his hands of soap. He had been -a soap-boiler. True; but whose fault was that? Not his own: he had no -innate, natural, violent, irresistible, unextinguishable propensity -for boiling soap; for if he had, he would never have relinquished the -pursuit. The fault was his father’s; for had the father of Sir Gilbert -been a duke, Sir Gilbert would never have been a soap-boiler. As to the -rest, Sir Gilbert Sampson was a man of good understanding, of extensive -knowledge, possessing strong natural powers of mind, and altogether -free from every species of affectation. - -Lady Sampson had, while she lived, governed by permission of her lord -and master. She had dictated concerning the petty details of life; -and after her death, her daughter reigned in her stead. Sir Gilbert -never troubled himself about trifles; but Miss Sampson took all that -care entirely off her father’s hands. The pleasure of his life was the -company of a few old acquaintances; but he tolerated parties when Miss -Sampson could manage to assemble them. - -And this was not a difficulty, even though Sir Gilbert had been a -soap-boiler; for his cook was not a soap-boiler, and his fishmonger was -not a soap-boiler, and his wine merchant was not a soap-boiler. Sir -Gilbert’s dinners were very excellent; and those who partook of them -praised them much, and did not say a word about soap while they were at -dinner; and that was very kind, and exceedingly condescending: for it -is a piece of great presumption in a man who has acquired a property -by honest industry to give sumptuous entertainments to those who are -spending or who have spent what their ancestors earned for them. - -Enough for the present of Sir Gilbert Sampson. Be it however -observed by the way, that our good and facetious friend, Sir Andrew -Featherstone, regarded Sir Gilbert without any feeling of aristocratic -pride, and so did many others of his acquaintance; and that even the -Hon. Philip Martindale behaved very politely to him, inasmuch as he was -occasionally under apprehension that it might be desirable for him -to disencumber and improve the Martindale estate by the means of Sir -Gilbert’s wealth. At this meeting, owing to previous matters already -recorded, the idea of the possibility of Miss Sampson becoming Mrs., -and, in process of time, Lady Martindale, took very strong hold of the -young gentleman’s imagination. He therefore, without being aware of -any difference in his manner, paid very extraordinary attention to Sir -Gilbert; and as the young lady observed this, and was rather ambitious -of the honor of so high an alliance, and as she thought that the best -way to make a conquest, or to secure one already made, was to make -herself agreeable; and as she thought that the best way to make herself -agreeable was to put herself very much in the way of the person to -whom she wished to be agreeable, and to talk to him and listen to -his talk, and smile at what he said if he seemed to think it witty, -and to manifest that her attention was more taken up with him than -with any one else: Miss Sampson acted upon this principle, but in the -over-officiousness of her zeal carried her system so far as to make it -almost a persecution. - -As to the effect thereby produced upon the Hon. Philip Martindale, very -little if any progress was made in his affections. He was accustomed -to homage and attention, and took it as a matter of course; he had -experienced quite as much attention from the friends of ladies of -higher rank than Miss Sampson; and the charms of the young lady’s -person or conversation were nothing to him in his matrimonial -speculations. If Mr. John Martindale had been a man of infirm health, -and likely soon to decide the question as to who should possess his -large property, Philip Martindale would not have had any thought -whatever of an alliance so much beneath the dignity of his rank and -the purity of his blood; or were the old gentleman a little less -capricious, or had the young gentleman been a little more prudent in -the management of his affairs, then Miss Sampson might have had the -beauty of a Venus, the wisdom of a Minerva, or the wealth of Crœsus, -and these qualities would have made no impression. On the other hand, -under the then present circumstances, Miss Sampson needed not to -take any pains to render herself agreeable; for had her person been -deformed, and her mind that of an idiot, yet her father, by the -accumulation of a large fortune, had done quite enough to make her -perfectly agreeable. - -And yet, notwithstanding all this confession which we have made for -Mr. Philip, we would not have our readers to imagine that the young -gentleman was devoid of good qualities or good feelings altogether; -he might not have been so candid in his confession for himself as we -have been for him, but he was not altogether aware of the influence -of circumstances upon his mind. He was placed in a certain rank in -society, and must keep up the dignity of that rank; and it was his -misfortune if necessity put him upon using means for that purpose not -quite in unison with his better judgment. Royalty itself has not free -choice in matters of the heart; and nobility, as it approaches royalty -in its splendour, is sometimes assimilated to it in its restraints and -perplexities. Still, however, making every concession which candour -and human kindness prompt us to make in behalf of Philip Martindale; -and admitting all the extenuations which a merciful advocate could -suggest, we cannot help thinking, and it is our duty to say it, that -if he had abstained from the foolish and low pursuits of gaming in -all its varieties, and if he had cherished and preserved that spirit -of independence which his excellent mother, Lady Martindale, had -endeavoured to instil into his mind, he might have upheld the dignity -of his rank, if he had sacrificed a little of its splendour. But to our -history. - -We have mentioned as the patroness of the archery-meeting, Lady -Featherstone; and we have said that this lady had two daughters, Lucy -and Isabella. It has also been observed that Sir Andrew Featherstone -felt a wish to unite one of these young ladies in marriage with Philip -Martindale. This was a very natural ambition. The two families had -been intimate for several generations. The Martindales had, by various -circumstances, gradually advanced in wealth; but the reverse had been -the lot of the Featherstones, though they were quite as old and good a -family as the Martindales. Singular indeed it was that the only person -in the Martindale family who showed any symptoms of alienation from -the Featherstones was old John Martindale: the singularity, however, -consisted in this, that he had not shown any coolness, or behaved with -any reserve, on the increase of his own property; but he had carried -himself proudly towards them only since his cousin had acquired a title -of nobility and had become a peer. Yet the old gentleman professed to -laugh at titles; but nobody thought that old John Martindale was a fool. - -Sir Andrew Featherstone, being a good-humoured man, took little notice -of countless insults, affronts, slights, and disrespectfulnesses, -whereby myriads of the human species are most grievously tormented. -He did not, therefore, heed or observe the coldness of old Mr. -Martindale; nor was he at all angry with Philip that he gave much -of his attention to Sir Gilbert Sampson, and that he tolerated the -attentions of Miss Sampson. Lady Featherstone, however, was more -observant; and notwithstanding the incessant and manifold attention -which she paid to all the party, could not help noticing how very -gracious Philip Martindale was with Sir Gilbert. Various were the -stratagems by which her ladyship endeavoured and contrived to place -Philip in juxtaposition with her daughters when they adjourned to -the collation; and very agreeable was her surprise when, after the -strictest observation, she did not discern any wandering of the eyes of -the young gentleman towards that part of the table where Miss Sampson -was seated. Her fears were still farther diminished, when she found -that Miss Sampson was deeply, and to all appearance most agreeably, -engaged in conversation with a very elegant young gentleman, who seemed -almost as much pleased with Miss Sampson as he was with himself. We owe -it to our readers to introduce this young gentleman. - -Henry Augustus Tippetson was a gentleman of good family, but being a -younger brother, and very indolent, was not likely to make any great -figure in the world. He was of middle stature; very slender, very fair, -very near-sighted when he happened to think of it; having flaxen hair -and blue eyes; suspected, but unjustly, of using rouge; very expensive -in his dress, and one of Delcroix’s best customers. He was not one of -the archers, though he had once attempted to use a bow. He found that -the exertion was too much for him, and he feared it might harden his -hands. He expressed to Miss Sampson the same fears for her; but the -young lady heeded not the apprehension. - -Lady Featherstone was very happy to see Miss Sampson so employed; -but when her ladyship turned her attention to her own daughters -and the gentleman whom she had seated by them, not all her powers -of penetration could discover to which of the young ladies Philip -Martindale was paying the greatest attention; and most of all was her -mind disturbed by observing, that when he addressed himself either to -one or the other, though it was with perfect politeness, it was with -perfect indifference. - -The sports of the day were concluded by a ball, which resembled in -every point every ball of the same character. There was the usual -allowance of dancing, negus, nonsense, tossing of heads, sneering, -quizzing, showing off, blundering, and all the rest of that kind of -amusement. It enters not into our plan to dwell any longer on this -festival. We must return to Brigland. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - “For fame, (whose journies are through ways unknown, - Traceless and swift and changeful as the wind,) - The morn and Hurgonil had much outgone, - While Truth mov’d patiently within behind.” - - DAVENANT. - - -From Hovenden Lodge, Philip Martindale returned home; and after finding -every thing as it should be at the Abbey, and arranging with the -trusty Oliver concerning uniformity of narrative, he called upon the -old gentleman at the cottage. There he underwent a long harangue on -the folly of archery, and the silliness of Sir Andrew Featherstone, -together with a desultory dissertation on the frivolity of the age in -general. From which dissertation, it was to be inferred that old John -Martindale was the only man living who had the least idea of propriety -and wisdom of conduct. - -With becoming deference and submission, the young gentleman gave his -assent to whatsoever the senior was pleased to assert. This is one -of the greatest pains of a state of dependence, that it robs a man -of the pleasure of contradicting; and it is also one of the greatest -evils of holding intercourse with dependants, that a man is thereby -deprived of the pleasure of being contradicted. These were evils which -the old and the young gentleman both felt, but the old gentleman felt -it most deeply. Contradiction was so much his element, that he could -hardly live without it; and rather than not enjoy the pleasure of it, -he would contradict himself. That must have been a man of uncommon and -high powers of mind, who could so have managed the old gentleman as to -stimulate without offending him. The Hon. Philip Martindale was not -equal to it, either from want of capacity or from lack of attention -and diligence. - -When the old gentleman had finished a tolerably long harangue on fools -and follies of all descriptions, it almost occurred to him that if so -great was the number of follies, and so long was the list of fools, -there could be little else than folly in all human pursuits; and that -he himself, in his own singularity of wisdom, was something of a fool -for being so outrageously wise, when there was nobody left to keep him -in countenance. Paradoxical as it may sound, it is not far from truth -that excess of wisdom is excess of folly. The old gentleman thought so -when he said to his cousin: - -“I dare say now that you think me an old fool for my pains, if you -would be honest enough to speak your mind.” - -Not waiting for a reply to this very wise, though not very original -remark, Mr. Martindale continued his talk: “I am sorry, Master Philip, -you thought fit to take yourself off just at the very moment that you -were wanted. I have had a very pleasant and intelligent companion at -the cottage for the last two days, I particularly wished to introduce -him to you; I mean the young barrister, who pleaded old Richard Smith’s -cause so temperately and so successfully. I should have thought that -the company of an intelligent young man would be far more agreeable -than a set of idle gabbling chits, and an old simpleton of a baronet, -who has not an idea in the world beyond a cookery-book. But every man -to his taste.” - -“I am sorry, sir,” replied Philip, “that I was not aware of your -friend’s being at Brigland. It would have given me great pleasure -to be introduced to him. He certainly conducted his cause with great -propriety, and did not take, as some persons might have done, an -opportunity of insulting me.” - -“He did not conduct himself as your advocate did, Master Philip; he -did not attempt to convert a court of justice into a bear-garden, or -degrade the dignity of his profession by playing the buffoon to make -boobies laugh. Mr. Markham is a man of good sense, and I think his -conversation would have been of service to you: though he is a young -man, he is very extensively informed.” - -“I have not the least doubt of it,” replied Philip; “I am only sorry -that I was so unfortunate as to be out of the way when he was here. I -shall be more fortunate I hope another time.” - -That was a lie; but dependants must lie if they would not lose their -places. The Hon. Philip Martindale recollected the time when he was -under no necessity of saying the thing which was not, when he was -independent but of his profession; but then he was not called the -honourable, then he had no rank to support or dignity to keep up. -It was really mortifying and distressing to him that those very -circumstances to which he had looked with hope and pleasure, and -from which he had anticipated an accession to his happiness through -the gratification of his pride, should become the means of annoying -him so keenly where he was most susceptible. The dilemma in which -he was placed was grievously perplexing. Turn which way he would, -mortifications awaited him. There was the daughter of a retired -soap-boiler on one side; there was the son of a country shopkeeper -pestering him on the other. To go back to his profession was quite out -of the question. To marry rank and fortune too was not in the compass -of probability. Oh, how perplexing and troublesome it is that such -perpetual encroachments should be made upon persons of rank; so that -notwithstanding all the care and pains which they take to avoid it, -they are perpetually brought into contact with the commercial cast. -Most deeply did Philip Martindale feel this inconvenience, but he could -find no remedy for it. He had however one consolation, in the thought -that he was not alone in his sorrows. He was acquainted with others -who carried their heads much higher than himself, who yet suffered the -convenient degradation of commercial affinities. - -“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, “I am sorry that Mr. Markham is -gone; and I fear we shall not see him again very soon.” - -This was no subject of regret with the Hon. Philip Martindale; he -was glad to hear that he was not likely to be soon annoyed by an -introduction to a man of such equivocal rank as Horatio Markham. -But seeing that his opulent relative was very much pleased with -this stranger, he thought it might be agreeable if he made farther -inquiries; he therefore asked, how it happened that Mr. Markham had -made so short a visit. To his inquiries he received for answer, that -an express had arrived calling the young barrister to London, and -offering to his acceptance a highly respectable legal situation in -one of the colonies. For this information Philip was thankful; and -finding that there was no danger of being compelled to realise his -profession, he began to speak very highly of the young barrister’s -moral and intellectual qualities, and to express in still stronger -terms the sorrow he felt at not being able to have the pleasure of his -acquaintance. Cunning as old Mr. Martindale in general was, he was so -far deceived by these protestations, that he was put by them into high -good humour, both with himself and his relative; and then he went on -to talk about Richard Smith and his niece. This, however, was a topic -not altogether agreeable to Philip; but the young gentleman so far -succeeded in explaining that affair, that Mr. Martindale was ready to -accept the explanation. He then told Philip that Mr. Markham and he -had visited the cottage; and so communicative and good-humoured was the -elder Martindale, that he even repeated, as far as he could recollect, -what took place at that visit, and how he had cautioned the young -barrister not to lose his heart. - -While this discourse was going on in the cottage, the town of Brigland -was agitated to its very centre by a tragical event which had occurred -at old Richard Smith’s cottage. Multitudes of idle people were running -from place to place, full of dreadful news of a murder that had been -committed in the course of the preceding night. Almost every one had -a different story to tell; and the affair lost nothing of its horror -and mystery by being transmitted from one to another. Mr. Denver, -as in duty or in habit bound, brought the tidings to Mr. Martindale -at the cottage. The story, as related by the good-humoured perpetual -curate, spoke of poor old Richard Smith as having been murdered by -the gipsies, and of his niece being carried away nobody knew where. -Upon cross-examination, however, it was elicited that Mr. Denver had -acquired his information by a very circuitous route; for he had heard -Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint both at once telling a different version -of the same story to Mrs. Denver, who, while those two ladies were -speaking narratively, noisily, and contradictorily, was herself also -talking exclamatively and interrogatively. The ladies who communicated -the event to Mrs. Denver had received their information also from -compound sources, but both were satisfied that they had received their -intelligence from the best authority; and in order to prove that they -were both rightly informed, they both of them talked very loudly and -very rapidly. - -Mr. Denver must have been a very clever man under such circumstances -to have made out any story at all; and he was a very clever man in -such matters, and very much experienced in carrying and collecting -intelligence: indeed, the mode above stated was that in which he -usually acquired his knowledge. Practice gives great facility. But it -must be acknowledged, notwithstanding all Mr. Denver’s accuracy and -dexterity, that there were in his narrative some errors. It was not -true that Richard Smith had been murdered; and it was not true that his -niece had been carried away by violence or otherwise. These were the -only two errors in the whole account. Much more however was reported, -which Mr. Denver did not relate; and that which he did not relate was -the part to which was most especially applicable that pathos of look -and exclamation with which he introduced his narrative. This part of -the story unfortunately was not true; we say unfortunately, because it -is really mortifying to the multitude when investigation and inquiry -deprive them of the richest part of a most horrible story. It was not -likely that Mr. Denver should mention this part of the report when he -saw Mr. Philip; for it was to that gentleman that it referred. - -The report was, that Richard Smith had been murdered by some ruffians -who had been employed by the Hon. Philip Martindale to carry off the -niece of the poor old man. There was mention made of a fierce-looking -military man, who was to all appearance a foreigner, who had been seen -lurking about Brigland Common, and conversing with the gipsies that had -but recently made their appearance there; and one person actually saw -this foreigner enter the lane where old Smith’s cottage stood. All -this part of the tale was very properly and very considerately omitted -by Mr. Denver, who was a very candid man; and who thought that if it -were true, it would in proper time transpire; and that if Mr. Philip -had employed ruffians to carry off the young woman, he might have his -own reasons for it. - -At the hearing of this very serious story, the two Martindales -expressed their horror and astonishment; and Philip immediately asked -Mr. Denver why he had not gone to the old man’s cottage, in order to -make some inquiry about the matter: to which interrogation Mr. Denver -gave no answer. The retailers of intelligence would indeed lose many -a choice and delightful story, if they were to take great pains to -investigate the matter before they talked about it. - -Philip Martindale requested Mr. Denver immediately to accompany him to -the spot, that they might be assured whether or not any violence had -been used, and whether there was any necessity for the interference -of a magistrate. In their way they called on the constable, who was -frightened out of his wits at the thought of going into a house where -a man lay murdered. But the presence of Philip Martindale inspired -him with an extraordinary share of courage. As they proceeded, they -saw groups of people standing here and there, discussing with great -gravity, the mysterious affair of the old man’s cottage. They looked -with great earnestness on Mr. Martindale and his companions; and their -murmurings and whisperings grew thicker and deeper. - -When at length they arrived at the cottage, they found it surrounded -by a crowd of women and children, and idle girls and boys. The women -were all talking, and the girls and boys were clambering up to the -cottage-windows, or were mounted on trees that were near, as if to -catch a glimpse of something within the cottage. At the approach of -Philip Martindale and his party, the boys and girls slunk down from -the windows; the women stayed their loud talking; the whole multitude -buzzed with low whisperings; and the faces of all were turned towards -the magistrate, who was hastily dragging the clergyman by his arm, and -was followed at a very respectful distance by the constable. - -Not staying to make any inquiries, Philip Martindale hastily opened the -door of the cottage, and leading in Mr. Denver, he turned round and -urged the constable to make haste in. When he entered the apartment, he -saw presently that one part of the clergyman’s narrative was incorrect, -namely, that which referred to the murder of old Richard Smith; for -there sat the old man in life and health, but apparently in a state of -great agitation, unable to answer a word to the impatient and numerous -interrogatories of Philip Martindale and Mr. Denver. A very short -interval elapsed, before there appeared from an inner-room a person who -was likely to be able to give some rational account of the mystery. -This person was a surgeon. As soon as he heard Mr. Martindale’s voice, -he came forward to explain the affair. - -“Pray, Mr. Davis,” exclaimed the magistrate, “what is the cause of all -this bustle and confusion? Mr. Denver has been informed that this poor -man was murdered. What has given rise to such a rumour?” - -“I am happy to say, sir,” replied Mr. Davis, “that there has been -no life lost, though there was great danger of it; and I fear that -this poor man will suffer seriously from the agitation which he has -undergone. If you will give me leave, sir, I will tell you all the -particulars. A little better than an hour ago, just as I was preparing -to go my rounds, a boy came running almost breathless into my surgery, -imploring me to make all the haste I could up to old Richard Smith’s -cottage, for there was a man there who was so dreadfully wounded that -he was almost killed. Of course I made the best of my way here; and -when I arrived, I found the poor man sitting, as he is now, quite -speechless; and while I was endeavouring to learn from him what was -the matter, there came into the room a gentleman, who spoke like a -foreigner, and asked if I was a surgeon, and begged me to step into the -back room; there I found upon the bed one of the gipsies that have been -here for some days, just at the edge of the common. They are gone now, -all but this man. I found, sir, that this man had been severely wounded -with a pistol-ball, and that he had suffered much from loss of blood. -I immediately dressed the wound, which is by no means dangerous, -and then inquired of the foreign gentleman what was the cause of the -accident; for I could not get a single word from the man himself. It -appeared, sir, from the account which the stranger gave me, that the -gipsey had broke into the cottage in the night, or rather early in the -morning, and that he was threatening to murder this poor old man if he -would not tell where his money was. The stranger hearing a noise in the -apartment where Richard Smith slept, listened, and soon ascertained -the cause of it; fearing that the robber might have fire-arms in his -possession, he seized a pistol, and without farther thought entered the -room, and discharged it at the robber. The gentleman also informed me -that he heard the voices of persons outside the cottage, but that after -he had discharged the pistol, they retreated. He tells me that Richard -Smith, in consequence of the fright, has not been able to speak since.” - -On hearing this account, Philip Martindale expressed a wish to see -the foreigner, of whom Mr. Davis had made mention; and upon his -introduction, he immediately recognised the Italian whom he had met in -London a day or two ago. The poor foreigner looked full of concern for -the hasty manner in which he had acted, and seemed to fear that he had -violated the law. He made many apologies to Philip Martindale, whom -he presently recognised as a person of some importance; but his mind -was soon set at ease, when he was informed that what he had done was -perfectly legal. He then repeated with great energy the obligations -under which he lay to his very good friend, who had so kindly assisted -him in finding his wife and child. - -The next step was the committal of the wounded man for burglary; and -upon the assurance of Mr. Davis that he might be safely moved, the -commitment was accordingly made out; and the stranger, who gave his -name as Giulio Rivolta, was bound over to give evidence at the trial. - -Matters being thus arranged, Philip and the clergyman returned to -give the old gentleman a more accurate version of the story than he -had before heard. Mr. Denver underwent, as was usual, a lecture from -the old gentleman, on the folly of telling stories just as he heard -them, without taking any trouble, to ascertain as he easily might in -most cases, whether those said stories were true or false. And when -the truth of the matter came to be generally known in Brigland, every -body laughed at every body for circulating, inventing, and believing -improbable tales; and all the idle, gossiping people in the town, went -about from house to house, complaining, bewailing, and lamenting, that -Brigland was the most idle, gossiping, censorious place in the world. -But still it was insinuated that there was something very mysterious in -the business, which was not yet brought to light. There was more talk -than ever concerning Richard Smith; and nobody could recollect when or -how he first came to take up his abode at Brigland. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - “This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, - And to do that well craves a kind of wit; - He must observe their mood on whom he jests, - The quality of persons and the time.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The time was now arrived for Brigland Abbey to become the scene of -festivity and hospitality. Under the direction and with the permission -of old Mr. Martindale, the young tenant-at-will assembled at his -splendid residence a set of people called his friends; but why they -were called his friends is difficult to say, unless they were so -designated for want of some other comprehensive name. Two of the party -certainly were his friends; and well would it have been for him, had -he availed himself more of their friendship, and been ruled by their -advice. We allude to his father and mother, Lord and Lady Martindale. - -It is with great pleasure that we introduce to our readers a pair so -truly respectable and honorable in every point of view. High rank -certainly displays to great advantage those qualities which it is -unable to give. Common-place minds do very well in common-place -situations. It is sad indeed if they whose time is fully occupied by -the duties of their station, and whose employments are marked out for -them, should widely or grossly deviate from propriety: they have, -comparatively speaking, but little room or time for folly. But they who -have the direction of all their time, the choice of all their pursuits, -need great steadiness of mind, and a strong sense of propriety to -avoid follies and extravagance. They who have nothing to do have much -to think of, and they need to be vigilant; and when their conduct is -indeed proper and good, then high rank and the leisure which wealth -bestows appear to great advantage. - -Thus honorable and reputable was the conduct of Lord and Lady -Martindale. His lordship’s estate was not very large for his rank, yet -quite large enough for him to make a fool of himself had he been so -inclined:--he was wealthy enough to be his own coachman had he been -so disposed, or to benefit the country by playing at cards and dice -at Newmarket in order to improve the breed of horses:--he might have -immortalized himself on the canisters of a snuff-shop, or by the cut -of a coat:--he might have run away with his neighbour’s wife, or have -insulted and neglected his own:--he might have spent more money upon -his dogs than upon his children:--he might have sought for distinction -through the medium of cookery, and have become so excessively refined -as to ask if Captain Cook had not in one of his voyages seen a nation -of cannibals who ate roast beef and drank port wine: and by many other -fooleries, equally reputable, he might have tempted the multitude to -ask what lords were made for. - -In like manner her ladyship might have done her part towards the -dilapidation of their property. She might have spent a year’s income -in a single entertainment:--she might have sent her jewels to the -pawnbroker’s to pay her gambling-debts:--she might have forgotten the -names and number of her children:--she might have been so superbly -ignorant as not to know whether the kitchen was at the top of the house -or at the bottom:--she might have played as many mad pranks as others -in high life have done; but she coveted not that species of notoriety -which arises from violating the principles of decorum and common sense. - -The life of this truly respectable couple was not however indebted -for its respectability merely to the absence of vice and folly. They -cultivated positive as well as negative virtues. When they went into -the country, it was for some better purpose than to be stared at; and -when they resided in town, they did not convert their house into a -place of public amusement. The tenants in the country knew of their -landlord’s presence there because they saw him not only in the field, -but in their houses; and he saw that his steward neither oppressed the -tenants, nor defrauded his master; and the poor people in the cottages -saw him, and the labourers too could tell him their grievances, if they -had any. Lady Martindale was also actively benevolent,--not merely -giving away a periodical lot of advertised blankets, or a few bushels -of coals to such as would take the trouble to fetch them; but she -knew to whom her benevolence was directed, and considered rather what -the poor had need to receive than what might best suit her to bestow. -There was the same activity of benevolence when they were in town; and -it was regulated there also by the same principle of propriety, not of -convenience or fashion. - -There was, however, in Lord Martindale one fault, and that in his son -was almost a virtue, in consequence of its accompaniments--he had a -great share of pride. He never spoke to or conversed with any of his -inferiors, but that his style always proclaimed him a man of rank -and consequence. We much doubt if, in the days when angels visited -the sons of men, these heavenly visitants behaved with much more -stately reserve than did Lord Martindale in his walks and visits of -benevolence; or whether they showed so great a sense of their superior -nature as he did of his superior rank. In this respect Lady Martindale -had the advantage of his lordship. Nobody could help noticing her very -graceful and dignified deportment; but the most humble never felt -humiliation in her presence. - -It was a pity that so excellent a couple were not more fortunate in -their eldest son; but it was happy for them that they were not quite -so much aware of the contrast as some of their neighbours were. It is -not for us to propound theories of education, nor do we know of any one -system which has been infallible in its application and universal in -its success. We can only state the fact that Lord and Lady Martindale -did not neglect the moral education of their children, nor did they -carry discipline so far as to render re-action a necessary consequence. -They were not low in their tastes, or headstrong in will; but their -eldest son followed a line of action almost diametrically opposite -to theirs. We do not represent, or at least we have not designed to -represent, the character of Philip Martindale as being inveterately and -unexceptionably vicious: we do not regard him as a monster of iniquity, -but, according to the candid interpretation of Mr. Denver, he was -rather a gay young man; and being unfortunately acquainted with some -irregular companions, he had been occasionally led into follies. But, -to proceed in the candid strain, he had not a decidedly bad heart; for -he was not gratuitously vicious, and he was not altogether insensible -to the emotions and feelings of humanity. Yet notwithstanding all our -disposition to candour, we must acknowledge that the temper, tastes, -and conduct of the Hon. Philip Martindale did occasionally lead him -into mortifications and sorrows. - -We are not expected to enter so minutely and copiously into the -description of the characters of the other guests at Brigland Abbey, -as we have into the characters of Lord and Lady Martindale. Of Sir -Andrew Featherstone and his lady and daughters we have already spoken. -Our readers too are not altogether unacquainted with Sir Gilbert -Sampson and his daughter Celestina. Sir Gilbert and Lord Martindale -were very good friends; and Sir Gilbert was astonished that Lord -Martindale should not be more sensible of his son’s follies, and Lord -Martindale could hardly think it possible that a man of Sir Gilbert’s -good understanding could tolerate such ridiculous affectations in his -daughter. - -In addition to these guests at the Abbey, there were also present the -Dowager Lady Woodstock and her four daughters, Anne, Sarah, Jane, and -Mary. Lady Woodstock was the widow of a baronet, whose services in -the navy the country had repaid with little more than a title; but we -would not say a word in censure of such economical remunerations, nor, -on the other hand, would be very censorious, if the recompense had -assumed the more solid form of a noble pension. We have read, and have -in our political feelings profited by reading, the fable of the old -man, his son, and his ass, and we know how difficult it is to please -every body. We know that if the government does not reward its servants -liberally, they will be very angry; and we know that if it does reward -them liberally, others will be very angry. But let that pass. It is, -however, a fact, that Lady Woodstock and her four daughters lived at -Hollywick Priory in very good style, considering the limited means -which they possessed. They were also very highly respected, and very -much talked about as being persons of very superior minds and most -amiable dispositions. They had cultivated their understandings; and -indeed the pursuit and enjoyment of literature was the only occupation -in which they could engage. They had no house in town, nor had they -the means of splendid hospitality in the country. But what is most -to our present purpose, they were one and all great favorites with -old John Martindale. Lady Woodstock was a woman of great delicacy of -feeling, and was most scrupulously adverse to any thing like exhibiting -her daughters, or as it were carrying them to market. It was only in -consequence of the very earnest and almost angry importunity of the old -gentleman that she would consent to share the festivities of Brigland -Abbey. And when that paragraph appeared in a morning paper, announcing -the approaching nuptials of the Hon. Philip Martindale and Miss -Sampson; and when she knew that Sir Gilbert and his daughter were to be -of the party, her reluctance abated. For though Lady Woodstock would -have despised the use, and dreaded the repute, of stratagem to dispose -of her daughters, she would not have been sorry to have them or any of -them well settled. - -As to the report that old Mr. Martindale himself had any design of -offering his hand to the widow, the lady herself had not the slightest -suspicion of the existence of such design, or even of the circulation -of any such report. Lady Woodstock was a person of good sense and -extensive information; but, happily, free from every species of -pedantry; totally unpretending and unartificial. She had pursued -knowledge as the means of an agreeable occupation, and not as a medium -of display or exhibition. She had read much, and had reflected more; -so that her conversation was not the idle echo of others’ thoughts, -but the result of her own mind’s movements and observation. Under such -direction and tuition, her daughters had grown up to womanhood. - -The young ladies were not distinguished for any great share of personal -beauty, nor were they remarkable for any deficiency in that respect. -They were not romantic, nor were they deficient in sensibility. They -could talk well, but did not utter oracles or speak essays. They were -not merely acquainted with books but with what books taught. They were -also well aware that the knowledge which they possessed was in all -probability possessed by others; and that many with whom they might -converse were far better informed than themselves. They did not set up -for literary ladies on the strength of having read Locke’s Essay, or -being acquainted with a few Italian poets. In fact, they had read to -good purpose, and had thought to good purpose too. The worst of the -matter was, there were four of them; and they were so nearly alike -in moral and mental qualities, and so much together, and in such -perfect confidence with each other, that there was not opportunity and -distinctness enough for any one of the four to make an impression, and -preserve or strengthen it. For if, by chance, any susceptible youth, -who might be desirous of choosing a wife for her moral and mental -qualities, should be seated next to or opposite to Miss Woodstock, and -should by hearing very sensible and unaffected language fall from her -lips, or by observing in her smiles or more serious looks an indication -of excellent moral feeling, find that his heart was almost captivated; -probably on the following morning chance might place him near another -sister with whose taste he might be fascinated, and whose most -agreeable manners would make him almost regret that he had already lost -so much of his heart; and while he might be balancing in his mind on -which of the two his affection should rest, a farther acquaintance with -the family would still farther unsettle and embarrass his judgment; -and he would at length conclude that, as it was impossible to be in -love with four, he could not really be in love with any; and the result -would be general commendation and respect; and the four young ladies -would be left to enjoy their reputation of being the most agreeable, -unaffected young women living. - -Visiting in the country is what must be done; but there is some -difficulty in managing it well, and making it perfectly agreeable. -The entertainer must be entertaining, or the entertained will not -be entertained; and the entertained must endeavour to entertain -themselves, or their entertainer cannot entertain them. The Hon. Philip -Martindale was not the most dexterous hand at this kind of employment. -In fact, he felt himself not altogether master of his own house; and -the good people who were there seemed rather to be visiting the house -than its occupier. They did very well at dinner-time. Then there was -amusement for all, adapted to the meanest capacities. There was also -in the mornings for the gentlemen the pleasure of shooting; or, more -properly and accurately speaking, the pleasure of looking for something -to shoot at: for as Philip Martindale was not very popular at Brigland, -the poachers made a merit of plundering him with peculiar diligence. -It also happened that the gentlemen who were at the Abbey were none -of them very keen sportsmen. Sir Gilbert Sampson carried a gun, and -occasionally discharged it; sometimes successfully, and sometimes -unsuccessfully; and, in the latter case, Sir Andrew Featherstone -laughed at him, and said it was a sad waste of shot, for powder alone -would make noise enough to frighten the birds: and then he would ask -Philip Martindale if small shot were not very useful to clean bottles -withal. - -As for old John Martindale, he was so perverse and obstinate that he -would scarcely ever join the party at the Abbey till dinner-time; and -then he would complain of late hours, and sit till midnight or later -grumbling at the foolish fashion of turning night into day. Several -mornings were wet, very wet: there was no getting out of doors, and the -Abbey was very ill-furnished with playthings. The young ladies could -draw. The Miss Featherstones were adepts especially in architectural -drawing. They sketched the interior of the principal apartments in the -Abbey; and talked very learnedly of Palladio and Vitruvius, and Sir -Christopher Wren and Mr. Nash, and others. They thought that Waterloo -Place was not equal to the Parthenon, and St. Paul’s Cathedral was not -equal to St. Peter’s. They talked about the building in which they were -then sitting, demonstrated that it was the most beautiful and best -proportioned building in the world, and then proceeded to show how much -more beautiful it might be made. As the party had nothing else to do, -they were very happy in listening to the architectural lectures of the -Miss Featherstones. - -There were more wet mornings than one; and as the Miss Featherstones -had succeeded so well once in lecturing on architecture, they repeated -the experiment. It was rather wearying, but it was better than nothing. -On the morning of which we speak, old John Martindale was present. -Contrary to his usual practice, the old gentleman made his appearance -soon after breakfast, to congratulate them, as he said, on a fine -wet morning. It appeared as if his object was to see what the party -would do to amuse themselves and one another. The Miss Featherstones -had recourse to their portfolio of plans and drawings, and sections, -and elevations; and these they spread out on the table, in order to -excite admiration, and to prompt discussion. Old Mr. Martindale was so -perverse that he would not take any notice of the display; and the rest -of the company had already, on a previous occasion, said all that they -had to say. Isabella, the youngest of the Miss Featherstones, prided -herself on her very superior wisdom, and therefore was very much -disconcerted that any one should slightingly regard her favorite study; -and especially was she disturbed that Mr. Martindale, who clearly had -so great a taste or fancy for that pursuit, should behold unmoved, -and without the least affectation of interest, a splendid display of -architectural drawings, and give no heed to the very philosophical -remarks which, in her wisdom, she was making on the various styles of -building. Determining, therefore, to compel the attention which she -could not attract, she addressed herself directly to the old gentleman, -asking his opinion of a design which she had drawn for the improvement -of Hovenden Lodge. The answer which the old gentleman gave was so -very uncourteous, that we almost blush to repeat it. Looking very -sarcastically at the inquirer, he said: - -“Hovenden Lodge, madam, is not yet quite spoiled by the improvements; -but if you take a little more pains, I think you may make it one of the -most ridiculous buildings in the kingdom.” - -In justice to Mr. Martindale, we are bound to state that he would not -have made such an observation to every one; but he knew Miss Isabella, -and was sure that no very serious effects would follow from any -severity of remark which he might make. And the result was as he had -anticipated: for the young lady was not a whit abashed, but the rather -encouraged to proceed, and to reply according to the spirit of the old -gentleman’s remark. - -“I think I shall endeavour to persuade papa to build a gothic front -to Hovenden Lodge, in imitation of Brigland Abbey; and then, Mr. -Martindale, I suppose you will acknowledge that it is really improved.” - -“And then, Miss Isabella, I will pull down the front of Brigland -Abbey, and supply its place by an exact imitation of the present front -of Hovenden Lodge; and then it will be a difficult matter to decide -which is the greatest blockhead, Sir Andrew Featherstone or old John -Martindale.” - -“Upon my word, Mr. Martindale, you are very polite,” replied Isabella, -almost angry at being outdone in the way of banter. - -“No such thing, madam, I am not polite. I am not fond of nonsense;” -and then, in order to soften in some degree the apparent ruggedness -of his manner, he added: “But if you have a taste for architecture, I -shall be very happy to show you some engravings and drawings which I -brought with me from Italy. You shall come down to my cottage to-morrow -morning, and you will find some pictures worth looking at.” - -“When were you in Italy, sir? I never heard of it.” - -“Perhaps not. I was there twenty years before you were born.” Mr. -Martindale then turned away from the table, and looking out at window, -declared that there was no occasion for any one to stay within on -account of the weather; and, by way of setting an example to the rest -of the party, he directly walked out alone. Isabella was pleased at the -promise of poring over some architectural drawings, and most especially -delighted with an opportunity which seemed to be promised of talking -about Italy. It was a place which she had never visited, but she was -proud of an acquaintance with its poetry and topography. - -Since the peace of 1815, such myriads of people have visited France, -that Paris has become as vulgar as Margate. It is most earnestly to -be desired that the plebeian part of the community will not pollute -with their presence, or profane with their prate, the classic -plains, groves, temples, and cities of Italy. The establishment of -steam-packets threatens the encroachment; and then the resource of -the fashionable must be Constantinople; from whence, perhaps, they -ultimately may be driven onwards to Ispahan and Delhi. The East India -Company will not let them go to Canton. - -The rest of the party gradually dispersed, most industriously and -diligently bent on seeking some amusement wherewith to while away the -weary hours which must be got rid of by some means or other before -dinner. Let not the reader lightly regard this fact; for it is one of -the greatest difficulties in the life of some persons at some periods -of the year. There are to be found in this world not a few who are -abundantly able and willing to reward with great liberality the genius -who should be fortunate enough to discover or invent an infallible -method of rendering it pleasant or tolerable to wait for dinner in the -country. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - “The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, - And time to speak it in; you rub the sore - When you should find the plaster.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Wandering in various directions, and engaged in divers pursuits, the -visitors at Brigland Abbey were dispersed, to fill up the dreary -morning hours. To follow them all is impossible; and to follow most -of them would be uninteresting and uninstructive. Leaving, therefore, -unobserved, all but Lady Woodstock and her eldest daughter, who -reluctantly suffered themselves to be accompanied in their walk by Sir -Andrew Featherstone, we will attend these three in their morning’s -ramble. - -With the scenery of the Abbey itself, and its park, our readers are -partly acquainted. They know that the house stood on an open and -gracefully sloping lawn; and that behind it rose a dense plantation, -or rather wood. This wood was in one direction very extensive; but -its breadth rendered it little more than a belt, which divided a -tract of uncultivated land from one which was most highly embellished -by art as well as by nature. In front of the Abbey, as far as the -eye could reach, the land was highly cultivated, and thickly studded -with trees and human dwellings. At the back of the wood the land -was open and unenclosed; for the soil, if soil it might be called, -was but a very thin stratum of light earth; through which, at short -intervals, appeared the bare or moss-covered rock, which was the -basis of the whole district. One part of this open space bore the -name of the Common; and it was partly surrounded by a few miserable -cottages: beyond that it bore the name of Brigland Heath. There was -one advantage, however, in this barren scene; that the ground, being -very high, afforded extensive prospects, keen air, and dry footing. -There had been formerly a passage through the wood from the park to the -common; but since the erection of the Abbey, that path was no longer -used: there remained, however, a serpentine-road towards the heath; and -at the end of this road stood one of the park-lodges, on the borders of -the heath; and as the lodge was built to correspond with the style of -the Abbey, it formed a very beautiful object in that otherwise dreary -situation. - -To this open and extensive heath the three above-named betook -themselves for the sake of enjoying the fine air and wide scenery. -Sir Andrew Featherstone, who was very ready with his quaint remarks -when any thing was said or done at all susceptible of ridiculous -construction or comment, was mute as fish, and awkward as a fish out -of water, when his company was decidedly serious. Though the facetious -baronet very promptly offered, or rather urged his services to -accompany Lady Woodstock to the heath, yet before the party had made -much progress, Sir Andrew felt himself almost weary of his charge. -He had made several attempts at talk, and had failed; and to the few -remarks uttered by the ladies, as he was not prepared with a lively or -witty reply, he returned none at all, or such a one as did not by any -means promise to be productive of further colloquy or discussion. Happy -to avail himself of any thing which afforded a prospect of a subject -for discourse, as soon as they had passed the lodge, the worthy baronet -most fortunately descried at a little distance a great concourse of -people issuing from that part of the wood which bordered on the common, -and apparently surrounding a funeral procession. The multitude took the -direction towards the town; and the curiosity of Sir Andrew and his -party being excited by the unusual number of people who surrounded the -procession, took the same direction, and arrived at the church-yard -almost as soon as the funeral. Curiosity is contagious; few can resist -the impulse to gaze upon a spectacle surrounded by many spectators. The -party from the Abbey were curious to know who and what it was which -excited so very general an interest. They approached as near as they -could, without forming part of the crowd. They waited till the coffin -was deposited in the earth; and as many of the crowd stayed to gaze -into the grave where the body was laid, the mourners in returning from -the church-yard were less encumbered by the curious multitude, so that -they were distinctly visible. The procession of the mourners was but -short, yet several of them were real mourners. There is something very -touching in the struggle which real sorrow makes to calm its agitation, -and to suppress its tears; and there sometimes is a strong and deep -feeling which tears or loud laments might relieve, but which, from a -sense of its own intensity, dares not indulge in those expressions -over which it might have no controul, or in yielding to which it might -be betrayed into extravagance. This was a feeling which manifestly had -possession of more than one of the mourners, who had attracted the -curiosity of Sir Andrew Featherstone and the ladies that were with -him. The keenness of their sorrow prevented Lady Woodstock and her -daughter from gazing upon them with an eye of too curious inquiry. To -gaze upon the afflicted without a look of sympathy is very cruel; and -to look with compassion upon the eye that is full of tears, which it -would fain suppress, does but still more unnerve the sorrowing heart. -Lady Woodstock observed that the principal mourners were two females, -who appeared, by their resemblance to each other, to be mother and -daughter; and the scene brought to her recollection the time when she -herself, accompanied by the daughter who was then leaning on her arm, -did, in violation of the practice of the world, follow to the grave -the remains of her beloved husband: nor were the recollections of her -sorrows painful when thus brought back to her mind, but the rather -was there a pure and holy pleasure in the tear which rose to her eye -at the thought of the past, so that she felt more than satisfied at -having in that instance dared to be singular. Fashion forms pleasant -leading-strings for those minds which are too weak to walk alone. The -mind of Lady Woodstock was not of that description. - -Sir Andrew Featherstone inquired of one of the spectators what was the -name and character of the deceased, who seemed to have occupied so -large a share in the interest and sympathy of the people of Brigland. -He was informed that the name of the departed was Richard Smith; -that he was a poor man whom nobody knew much about; but that lately -a report was spread abroad that he was a rich man and a miser, and -that, instigated probably by that report, one of the gipsies that had -lately been in that neighbourhood, had broken into his cottage with -the intent of robbing him; but there happened to be in the house with -him at the time a foreign officer whose wife was related to Richard -Smith, and this stranger wounded the gipsey so severely, that he was -not able to effect his escape, and he was therefore sent off to the -county jail; and that the old man was so dreadfully alarmed, that he -soon after died in consequence of the fright. It appeared also from the -informant, that the unusual number of persons congregated to witness -the funeral was owing to the singularity of the circumstances of the -old man’s death, and also to the desire felt to see the foreigner and -his family; for the two females were, one of them the wife, and the -other the daughter of the foreigner. The youngest of the two was the -young woman of whom mention has before been made, as being the niece of -old Richard Smith. This narrative happened to be somewhat more correct -than many narratives which are thus picked up by an accidental inquiry. -The account, however, of the motive which prompted the attendance of -so many spectators of the funeral, in some degree disappointed the -expectation of Lady Woodstock and her daughter; for they had promised -themselves the pleasure of hearing an account of some specimen of -humble virtue and extensive benevolent influence in a comparatively low -sphere of life. They could not, therefore, but painfully smile at the -thought that accident and unessential circumstance should excite an -interest so strong and extensive. - -At all events, serious feelings had been excited in the minds of the -ladies; and even Sir Andrew himself partook of them, and no longer -tasked his imagination for something remarkably witty or singular -wherewith to amuse his companions, but very suitably and decently -joined his companions in that species of talk which minds of their -description would naturally have recourse to on such an occasion. And -really, Sir Andrew could talk very well and very rationally when he -was once set in the right key; but generally he seemed to think it -necessary, in order to make himself agreeable, to be always uttering -some quaint saying that should make his hearers laugh. He too often -forgot that that which is very well as seasoning, is very unpalatable -as food. This is a simile drawn from Sir Andrew’s favorite pursuit, -which was the art of cookery, as we have above named. - -When the party was assembled at dinner, it so happened that the old -gentleman, Mr. John Martindale, took his seat at the side of Lady -Woodstock, or to speak more definitely, caused Lady Woodstock to take -a seat at his side. Some elderly unmarried gentlemen are remarkable -for their love of monotony and exactness, always choosing the same -seat, and ever going through the same daily routine. It was quite the -reverse with John Martindale. In his own residence there was nothing of -uniformity, and in his own habits there was nothing like regularity. -He would sometimes rise at four or five, and sometimes not till eleven -or twelve; and more than once he has been known to breakfast one day -at the very same hour, at which he had dined the preceding day. He had -the same crotchet in other houses where he could take the liberty, and -in fact would rarely enter any house in which he was not so indulged. -When he was at the Abbey, it was his very frequent practice to take a -seat at table before any of the rest of the party, and to call some one -by name to sit by him; and on these occasions he was generally very -talkative; but if he were silently inclined, he would go creeping to -the lower end of the table like a humble tolerated guest, and never -speak but when spoken to; and that was not frequently when amongst -those who were acquainted with his habits. The present was not the -first time that he had so distinguished Lady Woodstock; indeed, so -frequently on other occasions, and at other tables, had he singled out -this lady, that it is not to be wondered at that a rumour should have -gone abroad of an intention on the old gentleman’s part to make her -ladyship an offer of his hand. To say the truth, even Philip himself -began to have some apprehensions, and rather to increase in his polite -attentions to Miss Sampson. - -“Now pray, madam,” said Mr. Martindale, in a very loud voice, “how have -you been amusing yourself this morning? I suppose you would have stayed -within all the morning studying architecture, if I had not mercifully -driven you out to breathe a little wholesome air. You have not such -fine air at Hollywick as we have on the heath. You have been walking -that way I presume.” - -Lady Woodstock gently replied: “Sir Andrew Featherstone was so polite -as to accompany me and one of my daughters in a ramble on the heath.” - -“Sir Andrew was very polite, indeed,” replied Mr. Martindale; “and I -have no doubt you had a most delightful walk. Sir Andrew made himself -very agreeable, I hope; he is a witty man. But how is it, my good lady, -that you look so unusually grave? Have you been laughing so heartily at -Sir Andrew’s wit, that you have no more smiles left for us?” - -Her ladyship then explained, and said that she really did feel rather -more serious than usual. She then related what she had seen and heard -that morning. Mr. Martindale listened with great attention to her -narration, and as soon as it was concluded, he abruptly turned round -and addressing himself to his relative exclaimed: “Philip, do you hear -that? The poor old man who brought the action against you the other -day is dead and buried. Lady Woodstock has been at his funeral this -morning; and I think you should have been there too, if you had a spark -of grace about you, young man.” - -“You astonish me, sir,” replied Philip; “I had not heard that the poor -man was ill.” - -“Ay, but you ought to have known it. Did not you tell me the other day -that he was so terrified at the gipsey breaking into his dwelling and -threatening his life, that he was quite speechless. You ought to have -made inquiries about him. If the poor man did bring an action against -you, you ought not to bear malice.” - -The Hon. Philip Martindale was most deeply mortified at being thus -lectured at his own table, and schooled in the presence and hearing -of his guests. To be dependent is bad enough; but to be thus publicly -exposed as it were, is one of the severest parts of dependence. He had -never felt any thing so mortifying while he was in chambers in the -Temple; and he could not help thinking that those former acquaintances -towards whom he had carried himself with proud and haughty reserve, -would now look down on him with a much better grace than he could -ever have looked contemptuously on them. The feeling of littleness -is a very painful feeling, especially to one who has sacrificed his -independence for the sake of the semblance of greatness. This was the -case with Philip Martindale, whose dependent condition was entirely -on his part wilful and voluntary. He had been cautioned by his most -excellent mother, but he gave no heed to her admonitions. Lord and Lady -Martindale felt on this occasion almost as much mortified as the young -gentleman himself: indeed, there was at the table a general feeling -of awkwardness and constraint. Philip himself was so far moved, that -though he trusted not himself to the language of resentment, he could -not altogether suppress a look of indignation at being thus accused -of bearing malice against a poor old man. After a little interval of -embarrassment, he ventured to say something in vindication of himself; -but the very language and manner which he used, sufficiently manifested -that he was fearful of offending the old gentleman, and left a very -unpleasant impression on the mind of Lady Martindale. - -In the evening of that day, Lady Martindale took occasion to converse -with her son on the subject of his dependent situation, and to urge -upon him the propriety of renouncing a patronage of such a mortifying -nature. Her reasoning was very good, and her arguments for the most -part unanswerable. It was very true that no confidence could be -placed in the whims and caprices of a wealthy old humorist. He might, -notwithstanding his advanced years, take it into his mind to marry. He -might find out some new favourite on whom he might bestow the greatest -part of his property. He would in all human probability live many -years; and his capriciousness might, and most likely would, rather -increase than diminish. Lady Martindale also reminded her son, that -the allowance which he received from the old gentleman was barely -sufficient to meet the increased expenses of so large an establishment; -so that although he had the honor of living in a splendid mansion, he -was rather poorer than richer by the change. To all this not a word -of objection could be made; but there was an argument unnamed which -had more weight with the young gentleman than all those which Lady -Martindale had used. He was aware that he had so far anticipated that -he must be indebted to other means than his own hereditary property, -or the result of his own professional diligence, to get rid of the -encumbrance. It was a truth, though a painful one, that he could never -keep up his dignity but by continuing his dependence. His answers, -therefore, to Lady Martindale’s persuasions, were such as gave her no -hopes of success. As for returning to his profession, his own pride -forbade that, and his “dread of shame among the spirits beneath.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - “----Whilst I remember - Her and her virtues, I cannot forget - My blemishes in them.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -In pursuance of the promise made by old Mr. Martindale, Miss Isabella -Featherstone, and others of the party who had no other amusement in -view, went the following morning to the cottage to look over the prints -and drawings. The old gentleman had no light task to find and set in -order his dispersed treasures: for his pictures were, as his books, in -every part of the house, not even excepting the kitchen. He had risen -early in order to find them; and it had been to him a task not without -labour, though accompanied also with some powerful and interesting -feelings. He had been looking back to past times and to years long -gone by. He had been conversing with his former self, and had revived -the forms of old acquaintances long since dead. He saw them again, and -heard them again: their faces gleamed upon him through the lines of -many an old engraving. He saw again, after dust had long covered, and -darkness had long concealed them, drawings of many a palace in Rome, in -Naples, in Venice, from the contemplation of which he had imbibed his -love of architecture; and he began, as he looked back into the past, -to entertain some feelings of regret. Almost every body looks back to -the past with regret, especially old bachelors. By this employment the -feelings of the old gentleman were greatly excited, and he began to be -almost sentimental; so that when his visitors arrived at his cottage, -he received them, not as usual with the odd manners of a humorist, but -with a most courteous and old-fashioned politeness. - -Isabella Featherstone observed his altered manner, and supposed that -he was endeavouring to make amends for his abrupt and uncourteous -manner of the preceding day. All the party, indeed, thought that a -remarkable change had taken place in Mr. Martindale, but no one thought -of attributing the change to any thing else than a little caprice. -Isabella took great pains to show how ready she was to accept the -practical apology, which she conceived was thus offered by the old -gentleman. She talked therefore with more than her usual fluency, and -exclaimed with more than usual rapture at every thing which could -at all vindicate or allow of rapturous exclamation. The remains of -antiquity, the works of modern art, the heathen temple or Christian -church, were in their turns all complimented to the utmost of the young -lady’s power of eloquence. Unmeaning compliments are inexhaustible; and -well it is that they are so, or the great abundance and almost infinite -variety which was drawn forth from Mr. Martindale’s portfolios would -have puzzled and perplexed the flatterer. To all this commendatory -language the old gentleman was silent; and the party, who could not -but notice the fluency of Isabella’s compliments, began to tremble -for her, thinking that the old gentleman was silently meditating some -keen satirical retort; the usual coin in which such geniuses as he -repay the volubility of superabundant compliment. But their fears and -apprehensions were unfounded. The young lady continued unexhausted and -unreproved. - -To examine a very large collection of prints and drawings, especially -when an interest is felt or affected, occupies no inconsiderable -portion of time. So the morning was rapidly passing away, and might -have been entirely consumed by this amusement, had it not been for an -interruption which put a stop to their employment. - -A servant announced that the Rev. Mr. Denver and another gentleman -wished to speak with Mr. Martindale on particular business. The old -gentleman was not best pleased with the interruption. Impatiently -asking the servant into which room he had introduced the gentlemen, he -immediately followed the man out of the apartment; and such was his -haste, that he never thought to put out of his hand an engraving which -he was just about to show to his party, but carried the print with him. - -Mr. Denver introduced to Mr. Martindale with great parade Colonel -Rivolta, whom he described as having recently made his escape from -the continent, where he was exposed to persecution, if not to death, -on account of his political opinions. The reverend gentleman then -proceeded to state, that the Colonel had previously to his own arrival -in England sent over his wife and daughter, whom he had committed to -the care of Richard Smith; that with them he had also transmitted some -property, which old Richard had invested for their use and benefit; -that unfortunately the very first night of the Colonel’s arrival at -Brigland, the cottage in which Richard Smith dwelt had been entered by -the gipsey, of whom mention has been already made; that in consequence -of that event the poor old man had been so seriously alarmed, that -he had been totally unable to attend to any thing, and that he had -died, leaving this poor foreigner in a strange land, not knowing how -to proceed as to the recovery of his little property. Under these -circumstances, Mr. Denver had taken the liberty of introducing the poor -man to Mr. Martindale; knowing from the general benevolence of his -disposition, and from his acquaintance with practical affairs, that he -would be best able to counsel and assist the foreigner in his present -difficulties. - -This appeal to the vanity and virtues of the old gentleman compensated -for the interruption which had taken him from his company. And, indeed, -we must do Mr. Martindale the justice to acknowledge that there really -was a considerable share of benevolent feeling in the constitution of -his mind, though that benevolence was attended, as it not unfrequently -happens, by a very competent share of conceit. He was indeed very -happy in performing acts of kindness, and also very happy in enjoying -the reputation of those acts. This is a failing which moralists ought -to treat with much gentleness and consideration; for it does a great -deal for those countless and useful institutions which are supported -by voluntary contributions. Forgetting then the company which he had -left, the old gentleman began to enter very freely and fully into the -concerns of the foreigner, and to offer his best services to assist -him in his difficulties. He soon found, however, upon inquiry, that -there was not really so much difficulty as Mr. Denver had imagined or -represented; and he was not altogether displeased at the opportunity -thus afforded to him of ridiculing the clergyman for his ignorance of -matters of business. It is indeed a sad fact, that so many of this -order are quite ignorant of the affairs of common life in those points -where they might often be of essential service to their parishioners. -One should imagine that some little knowledge of this kind might be -advantageously acquired even by the sacrifice, were it necessary, of -some of that energy and time devoted to dactyls and spondees, or to -hares and partridges. But we must take the world as we find it, and be -thankful that it is no worse. - -The information and direction which the stranger sought were soon -communicated to him, and most thankfully received by him. He then was -rising to take leave and repeat his grateful acknowledgments, when -his eye was arrested by the print which Mr. Martindale held in his -hand, and which he had unrolled while he was talking. As soon as the -Colonel saw the picture, he recognised the scene which it represented, -and uttered an ejaculation, indicative of surprise and pleasure. Mr. -Martindale then, for the first time, observed the print, and noticed -its subject: he also looked upon it with surprise, but not with -pleasure; and then he asked the stranger if that scene were familiar to -him. With very great emotion the Colonel replied: - -“That scene brings to my recollection the happiest day of my life.” - -For a few seconds the party were totally silent; for the clergyman -and the foreigner were struck dumb with astonishment at the altered -looks of the old gentleman, and were surprised to see him crushing -the picture in both his hands. He then, as if with an effort of great -resolution, exclaimed: - -“And it brings to my recollection the most miserable day of my life.” - -Mr. Denver was not used to emotions; he was quite perplexed what to do, -whether he should sympathise or retire. He very wisely and very calmly -begged Mr. Martindale not to be agitated. That was a very rational -request; but, unfortunately, when persons are in a state of agitation, -they are not in a condition to attend to rational requests. Colonel -Rivolta was more accustomed to the sight and expression of strong -emotions, and he did not make any rational request; but turning towards -the old gentleman, with a look of kindness and sympathy, he said: - -“Ah, sir! I am sorry, very sorry, that I have caused you to think again -of your miseries. But your lot is now in prosperity. Ah, sir! we are -all liable to calamity: it is sad to think of the many pains of life; -but your sorrow, sir, is no doubt without reproach to yourself.” - -The agitation of the old gentleman abated, and he replied: “I thank you -for your kindness, sir, but my sorrow arises from self-reproach. I have -inflicted injuries which can never be redressed.” - -He hesitated, as if wishing, but dreading to say more. Then changing -the tone of his voice, as if he were about to speak on some totally -different subject, he continued addressing himself to Colonel Rivolta: - -“I presume, sir, you are a native of Genoa, or you are very familiar -with that city.” - -“I was born,” replied the foreigner, “at Naples; but very early in life -I was removed to Genoa, that I might be engaged in merchandise; for my -patrimony was very small, and my relations would have despised me, had -I endeavoured by any occupation to gain a livelihood in my native city.” - -“Then you were not originally destined for the army.” - -“I was not; but after I had been some few years in Genoa, I began to -grow weary of the pursuits of merchandise, and indeed to feel some -of that pride of which I had accused my relations, and I thought -that I should be satisfied with very little if I might be free from -the occupation of the merchant; and while I was so thinking, I met -by chance an old acquaintance who persuaded me to undertake the -profession of arms, to which I was indeed not reluctant. And so I left -my merchandise, and did not see Genoa again for nearly two years. It -was then that I was so much interested in that scene which the picture -portrays; for in a very small house which is in the same street, and -directly opposite to that palace, there lived an old woman, whose name -was.…” - -The attention of the old gentleman had been powerfully arrested by the -commencement of the Italian’s narrative; and he listened very calmly -till the narrator arrived at the point when he was about to mention the -name of the old woman who lived opposite to the palace in question: -then was Mr. Martindale again excited, and without waiting for the -conclusion of the sentence, interrupted it by exclaiming: - -“Ah! what! do you know that old woman? Is she living? Where is -she?--Stop--no--let me see--impossible!--Why I must be nearly -seventy--yes--Are you sure? Is not her name Bianchi?” - -To this hurried and confused mass of interrogation, the Colonel replied -that her name was Bianchi; but that she had died nearly twenty years -ago, at a very advanced age, being at the time of her death nearly -ninety years of age. Hearing this, the old gentleman assumed a great -calmness and composure of manner, though he trembled as if in an ague; -and turning to the astonished clergyman, who was pleasing himself with -the anticipation of some catastrophe or anecdote which might form a -fine subject for town-talk, he very deliberately said: - -“Mr. Denver, I beg I may not intrude any longer on your valuable time. -This gentleman, I find, can give me some account of an old acquaintance -of mine. The inquiries may not be interesting to you. Make my best -compliments to Mrs. Denver.” - -Mr. Denver was so much in the habit of being dismissed at short -notice from his audiences with Mr. Martindale, that he did not think -any thing of this kind of language; but he was sadly disappointed at -being sent away just at the moment that some important discovery -seemed about to be made; for it was very obvious from the manner in -which Mr. Martindale had interrogated the foreigner, and from the -very great emotion which he had manifested, that the old gentleman -had something more to inquire about than merely an old acquaintance. -Mr. Denver, indeed, had little doubt, whatever might be the object of -the disclosure about to be made, that he should ultimately come into -possession of a knowledge of the fact; but it was painful to be put off -to a future period, it was a suffering to have his curiosity strongly -excited and not immediately gratified. In order, however, to insure as -early a relief as possible, he had no sooner taken his leave of Mr. -Martindale, than he dropped a hint to Colonel Rivolta, that he should -be happy to see him again at the parsonage as soon as possible. - -When this good man was withdrawn, Mr. Martindale requested the stranger -to be seated; and unmindful of the guests whom he had left to amuse -themselves and each other, he commenced very deliberately to examine -the foreigner concerning those matters which had so strongly excited -his feelings. - -“You tell me,” said Mr. Martindale, “that the old woman Bianchi has -been dead nearly twenty years. Now, my good friend, can you inform me -how long you were acquainted with this old woman before her death.” - -“I knew her,” replied the Colonel, “only for about four years before -she died.” - -“And had you much intimacy with her, so as to hear her talk about -former days.” - -“Very often, indeed,” replied the foreigner, “did she talk about the -past; for as her age was very great, and her memory was very good, it -was great interest to hear her tell of ancient things; and she was -a woman of most excellent understanding, and very benevolent in her -disposition. Indeed, I can say that I loved the old woman much, very -much indeed. I was sorry at her death.” - -“But tell me,” said Mr. Martindale impatiently, “did you ever hear her -say any thing of an infant--an orphan that was committed to her care -nearly forty years ago?” - -At this question, the eyes of the stranger brightened, and his face -was overspread with a smile of delight, when he replied: “Oh yes, much -indeed, much indeed! that orphan is my wife.” - -This rapidity of explanation was almost too much for the old -gentleman’s feelings. His limbs had been trembling with the agitation -arising from thus reverting to days and events long passed; and he -had entertained some hope from the language of the foreigner, that he -might gain some intelligence concerning one that had been forgotten, -but whose image was again revived in his memory. He had thought but -lightly in the days of his youth of that which he then called folly, -but more seriously in the days of his age of that same conduct which -then he called vice. It would have been happiness to his soul, could -an opportunity have been afforded him of making something like amends -to the representatives of the injured, even though the injured had -been long asleep in the grave. When all at once, therefore, the -intelligence burst upon him, that one was living in whom he possessed -an interest, and over whose destiny he should have watched, but whom -he had neglected and forgotten, he felt his soul melt within him; and -well it was for him that he found relief in tears. Surprised beyond -measure was Colonel Rivolta, when he observed the effect produced on -Mr. Martindale, and heard the old gentleman say with trembling voice: - -“And that orphan, sir, is my daughter.” He paused for a minute or two, -and his companion was too much astonished and interested to interrupt -him: recovering himself, he continued: “For many years after that -child was born, I had not the means of making any other provision for -it than placing it under the care of the old woman of whom we have -been speaking. I gave her such compensation as my circumstances then -allowed; and as the mother of the child died soon after the birth of -the infant, I thought myself freed from all farther responsibility when -I had made provision for the infant. I endeavoured, indeed, to forget -the event altogether; and as I wished to form a respectable connexion -in marriage, I took especial care to conceal this transgression. -However, various circumstances prevented me from time to time from -entering into the married state; and having within the last twelve -years come into the possession of larger property than I had ever -anticipated, it occurred to me that there should be living at Genoa a -child of mine, then indeed long past childhood. I wrote to Genoa, and -had no answer; I went to Genoa, and could find no trace either of my -child or of the old woman to whose care I had entrusted her; and I was -grieved not so much for the loss of my child, as for the lack of an -opportunity of making some amends for my crime. I am delighted to hear -that she lives. To-morrow I will see her.” - -Colonel Rivolta scarcely believed his senses. He was indeed very sure -that the person whom he had married was described as an orphan of -English parents, and he had no reason to imagine that Mr. Martindale -was attempting to deceive him. It was, indeed, a great discovery to -him that he had married the daughter of an English gentleman of great -fortune; and perhaps under all circumstances the foreigner was most -delighted of the two at the discovery: for thereby he had insured to -himself a friend and protector when he most needed one; and he was -happy at the thought that his own child would thus have a powerful -friend, and be preserved from the dangers and snares with which he -might think that she would be otherwise surrounded; and with whatever -sentiments Mr. Martindale might regard the discovery of his daughter, -it may be easily imagined that Colonel Rivolta’s child, over whom -he had constantly watched with the utmost care and anxiety, was far -more affectionately interesting to him than was the daughter of Mr. -Martindale to her parent, who had never seen her since her infancy, -and who had never paid her any attention, but had almost endeavoured -to forget her. It appeared indeed very singular to the Colonel, that -Mr. Martindale should so patiently wait till the following day before -he would see his newly-discovered daughter. But the old gentleman was -a great oddity, and a most unaccountable being; and so any one would -have thought who had seen him after this interview with the foreigner -calmly return to his company, and amuse himself with looking over his -portfolios of pictures. So however he did; and when this agitation was -over, he was more cheerful than before, and quite as full as ever of -whims and humours. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - “----reason, my son, - Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, - The father (all whose joy is nothing else - But fair posterity) should hold some counsel - In such business.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The interview between Mr. Martindale and his newly-discovered daughter -took place according to his own arrangement on the following day. -Inquiries were abundantly made, and explanations entered into, by which -the identity of the parties was ascertained. There was, however, little -or nothing of that outrageous and passionate exhibition which is so -frequently represented as attending such discoveries. Mr Martindale -himself had given way to strong emotions on the preceding day, the -ground of which emotions was rather remorse than affection: not that -he was incapable of affection, or insensible to its claims; but age -makes a difference in the mode of expressing affection; and the old -gentleman had never been in the way of that habitual intercourse which -gives to sentiments of love their strength and feeling. Mothers who -have watched over the dawnings of an infant mind, and assisted in the -development of the growing powers and expanding affections of their -offspring, can and do remember through a long long life, and after a -very long separation and absence, the endearing and delightful thoughts -and feelings which occupied their souls when attending their infant -charge, and they cannot see without strong emotion those features -ripened into maturity in which they had taken delight in infancy; and -even fathers who have watched a mother’s care, and participated in a -mother’s interests, do, after many years, ay, even through life, retain -the sentiments of love and deep affection which an infant interest has -excited; but that pure pleasure belongs not to him who has never taken -a pure paternal interest in his own offspring. Let this or any other -theory which the reader’s better judgment may suggest, account for the -fact that the meeting between Mr. Martindale and his daughter was not -productive of any thing like a scene. This, however, is true, that -the old gentleman was very much pleased, both with his daughter and -grand-daughter. With the latter, our readers are already acquainted. - -As we have introduced Signora Rivolta to her father, it may not be -amiss to introduce her also to our readers. - -Comparatively little interest can be felt in the personal description -of a lady who has passed the season of youth; but there are some -women who have ceased to be young, without ceasing to be personally -interesting. Of this number was Signora Rivolta. Her style and manner -was such as to inspire respect. There was about her a certain graceful -and becoming stateliness which only one of her cast of features and -mould of figure could with propriety assume. Her hair and eyes were -dark; her face oval; her eyebrows finely arched; her look rather -downcast. To speak classically, or heathenishly, there was in her -more of Minerva than of Venus; and more of Juno than of either. Her -voice was exquisitely sweet; its tones were full, and its modulation -graceful. Hers was the voice which Horatio Markham heard when he stood -with old Mr. Martindale near the door of old Richard Smith’s cottage; -and it was her hand which touched the lute that accompanied her voice; -and hers was the ivory crucifix which the young barrister carelessly -threw down, and which the young woman so hastily picked up. - -At the discovery of his daughter, and her interesting appearance, Mr. -Martindale was much pleased; and though no dramatic raptures marked -their first interview, the old gentleman was relieved from a painful -mental burden which weighed heavily on his spirits, and which, while -it sometimes rendered him morose, sometimes goaded him also to the -opposite extreme of false levity and an artificial humour. It was this -circumstance, to which might be attributed those eccentricities of -manner, which led some observers to imagine that the old gentleman -was not sound in his intellects. Still, however, the essential oddity -of his character was not to be removed by any changes; and a very -curious manifestation of that oddity he gave at this interview with -his daughter and grand-daughter, when he abruptly asked the former if -she had been brought up in the religion of the Roman Catholic church; -to this question, she replied in the affirmative. Thereupon the old -gentleman was disturbed, and he said: - -“And is your daughter also educated in the same persuasion?” - -“She is,” replied Signora Rivolta; “for in what other religion could -or ought she to be educated? From the professors of that religion I -received my first impulses to devotion, and from their kindness I -experienced protection, and from their good counsel I had guidance. I -love that religion.” - -“Well, well,” observed Mr. Martindale, “that is all very natural, to be -sure--I can say nothing against that; but it is a pity that, now you -are likely to remain in England, you should not become a Protestant. I -have no objection to your religion, only there is so much bigotry about -it.” - -“We think it important truth, and we cannot be indifferent to it; and -we are desirous of bringing all to the knowledge of the truth, that all -may be saved.” - -“Ay, ay, that is my objection to your religion; you think that nobody -can be saved but those who adopt your opinions--now I call that -bigotry.” - -“Then, sir, I fear that your church lies under the same reproach, for -many of its formularies seem to indicate the same view of salvation.” - -“Yes, yes, there may be some such language in the prayer-book -and articles, but they were drawn up in times when men were not -so enlightened as they are now; and it does not follow that all -Protestants should exactly follow every minute shade of opinion or -doctrine there laid down.” - -Some men have been so ungallant as to say that they would never -condescend to reason with a woman: if Mr. Martindale had made the -same determination, it would have saved him some trouble; for in this -conversation, which was extended to a much greater length than we are -desirous of pursuing it, Mr. Martindale had much the worst of the -argument, though not the worst side of the question. His misfortune -was, that he was totally ignorant of the nature of the Roman Catholic -religion, and very little better informed concerning that faith which -he himself professed. It is a practice too common to be greatly -reprobated, for persons to argue with great earnestness and fluency -on those subjects of which they are almost totally ignorant. But, -on the other hand, if persons would never begin or pertinaciously -continue an argument till they had made themselves fully acquainted -with the subject, then there would be a great lack of discussion, and -the publication of controversial treatises would greatly fall off; and -there would perhaps be a mighty deficiency in the article of zeal. But -it is needless to anticipate ills which may never befall us; and we -may venture to bid defiance to the genius of pantology, however loudly -it may threaten to illuminate every mind. - -Having stated that Mr. Martindale had the happiness of discovering -his daughter, it will be superfluous to say that he forthwith made -preparation for her establishment in the possession of such means as -might place her in a style of life more suitable to her condition than -a little lone cottage. But there was a change very naturally, though -very quietly, taking place in the old gentleman’s mind and in his -feelings towards the Hon. Philip Martindale. He could not now think of -making this gentleman his heir. In Signora Rivolta there was evidently -a prior claim. As yet, however, the young gentleman at the Abbey was -ignorant of the new discovery; and what is more, he was not even aware -of the existence of any such person as Signora Rivolta; nor did he -suspect that any such discovery was within the compass of probability. - -By what the Rev. Mr. Denver had heard, and by what the wife of that -said gentleman had told to Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint, and by what Mrs. -Denver and Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint had told to every body within -the reach of their knowledge, the whole town of Brigland was full of -confused rumours and reports of some great calamity having befallen -Mr. John Martindale. Some said that he had lost all his property; -some said that he had only lost half; some had it that old Richard -Smith, who had lately died, had been discovered to be Mr. Martindale’s -elder brother, and that all his immense property must descend to the -young woman his niece. The reports at last found their way to the -housekeeper’s room at the Abbey; and the trusty Oliver trembled when he -was very credibly and circumstantially informed that, in consequence -of the death of old Richard Smith, some papers or parchments, or some -something, had been discovered, by which it appeared that old Mr. -Martindale had no right to the large property which he had so long -possessed. It is the peculiar privilege of rogues always to fear -the worst in doubtful matters. This privilege Oliver now abundantly -enjoyed. Not wishing to keep all his news to himself, he took the first -opportunity of speaking to his master; and in order to break the matter -gently to him, and not all at once to overwhelm him with the fatal -intelligence, he began by asking: - -“Have you heard any bad news lately, sir?” - -“Bad news,” hastily asked Mr. Philip, “no; what do you mean?--what kind -of bad news? Do you allude to the report that the old gentleman is -going to be married to Lady Woodstock?” - -“Oh dear no, sir; it is a great deal worse than that: but I hope it is -not true; yet I am sure I had it from very good authority, and it is -not likely such a thing should be invented.” - -“Well, well, don’t stand prating and prosing, but tell me at once what -it is.” - -The trusty Oliver shook his head and sighed. “It is nothing more nor -less, sir, than that some deeds have been discovered at old Richard -Smith’s cottage since the poor man’s death, by which it appears that -Mr. Martindale has no right to the property he now possesses.” - -“Nonsense,” replied the Hon. Philip Martindale, “who told you that -fool’s tale? Do you think that I should not have heard of it, if such -had been the fact?” - -“Why, sir, I heard it from a gentleman who had it from Mrs. Denver; -and Mr. Denver himself was present when the discovery was made. It was -only yesterday that the matter came out; and Mr. Denver went down to -the cottage to Mr. Martindale to tell him all about it. The gentleman -who claims the property went with him; and Mr. Martindale has been at -Richard Smith’s this morning. The real owner of the property comes from -Italy.” - -At this part of the information communicated by Oliver, the young -gentleman began to be in doubt whether there might not be something -serious in the report; for he recollected some talk of old Martindale’s -visit to Genoa, and of his anxiety to discover if some one was living -there or not. He also called to mind much that had been said to him -by Lady Martindale, dissuading him from taking up his abode at the -Abbey, and placing himself in a state of dependence. He remembered -distinctly and vividly the tone and expression with which his anxious -mother had said to him, “Now, my dear Philip, before you decide on -this step, think seriously how you shall be able to bear a reverse, -if by any change the wealth of your cousin Martindale should take a -different direction, either by his own caprice, or by changes over -which he has no controul.” He recollected that this caution was uttered -more than once or twice. He considered it therefore as in some measure -prophetic. He also recollected that the old gentleman had been very -silent and absent at dinner the day before; and from what Miss Isabella -Featherstone had said, it seemed very manifest that some serious -interruption had occurred when the party were looking over the pictures -at the cottage. There was also to be added to this, his own knowledge -of the fact that Mr. Martindale had that very morning paid a very long -visit to the cottage of the late Richard Smith. All these circumstances -put together did, to say the least of it, greatly perplex and puzzle -the mind of the young gentleman. He dismissed the trusty Oliver from -his presence; and when alone, he began to meditate, plan, arrange, -and conjecture, till he found himself in a complete wilderness of -perplexities, and a labyrinth of contending thoughts. - -His meditations, however, availed him not. There was not the least -glimmering of light in any direction; and the longer he thought, the -more he was perplexed. The only bearable conclusion at which he could -arrive was one of very equivocal consolation; namely, it was possible -that things might not be quite so bad as they had been represented. - -Not long had he been alone, before his solitude was invaded by Lord -Martindale. “Philip,” said his lordship, “you look grave this morning. -Has any thing occurred to disturb you?” - -Philip made an abortive attempt to put on a look of cheerfulness, as he -replied to his question: “You would not wish, sir, that I should never -look grave. Perhaps, sir, I may have lost my heart.” - -His lordship looked grave in his turn, and very solemnly said: “Ah! you -are not serious! To whom, I beg to know, have you lost your heart? This -is an affair on which I should have been consulted.” - -“I do not say positively that I have lost my heart,” replied Philip, “I -was speaking hypothetically.” - -“Hypothetically?” echoed his lordship; “well then let me know who it -is, or may be, that has had such power over your mind, or that may be -supposed capable of making so great a conquest.” - -“Suppose it should be Isabella Featherstone,” replied Philip; but in -such a manner as abundantly proved that the supposition was perfectly -gratuitous. - -His lordship shook his head; and then, with very great earnestness of -manner, said to his son: “Philip, let me speak to you seriously and as -a friend. I would not have you rely too confidently on the expectation -of inheriting your cousin’s estate. I have my reasons for what I say, -and it is for your welfare that I speak. The Featherstones are a -very respectable and an old family, but you must look for something -more than mere family; you cannot keep up the dignity of your rank -without an accession, and a very considerable accession of fortune, -which you cannot have from the Featherstones. I wish I could persuade -you to apply yourself to public business; I am sure you might make a -good figure in the house, and provide for yourself far better and more -honorably than by living in a state of dependence.” - -Philip, for the first time in his life, heard patiently this -exhortation; and greatly to the surprise and satisfaction of his -lordship, went so far as to say, that he would take the matter into -serious consideration. So pleased was Lord Martindale even with this -faint promise, that he hasted immediately to communicate the same to -Lady Martindale. The first dinner-bell was ringing as Lord Martindale -left his son’s apartment; and at nearly the same instant, Mr. John -Martindale entered it. - -There appeared to be a cloud on the old man’s brow; and there was a -manifest coolness in his manner as he entered the apartment, and said -to the young gentleman: - -“Now, young man, I am going to pay you greater attention than you paid -to me the other day. I am going to London; and I come to let you know. -I have made some discoveries, of which you shall know more hereafter. -At present, all I can say is, I am going to London; and I must request -that you will make some apology to our guests for my sudden departure.” - -“You are not going to-day, sir; it is near dinner-time,” replied Mr. -Philip. - -“I can’t help that,” replied the old gentleman; “then you must dine -without me; and if any excuse is needed for my absence, you must invent -one; or if you are at a loss for a lie, peradventure Oliver can help -you to one. I have no time for any more prate, so farewell.” - -Thus speaking, the queer old gentleman left the room; and poor Mr. -Philip found himself in a very sad and sorrowful perplexity at his -departure; especially, coupled as it was with such reports abroad, and -such language from the old gentleman himself. The last sentence of -all, in which allusion was made to Oliver’s inventive faculty, most -closely touched the honorable tenant of Brigland Abbey; though the fact -is, that Mr. John Martindale did not thereby design any particular or -express allusion to any one individual part of Oliver’s conduct, yet in -this light the young gentleman regarded it; and it therefore grieved -him, and gave him an additional impulse towards thoughts and efforts of -independence. But there were obstacles and impediments in the way which -he could not mention to Lord Martindale; and if they had been known, -his lordship would not have found it an easy task to remove them. -The considerations dwelt heavily on the mind of the young gentleman, -and made him regret that he had been so long acting the part of a -simpleton. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - “Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title-leaf, - Foretels the nature of a tragic volume.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -It is not to be supposed that Oliver should keep the secret which he -had heard without the assistance of some of his fellow-servants; and if -the servants of the house had kept the secret from the servants of the -visitors, they would have been guilty of a gross breach of hospitality; -and when a gentleman is in a stable, or a lady in a dressing-room, the -distance between them and their respective servants is not so great but -that the parties are within hearing of each other. - -When, therefore, the party assembled at dinner, Mr. Philip found -himself under no necessity of tasking either his own or Oliver’s -inventive powers to account for the absence of Mr. John Martindale. -Not one made any inquiry. This universal silence was very ominous to -Philip; he very naturally supposed that the secret, whatever it was, -had been divulged. He laboured hard to seem at ease; but that was no -easy task. The party at table felt themselves also under some kind -of restraint, so that their talk was very abrupt and unconnected. -Could any one think it possible? but it really is a fact, that the -guests were almost dying for an opportunity of talking one to another -concerning the strange news which they had heard; and they were -prepared with some notable aphorism on pride and extravagance ready to -be shot forth as soon as the person should by his absence give them -leave to speak. - -As for the Hon. Philip Martindale himself, a variety of thoughts, -hopes, fears, and conjectures, were passing through his mind; but -none of them remained long enough there to be soberly and seriously -considered, or to produce any composure or settled plan. There was, -indeed, one thought which was most frequently springing up amidst -the general agitation, and that was the thought of Miss Sampson; and -so little command had he over the movements of his own mind, that -he found himself paying a more than ordinary degree of attention to -that young lady. Lord and Lady Martindale could not fail to notice -this; and to the former it was not quite so unpleasant as might have -been supposed, from the well-known high and lofty notions which his -lordship entertained on the subject of the dignity of high rank. For -though Lord Martindale venerated nobility and high birth, he knew -that there also needed some other appurtenances to render greatness -really and permanently imposing. He also knew that the estate which -was destined to keep up the honour of the title was scarcely competent -to that great task. He also knew that there was not quite so much -destined for his successor as his successor imagined; and he was well -aware of the sad necessity which had frequently compelled persons of -higher rank than himself to condescend to ennoble plebeian blood “for a -consideration.” As to the present posture of affairs, his lordship was -not much surprised at the rumors which he had heard; he knew that the -property in question had descended rather unexpectedly on its present -possessor, and he was also prepared for any disappointment which his -own son might experience from the caprice of his relative. His fears, -indeed, of disappointment to his son arose from an expectation that -Mr. John Martindale might marry, and thus find a new set of connexions -that would have a powerful influence on his decisions and arrangements -concerning his property. Having then heard that another claimant had -started for that property, and observing that the old gentleman had -been more than usually attentive to Lady Woodstock, he thought it was -time that his son should make some provision for himself. With as good -a grace as might be, he therefore resigned himself to the thought that -Miss Sampson might be allowed the honor of becoming the Hon. Mrs. P. -Martindale. - -We are not, indeed, prepared to say that all this was effected in -his lordship’s mind without a considerable effort and a powerful -conflict. Necessity, it is said, has no law. It would be more correct -to say, that necessity is the most arbitrary and powerful lawgiver. -Lord Martindale was very much to be pitied, and so was Mr. Philip. -But calamities of this kind will sometimes overtake nobility: by a -variety of circumstances, which need not be enumerated, there will be -often occurring a painful necessity of repairing dilapidated fortunes -by intermarriages with plebeians. It does not occur to us at present -how this dreadful calamity can be avoided. There are certainly public -stations with high salaries and easy duties; these help a little, but -comparatively very little; and there are some of those offices which -really require men of understanding and application to fill them; and -we fear that such is the seditious and discontented spirit of the -times, that the people would grumble at any very great multiplication -of places of no use but to those who fill them. Yet, upon second -thoughts, there are certain laws, such for instance as the game-laws, -which are made expressly and obviously for the amusement of the higher -classes; might not some legislative arrangement be contrived, which -should, on the same exclusive principle, prevent the nobility from -intermarrying with plebeians in order to repair the broken fortunes? -Seeing that the nobility, and its peculiar privileges, and its high -and mighty purity, is one of the great blessings of our constitution, -forming a grand reservoir of political wisdom, surely the people would -not be very reluctant to contribute liberally towards an arrangement -which should be the means of preventing the said nobility from -receiving contamination from intermarriages with plebeians. We only -suggest that some contrivance might be made; but what contrivance we -must leave to the sagacity of wiser heads than our own, and to those -who are more interested in it than we are. - -It is enough for our present purpose that this arrangement is not yet -made; and that in consequence of the want of a suitable supply, poor -Philip Martindale was placed under the disagreeable necessity of paying -great attention to Miss Sampson; and poor Lord Martindale was also -under the same necessity of submitting to see and approve it. - -We have already spoken of Miss Sampson, and have said or intimated -that she was not a fool. We have also spoken of Sir Gilbert Sampson, -and we have acknowledged that he was a man of good understanding. -Miss Sampson had been an indulged child; some called her a spoiled -child, but we do not admit that indulgence always spoils children. -There is a great deal depending on the manner in which indulgence is -administered. Indulgence or strictness in the hands of a simpleton -may be made equally injurious. Miss Sampson certainly had not been -snubbed, lectured, scolded at, talked to, and dragged about all her -life in leading-strings; and Miss Sampson was certainly a thoughtless, -good-tempered creature, not overburdened with taste, and not always -so very attentive to minuter observances as many others of her own -station; but whether she would have been any more thoughtful and -reserved by a continued course of sloppy, sleepy, prosy, common-place -lecturing, is very doubtful. Miss Sampson and her father were by no -means proud, resentful, or suspicious. For though they both had heard -the rumor touching the probable evanescence of Mr. John Martindale’s -property; and though they both might have had reason to suppose that -only property could induce Mr. Philip to make advances of a serious -nature, and though he had once before paid, and afterwards discontinued -his attentions, yet Sir Gilbert Sampson, who was a sensible man, and -Miss Sampson, who was not a fool, were pleased with the very particular -notice taken of the latter under present circumstances. The parties -were therefore quits; for if it was manifest to Miss Sampson that -Philip Martindale’s affection for her was only founded on her property, -it was as manifest to Philip Martindale that Miss Sampson’s regard for -him could only be on account of his title. - -When the following day dawned upon the Abbey of Brigland, and the -guests there visiting had an opportunity, unconstrained by the presence -of the tenant of the great house, to discuss and discourse upon the -interesting topic of the discovery of the preceding day, various and -wise were the observations which they made; but one of the wisest of -all was, that it would be desirable for them to hasten their departure; -for it occurred to them that Mr. Philip might prefer being alone, now -he had so much to occupy his thoughts. Sir Andrew Featherstone and his -family recollected that it was absolutely necessary that they should be -at home in a day or two, for they were expecting company. The Misses -Woodstock also thought that it was very rude of Mr. John Martindale -to take his departure so suddenly, and leave them without an apology; -and Lady Woodstock thought that, though visiting at the Abbey, her -visit was rather to Mr. John Martindale than to Mr. Philip; and even -Sir Gilbert and Miss Sampson thought that they should be better able -to ascertain Mr. Philip’s intentions by taking their departure than by -prolonging their visit; and as the time was nearly arrived that they -should have taken their leave in the ordinary course of things, the -making a movement a day or two sooner might not be a matter of such -great moment. In fact, there was among the whole party an unpleasant -and awkward kind of restraint, which they could only get rid of by -separation; and they certainly had a right to be offended at Mr. John -Martindale for his rudeness in leaving so abruptly, and not giving any -explanation, or even saying when he should return. Lady Featherstone -was the first of the party who started the subject of departure; and -when it was mentioned, or rather hinted, to Mr. Philip, he did not -receive the intelligence with any affectation of concern; and thus -the matter was easily managed by the rest of the party, who soon took -leave, excepting, of course, Lord and Lady Martindale. The worthy -persons who took their departure rather hastily, made up their minds to -forgive old Mr. Martindale for his rudeness, provided that it should -turn out that he had not lost any very considerable part of his fortune. - -Being now left to his own meditations, and the good counsel of -his father and mother, the Hon. Philip Martindale began to employ -himself in deliberating on what steps it would be prudent for him to -take in the present conjuncture of affairs. As yet, he knew nothing -for certainty. It was still possible that the story circulating in -Brigland, and brought to his ears by the trusty and honest Oliver, -might not be altogether correct, and he might yet be able to keep -himself pure from the degradation of marrying below his rank, provided -he took care not to give offence to the old gentleman; and yet when -he thought of the very cool and abrupt manner in which his cousin had -announced his design of going hastily to London, and of his allusion -to the capacity of Oliver for invention, he feared that some of his -own proceedings were not unknown to his relative, and that they -had effected an alienation of his regards. He knew well enough the -eagerness with which all idle reports are received and circulated, -without any regard to their truth or even probability, and therefore he -considered that it would be a fruitless toil to interrogate Mr. Denver, -or any of the people in the town upon the subject; and indeed, he did -not think such proceeding very consistent with his dignity. - -It occurred to his mind, however, that it might not be very unsuitable -just to look in at the cottage where old Richard Smith used to live; -for Mr. John Martindale had rebuked his relative for neglect in this -matter. He took, therefore, an early opportunity of walking round by -the heath, to avoid passing through the town; and he called at the -cottage. The door was fastened, and he was under the necessity of -making a long loud knocking before he could obtain admittance; at -length, the door was opened from within by a little old woman who was -as deaf as a post, or who affected to be so. Very little information -indeed could he extract from her. He learned, however, that his cousin -had not gone alone, but that there were three persons with him from -the cottage; and that of these three, one was the young woman who was -called the niece of Richard Smith, and the other two were the father -and mother of the young woman. He also ascertained that the cottage was -no longer to be occupied by these persons, and that it was not expected -that any one of them should return to Brigland. Whether in this -party was the claimant to the old gentleman’s property was not to be -ascertained; and indeed that question was not directly asked, and the -old woman did not seem at all inclined to answer any questions which -were not loudly, decidedly, and frequently repeated. Philip amused -himself with looking at the drawings which decorated the cottage-walls, -and he was surprised to see such decorations in such a place; but he -soon found an interpretation of that difficulty when he observed the -scenes which they represented, and when he recollected the Italian -officer whom he had met in London. Now, though he had, as we have -observed above, some faint recollection of having heard something of -old Mr. Martindale’s voyage to Genoa in search of some individual or -other, who, for aught he knew to the contrary, might be a claimant, but -he could not see how property in England should be claimed by a native -Italian, as Colonel Rivolta clearly was. Very little information, -therefore, did he acquire, and no satisfaction could he gain by this -visit to the cottage. - -In spite, however, of all his feeling of dignity and propriety, he felt -an irresistible propensity to call on Mr. Denver, who, as a public -intelligencer, was certainly one of the most able men in the town of -Brigland. The very polite and exquisitely courteous manner in which the -reverend perpetual curate received the tenant of the Abbey, was not at -all indicative of falling fortunes or painful change of circumstance. -Low as usual did he bow, graciously as ever did he smile. Courtesy -and politeness, however, were essential and component parts of Mr. -Denver’s constitution. We cannot say quite so much of the Hon. Philip -Martindale; for his style of address was abrupt, and his manners very -unceremonious; and so far was he from endeavouring to correct this -habit, that he was in a measure absolutely proud of it. Receiving Mr. -Denver’s homage as due to his own exalted rank and dignified character, -he began his inquiries by lamenting the death of poor Richard Smith, -and expressing a hope that the poor man had had proper medical -assistance in his illness. To all this a satisfactory answer was given, -accompanied, as was very suitable and regular, with a compliment to -Mr. Philip’s very great kindness and condescension. The inquirer then -proceeded to throw out an intimation, that it would be very agreeable -to him to be informed as to who and what the stranger was, who had -recently taken up his abode at the old man’s cottage. As far as Mr. -Denver knew, he informed Mr. Philip; telling him also the particulars -of the interview at Mr. John Martindale’s residence, as we have already -narrated it. For we will do Mr. Denver the justice to say of him, that -although he was now and then unconsciously guilty of circulating an -incorrect narrative, he was never deliberately and wilfully guilty -of fabricating one. Whatever he himself had seen and heard, he told, -according to the best of his ability, as he saw and heard it. But if, -as it sometimes happened, he heard Mrs. Denver, Mrs. Price, and Mrs. -Flint, all talking together, and telling in one voice him and one -another the same story, but with diversified embellishment and frequent -mutual contradiction, many interruptions, and various repetitions and -emendations; then, poor man, he was certainly to be forgiven, if his -second-hand repetition of such story should not be altogether coherent -in its parts, lucid in its arrangement, or exquisitely veracious in -every particular. Nor should we severely condemn him, if, with a -laudable eagerness to administer early intelligence, he should now and -then run away with an ill-understood tale only heard by halves. Thus -it often happens, that those newspapers which are proud of their early -intelligence, are occasionally exposed to the temptation of inserting -that which needs contradiction. - -When Philip Martindale had thus fairly committed himself as an -inquirer, he went into the subject very fully; and from all that he -could learn from Mr. Denver, there did not appear to be any very -powerful evidence of the existence of any claimant of the Martindale -property; but it was at the same time very clear that Mr. John -Martindale was gone to London, and that these three people had gone -with him, and that they had all gone in his own carriage. Now it was -not likely that the old gentleman should carry the oddity of his humor -so far as to accommodate a claimant of his property with the use of -his own carriage. There was a mystery in all this not to be solved. -Philip’s inquiries were fruitless, therefore, at Mr. Denver’s; and all -that he had ascertained was, that nobody knew what was the cause of the -extraordinary movements of his extraordinary relative. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - “Such is the weakness of all mortal hope, - So fickle is the state of earthly things, - That ere they come into their aimed scope, - They fall so short of our fraile reckonings, - And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.” - - SPENSER. - - -When any extraordinary event occurs in which one is deeply interested, -the person concerned need not take much pains in his endeavours to -find it out--it will soon reveal itself. So did it happen to Philip -Martindale. But the information did not come upon him all at once--it -was gradually developed like the catastrophe of a well-told tale. - -One of the first indications that all was not right towards him in -the matter of the Martindale property was, that a few days after the -departure of the old gentleman, some letters arrived, which required -an answer not convenient for him to give. These letters came all -together by a very remarkable coincidence; and indeed it was very -remarkable that so many of the Hon. Philip Martindale’s creditors -should be all at once most unaccountably pressed for money to make -up a heavy payment. But there is no accounting for coincidences. By -this unpleasant indication of unpleasant news, the young gentleman was -mightily disturbed. We do not however mean to insinuate that it was -not in Mr. Philip’s power to stop the importunities of the above-named -creditors by satisfying their claims; but as the October meeting at -Newmarket was so very near at hand, and as he had horses to run at -that meeting, it was absolutely and indispensably necessary for him to -make a reserve to meet the exigences of that important concern. Still, -however, it was disagreeable to his feelings to have the annoyance -of such applications, and it occurred to him that he would once more -have recourse to the children of Israel previously to the meeting at -Newmarket; and with this intention he again visited the metropolis. On -this excursion he could very conscientiously set out without informing -his cousin, as the old gentleman was in London himself. Mr. Philip, -indeed, had no wish to meet his worthy relative in town, and he had not -much fear of such an accident. - -He lost no time when he arrived in town, but made the best of his way -to his well-known resort, and found his kind accommodating friend at -home, but wearing an altered countenance. Heavy complaints were heard, -and gloomy looks were seen, and it was altogether impossible just at -that unfortunate crisis to afford any accommodation.--“That was the -unkindest cut of all.” - -Very properly resenting this insult, he speedily left the house; and -being guided by his own knowledge as well as by the reports of others, -he hastened to bestow his patronage on another of the same profession. -But the Hon. Philip Martindale of Brigland Abbey was not, it appeared, -at that time a name in high repute with that class of gentry who -observe the strictest honor and secrecy in their transactions; and he -had the mortification to find that his journey to London had been of -no avail, and was not likely to be productive of any thing beneficial. -Some people would, under these circumstances, have been disgusted with -the world, and have retired to a hermitage, thinking that all their -fellow-creatures were so worthless and unprincipled as not to be worth -noticing or fit to live with. But happily in this instance for the Hon. -Philip Martindale, he was not so easily disgusted with the world; he -was under great obligations to it, and hoped to be under more. It is -certainly a very pleasant thing to have a good opinion of oneself, but -it is pleasanter to have that opinion positively than comparatively; -and to quarrel with all the world at once is no great proof either of -wisdom or virtue. Besides, Mr. Philip knew that half a dozen tradesmen, -and half as many money-lenders, were not all the world. - -The old proverb concerning misfortunes not coming singly, seemed to -be about to be verified in the case of Philip Martindale; for as he -was thoughtfully pacing the streets of the great city, and thinking -of the various ills of life, and wondering how it should come to pass -that a gentleman called the honorable, and residing in a magnificent -mansion, and being heir-apparent to a title, and being nearly related -to and a great favorite of a person of enormous wealth, should not be -comfortable and satisfied in his own feelings as one residing in an -inn of court, and giving much of his days to the dry study of the law. -As he was thus meditating with himself, and communing with his own -thoughts, he was roused from his reverie by the sound of the well-known -voice of old John Martindale; for the old gentleman had just left -the Bank at the moment that his cousin was passing it. With no very -pleasant feeling did Philip return the old gentleman’s greeting. - -“So you have come to town to look after me, Master Philip. But who -would have thought of meeting you in this part of the world? What, have -you any sly money transactions, or are you come to look after some rich -citizen’s daughter. Or, perhaps, you have been at my hotel, and you -were directed here to find me. But is your company all gone? Is it not -rather rude to leave them? Well, but I hope you will not stay long in -town; for there are sad doings at the Abbey when you are out. The other -day, when you went to the archery nonsense at Hovenden, I actually -found a couple of fellows smoking their filthy pipes in the great hall -at the Abbey, and I had much ado to send them out of the house. Oliver -told me they were drunk. They had the impudence to call themselves -sheriffs’ officers. Now, I do not like this.” - -The old gentleman had talked himself almost out of breath, and it was -well for the young gentleman that the old one did not like the sound -of any one’s voice so well as that of his own. Philip was one of -those conscientious people who endeavour as much as possible to avoid -all unnecessary lies; and when he wished to deceive, he preferred -the circuitous shuffling mode of equivocation to a plain downright -honest lie. In some cases he found a difficulty in escaping by this -contrivance; and this difficulty he would have found in the instance -in question, had not old Mr. Martindale been too much taken up with -other thoughts and other interests than those of Philip Martindale -and Brigland Abbey. But in truth he had been so much delighted with -his newly-discovered daughter, that he took no very lively interest -in any thing else. At their first meeting there were, as we said, no -very extraordinary raptures or dramatic exhibition; but as they grew -better acquainted, the old gentleman was charmed with the mild good -sense and amiable manners of Signora Rivolta, and was greatly pleased -with the intelligence and meekness of his grand-daughter Clara. Even -Colonel Rivolta, though he had commenced life in a mercantile line, -and had spent his best days in the army, yet was not destitute of -information and literary taste. But the Hon. Philip Martindale, though -born a gentleman, educated at an English university, and destined -for the legal profession, was, notwithstanding all these advantages, -by no means attached to literature, or endowed with any great share -of taste. The old gentleman therefore had not been much delighted -with his society, inasmuch as his conversation was either grievously -common-place, or concerning those sports in which Mr. John Martindale -took no interest. Serious rivals therefore had started up to engross -the notice of the opulent relative. This fact was known very quickly to -those whom it concerned; viz. the gentlemen of the strictest honor and -secrecy. Theirs, indeed, would be but a bad business, if they could not -now and then get possession of early intelligence and important secrets. - -Very briefly did Mr. John Martindale inform his cousin of the discovery -which he had recently made; and requesting, or rather commanding -the young gentleman to enter the carriage, they proceeded westward, -towards Mr. Martindale’s hotel. In the middle of the day the streets -of the city of London, though very unfavorable for conversation, so -far as foot-passengers are concerned, afford peculiar advantages and -opportunities for this purpose to those who ride in carriages; for -the multitude of vehicles, and their frequent misarrangement, very -conveniently retards progress. Philip Martindale wished himself at home -in Brigland Abbey, or quietly perusing briefs in his chambers at the -Temple, or any where rather than where he was. But there was no escape -for him. - -“Now, Philip,” said the old gentleman, “I am going to introduce you to -your new relations, or at least to mine, for I suppose you will hardly -condescend to acknowledge them.” - -“I shall be very happy, sir, to see, and very proud to own, any -relations of yours.” So said the Hon. Philip Martindale; but his heart -and lips were sadly at variance. He was not very well pleased that such -relations existed; and it would not be very agreeable to him to be on -terms of acquaintance, as he certainly must if his cousin commanded -him, with persons of low and vulgar minds as he supposed these new -relatives must be. The old gentleman suspecting that his high-minded -relative was fancying that the persons in question were of low caste, -in consequence of their having been discovered in a cottage with a poor -man, replied: - -“And I will tell you what, young man, they are not persons of whom you -need to be ashamed. Colonel Rivolta held a very respectable station -in the army, though he did fight for that fellow Bonaparte; and his -wife, who is my daughter, is as well informed and well behaved a woman -as ever I saw in my life. The young woman, I believe, you have seen -before.” - -Philip did not like the tone in which the latter part of this sentence -was uttered, and perhaps there was not a possibility of uttering it in -any tone that should be agreeable. Many other topics of conversation -were introduced, none of which were very agreeable; and even that -which the old gentleman uttered with great glee, as being a matter -of great interest and good tidings to his cousin, was by no means -agreeable to the young gentleman. After having talked some little time -on the subject of his discovered daughter, and as if fearing that his -honorable cousin might apprehend from this discovery some ill fortune -to himself, with the kind purpose of banishing such fear, he observed: - -“But you need not be jealous, Philip; I shall not forget you: so make -your mind easy.” - -There is a wonderful difference, thought Philip, between making a man -his heir and not forgetting him. Now, this not forgetting appeared -to him more cruel and tormenting than entirely discarding him. It is -very true that Mr. John Martindale had made no absolute promise that -Philip should be his heir; and even if he had made the promise, and -had violated it, there was no such thing as prosecuting him for breach -of promise. He had merely given strong indications that such was his -intention. Persons who are very rich, and have no legal heirs, may -entertain themselves very much at the expense of hungry expectants and -lean legacy-hunters. Who has not seen a poor dog standing on his hind -legs, and bobbing up and down after a bone scarcely worth picking, with -which some mischief-loving varlet has tantalised the poor animal till -all its limbs have ached? That poor dog shadows out the legacy-hunter -or possible heir. Every body has a right to do as he pleases with his -own property, so far as concerns the disposition of unentailed estates; -and every body has a right to do a great number of actions which may -render his fellow-creatures miserable and uncomfortable. Very few of -the annoyances to which man is exposed from his fellow-men have a -remedy from law. To be sure, it may be said that the legacy-hunter is -a simpleton for giving another power over him; but, alas! how could a -young man, situated as the Hon. Philip Martindale, help himself. As he -himself observed to his mother, “if I refuse the offer of the Abbey, -I may so far offend the old gentleman, as to induce him to leave his -property elsewhere.” But the young gentleman forgot that accepting the -offer might, and very naturally would, lead him into many difficulties, -and fix him as a dependent. He afterwards discovered this, when it -was too late to find a remedy for the evil. But to proceed with our -narrative. - -After Mr. Martindale the elder had addressed what he thought an -encouraging speech to his cousin, he called out to the coachman -to stop when they were near to Temple Bar. The old gentleman then -alighted, saying, he would return in a few minutes; and in a very few -minutes did he return, bringing with him a gentleman whom Philip had -seen before. This was no other than Horatio Markham. Now here was -another mortification. Thus the poor man was annoyed with one trouble -after another; and thus his mortifications increased upon him, and -all because he must support the dignity of his rank. He could not be -uncivil to Markham, nor indeed did he wish to be so. He had said, and -that very sincerely, that there was nothing at all objectionable in -Markham’s speech at the trial. He had been rather pleased with it than -otherwise; he thought it far better than that of his own counsellor; -and he had observed to several persons that there were some spouting -prigs at the bar, that in a cause like that would have represented -the defendant as a demon of incomparable malignity, and would have -smothered him with a countless accumulation of awkward metaphors. -He had said that Markham had shown much good sense in stating his -case clearly and strongly, and without any of that school-boy slang, -and those theme-like declamations by which some ill-judging ranters -seem rather to seek the applauses of a tasteless mob than to apply -themselves to that which may benefit a client. All this he had said, -and all this he had really and truly thought; but he had no wish for -all that to be brought into immediately close contact and intimacy with -the person of whom he had said it. He respected Markham as a young man -of good understanding and sound judgment; but he had no particular -desire to be acquainted with all young men of good understanding and -sound judgment. Still, however, he behaved civilly to Markham; and -recollecting what his cousin had told him, that the young barrister -was about to carry his legal talents to another part of the world, he -on this account behaved to him with the less reserve, because there -was not much danger of soon meeting him again, or being much troubled -with his acquaintance. On the other hand, Horatio Markham, knowing or -shrewdly suspecting the character and disposition of the gentleman -to whom he was introduced, did not give himself any pedantic or -professional airs, but with a very becoming and gentleman-like distance -quietly entered into common-place talk, directing himself more to the -elder of the two with whom he had been previously acquainted, than -with the younger to whom he had been but recently introduced. Philip -Martindale, therefore, began actually to like his new acquaintance, -who was agreeable because he did not take any especial pains to make -himself so, and who appeared to be well-informed because he did not -studiously make a display of his knowledge. Now Philip, who could not -tolerate any pedantry but the pedantry of rank, and that pedantry only -in himself, was pleased with Markham for the absence of pedantry and -affectation. - -After a long and tedious rumbling, the carriage deposited the party -at a hotel in the neighbourhood of St. James’s Square. Most agreeably -disappointed was Philip when he was introduced to Signora Rivolta. -There was no appearance of vulgarity or plebeianism about her. There -was nothing in her style which indicated a disposition or tendency to -impertinent encroachment; but, on the contrary, her most excellent and -graceful carriage seemed as that of one conferring, not receiving a -patronage. In Clara Rivolta, the daughter, he recognised that sweet -prettiness which had first attracted his disrespectful attention; but -there was added to this, a kind of mild dignity, a steady and calm -self-possession, which appeared much more obviously and impressively -under change of circumstances. In Signora Rivolta there was much -more stateliness than in Clara; but there was a charm in the general -expression of the features, gait, and manner of the latter, not easily -described. There was nothing of pertness in her self-possession, and -there was not the slightest appearance of or the remotest approach -towards artificialness in any one part of her carriage and demeanour. -Philip was not much in the habit of falling in love, nor was he -frequently thrown into raptures by intellectual and moral charms; yet -in the present instance he was very much struck both with the mother -and daughter. Irresistibly was he led to behave to both with most -respectful deference, and he for a moment forgot that these charming -women would in all probability deprive him of the inheritance which -otherwise seemed destined for him. Why could he not make an offer of -his hand to Clara? What obstacle could there be to interfere with his -success? Would his cousin object to it? Not likely. It would be a very -convenient match, so far as pecuniary arrangements were concerned, and -might save the old gentleman some trouble in disposing of his property. -As for Miss Sampson, there might be a disappointment to her in such a -step; but her fortune would not suffer her to wear the willow long. - -Thoughts of this kind occupied the mind of the heir of Lord Martindale, -and this seemed the most agreeable plan which he could possibly adopt -to get rid of his difficulties. Before the day closed, he had made up -his mind it should be so. In contemplating this new arrangement, he -forgot to take one thing into consideration, that is, the probable -consent of the young lady; and he also forgot or neglected to observe -one thing, that is, the very particular attention paid to the young -lady by Horatio Markham. It is pleasant to be deceived, and so we -sometimes deceive ourselves, if nobody else will take the pains to -do it for us. Very completely did Mr. Philip deceive himself in the -idea that scarcely any thing was wanting to effect an union between -Clara Rivolta and himself, save his own consent. He considered not -that a young woman under twenty years of age, of secluded habits and -of reflecting turn of mind, of calm good sense and of a feeling and -sensible soul, unused to the fashions and flurries and formalities -and flatteries of the great world, would entertain a very different -idea of love from that entertained by a young gentleman between twenty -and thirty, whose expectations were mortgaged to money-lenders--whose -pleasures were the turf and the ring--whose spirit was agitated with -gambling--whose motive for marrying was the means to keep up the -dignity of his rank. He might have thought it possible that Clara -Rivolta could not love the Hon. Philip Martindale, and he might also -have thought it as possible that she would not marry him if she did not -love him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - “Oh, for a horse with wings!” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - “We must find - An evident calamity, though we had - Our wish, which side should win.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Philip Martindale was very glad that his cousin had not asked any -importunate questions concerning the motive of his journey to London, -but he was very sorry that the journey had been fruitless. He was -desirous of returning as soon as possible to Brigland, that he might -there discuss with Lord and Lady Martindale, whom he had left at -the Abbey, the important matter which had occupied his thoughts, as -described at the close of the last chapter. For as yet they knew -nothing of the discovery of Mr. John Martindale’s daughter; and their -impression concerning the young gentleman’s journey to town was, that -he had been there with a view of endeavouring to ascertain the real -meaning and origin of the rumours which were afloat as touching their -opulent relative. Philip, on his return to Brigland, explained the -whole affair. - -Thereupon serious looks were assumed by Lord and Lady Martindale, and -those serious looks reflected by their honorable son. They were all -three greatly perplexed--they all three uttered many wise sayings--they -all three talked the matter over with great deliberation--they all -three resolved and concluded that something must be done; but they were -all three at a loss to know what must be done. Looking at one another -was not the best way to get over their perplexities, and yet it is -what people often do in perplexities; nor was there any progress made -by the simultaneous and harmonious expression of wishing that matters -had been otherwise. The past will not return, and that which is done -cannot be undone. There is no great wisdom in this discovery; the -merit is in applying it to practical purposes. A great deal of time is -lost, and a great deal of trouble and pains incurred, for want of the -wisdom which the above truism would teach. Lady Martindale repeated -what she had said before, as to the impolicy of Philip’s accepting -the old gentleman’s offer of the Abbey. Philip repeated what he had -said before, namely, that he might have offended and alienated the old -gentleman by a refusal. Lord Martindale repeated, that there was some -truth and propriety in what they both said. Still they were no nearer -to a conclusion promising any satisfaction. - -In the midst of this perplexity, Philip thought it would be a good -time to propose his own scheme for getting rid of all the difficulty -by offering his hand to Clara Rivolta. He was not, however, without -his fears that the proposal would not be acceptable to Lord and -Lady Martindale: he therefore approached the subject cautiously -and circuitously. After a little pause, and with a change of tone -and altered look, as if the question of what must be done had been -adjourned and a new topic called, he began to talk of the meeting with -these newly-discovered relatives in such a manner as to lead Lady -Martindale to ask particularly as to their appearance and manner. To -this inquiry he gave such an answer as impressed her ladyship with -a higher opinion of them all three than he had actually expressed -in his description of them. He uttered his compliments in the tone -and with the air of concession, and his language was circuitous, so -that it did not appear purposely directed to the object of exciting -a high opinion of the party. When he spoke of Signora Rivolta, he -did not say that her style was truly noble and commanding, but he -said that her style and address reminded him of the Hon. Mrs. B----, -or of Lady Charlotte D----. Then he added some little qualification -of the comparison; but the qualification was rather in favor of the -daughter of John Martindale, so far as the taste of Lady Martindale was -concerned; for it is a notorious fact that all sensible people think -differently from the rest of the world. Therefore, if there be in any -character or individual a little more or a little less than what the -world in general is supposed to consider the medium of excellence, -sensible people rather admire such excess or defect. Sensible people, -for instance, may admire that eccentricity which is not according to -the popular standard. Some may admire rather more than the standard -allowance of pride, or prefer a little deficiency in the article of -meekness. Philip was well acquainted with his mother’s taste in all -these matters, and therefore he extolled the ladies to his mother’s -mind, though he did not loudly praise them to her ear; for he spoke of -the daughter after the same manner as he had spoken of the mother. - -Another pause following this part of the conversation, gave an -opportunity to Lord Martindale to suggest that it might perhaps be -advisable for Philip to marry the young foreigner, and thus to have -a double hold on Mr. John Martindale’s affections. This proposal was -very artfully insinuated into his lordship’s mind by the manner in -which Philip had spoken of the high esteem in which Mr. John Martindale -appeared to hold his new family. When his lordship had spoken, Philip -did not reply, waiting for Lady Martindale’s opinion, which was -generally of more weight in the family than that of his lordship. No -answer being given, the question was repeated. - -Philip then replied, that what his lordship had said was perfectly -true; the property of Mr. John Martindale would be clearly secured -by this arrangement, and so far as the young lady was concerned, -there could be no objection on the ground of style and manner, or of -education. - -This was said hesitatingly, so that his lordship was under the -necessity of asking what other objection there could be; to which Mr. -Philip ventured to mention the circumstance of her mother’s birth. Now -this on Philip’s part was a very affected refinement; but it was said -for Lady Martindale’s ear, who then replied, that such objection was -fastidious indeed, if the ladies were such as they had been described. -The greatest objection to such a step was, in her opinion, that it was -not quite so sure of answering the purpose in point of property as they -imagined. There was no answering for caprice; and it was possible that -the property might be so left, as that Philip might have no power over -it. - -This objection staggered the young gentleman’s resolution, and rendered -his scheme not so totally unexceptionable as he had imagined it to be. -He looked thoughtful; and Lady Martindale continued, saying, that after -all this plan would but increase and perpetuate her son’s dependence: -that so long as he was unmarried, an opportunity might occur for him -to marry a fortune, and place himself out of the power of Mr. John -Martindale’s caprice. But again Philip replied, that if he should marry -a fortune, and not please his cousin by his marriage, he should then -lose all expectation from him, and that there were very few fortunes -accessible that would compensate for the loss of Mr. John Martindale’s -friendship. The whole deliberation at last concluded without coming to -any definite conclusion. - -Lady Martindale repeated, and Lord Martindale coincided with her in the -opinion, that the wisest scheme of all would be, that Philip should -give himself to public business, and that then he might be independent -without forfeiting the friendship of his cousin. But Philip could not -get the Jews out of his head, and the Jews could not get Philip out of -their books. - -In this unpleasant state of mind the honorable gentleman continued -for several days; during which time Mr. John Martindale remained -still in London, highly delighted with his Italian relatives, and -exhibiting them wherever he could, though at that time of year there -was comparatively little opportunity of displaying them. Philip made -inquiries at his cousin’s cottage every morning, but no intelligence -concerning the old gentleman could be procured. Lord and Lady -Martindale took their leave of the Abbey, and Philip promised to join -them in London before the end of January, by which time, perhaps, -something might occur which would decide him as to what steps he should -take. - -The day at length arrived for the Newmarket meeting. Much business was -expected to be transacted, and some very fine races were anticipated. -The town was delightfully full, and Philip was in all his glory. He -thought not of the Jews, or any of his other creditors. The charms of -Clara Rivolta were forgotten; and the lively Celestina would have been -forgotten too, but she was present on the ground. - -The barouche of Sir Gilbert Sampson was most conveniently placed; and -on the box thereof sat Celestina Sampson at her father’s side, and -within were two other young ladies attended by the fragrant Henry -Augustus Tippetson. The morning was fine, and the ground was brilliant. -Rank, beauty, and fashion were there; the cream of English nobility; -the stars of English beauty; souls of the first order; the pride of -that nation which is the pride of the world. Glorious was the object -for which they were assembled, and deep was the feeling with which -their minds were animated. Who could look without emotion, or think -without interest, on a scene like this? Where should our hereditary -legislators, our modern Solons and Lycurguses, so well learn the -science of government as in converse with black-legs and stable-boys? -What occupation so befitting the most noble, the right honorable of -the land--the superfine part of the species--the arbiters of the -world’s destiny--the brightest lights of the collective wisdom of the -nation--as the spending of princely fortunes to see how much faster -one horse can run than another? And when the horses start, and while -they are straining all their sinews, and while one rogue or another is -trying how much he can make of the simpletons there, how intense is the -interest! Every eye is strained, every neck is stretched, breathing -is almost suspended, and the heart is almost afraid to beat; and -when the great event is decided, then how many purses change hands, -and how many blockheads go home again repenting their folly. But let -that pass. It is enough for us here to state that the Hon. Philip -Martindale was the winner, and that to a very considerable amount. -He received the congratulations of his friends. Sir Gilbert and Miss -Sampson congratulated him. Henry Augustus Tippetson congratulated -him. Philip, however, had many accounts to settle; some on one side, -and some on the other. There was not one to whom he lost a bet who -found any inconvenience in receiving it--there were a few of whom he -won who found it inconvenient to pay. Some of those to whom he paid -were so very desirous that he should win again what he had lost, that -they politely and considerately invited him to the hazard-table; -and when he left the hazard-table, he was not so much an object of -congratulation as he had been at the conclusion of the race. He was -very much fatigued; quite worn out by the day’s toil and the night’s -play. Legislation must be quite rest and refreshment to the honorable, -right honorable, and most noble frequenters of the race-course and the -hazard-table. - -The honorable dependent on the bounty of John Martindale retired to his -lodgings, and looked over his betting-book and into his pocket-book, -and considering that he was a winner at the race, he found himself much -poorer than he expected. He felt no inclination to lay violent hands on -himself; he did not clench his fists and strike his knuckles upon the -table, nor did he beat his own forehead, nor did he think of hanging -himself when he took off his garters, or entertain the slightest idea -of cutting his throat when he looked at his razors. From what we have -seen in plays and read in story-books about gambling, one should -imagine that pistol-making and rope-twisting would be the best trades -going at Newmarket; we are not sure that it may not be so, but we have -never heard that it is. At all events, we do know that when Philip -Martindale found that he was a considerable loser in the long run, -though he had been a winner on the turf, he was very deeply mortified, -and looked very foolish. He wished himself back in his chambers at -the Temple; but he did not use any violent gesticulations, or groan -aloud so as to alarm the people of the house. We think it especially -necessary to mention these facts, in order to let our readers know what -a very curious character Philip Martindale was. His conduct deserves -to be particularly mentioned in the present case, because it seems to -be the general practice, judging from books, for all gamblers when -they lose their money to look very pale, to get very drunk, to clench -their fists, and to stamp so as to split the very boards of the floor, -and finally to hang, drown, poison, or shoot themselves. The last -is the most common. Such is the usual description, and real life no -doubt has exhibited some such cases; but powerfully as these may have -been painted, we much question if that extreme delineation has been -serviceable to the cause of morals. Nor are we afraid that, because we -have here stated a very ordinary case of a silly young gentleman losing -his money, and not going distracted and blowing out his brains, we -shall therefore give encouragement to others to throw away their time -and money in the same foolish way. - -The poor young man however found it very difficult to sleep after his -losses; for though he was not distracted, he was grievously troubled -in spirit, and much bewildered in his thoughts. He wished, over and -over again, that he had not sat down to hazard; but his wishing did not -bring back what he had lost. He almost wished that he had not been born -an hereditary legislator, for then he might have applied himself to -some useful pursuit, and not have been under the necessity of going to -Newmarket and losing his money in a right honorable way to keep up his -dignity. But it is very hard if a man of rank and fortune cannot have -his amusements, and what else can a man of rank and fortune do with his -time and property than waste them among sharpers? - -It became now more and more imperative upon the young gentleman that -he should seriously set himself to repair his broken fortunes, and -his various meditations on the plans which suggested themselves for -that purpose very naturally prevented him from sleeping. His habits -had not much accustomed him to that application which business might -require, and his recent patrician contempt of study had put him into -possession of so large a stock of ignorance as to be rather in the -way of his promotion. It is not indeed much to be wondered at that, -considering how widely and deeply education has lately been diffused, -the higher sort of people should now and then court the singularity of -not knowing, and preserve their separation from the inferior orders by -an ignorance of that which every body knows; for it is very clear that -whatever becomes universal, must of necessity cease to be fashionable: -therefore the education bestowed upon the multitude must compel the -higher ranks in their own defence to cultivate ignorance, unless they -would give themselves the trouble of toiling more laboriously in -pursuit of knowledge than the lower orders. That is not very likely. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - “Good shepherd, tell this youth, what ’tis to love.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -It is now necessary for us to revert to old Mr. Martindale and his new -pets. So delighted was he with the general character of the minds of -this family, that he was reluctant to make any arrangement which should -remove them from continual intercourse with himself. Very soon did they -become essential to him; for they seemed to open his mind to a new -consciousness of being. The discovery of their existence was the means -of removing a burden from his soul; and not only was there a negative -satisfaction derived from having thus providentially met with them, but -the very lively and unexpected interest which he took in their being -and well being, gave to his own existence a positive satisfaction, and -a feeling hitherto unknown; so that in the intervals of reflection and -thought, he was under a frequent necessity of saying to himself, “But I -must not forget Philip.” - -There was also another, though an unintentional and unconscious rival -of Philip Martindale, in the person of Horatio Markham. But we will -do Philip the justice to say, that he entertained no mean jealousy of -this gentleman; inasmuch as he did not apprehend the probability of -Markham’s occupying a very important station in the old gentleman’s -last will and testament. Markham, indeed, did not seem to be acting -the part of a legacy-hunter; and Philip felt very well satisfied with -the thought, that many rich old men had in their life-time had many -friends for whom they appeared to have a greater regard than for their -own family, but to whom they have seldom made bequests of a nature so -serious as deeply to injure their own relatives. There was, however, -a danger in Markham’s intimacy with the old gentleman under present -circumstances, of which danger Mr. Philip was not sufficiently aware. -Our allusion is to the growing acquaintance between the young barrister -and Clara Rivolta. The young lady had a grateful recollection of the -considerate and respectful manner in which Markham had conducted -himself at the trial, contrasted especially as that manner was with -the boisterous and vulgar rudeness of the defendant’s counsel. So -completely indeed was the young lady disgusted with the rudeness and -coarseness manifested by the latter, that though she was tolerably well -acquainted with English customs, so far as books could inform her, -she could with difficulty be brought to believe that barristers were -uniformly gentlemen of education; she could not help thinking that they -must be of no higher rank or more polished manners than bailiffs and -constables. What ludicrous mistakes foreigners do sometimes fall into; -and if the English were not a very polite nation, they would laugh at -these blunders. - -We have noticed already that Markham was very much struck with the -personal appearance of Clara Rivolta when he saw her in the cottage -of poor old Richard Smith; he was not less pleased with her when he -saw her in those circumstances which he had in the first instance -thought most appropriate to her. When he became more acquainted with -her, and by conversation had traced the existence of as much mind and -of as good feelings as her features and their expression had already -intimated to his imagination, it is no wonder that he should be more -interested in her than ever. When also he learned, as he did from the -sociable communicativeness of old Mr. Martindale, how nearly she was -related to a wealthy man; and when he saw how much of a favorite she -was with the old gentleman, it was not likely that his regard for her -should be diminished. Markham was by no means a selfish man, nor was he -insensible to the desirableness of a fair fortune. He was not quite so -romantic as to despise wealth; and if he had been originally addicted -to that propensity, the frequent receiving of fees would have had no -small tendency to cure it. However, it should be said that the motive -for his attachment to the young lady had not, in the first instance, -any thing to do with pecuniary expectations. Mr. Martindale himself -contributed to cherish the attachment, for he was constantly soliciting -the young man to favor them with his company; for as the old gentleman -lived almost entirely at Brigland, he knew comparatively nothing about -London, and the season of the year was not that at which any of his -friends were in town. - -The time now was very near when Markham should take his departure from -his native land, and enter upon his professional duties in another -region. Pleasant as preferment may be, there is always a degree of -pain felt at parting from familiar faces and familiar scenes. This -unpleasant feeling was by anticipation coming upon the young barrister. -He thought that he should very much miss the society to which he had -been accustomed; he thought there was a peculiar, indescribable charm -in the very streets of London and Westminster; he thought, with a -shudder of repugnance, of a long, tedious, and as it were solitary -voyage; he thought that nobody would think about him when he was gone; -he thought that Clara Rivolta would be married before he came back. He -wondered whether she knew that he was going abroad; he wondered whether -she would care where or when he might go; he wondered whether she had -ever been in love. These thoughts and these wonderings grew thicker -and stronger as the time moved on, and he said to himself that Clara -was a most interesting creature, but that he was not decidedly in love -with her, as was very manifest by his being perfectly at ease when he -was absent from her. He did not take into consideration, as perhaps he -should have done, that the absence which he bore with so much fortitude -was an absence likely to be soon succeeded by the pleasure of seeing -her again. There was also another thought which he overlooked, and that -was, why did he take pains to persuade himself that he was not in love? -Who said he was? - -It is not fair, however, to lay open to our readers the heart of one -of the parties, and totally to veil that of the other. Clara Rivolta -had scarcely had any other society than that of her father and mother; -and indeed, for the last four years, a very important part of her -life, her mother and old Richard Smith had been her only companions. -The very little which she had seen of English people had not made a -favorable impression of their character upon her mind. While residing -with her mother at Brigland, she had seen but few of the inhabitants -of that place, and those not of the better sort. The only individual -of the better sort, so called, that she had seen, was the Hon. Philip -Martindale; and him she thought the worst sort of man she had ever -seen. She at first mistook him for a gamekeeper; then she thought that -he must be the coachman or groom to the great man at the Abbey; and -nothing could exceed her astonishment when old Richard Smith informed -her that it was the great man himself; then, like all young people, -hastily formed and readily expressed her opinion, that the highest -class of people in England were the lowest people in the world. She -was very wrong, but she had not much knowledge of the subject. The -English people have so much originality and individuality, that it -is not easy to find an individual who is a complete specimen of any -class. To satirise or to compliment any class as a class, is absurd. -It may do very well for a particular purpose, at a tavern-dinner, -or in a dedication, to use highly complimentary language, which may -be uttered with all the plausibility of truth and sincerity. It may -also tell well in a farce or a comedy to satirise a whole class or -profession; but to use such language in sad or sober earnest, is -grievously unphilosophical and inaccurate. There are minds of every -variety, intellects of every rank, hearts of every complexion in all -classes. The virtues and the vices show differently under different -circumstances. It was however pardonable in a young woman who knew -scarcely any thing of human society, to form a wrong judgment; but, by -degrees, her mind was enlarged and judgment corrected. Had she taken -her notion of barristers solely from the clever, witty advocate of the -Hon. Philip Martindale, she would have thought no better of barristers -than she did of the sons of nobility. But Horatio Markham tended to -correct her judgment in this particular. He was not a coxcomb; he was -not a rude, blustering, self-sufficient and pert blockhead, fancying -himself the depositary of all wisdom and the oracle of all ages; he -did not aim at a display of his own wisdom, by insinuations that all -the rest of mankind were simpletons. It must however be confessed that -he was rather pedantic; he talked a little too professionally; and -he had, in his ordinary mode of speaking and conversing, too much of -the peculiar manner of the bar; he told many anecdotes, and they were -mostly of the luminaries of his own profession; his conversation was -much about books; he spoke of books critically, and as he had a good -memory, he repeated many passages, especially of some of the more -modern poets; and in reading or quoting, he had a very peculiar and -prosy mode of utterance. In his expressions of admiration he was very -enthusiastic; but his only censure was silence. Being, as it should -seem, much pleased with his own peculiar eloquence of encomium, he -was most pleased with praising; and so ingenious was his praise, that -he not unfrequently found in his favorite writers beauties which the -authors themselves were not aware of. Many others have been accused of -doing the same; but we will vindicate them and him by observing, that -it is quite as possible for an author to strike out beauties of which -himself is unconscious and undesigning, as it is for an artist, by an -accidental touch of his pencil, to “snatch a grace beyond the reach -of art.” The mind is not always conscious of the gracefulness of its -transient and unstudied attitudes. - -We could say much more of Markham, but we must postpone it. Our present -concern is with the mind of Clara Rivolta, and her sentiments of and -towards this young man. He was to all intents the most agreeable man -she had seen since her arrival in England; and his slight tincture -of pedantry, and his love of quotation and recitation, tedious and -stupid as they might have been to many others, were to her peculiarly -agreeable. Men’s hearts are stolen through the eye--women’s through the -ear. Clara was pleased with Markham’s voice because she liked poetry; -and as the poetry first rendered his company delightful, and his voice -to her ear musical, so in process of time his company and his voice -rendered the poetical extracts more pleasing. Markham also understood -Italian; but to a native of Italy he would not read or recite her own -poetry; but he often brought to her Italian poetry, and her bright -eyes sparkled at the sight, and she began to like the English people -better, because they had paid reverence to the poets of her native -land by printing their works beautifully. Markham wished to hear the -poetry of Italy read by a native; Clara could not refuse him, because -he had been so obliging as to read much English poetry to her; but she -was almost afraid to read to him, because she could not read so well -as he could. That is a pretty and pardonable piece of vanity. But the -fact is, Markham did not read so remarkably well: he had a singing kind -of a tone; he read in a kind of recitative; some used to say he read -very ill. We should wish these people to be sentenced to hear reading -without a tone. At all events, Markham’s reading was very pleasant to -Clara; and to Markham’s ear there was no music so sweet as Clara’s -voice. She had read to him two or three of the sonnets of Petrarch; -and Markham thought that he should recollect the melody of that voice -when he should be afar off sailing on the mighty deep. How sweetly can -the closed eye, by its own internal light, call up bright scenes which -time and space have put far from us! and as sweetly in night’s silence -and its wakeful repose rings in our ear again the voice of the absent -and the beloved. When Clara read to Markham, there was a tremulousness -in her voice, and there was a tear in her eye; the tear was hardly -visible, and not large enough to fall; but she felt it there, and her -tremulousness increased. Scenes of this nature frequently occurred, -and they produced their very natural effect. Clara felt herself very -happy in Markham’s company, always asked his opinion on matters -of taste and literature, was continually finding out new poetical -beauties in Markham’s favorite authors, and perpetually discovering -some philological difficulties in the English language, of which no -one but Markham could give her a solution. It was not till she knew -him that her mind was powerfully impressed with the absolute necessity -of learning with very strict and minute attention the niceties of the -English language. - -There was another circumstance which contributed to increase Clara’s -partiality to Horatio Markham; namely, his affectionate attention to -his parents, and his respectful deference to their wishes. This she -had no opportunity of observing, but she had heard Mr. John Martindale -speak of it in highly complimentary terms. She was very well pleased -to hear Markham praised. She did not say to herself that she was not -in love, nor indeed did she know or suspect that she was. But she was -very much pleased with Horatio Markham, and never spoke of him to any -one, though she listened with great pleasure to any one who spoke of -him favorably. This was certainly symptomatic, but the young woman was -not aware of the nature of the symptoms, or of what they portended. -When she learned the vocabulary, she did not find that admiration meant -love; she did not find that gratitude meant love; she did not find that -habit meant love; she did not find that approbation meant love; but -in process of time she began to suspect that all these put together -produced a feeling very much like love. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - “If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; - If not, why then this parting was well made.” - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -A week is soon gone. This is not mentioned to our readers by way of -information, as if any of them should be ignorant of the fact; but by -way of directing their minds to a sympathy with Horatio Markham, who -found that the last days of his remaining in England were shorter in -their duration than any which had preceded them. In spite of all he -had said to himself concerning his not being in love, he could not but -experience a very painful feeling at the thought that he must soon -leave the pleasant party with whom he was so agreeably spending so -many of his hours. He could not persuade himself that he was not in -love; and the more he said so, the less he believed it. He had taken -his leave of his parents and his early friends. He thought it becoming -to take a formal leave also of his new friend, Mr. John Martindale; he -hesitated whether he should also make a business of taking leave of -Colonel Rivolta and his family. He bethought himself that he had in his -possession a book belonging to Clara, and that he ought to return it. -He might send it, or he might leave it with Mr. Martindale, requesting -him to present a message of thanks; and that plan would obviate the -inconvenience of personally returning it, in doing which he feared that -he might betray some emotion which he would fain conceal. For the truth -is, he was of opinion that it would not be a prudent step to declare an -attachment at a moment when he was just about to leave England. That -would be to involve himself and Clara too in a painful perplexity. -There were many changes to be feared during the time of his absence -from England. There was a considerate thought that it would be scarcely -advisable that he should form an engagement so long before it could -be fulfilled; and amidst other ideas which occupied his mind on the -subject, was the consideration of theological differences between the -parties. - -All these things had their weight; but it does not follow that because -a young man considers, that he is therefore considerate. Powerful -as consideration may be, feeling is much more powerful; and it has -also an efficacy in overruling and influencing the decisions of -the understanding, and cheating the judgment by a speciousness of -reasoning. Thus it was that Markham, with all his sagacity, allowed -himself to be imposed on. He reasoned thus:--Perhaps, if I leave -England without announcing it to Clara, it may occur to her that I had -some very powerful reason for such neglect of common politeness, and -there may arise in her mind a suspicion of that which really exists, -and then there may be in her mind a corresponding sentiment, which, if -not cherished, may die away and be forgotten; and it would not be right -for me to arouse such sentiments at such a time. It will be best then -if I personally return the book, and very coolly and politely take my -leave; yet, upon second thoughts, why should or need there be any thing -of coolness in my manner. It will be most suitable to be perfectly -uniform, and to take my leave in a friendly, cordial manner, as I have -hitherto behaved towards her. - -With this resolution he made his last visit, with a view of taking -leave of Colonel and Signora Rivolta and of Clara, and of returning -with thanks a book which he had borrowed from the latter. Books are -very convenient for lovers; they are a species of Cupid’s go-cart; -they are the gentle and gradual introduction of sentiment; they speak -without blushing; they are fluent in the utterance, and they can tell -many a tender tale by a doubled leaf, or a pencil mark; or a rose-leaf -may mark an interesting page. When Markham talked to himself about -a cool and quiet leave-taking and a friendly farewell, he did not -recollect or deeply think of books interchanged, and of beautiful -passages marked for their sentiment and pathos, and most peculiarly -applicable to peculiar circumstances: he forgot how many striking -passages and elegant extracts he had read aloud, and how much force -and energy he gave, or attempted to give, to these expressive and -select beauties: he forgot how many associations were connected with -books. There was also another circumstance which of course did not -occur to him. Clara Rivolta was not situated as any young woman of -English family and extensive acquaintance; she had not seen much of -society; Markham was the only young gentleman with whom she was at -all acquainted; and those few other persons whom she had seen did not -make any favourable impression on her mind. By comparison therefore -with them, Markham was highly agreeable to her, and positively also -was he not unacceptable, inasmuch as Clara herself had no slight -tincture of what may be called pedantry. Confined intercourse with -human society produces, almost of necessity, some degree of pedantry, -which is nothing more than an undue estimate of the importance of some -one object of human interest or pursuit. Clara had lived secluded, had -been much alone, was of a poetical and almost romantic temperament, -had contemplated humanity and its interests through the medium of -imagination and poetry; she had lived in a world of her own, and the -world of reality was to her thought harsh, rough, and ungracious. When -therefore she met with Markham, who had also an imagination somewhat -poetical, and a decided taste for the lighter and more graceful -productions of genius; and when she saw this young gentleman brought -into immediate contrast with an uncourteous and rude coxcomb, as he -was at the trial, her opinion of him was flattering; and when, after -farther acquaintance, she observed that his mind was well-cultivated, -his manners gentle, his deportment essentially and decidedly courteous, -and when he had taken great pains to render her well pleased with -scenes about her, and to communicate information to her on such topics -as she felt interested in, she became more and more pleased with his -society, always happy to see him, always happy to hear him, disposed -to acquiesce in his judgment, and to be guided by his opinion; and -above all, as there was not in her heart any previous attachment, very -naturally her affections rested more tenderly on Markham than she was -well aware. - -If, therefore, Markham had need of management and direction, that he -might take his leave of Clara without betraying any undue emotion, -so had the young lady also as great need to exercise a commanding -discretion on her part. But in this matter the lady was not so well -prepared as the gentleman; for the latter was somewhat aware of the -state of his own mind, but the former knew not aright the nature of the -interest she felt in the company of her kind and intelligent friend. -Markham had told Mr. Martindale of the day fixed for his departure, and -the old gentleman insisted that he should spend his last day in their -company. - -It is very remarkable, but not less true than strange, that though Mr. -Martindale had cautioned the young gentleman against losing his heart -when he saw Clara in old Richard Smith’s cottage, and regarded her -merely as a country girl, yet it never occurred to the old gentleman, -now the real circumstances of the young lady were known, and Markham -was in the daily habit of seeing and conversing with her, that there -was any danger of an attachment springing up between them. Mr. -Martindale, if he thought at all upon the subject, thought that all -Markham’s visits and attentions were to himself, and for his sake; and -he was pleased with the young gentleman for devoting so much of his -time to the party. Signora Rivolta, however, thought and saw otherwise. -It was clear to her observing eye and her discerning mind, that -Markham’s visits, if not attracted by Clara, were at least rendered -agreeable by her company. It was also very obvious to her that the -barrister’s visits were agreeable to Clara, and that an attachment to -the young gentleman had been gradually and insensibly forming in her -heart. It might be supposed that the faith in which Signora Rivolta -had been educated, would have influenced and determined her to oppose -every obstacle in her power to the growth of such an attachment; but -the truth is, that she had understanding enough to discern that the -dangers and difficulties of opposition were as great and as serious -as the danger threatened by this young attachment: for she knew that -such had ever been the imaginative and ardent complexion of Clara’s -mind, that if love should ever take possession of her heart, it would -have a strong hold there, beyond the power of ordinary arguments and -every-day principles to expel. She was not quite satisfied, for she had -never had an opportunity of ascertaining how deeply the principles of -her religion were infixed in her mind, nor could she conjecture what -power these principles might have over her affections. She thought it -safer, therefore, to avoid bringing these principles into danger by -any premature experiment of their strength. There was also to be added -to these considerations another thought; it was possible that Markham -might be brought over to the true faith; and it may also be remarked -that Signora Rivolta herself was not so very decided, as some persons -of her faith are supposed to be, in the conviction that there could -be no salvation out of the pale of that church to which she belonged. -That there could be many virtues out of the pale of that church, she -had learned from the amiable and excellent character of her maternal -uncle, poor old Richard Smith; and that a religion which she had been -taught to esteem heretical, could afford a calm and placid support in -the hour of death, had been also manifested by her uncle’s dying-bed. -These considerations rendered Signora Rivolta less decidedly hostile to -the supposed intentions of Markham than otherwise she might have been. - -The day appointed for Markham to pay his farewell visit to his good -friends, Mr. Martindale and family, being arrived, the young gentleman -went with not quite so heavy a heart as he had expected. He felt -himself perfectly composed, and began to fancy that his attachment to -Clara was not so decided and powerful as to render it at all necessary -to use any peculiar caution in his tones or language of leave-taking. -He even smiled at the idea, that though it was the gloomy month of -November, proverbial for its power of depressing the spirits, he was -yet in a tolerably cheerful and composed state of mind. - -Mr. Martindale had removed from the hotel in which he resided for the -first week of his stay in town, and had established his daughter and -family in a ready-furnished house. Markham was not beyond the time -appointed for his visit, but rather before it. He was shown into the -drawing-room, which at his entrance was empty. He was glad of that; -for it gave him time to prepare himself, to study looks and speeches. -There is more ostensible than real advantage in a circumstance of -this nature. Empty rooms, especially such as are usually occupied by -very interesting persons, always make one shiver, let the weather in -summer be ever so warm, or the fires in winter ever so good. The most -confident and self-satisfied derive no benefit from such opportunity of -preparation. So Markham presently found, though we do not say that he -was a very confident man. He experienced after the first minute or two -an indefinable sensation, as though the very air of the room was not -in the best and fittest state for respiration. He had no power to sit -still, and but little to walk about the apartment. The house, being a -ready-furnished house, was not replete with much that was ornamental. -There were some few pictures, but of such very inferior value, that no -one who had any thing else to do or think of would trouble himself to -rise from his seat to look at them. There was a table in the middle -of the room, on which lay in disorder some books, which looked as if -they were made on purpose to be scattered on drawing-room tables. There -was also a portfolio of drawings partly open, or so carelessly closed, -that its contents were visible and ascertainable without being moved. -Markham looked at the drawings as they lay; then he ventured to draw -them out one after another: they were the same that he had seen before -repeatedly, and he thought that he should see them no more. Then his -spirits began to sink and his cheerfulness abated, and he felt very -November-like. Arranging the drawings as nearly as possible in the same -disorder as he had found them, he perceived under the portfolio an open -atlas. The map of that country which was destined to be his residence -for some few years to come lay open before him. He was looking at it -with the pleasing thought that some of his friends had been thinking of -him, when the drawing-room door opened, and Clara entered alone. - -It is very provoking after taking an infinity of trouble to prepare -for a meeting, and after composing the countenance, and arranging the -very words and tone of greeting and salutation, to be suddenly taken -by surprise, just at that very moment when all this composure has been -disarranged and unsettled. So was Markham taken. He very abruptly and -awkwardly drew from his pocket the book which he had borrowed from the -young lady, and was commencing a set speech, being about to say that -he must soon leave his native land and change the aspect of his being, -when Mr. Martindale most unfortunately entered the room and abruptly -dispersed his eloquence. The book was laid upon the table; Markham -muttered polite acknowledgments for the use of it; and Mr. Martindale -very unceremoniously hurried the young lady out of the room, urging her -to make all possible haste to dress for dinner. Now it was very clear -that there could be no farther opportunity for Markham to see Clara -alone, or to ascertain the state of her feelings towards him; and had -there been any sincerity in the many wise and prudent remarks he had -made to himself on that subject, he would not have been sorry for the -interruption, but would have consoled himself with the reflection that -there had been a happy avoidance of that which might have produced a -painful and perplexing explanation. The plain truth however was, that -notwithstanding all his considerate thoughts, he was so far in love, -that he would have been most happy in the assurance that the feeling -was mutual, and that he might, when away from England, live cheerfully -on the bright hopes of the happiness awaiting his return. Being -disappointed in his expectations of approaching an explanation, and -feeling the manifest impropriety and indelicacy of making a regular and -formal proposal on the very eve of his departure, he felt almost angry; -he was decidedly low-spirited and out of humour. - -At dinner the conversation turned almost solely on Markham’s departure. -Mr. Martindale congratulated him on his peculiar good fortune in -meeting with such valuable patronage, and expressed very cordially his -confident hopes that so auspicious a commencement would be followed by -corresponding success through life. The old gentleman then administered -a very copious supply of most valuable advice, to all of which Markham -listened with very respectful attention. The old gentleman had indeed -all the talk to himself. Colonel Rivolta was a very brave man and a -very good patriot, but ordinarily he was not much addicted to talking. -Signora Rivolta could talk if she would, and could be silent if she -would. This seems no great praise, but it is a compliment which -cannot fairly be paid to great multitudes of either sex. Many are the -simpletons that have not wit enough to talk, or not wisdom enough to -hold their peace. The mother of Clara had reason to suppose it not -improbable that Horatio Markham might one day make an offer of his hand -to her daughter, and under this impression was especially desirous to -understand and rightly apprehend the young man’s character; she was -also desirous of knowing what Mr. Martindale also thought of him; and -by paying attention to the topics on which the old gentleman thought -it necessary to dwell in giving advice, inferences might be drawn -as to the opinion which he entertained of the young man’s moral and -intellectual character. That Clara was silent is not to be wondered at. -Young people should always be silent when old people are giving advice. -For supposing that the young people like good advice, they can the -better hear it if they be silent; and supposing that they do not like -it, it will be the sooner over if they do not interrupt it. - -It requires not a very lively imagination to picture to itself how much -and how deeply Markham was disappointed at being compelled to undergo -at his farewell visit a long story of good advice, instead of enjoying -the luxury of a pathetic parting. And as if from the pure desire to -prevent any display of the pathetic, the old gentleman, soon after -the ladies had retired from the dining-room, desired to have coffee -sent in; and when it arrived, he most provokingly said to the young -gentleman: - -“Now, young man, it is growing late, and so I will not detain you. You -must be stirring early to-morrow morning. I will make your apology to -the ladies. I shall be very happy to hear from you, when you arrive at -your station; and if I live till you come back, I shall be glad to see -you.” - -There was in Mr. Martindale’s manner of speaking an indescribable -kind of positiveness and decision, which prevented all reply or -contradiction. Poor Horatio was under an absolute necessity of -complying, and after delaying as long as he decently could, he rose to -take his leave, and to make a long speech in good set terms, thanking -his kind friend for the notice which he had taken of a young and -obscure stranger. But the old gentleman did not like long speeches that -were not made by himself. Nature designs the aged to be talkers, not -listeners; as the faculty of hearing perishes before that of speaking. -Markham was compelled to condense his farewell acknowledgments into -very few words: there was certainly great sincerity in his repetition -of the great regret which he felt in leaving such agreeable friends. -Dismal is a November night in London; and especially dismal was it to -Markham to walk through a drizzling rain, by the mockery of lamp-light, -all the way from Piccadilly to the Inner Temple, and there to find his -little luggage all carefully packed up ready to start; and to find -a gloomy looking fire that seemed to grudge the little warmth and -cheerfulness that it communicated to the apartment, and to see his -book-cases empty, and to see two candles dimly burning on the table; -but to see no human face, no look of home, of family, of friends. -True, he was a successful man, was in the road to preferment, had made -himself many and good friends, but he was very dull, very low-spirited. -He had been grievously disappointed, nay, worse than disappointed; for -had he found an opportunity to speak or even look a thought of love to -Clara, and had it been met by the coldness of distaste, he would have -had then only to divert his thoughts, and to fill his mind with other -subjects. He then would have known what it was that he had to trust to. -But now, poor man, all was uncertainty, perplexity, and suspense. He -knew not whether Clara was totally indifferent or not, and he had no -means left to ascertain the fact. It was clearly his own fault that he -had not sooner made up his own mind, and ascertained his own feelings; -for that he reproached himself, but his reproaches availed nothing. - -Still farther meditating on the perplexing affair, he came to the -unpleasant conclusion, that, if there had been on the part of Clara any -feeling of regard and attachment towards him, she must now necessarily -conclude that he had no especial regard for her, or he would not have -left England without declaring himself, or at least without giving some -intimation of the state of his mind. But no sooner had he arrived at -this conclusion, which ought at once to have put him out of suspense, -than he flew back from it again; and instead of sorrowing only for -himself, he began to feel great compassion for Clara, on the gratuitous -supposition that her heart was partly if not entirely lost to him, and -lost in vain; and, thereupon, he reproached himself for having behaved -unkindly towards her. - -Thus ingeniously did the young gentleman torment himself till past -midnight, till his fire was extinct for want of stirring, and his -candles were like torches for want of snuffing. Cold and cheerless he -retired to rest, and there remains on record no memorial of his dreams. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - “And if thou ever happen that same way - To traveill, go to see that dreadful place.” - - SPENSER. - - -The following day dawned brighter. Though it was November, the sun had -strength to struggle through the clouds; and much of the heavy weight -that lay on Markham’s mind the preceding day was alleviated by brighter -hopes and better thoughts. There was a pleasant re-action in his -spirits, and he wondered how it was that he had been so depressed on -the previous evening. He was cheerful and light-hearted in giving his -orders concerning the removal of his luggage, and when he went aboard -the vessel which was destined to convey him from England, he met with -so flattering and complimentary a reception from the captain, that all -the world seemed bright about him, and he trusted that he should not -lack friends in a distant land. His thoughts rushed impetuously forward -to the new scene which was about to open upon him, and he was pleased -to think how many valuable introductory letters he possessed, and he -hoped that acquaintances would, many of them, become valuable friends -and agreeable companions. But we have no intention of accompanying -our young friend on his voyage. Suffice it to say, that he sailed in -good spirits, that the wind blew variously as it often does on a long -voyage, and that he reached his port in safety. - -We must return now to old Mr. Martindale and his family. His attachment -to his family was continually increasing. He was more than pleased -with his daughter, he was absolutely proud of her. He always spoke of -her emphatically as _my daughter_. He consulted her wishes in every -thing, and was always guided by her opinion, the least intimation of -which was law to him. With all his oddities, and he had not a few, -he had discernment enough to see that Signora Rivolta was really a -person of solid understanding and of clear judgment. He only wondered -how it was that a woman of such good sense should adopt the Roman -Catholic religion; but on this subject he seldom touched, for he -found that he could make no impression. With the Colonel, however, -he would occasionally enter into an argument, and not unfrequently -did he fancy that in these discussions he had the advantage. Colonel -Rivolta was not a very zealous believer in the infallibility of His -Holiness. He had never paid much attention to theology as a matter of -argument or reflection; he did not know enough of his native religion -to be converted to any other, though the side which he had taken in -politics rendered him not very bigoted to the religion established in -Italy. In religion he was a liberal, not a sceptic or an unbeliever; -he had no doubts, for he scarcely ever thought of the subject. He had -no wish to make converts, he was willing to let every one enjoy his -own opinions; and he would never have taken the trouble to defend -the Catholic religion against Mr. Martindale, but that he thought -the old gentleman was fond of an argument, and he liked to indulge -him. As for the religion of Clara, which is of the most importance -to our purpose, it is rather difficult to define or describe it. Her -education had been miscellaneous; she had been in early life initiated -into the religion of Italy, but in after-years the conversation of -Richard Smith, her great uncle, had somewhat disturbed and unsettled -her mind as to the exclusive safety of the Catholic religion. Her -strongest ground of attachment to that faith was, that it was the -religion of her mother. There was, however, in her mind that degree of -imaginativeness, that needed not so much external and visible aid to -devotion as that religion presented her with, therefore she did not -feel herself dependent on its forms. Truth compels us to add, which -we do with a considerable degree of reluctance, that Clara Rivolta, -during her residence at Brigland, had more than once said to her great -uncle, that her principal objection to the Protestant religion was the -indifference of its priests. This remark had reference, we ought to -say, almost solely to Mr. Denver, the perpetual curate of Brigland; -and every allowance ought to be made for him. It is no easy matter to -serve three churches with a very lively and ardent feeling, especially -when to the fatigue of the duty there is also added the toil of -riding several miles on a tall, old, raw-boned, shuffling, stumbling, -jumbling, broken-winded, and ill-saddled, iron-grey mare. Clara had -never seen any other clergyman, except one or two who had occasionally -been visiting the Hon. Philip Martindale during the shooting season. Of -these gentlemen she knew nothing, except that whenever they met her, -they stared very rudely at her. She formed her judgment of the English -clergy from a very few and very so-so samples. Blending a respectable -share of discrimination and reflection with an imaginative soul and a -feeling heart, her religion was in the most comprehensive sense of the -word purely Catholic. Outwardly her conformity was to the religion of -her birth-place; and perhaps had she never been acquainted with any -other mode, her devotion to that in which she had been educated would -have been much stronger. But when she was instructed that religion -was the medium by which virtue was impressed on the mind, and man -made acceptable to his Maker, and when she was told that there was no -salvation out of the pale of the Roman Catholic Church, and when she -saw what real excellences and what solid virtues adorned the character -of her maternal great uncle, then she thought it absolutely impossible -that the religion of such a man could be otherwise than acceptable to -his Maker; and thereupon, without the elaborateness of argument or the -undetectable wiliness of sophistry, there entered irresistibly into her -mind a spirit of liberality and pure Catholicism. - -It may then be easily supposed that Mr. Martindale was not much -disturbed or annoyed by the difference between his own faith and -that of his family. Whatever disturbance the subject gave him was -entirely of his own making, and arose purely from his own fidgetty -disposition. Such however was the very high estimation in which he -held his daughter, that notwithstanding his zeal for Protestantism, he -would occasionally attend the worship of her church, and occasionally -the compliment was returned. This compliance on the part of the old -gentleman, together with the satisfaction that he expressed at the -occasional conformity of his newly-found family, gave pretty strong -indication to Philip Martindale that his wealthy cousin destined a -larger share of his fortune for Signora Rivolta than ordinarily falls -to the lot of a natural daughter. His difficulties and perplexities -therefore increased, and his choice vibrated with great rapidity -between Clara Rivolta and Celestina Sampson. He exercised much -caution and deliberation in considerations of various eligibilities -and ineligibilities. Had he used as much thought before he gave his -honorable countenance to the ring, the course, and the cockpit, before -he laid bets on rat-catchers’ dogs, and borrowed money of the Jews to -pay those bets withal, he would not have needed now to have recourse -to the meanness of attempting a heartless marriage to mend his broken -fortunes. Sadly and seriously did he lay to heart his past follies; -and he grieved the more because he grieved in vain. He knew very well -that there was no remedy for the past, and that it would require -some ingenuity to prevent affairs from becoming worse. He grew quite -dejected, and even demure; and he occasionally would lecture some of -his honorable and right honorable friends on the folly and absurdity -of gaming. But his repentance, though he was not aware of the fact, -consisted rather of uneasiness under the consequences of transgression, -than of any feeling of regret for the transgression as considered in -itself. - -There was in his mind also another thought which was very natural -under present circumstances, and that was, that it would be desirable -that he should leave the Abbey, and thankfully resign it to his worthy -relative, who on the unexpected discovery of a new family might be -willing to increase his establishment, though he might feel some little -delicacy and hesitation about the removal of his relative. With this -idea Philip went again to London, where the old gentleman continued to -reside with his family; for by taking this step, the young gentleman -hoped that he should be able to ascertain what were the intentions of -his relative towards him. - -Philip was very cordially received by Mr. John Martindale, who did not -interrogate him as usual on the object of his visit to London. This -omission was a symptom of indifference; but a still stronger symptom -was manifested when Philip announced to his relative the business on -which he had come to town. As soon as he had done speaking, the old -gentleman in his usual abrupt manner replied: “Well, do as you like. -I think a smaller house may be better for you. But as for my going to -reside there, I should not think of such a thing. I shall sell the -Abbey, if I can have a price for it.” - -“Sell it, sir!” replied Philip in the utmost astonishment; “you surely -are not serious.” - -“But I am decidedly serious,” said the old gentleman; “I have had the -amusement of building the house, and so far it has answered my purpose. -It is of no farther use to me. Will you buy it?” - -Philip smiled at the question; but the smile cost him a great effort. -He saw that he was destined to be the sport of circumstances, and he -inwardly groaned at his very unfortunate lot; that the line which -he had pursued in hopes of coming into possession of a valuable -inheritance, had brought him into painful and mortifying perplexities. -He thought within himself how foolish he should look at being compelled -to leave his splendid mansion; but he had never thought before how much -more foolish he looked, when he was only nominal master of a mansion -which was far too large for him, and too magnificent for his actual -or possible means. It was, indeed, by the more knowing ones shrewdly -suspected that Mr. John Martindale had, in building so splendid a -concern, seriously transgressed the limits of prudence, and that he -had not the ability, supposing him to have the inclination, suitably -and consistently to occupy so large and splendid a building. There -had need be very great pleasure in building, for there are often very -great pains and mortifications resulting from efforts at architectural -magnificence. Blessings, however, rest on the heads of those ingenious -architects who let us have splendour so cheap, and who convert plaister -into stone, and splinters into timber! - -To return to our subject. The old gentleman seriously and coolly -persisted in his determination to sell the house, and as coolly did he -accept Philip’s resignation of his possession. Mr. Martindale the elder -merely said: - -“But where do you intend to reside? At home with his lordship? Or, -suppose you look out for a place in the country. What say you to living -among your constituents? There is a very good house at Trimmerstone; it -has not been occupied lately, but the last who resided there was a man -of rank. If you like to reside there, I will put it in order for you. -But it is high time you should think of marrying.” - -The house at Trimmerstone had indeed been occupied by a man of rank, -or, more properly speaking, by the housekeeper and a few old servants -of a man of rank. Many summers had passed over its roof, and many -storms had spent their fury on its weather-beaten sides, since any -thing had been done to it in the way of repair. At the time that Mr. -Martindale was speaking of it as a suitable residence for his honorable -cousin, it was almost in a state of dilapidation. Philip had seen the -house, and had some recollection of it; and our readers may easily -judge of the young gentleman’s state of mind when the proposal was made -to settle him there, and to exchange a splendid modern mansion for an -out-of-the-way, ill-contrived, lumbering old mansion-house. - -Trimmerstone Hall was a long and almost indescribable building, which -seemed as if it had stood till it half sunk into the earth. It was -approached by a long, superannuated, everlasting avenue of trees, which -had stood growing, no mortal could tell how long. There was such a -density of foliage, that the middle part of the building was almost -in total darkness; and whether the path between the trees was gravel, -grass, or withered vegetation, it was not easy to ascertain. Two broad, -dislocated stone steps sinking downwards between two stunted black -brick walls, and surmounted by a grotesque wooden portico, admitted -those who could stoop low enough to avoid hitting their heads, into -a wide, broad, cold hall paved with marble, which nature had made -black and white, but which time and other accidents had converted into -brown and yellow. Immediately opposite to the front door, and not many -yards from it, opened the back door, which in architectural beauty and -convenience of arrangement was a fac-simile of its opposite neighbour. -There were windows also in the entrance-hall, one on each side the two -doors; and the windows were constructed upon that ingenious principle -which admits any thing but light. On one side of this hall was a -mighty fire-place, which looked as if it had never had a fire in it; -and on the other was a broad staircase, with banisters strong enough -to build a dozen Regent Street houses withal. There were rooms of -divers dimensions and various degrees of deformity. To describe their -arrangement is impossible, inasmuch as they had no arrangement. - -The state-apartments were hung with damask or with tapestry. Time had -played sad tricks with these decorations, as it had also with the old -oak floors, which had lost their shape and colour. No four-legged -article of furniture could by any arguments be induced to stand steady -on its legitimate supporters; and if a four-post bedstead had been -placed on the higher side of a room, it must inevitably have rolled on -its castors to the opposite side. The windows throughout the mansion -were villainous; and the whole building seemed fit for nothing but to -make a pencil-drawing, or an etching from it. - -Though the great mass of the house appeared to have sunk into the -ground, the fine old chimneys looked as if they had grown taller, or -left the house to sink without them. They almost rivalled in altitude -the old trees of the avenue. They were visible from a great distance, -but the house was not, for it stood in a hollow; and the ground about -was finely watered by divers rivulets, which did not seem at all -particular as to the course they took, but with a noble and liberal -impartiality spontaneously or promiscuously irrigated, that is to say, -sopped the meadows, grounds, and gardens, which surrounded the house. - -Such was the habitation which the wealthy cousin of the Hon. Philip -Martindale proposed for the residence of a young gentleman born to be -legislator, and proud of the antiquity of his family and the dignity of -his high rank. Philip knew the house, and what is more, he knew that -his cousin knew it. - -It was a keen and bitter mortification to have such a proposal made; -but though he fully determined not to stoop so low as to accept it, he -was too dependent to reject it point-blank. He merely said:-- - -“I am inclined to think, sir, from what I recollect of Trimmerstone -Hall, that it will require more to put it into good repair than the -present building is worth; and the situation being so very low and -swampy, I am afraid that I should not enjoy my health there. But, sir, -there is no absolute necessity for my having a distinct residence at -present, while I remain single. I can reside with my family; and as I -think of paying a closer attention to my parliamentary duties, I shall -of course spend more of my time in London.” - -“Ay, ay, so you will; right, I forgot that. Yes, yes, you ought clearly -to be more attentive to your parliamentary duties. Well, I am not -sorry you think of leaving the Abbey. I shall certainly dispose of it. -It was very amusing to build the house; and so the proverb will be -verified--Fools build houses, and wise men live in them.” - -When a man calls himself a fool in the hearing of another, that other -is in duty bound to contradict him: for it is not in the nature of -things that any man really thinking himself a fool should avow that -conviction. To speak paradoxically, if a man sincerely avows himself -a fool, he thinks himself a wise man in having found out that he is -a fool, and requires a compliment as a matter of course. It is the -expected duty of every one therefore, hearing another call himself a -fool, to contradict him. To do that well is difficult, and requires -great address. It must not be contradicted point-blank and flatly, but -it must be circuitously done. Every man who calls himself a fool is -offended if he fancies that he is believed, is offended if he be not -contradicted, and is also offended if he be contradicted, so as to give -proof that he is suspected of expecting contradiction. - -Now, though Philip Martindale was a gentleman of very fashionable -manners, and perfectly informed and well instructed as to all the forms -and modes of fashionable address, yet his knowledge was simply that of -forms and modes; he had no natural intuition; no native and unbought -perception of abstract propriety and unchangeable good manners. Of -mind and its movements he was totally ignorant; he knew what was -fashionable as well as any man; even at the cockpit or the ring, though -dressed like a groom, he was known to be a gentleman. Thus it is that -those who belong to a certain class are always known and recognised by -their inimitable and untranscribable manners, having only to do with -externals, they are perfect in them. The less intellect they have, the -more skilful are they in the art; even as parrots most faithfully utter -the words which they are taught, because reflection supplies them with -none other. But such parrot-like politeness would not answer with such -a man as old John Martindale. Any thing common-place was his aversion -and abomination. It required peculiar tact and skill to manage him; and -this skill the Hon. Philip Martindale did not possess in a very eminent -degree. When therefore the young gentleman began to mutter forth some -affected contradiction to what Mr. John Martindale had been pleased to -say of himself, the latter hastily interrupted him. - -“Pish, nonsense; none of your foolish complimenting. I was a fool to -build the house, and I should be a greater fool to live in it. I shall -find some simpleton with more money than wit, who may be glad to buy -it at half the money which it cost me to build it. Well, now you are -in town, you may as well stay with us, if you are not too proud to -patronise my relations. You will find them very sensible, well-informed -people, though they have no title.” - -To this invitation Philip felt no repugnance, and consequently made no -objection: for he was very desirous of seeing more of Clara Rivolta, -and of ingratiating himself into her favour, should such a measure -be found necessary or desirable in a financial point of view. As the -London winter was now approaching, he also hoped that he should have -an opportunity of observing how Mr. Martindale’s relatives would be -received in the world, determining to be chiefly governed as to his -decision respecting Clara by the manner in which her family should be -noticed. He had sense enough to see that Signora Rivolta was a superior -woman in mind and manners; but he was doubtful whether the rank of -his cousin was high enough, or wealth extensive enough, to command -respect for a natural daughter. There is a jealousy of superior minds; -and artificial nobility feels indignant at being eclipsed by natural -nobility. As for Clara, her mild and gentle spirit would create for -her affection and patronage every where. The sweetness of her temper, -the unobtrusive soundness of her judgment, her strong natural sense -of propriety, would command universal regard; but there was also to -be considered the reception with which the mother might meet: for the -mother and the daughter were clearly inseparable. The one would receive -no smiles or courtesy which should be denied to or withheld from the -other. A severe trial now awaited the half-captived heart of Clara -Rivolta. - -END OF VOL. I. - - LONDON: - PRINTED BY A.J. 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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Rank and Talent; A Novel, Vol. I (of 3) - -Author: William Pitt Scargill - -Release Date: November 5, 2016 [EBook #53455] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANK AND TALENT, VOL 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Heather Clark and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="cover"> - -<p class="titlepage larger">RANK AND TALENT;<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smaller">A NOVEL.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY THE</span><br /> -AUTHOR OF “TRUCKLEBOROUGH-HALL.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent1">When once he’s made a Lord,</div> -<div class="verse">Who’ll be so saucy as to think he can</div> -<div class="verse">Be impotent in wisdom?</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Cook.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Why, Sir, ’tis neither satire nor moral, but the mere passage -of an history; yet there are a sort of discontented creatures, -that bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest -the doings of any man to their base malicious appliment.</p> - -<p class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Marston.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">IN THREE VOLUMES.</p> - -<p class="center">VOL. I.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.<br /> -1829.</p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>RANK AND TALENT.</h1> - -<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Law is the world’s great light, a second sun</div> -<div class="verse">To this terrestrial globe, by which all things</div> -<div class="verse">Have life and being; and without which</div> -<div class="verse">Confusion and disorder soon would seize</div> -<div class="verse">The general state of men.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Barry.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Summer assizes for the county of ——, in -the year 18—, excited in the county-town where -they were held rather more than the usual sensation; -but in the remote and smaller town of -Brigland, they roused a stirring interest. Long -before the day of the trial, every vehicle which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -could be hired was engaged to carry the curious -to the assizes, to hear the action brought by poor -old Richard Smith against the Hon. Philip -Martindale, for an assault and false imprisonment. -The defendant was by no means popular -at Brigland, and there were circumstances, -which rendered the injury done to the plaintiff -peculiarly hard and oppressive; and whenever -the sympathy of the multitude is with the poor -oppressed against the rich oppressor, that sympathy -is very strong, and indignation is not -choice in the terms of its expression, nor does -cool deliberation precede judgment. It was the -common, and almost universal wish, that the -defendant might have to pay heavy damages; -and that he might hear from the lips of the -plaintiff’s counsel some home truths, which -might mortify his pride, and abate his arrogance.</p> - -<p>In addition to the excitement which this -action produced, there was also another, though -smaller stimulus to curiosity, in the first appearance -on the circuit of a young barrister, who -was a native of the town in which the assizes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -were held. These two circumstances, therefore, -filled the court at an early hour with anxious -and curious expectants.</p> - -<p>The plaintiff’s attorney had put his brief into -the hands of the young barrister; the defendant -had retained a more experienced advocate, one -well versed in the theory of the law, and, what -is far more to the purpose, deeply skilled in the -ways of the world, and the practice of courts—one -who had the professionally desirable art of -mystifying a jury, and of persuading twelve -men out of their senses—one who would be sure -of every cause he undertook, were it not for the -summing up of the judge—one who, by means -of a loud voice and swaggering manner, was a -terror to nine-tenths of the simpletons who -entered the witness’ box—one who never cross-examined -a female witness without making her -blush, or terrifying her to tears—one who could -talk very solemnly about “our holy religion,” -and could convert into a joke the clearest principles -of morality, or the deepest sufferings of -humanity. It was a great amusement to the -country people and the county magistrates to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -hear this very clever man; and poor old Richard -Smith was very much alarmed when he found -what a dexterous and terrific adversary was -employed against him, and he expressed his -fears to his own attorney, who comforted him -by saying, “Had your cause been a bad one, I -would have retained Mr. ——.”</p> - -<p>After one or two causes had been disposed -of, that of Smith <i>versus</i> Martindale was called. -Then, for the first time, and in his native town, -did Horatio Markham open his lips in a court -of justice. Notwithstanding the profound and -anxious silence which prevailed in the court, -scarcely one-half of the persons there could -hear distinctly the commencement of his speech; -but by degrees he gained confidence, and his -voice was more audible. The audience, however, -was not very highly pleased with what -he said. Many thought that he stated the case -much too feebly. Some thought that he was -afraid of the defendant’s counsel; and others -thought he was fearful of offending the defendant -himself. The Hon. Philip Martindale, who -was on the bench, listened with but slight attention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -to the speech; and when it was finished, -honoured it with a contemptuous sneer. This -sneer was reflected in most courtly style by the -gentlemen who sat on either side of him; the -high-sheriff was one, and a clerical magistrate -was the other.</p> - -<p>Witnesses were then called to prove the case. -From them it appeared very clear that the -Hon. Philip Martindale had, upon very defective -evidence, and against very credible evidence, -committed Richard Smith to jail as a -poacher; and the said Hon. Philip Martindale -had also with great severity, not to say cruelty, -struck the said Richard Smith, in order, as -the defendant had said, to punish the old -man for his insolence. What this insolence -was, would not have appeared to the court, had -it not been for the dexterity of the defendant’s -counsel, in cross-examining one of the plaintiff’s -witnesses.</p> - -<p>This witness was a very pretty, modest-looking -young woman, who seemed to suffer -quite enough from the publicity in which she -was placed by being brought to speak in open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -court. The temptation was too strong for the -defendant’s counsel to resist; and he therefore -took abundant pains to show his wit, by asking -a long string of impertinent questions, and repeating -the answers to those questions in a loud -insulting tone. He and those who follow his -example, are best able to say how far such a -mode of proceeding can answer the ends of -justice—how far it is consistent with the gravity -and decorum of a court, and with the character -of a gentleman—how far it is calculated to -impress the multitude with a sentiment of reverence -for the expounders of the law—and how -far it is likely to advance those who adopt it, -in their own esteem.</p> - -<p>The cross-examination of this young woman, -who was the plaintiff’s niece, led to a re-examination, -in which it was made manifest to the -court, as it had been previously known to most -then present, that the severity of the Hon. -Philip Martindale towards poor old Richard -Smith arose from the vigilance with which the -old man guarded his niece, and preserved her -from the artifices of the defendant. When this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -fact came out in evidence, there was an involuntary -and indescribable expression of contempt -in the court; and the honourable defendant -endeavoured to smile away his mortification, -but did not succeed, though he was countenanced -by the high-sheriff on one side of him, -and a clerical magistrate on the other. The -contrast between impertinence and decorum was -never so strongly manifested as in the cross-examination -and re-examination above alluded -to; and it has been said that the witty barrister -himself was not quite at his ease, and that he -broke down in an attempted jest upon gravity.</p> - -<p>The counsel for the defendant called no witnesses, -but made a witty speech; in which he -proved by arguments which made the multitude -laugh, that it is a very slight inconvenience to -be imprisoned for a few months; that seduction -is a very venial offence, and highly becoming a -gentleman; that it is a great condescension in -a man of high rank to knock down a poor cottager; -that gray hairs are a very ludicrous -ornament; that it is very insolent in a poor man -to interrupt a rich man in his pursuit of vicious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -pleasure; that the game-laws are so very excellent, -that persons only suspected of violating -them ought to be punished. Then he gave the -jury to understand, that if they should be foolish -enough to give a verdict for the plaintiff, they -must award the least possible damages. Then -he sat down, and took a great quantity of snuff, -and winked at the high-sheriff. In spite of all -the wit and coxcomical impertinence of this redoubtable -advocate, the jury found a verdict for -the plaintiff, giving him one hundred pounds -damages.</p> - -<p>This verdict, and the unpretending sobriety -of the young barrister’s mode of arguing his -case, occasioned much conversation in the town, -and gave also ground for some observations -among the gentlemen of the bar. Some of -these gentlemen had known Horatio Markham -from the very first day that he had entered his -name in the Temple. They were acquainted -with his taste and the line of his reading, and -they knew that the oratorical writers of antiquity -and of modern times occupied a place on -his shelves and a share of his attention; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -they expected that when he held such a brief as -that of which we have made mention, he would -indulge a little in declamation. It was therefore -a matter of surprise to them when he -confined himself so strictly to the record, and -suffered his case to rest so independently on -its own strength. The opposing counsel was -completely at fault. He had calculated so -confidently on Markham’s eloquence, and was -so familiar with the common places of declamation, -that he was quite prepared with a -copious supply of extemporaneous witticisms, -with which he designed to overwhelm the young -gentleman, and throw ridicule on his cause. -It was therefore a disappointment to him when -he found that all this previous preparation was -labour lost. But though most of the barristers -on the circuit joined with the witty counsel for -the defendant in his vituperation of those who -had been instrumental in procuring such a verdict, -yet secretly they were not displeased that -their tyrant had been so fairly set down. Markham -was absolutely beginning to be a favourite -on the circuit. The judge himself all but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -publicly complimented him on the able and -gentleman-like manner in which he had managed -his cause; and even the honourable defendant -was mortified that there was nothing in Markham’s -language to which any exception could -be taken.</p> - -<p>When the court had broken up, the young -barrister most unblushingly walked into a linen-draper’s -shop, and passing on to a little back -parlour, took off his gown and wig, and sat -down to dine with his father and mother. The -old people were proud of their son, and the -young man was not ashamed of his parents. -But he had seen many instances of young persons -who had scarcely deigned to acknowledge -those to whom they were not only bound by the -ties of nature, but to whose self-denial they -owed their distinction and station in life. These -little think how much substantial reputation -they lose, and how little shadowy honour they -gain.</p> - -<p>As the family of the young barrister was -sitting at dinner, there entered to them unannounced, -and without apology, an elderly man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -in very singular attire, and of very singular -appearance. Markham had a recollection of -having seen him in court. His countenance -had an expression of archness, and he seemed -by his looks as though he were on the eve of -uttering some choice piece of wit; there were -also observable indications of impetuosity and -strong self-will. His head was nearly bald; -his shoulders of ample breadth; his stature -short; his voice shrill; and his manner of -speaking quick and dogmatical. Without -taking any notice of the father and mother of -the barrister, he addressed himself directly to -Horatio.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you don’t know me—my name is -Martindale.”</p> - -<p>“The Hon. Philip Martindale?” replied the -young man with great composure; for he was -quite ignorant of the person of the defendant -in the recent action.</p> - -<p>“The Hon. Philip Martindale!” echoed the -stranger, with a tone and with a look which -answered the question very decidedly. “The -Hon. Philip rascal!—no, sir; my name is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -made ridiculous by any such lying adjunct. -My name is John Martindale; and it is my -misfortune to be called cousin by that hopeful -spark who was defendant in the action this -morning. I am come, sir, to tell you that I -think you did yourself honour by the manner in -which you conducted the poor man’s cause.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham perceived that, though the -gentleman was somewhat of an oddity, he was -a man of some consequence, and apparently a -man of good feeling; he therefore replied:</p> - -<p>“Sir, you are very polite; you.…”</p> - -<p>“No such thing,” interrupted Mr. Martindale; -“I am not polite, and hope I never shall -be polite. My cousin Philip is a very polite -man.” Then directing his conversation to Mr. -Markham the elder, he continued: “I congratulate -you, sir, on having for a son a young -man who can make a speech without fine words -and metaphors.”</p> - -<p>This seemed to the father a singular ground -of congratulation, and he did not know how to -reply to it: fortunately, the speaker did not -wait for a reply; but turning again to the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -man, he said: “You must come and spend a -few weeks with me in my cottage at Brigland. -I will have no excuses, so tell me when you -will come. Will you go home with me tonight?”</p> - -<p>Markham recollected that he had in his -boyhood heard frequent talk and many singular -anecdotes of Mr. John Martindale of Brigland; -but as his general character was one of benevolence -and shrewd sense, he was not reluctant -to accept the invitation, especially as it -was given in such terms as not to be refused -without that degree of rudeness which did not -seem suitable from a young man of humble -origin towards an elderly person of high rank. -He therefore professed his readiness to spend a -short time with his new friend, and fixed the -following day for the purpose. The stranger -then took his leave.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly,</div> -<div class="verse">Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion</div> -<div class="verse">To poise my breath; for he that laughs and strikes</div> -<div class="verse">Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Marston.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Brigland-Abbey was one of those desirable -mansions which auctioneers love to describe, -but which are beyond all power of -advertising flattery. It stood on a gradually -descending and very extensive sweep of land; -at the back of which rose a dense and ancient -forest, and in front flowed a stream which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -been artificially widened into the semblance of -a fair and placid lake. The building was in -harmony with the scenery; graceful, stately, -extensive. The architect had successfully imitated -the florid Gothic style of building; and -over the principal entrance was a window of -enormous magnitude, and most brilliant colouring. -Through this window the beams of the -declining sun cast on the marble pavement of -the great hall a luxuriant mass of variegated -light, forming one of the most magnificent -specimens of internal beauty which any mansion -in this kingdom has to boast. This beautiful -estate was the property of Mr. John Martindale, -but the residence of the Hon. Philip -Martindale. The elder Martindale had, for -the place of his abode, a fancifully constructed -cottage, immediately opposite to the great gates -that opened into the park; and so well placed -was this residence, that it had a most beautiful -and imposing view of the great building. For -when Mr. Martindale had finished the erection -of the splendid abbey, it was remarked to him, -as it has been remarked to many others who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -have built splendid mansions, “Now you should -have another house opposite to this, that you -may enjoy the pleasure of looking at this magnificent -pile.”</p> - -<p>On this principle the proprietor acted; residing -in a dwelling called the cottage, and -giving up the great house to his hopeful cousin. -He found a peculiar pleasure in this whim; -for thereby he became master of the master -of the great house; and nothing pleased him -more than to be mistaken for a person of no -consequence, and then to be discovered as -the opulent and remarkable Mr. Martindale. -Some of his neighbours used to report that he -had a right to a title, but that he would not -prosecute his claim, because he despised titles -as mere foolery. These good people were -wrong in their conjecture; but the supposition -was not displeasing to Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>As we are on the subject, we may as well -state here that he was an old bachelor, of extensive -wealth; and that he was third, fourth, -or fifth cousin to a Mr. Martindale, who had -recently been created Lord Martindale, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -whose income was not quite equal to his title. -Now, though Mr. Martindale professed a great -contempt for titles, the fact is, that on his remote -relative’s obtaining this distinction, he -took more notice of him than ever he had before, -and gave very strong indications that it was his -intention to make the Hon. Philip Martindale -his heir. He had established the young gentleman -at the Abbey, tempting his vanity by the -offer of a residence far too magnificent for -his means, and too extensive for his establishment.</p> - -<p>The young man’s vanity was pleased with -this arrangement, for he very sensibly felt that -he was the occupier of the great house; but he -was not so deeply sensible of the fact, that he -was quite under the command of his opulent -and humorous relative. He looked forward to -the possession of ample means at the decease of -Mr. Martindale; but he was desirous of supplying -his deficiencies, if possible, before that -time. It might, indeed, be imagined that the -heir-apparent to a barony, and the expectant of -most ample wealth, might have made his selection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -among the daughters of opulence. There -were, however, difficulties and objections. The -young gentleman himself was, especially, particular -as to rank and connexion. None of his -family had ever been engaged in or connected -with trade, so far as he could ascertain; and -most of the large fortunes which appeared at -all accessible, had been the obvious result of -commercial engagement of some kind or other. -He might have had rank; he might have had -wealth; but he could not have both.</p> - -<p>The occupant of the cottage observed his -relative’s vanity, and was in the habit of mortifying -it, even though he was not quite free -from some tincture of the same in his own -temperament. He also was not insensible to the -fact, that his honourable cousin was not overstrict -in his morals; but his mode of reproving -irregularities did not much tend to their correction. -The old gentleman was not a magistrate, -but was, as far as he thought fit, the dictator of -his cousin’s proceedings in the office of magistrate: -not that the transaction alluded to in the -first chapter was with the approbation or even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -knowledge of the elder Martindale. Such, -however, was the oddity of this gentleman’s -humour, that had Horatio Markham declaimed -with what some would have considered merited -severity against the magistrate for his violation -of the laws, he would have been the first to -take fire at the insult offered to his relative. He -was unprepared for so much temperance, so -much good sense, and so little common-place. -This circumstance, together with the fact that -Markham was of plebeian origin, led Mr. Martindale -to invite the barrister to Brigland, that -he might amuse himself with his cousin’s annoyance -and embarrassment.</p> - -<p>As Markham was entering the village on -the side of the park, he naturally paused to -admire the beauty of the Abbey; and while he -was thus engaged, Mr. Martindale rode up to -him, and without any preface of common-place -salutation, called out—</p> - -<p>“That is a fine house, Mr. Barrister. I dare -say you would rather pay a visit to an honourable -in the Abbey, than to a plain mister in a cottage.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<p>Horatio apologised that he had not observed -Mr. Martindale; but as he began to discern his -peculiar humour, he replied: “I was certainly -admiring the taste of the architect, and his -judgment in selecting so fine and commanding -a situation: the very ground, by its disposition, -seemed to ask for a mansion of no ordinary -magnificence.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ho—you understand how to pay compliments. -I suppose you did not know that -your humble servant, plain John Martindale, -was the designer and builder of this mansion. -Did you never hear the proverb, that fools -build houses, and wise men live in them?”</p> - -<p>“Is the occupier of that mansion a wise man, -sir?” replied Horatio.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that he is. And so from that -you would infer that it was not a fool who built -the house. Well, well, you shall see him soon, -and judge for yourself. I told my honourable -relative that I should insist upon bringing you -to the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham bowed, and they entered the -cottage. This building was, in its construction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -and appearance, almost indescribable. There -was no semblance of arrangement or regularity -about it. It was very large, and at the same -time thoroughly inconvenient. Its furniture -was in some points very elegant, and in others -mean. While it was in course of building, -Mr. Martindale had changed his mind about -the plan of it fifty times, or more; and in the -furnishing, there had been evidently as much -caprice. There was a room called the library; -but which that room was, a stranger would -have been puzzled to guess; for not a single -apartment through the whole house was free -from books, and in no one room were the books -arranged in any order. There were books upon -the tables, and books upon the chairs, and books -on the floors. The very staircases were not free -from them; and whenever a visitor came to the -cottage to spend a day or two, it was an essential -part of the preparation to remove the books -from the bed on which they were lying.</p> - -<p>Now Mr. Martindale was very particular -about his books, and would not suffer any of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -domestics to meddle with them. In his younger -days he had been a reader of books; and when -he came to his property, he began to purchase, -and cease to read. It was indeed conjectured -by some that his large property, which came to -him from a distant relative, and in some measure -unexpectedly, had, in a degree, disordered his -mind. There might, perhaps, be some foundation -for this suspicion; but it is a fact, that -even before his acquisition of great wealth, he -had been remarked for many singularities.</p> - -<p>“Now, Mr. Barrister,” said the occupier of -the cottage, “what time would you like to -dine? You have villainous late hours in London, -I know. Some of the great folks there -don’t dine till to-morrow morning. If I should -ever sport a house in town, and give dinners, -I think I shall send out my cards inviting my -company to dinner on Tuesday next, at one -o’clock on Wednesday morning. Will five -o’clock be too soon for you, Mr.?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, sir.” So the business was settled; -and then Mr. Martindale proposed a walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -into the town to call upon the clergyman, -whom he designated by the not much admired -name of parson.</p> - -<p>“Good morning to you, Mr. Denver; will -you condescend to dine at the cottage at five -o’clock to-day? In the mean time, let me -introduce to you my friend Mr. Markham, a -barrister; who has distinguished himself by -obtaining a very proper verdict against my -hopeful young cousin, the Hon. Philip Martindale.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver accepted the invitation, politely -bowed to Mr. Markham, and expressed great -sorrow at the event which was alluded to by -Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>“He is a wild youth, Mr. Parson; why -don’t you preach to him, and make him better?” -replied Mr. Martindale.—“If I were a parson, -I would take much better care of my parishioners -than nine out of ten of you black-coated gentry. -You are afraid of offending great folks. Now, -you would not dare to go up to the Abbey this -morning, and tell my honourable cousin that he -ought to be ashamed of himself.—Eh! what say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -you, Mr.? Will you take my arm, and walk up -to the great house, and set about rebuking the -wicked one?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver gently smiled, and said: “I -fear, sir, that we should not find Mr. Philip at -home this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Not find him at home!” exclaimed Mr. -Martindale; “why not? Where is he gone?”</p> - -<p>“He left Brigland early this morning in a -post-chaise; and the lad who drove him the first -stage saw him take another chaise, and proceed -towards London.”</p> - -<p>“What! go to London at this time of year!—Let -me know nothing about it!—What is he -gone for?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot conjecture,” replied the reverend -divine, “what can be Mr. Philip’s motive for -visiting the metropolis at this unusual season.”</p> - -<p>“Conjecture!” said Mr. Martindale; “no, -I suppose not. But it is so very odd that he -should go in such a violent hurry, and not say a -word to me on the subject.”</p> - -<p>In this, the old gentleman was wrong; for it -was by no means unusual for the Hon. Philip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -Martindale to make an excursion for a day or -two without saying any thing about the matter -to his worthy relative. These excursions were -sometimes to Moulsey, and sometimes to Epsom, -and sometimes to Newmarket, and sometimes -to St. Mary Axe; and as these excursions -were on a species of business with which the -old gentleman had no sympathy, the young -gentleman thought it superfluous to announce -his departure and arrival. A present advantage -arising from this arrangement was, that -he enjoyed a greater reputation for steadiness -than he really deserved, though without a -knowledge of these matters his indulgent and -opulent relative thought the young man rather -too wild. A future disadvantage, however, -was likely to compensate for the present advantage; -for it was next to impossible to carry -on this game without detection, and also very -difficult to escape from the vortex.</p> - -<p>The knowledge of Philip’s absence without -leave discomposed the old gentleman, and rendered -him not very well disposed for the enjoyment -of company; he had, however, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -consolation of anticipating the exercise of a -little extra tyranny over his dependent relative, -in consequence of this transgression. It is a -truth, and a sad one too, that many persons, -situated as Mr. John Martindale, are not always -really sorry for an opportunity of showing their -authority by means of the eloquence or annoyance -of rebuke. Had Philip, by any exertion -of his own, or by any spirit of pride, removed -himself from a state of dependence, it -would have been a serious loss to his cousin; -and even the very appearance of an act of -independence disturbed the old gentleman, and -rendered him for a considerable time silent and -sulky.</p> - -<p>Soon after dinner, however, Mr. Martindale -recovered his spirits. He became quite cheerful -with the thought that he should make the -young man do penance for his transgression. -He was, however, not altogether at ease, because -his curiosity was excited as to the object -of the young gentleman’s excursion. Mr. Denver -was unable or unwilling to satisfy his -curiosity; and therefore, without making any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -apology to his guests, the old gentleman withdrew -from table, and walked up to the Abbey, -with a view of ascertaining, if possible, from -some of the servants, the cause of their master’s -sudden absence from home.</p> - -<p>When three persons have dined together, -and have been talking about nothing, or next -to nothing, and when one of the three withdraws, -it is not very unusual or unnatural -that he should form a topic for the remaining -two to discourse upon. This was the case -when Mr. Martindale left the clergyman and -the barrister together.</p> - -<p>“It is very singular,” said Markham to his -companion, “that a man of such large fortune -as Mr. Martindale, should, after building so -splendid a mansion, content himself with residing -in such a cottage as this.”</p> - -<p>“So it appears to us, who have no such -choice,” replied Mr. Denver; “but to Mr. -Martindale, who is rolling in riches, some other -stimulus is necessary than the mere outward -manifestation of wealth; and I dare say that -he enjoys more pleasure from the whim of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -having a dependent relative in the great house, -than you or I should from dwelling there ourselves. -This I can venture to say, that Philip -Martindale has not received any great addition -to his happiness from being placed at the -Abbey. The old gentleman scarcely allows him -a maintenance, and is constantly dictating to -him in the merest trifles imaginable.”</p> - -<p>“What a miserable existence it must be to -live dependent on another’s caprice!” exclaimed -Horatio.</p> - -<p>“Not very pleasant, to be sure,” replied the -clergyman; “but it is in expectation of hereafter -enjoying an independency; and what else -can the young man do? Lord Martindale, his -father, has but very contracted means, and a -large family to provide for. Indeed, I believe -that his lordship himself is, in a great degree, -dependent on Mr. Martindale to keep up the -dignity of his rank.”</p> - -<p>“And does the old gentleman exercise such -authority over Lord Martindale and the rest of -his family, as he does over the young gentleman -who resides at the Abbey?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not quite so much, I believe: he was -desirous that his lordship and family should -reside at the Abbey; but Lady Martindale so -strongly objected to the measure, that it was -given up; and Mr. Philip, after a little hesitation, -assented to his relative’s proposal to -take up his abode here, though Lady Martindale -strongly urged him not to relinquish his -profession.”</p> - -<p>“Profession!—what profession? I think I -remember that name in the Temple.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he was at the bar; and I have heard -that he was rather successful, considering the -short time that he had practised; but as soon -as his father became a peer, and his wealthy -relative offered him this magnificent seat, he -gave up practising, and cut his old friends.”</p> - -<p>“Then he has made a very foolish exchange; -for the old gentleman, as you call him, does -not seem likely to gratify his heirs by a speedy -departure from this life, and in all probability -his domineering habits will rather increase than -diminish as he grows older. But from the -brief which I held yesterday, it seems that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -Mr. Philip Martindale is a man of very -profligate habits. How does that suit his -cousin?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, the young man is rather gay; -and so indeed was the old gentleman formerly, -or his old acquaintance very much belie him. -Now, however, he is occasionally very grave in -his way, and frequently gives his cousin very -serious lectures, which are not of much avail; for -Mr. Martindale’s style of reproof is more jesting -than rebuking: he says whatever he thinks; -and has the oddest mode of thinking of any -man that I know. He says any thing to any -body, and where he is known nobody heeds him.”</p> - -<p>“It struck me yesterday, that there was -something very peculiar in the manner in which -Mr. Martindale spoke of his cousin; for the -charge against the young man was of a very -disgraceful nature, and I thought it not very -becoming to treat it with any degree of levity.”</p> - -<p>“You must make some allowance for the -exaggerations of briefs; though I must acknowledge -that Philip Martindale was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -much to be blamed. Old Richard Smith is a -very respectable man for his station in life; and -the young woman whom he calls his niece, has -always conducted herself in a very proper and -becoming manner. But they will not be able -to remain at Brigland after this event, unless -the old gentleman takes their part very decidedly. -I understand that Mr. Philip is very -much mortified at the result of the trial; and -you, I hear, sir, are in very high favour at -Brigland, on account of the success of the trial. -The old man says that he is very desirous of -thanking you for your exertions. Even Philip -Martindale spoke handsomely of you, though -you were employed against him; and he was -disgusted at his own counsel, whose impertinence, -he believes, provoked the jury to their -verdict.”</p> - -<p>To a much longer speech than this had -Horatio Markham given his attention, when he -and the reverend divine were interrupted by -the return of Mr. Martindale in a downright -passion. The cause of that passion we shall -narrate in the following chapter.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“There was a time,—</div> -<div class="verse">And pity ’tis so good a time had wings</div> -<div class="verse">To fly away,—when reverence was paid</div> -<div class="verse">To a grey head; ’twas held a sacrilege</div> -<div class="verse">Not expiable, to deny respect</div> -<div class="verse">To one, sir, of your years and gravity.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Randolph.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Martindale, as we have said in the -preceding chapter, left his company, and walked -up to the Abbey to ascertain, if possible, from -some of the servants the cause of their master’s -sudden journey. The old gentleman was not -in the habit usually of entering the house by -the grand entrance; but on the present occasion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -seeing the great doors partly open, he directed -his steps that way; and as he approached, he -heard voices with which he had not been familiar, -and when he opened the door, he saw -two vulgar-looking fellows gaping about in -broad astonishment at the splendid decorations -of the great hall, interspersing their profound -remarks with unseemly puffings of tobacco-smoke -from two pipes with which they were regaling -themselves. It was not on trifling occasions -that Mr. Martindale was struck dumb with -astonishment; but at the sight which he then -saw, he was so far thunderstruck that he did -not instantaneously commence the pouring forth -of his interrogatory eloquence. He gazed for -a moment or more on the two men, and they -gazed as long at him; but their looks were not -so full of astonishment as his were: at length -he spoke in very hurried tones.</p> - -<p>“Who are you? What do you want here? -What do you mean by smoking your filthy -pipes in this place? Have the goodness to -walk out directly.”</p> - -<p>To this speech one of the men calmly replied,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -“We have as much right here, sir, as you -have, and perhaps more; for I guess you are -only one of the upper servants, and we are -sheriffs’ officers.”</p> - -<p>“Sheriffs’ devils!” foamed forth the old gentleman; -“and who sent you here, I pray? I -will have no sheriffs’ officers here, I can tell -you.”</p> - -<p>This language was not respectful to the men -of office, and therefore it was more sharply -taken up by the speaker, who, laying aside his -composure, very loudly answered:</p> - -<p>“Come, old fellow, let us have none of your -insolence, or I shall soon let you know who is -master.”</p> - -<p>Furiously again Mr. Martindale was beginning -to reply, by repeating the word “Master! -master! master!” when the noise brought -the butler to the scene of contention. This -butler was more properly a spy over the actions -of the Hon. Philip Martindale than a servant of -his: he was the immediate pensioner of the old -gentleman; but he was also somewhat attached -to his nominal master, and he therefore acted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -the part of a traitor rather treacherously. He -knew, but had not communicated to Mr. Martindale, -the intention of the young gentleman -to make a journey to London, and he knew -also the business on which he had gone; and -he had also, on previous occasions, known more -than he had thought fit to communicate to his -employer. When this trusty domestic made -his appearance, Mr. Martindale addressed him -very impetuously:</p> - -<p>“Oliver! what does all this mean? Here -are two insolent dirty fellows calling themselves -sheriffs’ officers, and strutting about as if the -house was their own. Where do they come -from? What do they want here? And pray, -where is your master? I must insist upon -knowing the meaning of all this.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver looked foolish and confused, and -while he was beating his brains for a plausible -lie, one of the officers began to save him all -further trouble of invention by saying:</p> - -<p>“Why, if you must know the meaning of -all this, I will tell you. The Hon. Philip Martindale -is—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is gone out shooting,” interrupted the -trusty Oliver: “he went out early this morning, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“Shooting with a long bow,” muttered the -officer. “Shooting at this time of year, you -rascal!” exclaimed Mr. Martindale: “why, you -puppy, this is only the beginning of August.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean shooting game, sir, but shooting -with bow and arrow. He—he—is gone to—an -archery meeting.”</p> - -<p>“What! is he gone to an archery meeting -in London? But pray, Mr. Oliver, can you -tell me why he has been so careful of his own -carriage as to take a hired chaise?”</p> - -<p>“He was afraid, sir, that the journey might -be rather too long for his own horses.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” interrupted the officer, “it would -have been too far for his own horses to travel.”</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue, you puppy!” was the -only acknowledgment which the speaker received -for this corroboration of the trusty -Oliver’s speech: then turning again to Oliver, -Mr. Martindale continued:</p> - -<p>“So your master is grown mightily merciful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -to his horses all on a sudden; and was he also -afraid that his travelling chariot would be tired -of the long journey? Was it too far for the -carriage to travel?”</p> - -<p>“I guess it was rather too far for his carriage -to go from home,” replied the officer.</p> - -<p>“Fellow!” cried Mr. Martindale, “I want -none of your fool’s prate.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” replied the man; “you seem -to have enough of your own.”</p> - -<p>“Silence, you puppy! do you know who you -are speaking to? I will not put up with this -insolence in my own house. This is my own -house; I built it: every article in it is mine.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the officer, -“I did not know you: but I will immediately -explain.…”</p> - -<p>“If you will have the goodness, sir, to step -this way,” interrupted Oliver, “perhaps my -master may be returned by this time. I will -tell you all the particulars.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale had kept this fellow a long -while in his employment, and had estimated -his fidelity by his treachery, forgetting that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -they who have a double game to play make -a double profit upon it; for while the old -gentleman had been bribing him to betray the -young one, the young one had been paying -him to deceive the old one: so that by this -double diplomacy Oliver had become, to use -a phrase of Dr. Johnson’s, “a very pretty -rascal.” By deceiving both parties he had injured -both; but they had only themselves to -thank for it. Had they been simple enough -to follow the old maxim, that honesty is the best -policy, they would both have gained their ends -more effectually: the elder Martindale would -have experienced from the younger greater -deference and confidence, and the younger -Martindale would have experienced from the -elder a greater degree of liberality.</p> - -<p>On the present occasion, it never for a -moment entered the mind of the old gentleman -that the sheriffs’ officers could be at Brigland -Abbey on any serious professional engagement. -It may indeed be asked, if he did not think -that, what was he thinking of? What, indeed! -That is a question which he himself could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -answer. Having however no suspicion of what -was really the case, he was the more easily -drawn away by the crafty Oliver from the -impending explanation which was threatened -by the officer.</p> - -<p>Having thus drawn Mr. Martindale away -from the immediate explanation which was just -coming upon him, Oliver’s next concern was -to construct something of a plausible story -to account not only for the presence of the -officers at the Abbey, but for their rude behaviour, -which to his mind appeared totally insoluble -on any other theory than that of their -being in possession by virtue of their office. -To acknowledge this truth appeared to him -as the most effectual means to bring ruin on -himself and his master. As soon, therefore, as -he had conducted the old gentleman into the -library, he began to apologise for the presence -and rudeness of these men; and Mr. Martindale -being removed from the sight of those -who had excited his anger, began to grow a -little more cool, and was better prepared to -hear explanation. Fortunately for Oliver and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -his master, the curiosity of the old gentleman -was not so strongly excited by the presence -of the officers as by the absence of the Hon. -Philip Martindale. He therefore very easily -believed the story which the trusty butler invented, -that these officers had been on a visit -to one of the servants, and that they were -rather intoxicated; but the difficulty to be -solved was the absence of the master of the -house, and his travelling with post-horses and -a hired chaise. Now Mr. Oliver would have -been utterly unworthy of his place and occupation -as a professional tell-tale and a hired -spy, had he been unable to invent, or unready -to utter, a most wilful, deliberate, and glorious -lie. Having therefore disposed of the difficulty -of the presence of the officers, he went on very -deliberately to say:</p> - -<p>“Did not my master call at the cottage this -morning? I am sure he intended to do so; -but perhaps he was too early. I think he -must have called, but perhaps you were not -stirring, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Not stirring, you dog; why I was at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -mineral spring by five o’clock, or very little -after.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! then that accounts for your not seeing -my master before he went, for he set out just -after the turret-clock struck five; and very -likely he saw you walking across the meadow, -and knew it would be useless to call at the -cottage.”</p> - -<p>“But I wonder why he did not tell me of -his engagement yesterday; for he must have -known it then, if he set out so early this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I believe, sir,” replied the trusty one, “that -I am to blame for that; for a note was brought -here yesterday morning, and I forgot to deliver -it till just as my master was going to bed. -The note was from Sir Andrew Featherstone, -to say that the archery-meeting was fixed for -this day instead of next Wednesday, in order to -accommodate the young ladies from Hollywick -Priory, because they must accompany their -uncle to Cheltenham on Monday at the latest; -and so, sir, my master was forced to go in a -hurry; and as he had taken the carriage-horses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -to the assizes yesterday, and as the other horses -had not been much used to the chariot, so he -ordered me to go down to the Red Lion to -bespeak a pair of chaise-horses, and I by mistake -ordered chaise and horses; and as it was -very late when I returned, my master would -not make any alteration, and he took them as -I had ordered.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Martindale, “but Parson -Denver told me that your master was gone -to London; now Sir Andrew Featherstone -has not an archery-meeting at his townhouse.”</p> - -<p>“That must be a mistake of Mr. Denver’s; -for I am sure that my master is not gone to -London. I can show you, sir, the very letter -which my master received from Sir Andrew -Featherstone.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon the trusty Oliver left the worthy -old gentleman for a few minutes to his own -meditations; and as he knew that it would be -in vain to look for a letter which had no existence -but in his own imagination, he used -this interval in properly tutoring the sheriffs’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -officers in case they should again meet Mr. -Martindale.</p> - -<p>“It is very unfortunate, sir,” exclaimed the -butler, when he returned to the library, “but -I believe my master must have carried the -letter with him; for I saw it on his dressing-table -this morning, and I read it when his -back was turned; but I think he went into the -room again before he left home, and he has, -no doubt, taken the letter with him.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, never mind; I don’t want to see -any of Sir Andrew Featherstone’s foolish letters. -Archery, forsooth! and for young women -to make such an exhibition of themselves! -It is absolutely indecent. I am sorry that -Philip should lend himself to encourage any -such ridiculous foolery. What crotchet will -seize the fashionable world next, I wonder. I -suppose we shall have the tread-mill converted -into a machine for the amusement of elegant -females. It will be a pretty species of gymnastic -exercise. Now, Oliver, I beg you will -not say a word to your master of my having -made inquiries after him, and see that these -drunken officers are sent away as soon as possible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -It is quite disreputable for the servants -to keep such company.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver made all the professions and -promises which were required of him, and was -not sorry to get so easily rid of his difficulties. -The old gentleman then recollecting that he -had left his guests to entertain each other at -the cottage, prepared to return home, but in -his way he met old Richard Smith, whom -indeed he did not personally know; but as the -poor man knew Mr. Martindale, he pulled off -his hat, and made a very humble obeisance to -the rich man. There was something very -striking in the appearance of Richard Smith, -especially when his head was uncovered. His -hair was of a silvery whiteness, and it hung -about his neck in full and graceful ringlets; -his forehead was bold and high, and almost -without a wrinkle; and his fine eyes, but little -dimmed with age, presented the appearance -of strength and vigour contending with time. -His figure was tall, and but just beginning to -bend under the weight of years. The manner -in which he made his obeisance was also impressive; -there was dignity in his humility, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -his bow was neither slavishly obsequious nor -vulgarly insolent. There was in his whole -appearance a manifestation of that indelible -nobility with which nature endows some individuals -of the human species in every rank -and condition of life, and which all the drilling -and tutoring of artificial society can neither -imitate nor improve. The venerable look and -the graceful demeanour of the old man induced -Mr. Martindale to take especial notice of him, -and ask his name, and place of abode, and -employment.</p> - -<p>“My name, sir,” replied the old man, “is -Richard Smith; my abode is at Brigland; and -I am past labour.”</p> - -<p>“Eh! what! Smith! Richard Smith!—Are -you the person that my graceless cub of a -cousin had the insolence to knock down and -send to jail as a poacher? I hope he has -paid you the amount of damages awarded to -you.”</p> - -<p>“It was only yesterday, sir, that the verdict -was given, and I have no desire to hurry the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -gentleman for payment: I wish him to make it -convenient to himself.”</p> - -<p>“What are you talking about, my good -man? Do you think it can make any difference -to my cousin when he pays such a sum as one -hundred pounds. You fancy you are talking -about a shopkeeper.”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, sir; I do not mean to speak -disparagingly of the Hon. Philip Martindale, but -lawyer Flint told me this morning, that when -he applied to lawyer Price about the settlement -of the damages and costs, he was informed that -they would be paid in a few days, but it was -not quite convenient at present.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, the lawyers want to cheat you; -Philip has money enough to pay you, and I -will take care that you shall be paid. I will -see Price to-morrow, and he shall settle the business -at once. I am afraid the young man is -not quite so steady as he ought to be. I don’t -at all approve of his behaviour to you and your -niece, and I shall tell him my mind pretty -plainly.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>The old man shook his head and sighed. Mr. -Martindale observed his emotion, and interrogated -him more closely concerning the behaviour -of Philip, assuring him that, instead of -being offended, he should be thankful for any -information concerning the conduct of his -young relative, in order that he might use his -influence to correct it.</p> - -<p>“I am not thinking, sir,” replied Richard -Smith, with great solemnity of tone, “only of -your honourable relative, but of the numbers -in his rank of life who make the miseries of the -poor their amusement and sport. I am thinking, -sir, that it is a sad mockery of the seriousness -of legislation, that profligate and ignorant lads -should sit as lawgivers.” Mr. Martindale -frowned, for he had bought a borough for his -hopeful relative; but as he stood in the attitude -of listening, the old man went on: “I -think it a sad disgrace to the country, that ignominious -and painful punishments are denounced -against those offences only which the -legislators have no temptation to commit.”</p> - -<p>“Well done, old gentleman,” replied Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -Martindale, “you talk like a philosopher. I -am quite of your way of thinking. So you -don’t think that it is enough to make young -gentlemen pay for their frolics; you would -have them sent to work at the tread-mill, or -give them a public whipping now and then by -way of example.”</p> - -<p>“And do not you think,” said the old man -more sternly, “that such inflictions as these -would be more effectual in checking the vices -of the higher orders, than a mere fine which is -paid and forgotten, or which places vice in -the same scale as a luxury?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my good friend, you are a severe -legislator; you seem to be angry with my -young spark. But now, if your system should -be adopted, the injured party would gain no redress; -whereas now the wound is healed by -heavy damages; and surely it is much better to -receive a pecuniary compensation, than merely -to have the satisfaction of knowing that the offender -is personally punished.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, sir, but you are not speaking -according to your own judgment. You must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -know that the professed end of the law is security -from injury. Substitute a pecuniary compensation -for the punishment now denounced -against murder, and whose life is safe?”</p> - -<p>“You are angry, my friend, you are angry. -You should not bear malice; I will take care -and see you righted; my cousin shall not have it -said of him that he oppresses the poor.”</p> - -<p>“Then, perhaps, sir, you will so far befriend -me as that I may not be turned out of my cottage; -for lawyer Price told me that I should be -sent off as soon as the damages were paid.”</p> - -<p>At this request of the poor man, or rather at -the occasion for the request, Mr. Martindale -was really vexed and angry. He had tolerated -many of his cousin’s vices under the name of -youthful follies; but when he found him guilty -of the meanness of so despicable a species of -revenge, he was deeply mortified, and with -great emotion replied: “The very day that -you are driven out of the cottage, Philip shall -leave the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>Having said this, he hurried home to his -guests in no enviable frame of mind. Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -Denver was accustomed to the old gentleman’s -peculiarities; but Horatio Markham, who had -never known, and who scarcely apprehended -what it was to be dependent on another’s caprices, -felt uneasy and constrained, and was -beginning to wish that he could, consistently -with common politeness, reduce his visit to a -day, instead of a week or ten days. He was -however soon relieved from his temporary -uneasiness, by the return of good humour -to the tone and countenance of his host, who -proposed that, before visiting the Abbey, they -should call at old Richard’s cottage, and inquire -into his circumstances.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Exceeding fair she was not, and yet fair,</div> -<div class="verse">In that she never studied to be fairer</div> -<div class="verse">Than nature made her.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Chapman.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In pursuance of the arrangement proposed -the preceding evening, Mr. Martindale and his -guest, immediately after an early breakfast, -went out in search of Richard Smith’s cottage. -They had some little difficulty to find the -place; for, though the old man had lived several -years at Brigland, he was of such retired -habits that he was comparatively unknown in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -the parish: some persons knew him by sight -who did not know his name, and others had -heard his name, who were unacquainted with -his person.</p> - -<p>The cottage in which he lived seemed to -have been selected for its very retired situation. -It stood in a narrow lane, which, before the -building of the great house, had served as a -thoroughfare from Brigland Common to the -meadows, which, since the erection of the Abbey, -had been included in the park. The cottage, -though apparently so secluded and almost -embowered in wood, was by no means a gloomy -abode; for through a natural vista in the wood -before it there was an extensive view of highly-cultivated -scenery, which showed between the -over-arching trees like a beautiful painting in a -rustic frame. The light which shone through -this opening, drew the eyes of Markham and -his companion to notice the beauty of the landscape.</p> - -<p>There is a peculiar and almost indescribable -effect produced on the mind by the sight of -well-known scenery taken from a new point, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -viewed with some variety or novelty of accompaniment. -The feeling thus excited, has not -all its interest from novelty alone, nor is it indebted -for its interest to association. In viewing -this scene, Mr. Martindale enjoyed this -pleasure: he had lived for many years in Brigland, -and had long been in possession of this -estate, but here was a beauty he had never -seen before.</p> - -<p>While they were both admiring the scene -before them, Horatio Markham fancied that he -could hear a distant sound of music, and stood -for a moment in a listening attitude. Presently -the sound caught the ear of Mr. Martindale; -and the two companions looked at each other in -mute astonishment, when the faint tinkling of -the unknown instrument was accompanied with -the human voice in notes of indescribable -sweetness. The voice was near enough to be -distinctly audible; and Markham, who had a -more acute sense of hearing, and a more extensive -knowledge of music than his friend Mr. -Martindale, soon perceived that neither the -words nor the melody were English. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -presently obvious that the music was in the cottage -of old Richard Smith. The two listeners -waited till the voice was silent, and then, without -the ceremony of tapping at the door, entered -the poor man’s humble dwelling.</p> - -<p>The interior of the cottage was perfectly neat -and clean, as might have been anticipated from the -style and appearance of the old man; but there -was in it more than neatness—there were symptoms -that its present tenants had seen better days. -There were several articles of furniture and -embellishment which cottagers have neither -means nor inclination to purchase. Symptoms -indeed of better days are to be continually met -with in many humble, even in many miserable -dwellings; but such symptoms consist generally -of those articles which cannot find purchasers, -or which are in daily use, or of indispensable -utility, or which have an imaginary value far -beyond their real value. And the poor people -are sometimes proud of these mementos of their -high descent. They can perhaps show, in an -old black frame, and drawn on durable vellum, -their family-arms:—they may have large unwieldy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -portraits of ancestors who were distinguished -somehow or other in former days, but -they know not when, and have perhaps forgotten -their very names:—they still retain pieces -of fine needlework, which make it manifest -that some female ancestor had received a -boarding-school education; and many a poor -old couple eat their daily scanty meal on the -remains of the fine porcelain which some of their -progenitors used and exhibited only on days of -high festivity.</p> - -<p>But the articles in Richard Smith’s cottage -were of a different character, and of much more -recent date than such as those alluded to above. -There hung upon the walls some landscapes, -which indeed a person in poverty might have -drawn, but which no poor man would keep or -would embellish with handsome modern frames. -There were also several engravings, which had -not been published more than sixteen or seventeen -years. Instead of the usual cottage clock -with clumsily painted figures and elm-case, there -stood on a bracket a neat time-piece, with the -name of a celebrated Parisian maker. Upon a set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -of hanging-shelves there lay several volumes of -fancifully and apparently foreign bound books. -These were for the most part Italian, but a -few were French.</p> - -<p>While Mr. Martindale was talking to the -old man, Horatio Markham, according to a -very common, but not very decorous practice -of young men who affect literature, was amusing -himself with taking down and opening one -after another of the books; and seeing the -character of them, and that in their selection -they gave proof of a correct and polished taste, -he could not but look more attentively at the -old man’s niece, with an endeavour to trace in -her countenance an expression of a style above -that of a simple rustic. The human countenance -is susceptible of great variety of expression, -and owes much to surrounding circumstances: -the very same set of features which -in one garb and place would savour of rusticity, -would bear a different interpretation in another -garb and with other adjuncts. In like manner, -the imagination of the spectator does much in -giving an interpretation to features, and ascertaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -physiognomical indications. So when -Horatio Markham saw the young woman in the -witness-box giving, with downcast look and -trembling accents, her testimony as to the injury -sustained by a poor old man, he could see nothing -more, for he thought nothing more was -to be seen, than a modest, simple, and tolerably -pretty face, having no remarkable or peculiar -expression. But when he saw the same person, -with the same features and the same expression -of retiring modesty, surrounded with the -productions of art, and apparently the only person -in the cottage to whom those productions -could be interesting, and by whom those books -should be read and enjoyed, he soon fancied -that he observed indications of a superior mind -and a cultivated understanding. Nay, so far -did his imagination influence him, that the impulse -which he first felt to address some inquiries -to the old man’s niece concerning the -books and drawings was absolutely repelled by -a feeling of awe. He now began to paint to -his imagination a person of superior rank, and -to be astonished that he had not before observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -that her whole style and expression was -far above her professed situation.</p> - -<p>As he was replacing on the shelf one of the -books into which he had been looking, a hard -substance fell to the ground, and he stooped -immediately to pick it up; but the young woman -was before him, and Markham saw, or -thought he saw, that the article which she had -thus hastily picked up, was neither more nor -less than an ivory crucifix. The object itself -he would not have noticed, but he was very -much struck with the eagerness with which it -was taken up and concealed. Apologising for -his awkwardness, and accepting an acknowledgment -of his apology, he turned from the books -to look more minutely at the pictures. The -drawings were, without exception, scenes in -Italy, evidently executed by a practised hand, -and bearing a date which rendered it highly -improbable that they should have been the production -of the old man’s niece.</p> - -<p>The conversation which passed between -Mr. Martindale and Richard Smith was indeed -heard, but not heeded by Horatio Markham.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -It had a reference chiefly to the nature of the -injury for which the old man had recently -sought legal redress; and the account which -Mr. Martindale received concerning the conduct -of his honourable relative, was not by any means -calculated to soothe the already irritated mind -of the old gentleman. Turning the discourse -from these unpleasant matters, he suddenly -asked:</p> - -<p>“Did not I hear music just before I came -in? Does this young woman play or sing?”</p> - -<p>This question excited the attention of Markham, -who cast his eyes round the apartment, -but all in vain, to find what musical instrument -it was which he had heard while he was standing -near the cottage. To the question thus -asked no answer was given, but the young woman -held down her head and blushed; exhibiting, -as Markham thought, much more confusion -than such an inquiry in such circumstances -seemed to demand. Mr. Martindale -did not repeat the question, but proceeded to -say:</p> - -<p>“Well, my good man, I have brought with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -me the young advocate who pleaded your cause -so effectually. I hope he will be as successful -in every cause that he undertakes, and that he -will never undertake any less honourable to -himself.”</p> - -<p>“The law is a dangerous profession, sir; but -we must not measure a man’s integrity by the -brief which he holds. The barrister professes -himself an advocate, not a judge; and if he refuses -a brief because he thinks the cause a bad -one, he acts with prejudice, seeing only one -side of the question. Besides, sir, there are -few causes which may bear altogether the name -of bad. Sometimes a cause may be bad in law, -but good in morals; sometimes an action at law -may be good so far as the moral feeling is concerned, -and bad as to the letter of some statute; -and it is possible that some persons may consider -any litigation whatever as being inconsistent -with the strict letter of Christianity. We -must also make great allowances for diversity -of temper and disposition: what may appear -just to one man appears perhaps too rigidly -strict to another. I think, sir, that the barrister’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -profession is unduly calumniated. If, indeed, -a client comes to an advocate and says, -‘I wish to take an unfair advantage of my -neighbour, and I will pay you to assist me,’ -then the barrister would act improperly to sell -his conscience to his client; but every litigant -sees, or fancies he sees, something of right in -his cause, and the barrister merely gives him -legal assistance. The law is a dangerous profession -indeed, because it may lead to a confusion -of right and wrong; but while it endangers -a man’s integrity, it also gives him abundant -and honourable opportunity of displaying an -upright mind and good principle. You will -excuse an old man,” said he, turning towards -Markham; “garrulity is the privilege of age; -but I have had experience of the world. I see -but little of it now; the time has been that I -have seen more.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham, though but five-and-twenty -years of age—though he had gained two -causes in the Court of King’s Bench—though -he had been successful in his first brief in his -native town—though he had at other towns on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -the circuit held an extraordinary number of -briefs for a first journey—though he held those -briefs by means of a reputation going before -him that he was a man of good talents—though -he had more than once received a marked compliment -from his seniors both at the bar and -on the bench—and though he was of humble -origin, and was rationally expecting to rise in -a profession which would place him in a higher -station than his parents or early acquaintance, -yet, with all this, he was not a coxcomb. Moralists -and divines may speak as contemptuously -as they will of negative virtues; but in defiance -of their wisdom, we will contend that, humanly -speaking, there was great merit in Horatio, -that he did not feel himself unduly elated by -all his honors. He attentively listened to the -common-place harangue of old Richard Smith, -and replied to it with the respect due to old age.</p> - -<p>“You are very candid to the profession, -sir; few will concede so much: but it would -be difficult to find any profession or employment -which is not subject to the reproaches of -those who are not engaged in it. Indeed, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -have known that even individuals in the profession -have also spoken disrespectfully of its -moral character and tendency.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” replied the old man, “they ought -to leave it. A profession cannot be indispensable -that is essentially immoral. But, sir, -I have to thank you for the manner in which -you conducted my cause. It was well done -of you that you spoke so temperately of -the defendant, or that you rather let facts -speak for themselves. I have no spiteful -feeling against the gentleman, and for my -own part could easily have borne with what -I received from him; but I have a serious -charge here,” pointing to his niece; “that poor -child looks up to me for protection, and I must -not suffer any one to approach her disrespectfully. -I love her as if she were my own. She -has, indeed, no other protector. I must be -almost fastidious and jealous in the care that -I take of her: a life dearer to me than my own -depends upon her happiness.”</p> - -<p>As the old man was speaking, his face was -suffused with a glow of strong feeling; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -young woman’s lip quivered, her eye glistened, -and she left the room where they were sitting. -As she opened the door by which she made -her retreat, Markham, whose curiosity had been -strongly excited by all the appearances in the -cottage, caught a glimpse of a second or inner -apartment, apparently fitted up with very great -neatness. Of its extent he could form no -idea, but its ornaments were of the same nature -as those in the room in which he was -sitting. Old Mr. Martindale now felt his curiosity -roused; he said:</p> - -<p>“I am quite curious to know the history of -this young woman. Is she really your niece?”</p> - -<p>“She is really my niece,” said the old man, -“so far as that her mother was my sister’s -child.”</p> - -<p>“Are these drawings done by your niece -too? You seem to have given her a very good -education.”</p> - -<p>“These drawings,” replied the old man, -“are not hers; and as for her education, such -as it is, she received it before she was placed -under my care.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Are her father and mother living?” continued -Mr. Martindale; “but I suppose not, by -her being placed, as you say, under your sole -protection.”</p> - -<p>This last part of the sentence was uttered at -an interval after the first; for no immediate -answer was returned to the interrogation concerning -her father and mother. Indeed, the -poor man did not seem very willing to enter -into any very particular explanation upon the -subject; and Mr. Martindale himself, though he -had expressed a curiosity to know the history -of the young woman, was not so very curious -as to persevere in putting a multitude of questions.</p> - -<p>There are some persons whose curiosity gains -strength by opposition, and others who will not -condescend to be at the expense of any great -number of questions. Mr. Martindale was of -this latter class. Indeed, had he received ever -so much intelligence, it would have been of -little use, for he would soon have forgotten it. -There was another person present whose curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -had been much more strongly excited. -Horatio Markham felt himself fully convinced -that the young woman was not a daughter of a -cottager: he could, as he fancied, see clearly -enough, by her manner and expression, that she -was of much superior rank. It was very ridiculous -for a young barrister, who had scarcely -seen any society at all, who had been born -and brought up in a country town, and of a -humble family, or, more properly speaking, of -no family at all, and who had spent most of his -time in study;—it was very ridiculous for him -to affect to decide what manners designated or -manifested superior breeding. It is a species -of vanity, however, in which Markham is by no -means singular.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale having given the old man -an assurance of his protection, and having now -no more questions to ask, rose and took his -leave, accompanied by his young friend.</p> - -<p>“That was a pretty young woman at the -cottage, Mr. Barrister; but you must not fall in -love with her. It will never do for professional<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -men to make love-matches. Love in a -cottage is very pretty, very poetical, very well -to talk about.”</p> - -<p>Markham protested that he had not the -slightest notion of falling in love with a person -who was a total stranger to him; but seriously, -he could not but acknowledge that there was -something very superior in the look and manner -of the young woman, and that it might not -have been impossible for him to have received -an impression, had he met with a similar person -in a suitable rank in life. He felt himself not -well pleased that Mr. Martindale should have -thought it within the verge of possibility that a -gentleman of the bar should condescend so low -as to fall in love with a young woman, the niece -of a poor cottager. He forgot, however, that -during the time he was in the cottage, he had -his eyes very much fixed upon the old man’s -niece; he forgot how very completely his attention -had been absorbed; and while he was -speculating as to the causes which operated in -bringing so much elegance and gracefulness -into so humble an abode, Mr. Martindale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -thought him occupied in admiring the young -woman’s pretty face. There was certainly a -tolerable share of that species of beauty called -prettiness in the composition of her features; -but as she rather exceeded the middle stature, -and wore a general look of thoughtfulness, the -word pretty was not comprehensive enough for -a description of her person. When she appeared -in the court as a witness, her fine glossy -black ringlets were totally concealed, and her -dark eyes were so bent towards the ground that -their life and expression were not visible. -Markham had observed her but little; thinking -probably that his behaviour could not be more -becoming than when it was totally and directly -opposed to that of the defendant’s counsel. He -was, therefore, not a little surprised when he -saw so much beauty and gracefulness in one -whom he had taken for a mere country girl; -and his curiosity was still more raised when he -observed the nature of the decorations of the -poor man’s cottage. The charm which struck -him most of all was, the total absence of all -affectation or artifice both in the old man and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -in his niece. Richard Smith, indeed, used language -superior in ordinary correctness to that -of the usual inhabitants of cottages, but did -not give himself airs, as some poor men who -fancy themselves conjurers, because they happen -to be a little better informed than their -neighbours; and the young woman appeared -quite as free from any species of affectation, -either of manner or of dress.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And, madam, if it be a lie,</div> -<div class="verse">You have the tale as cheap as I.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Swift.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Rev. Cornelius Denver, perpetual curate -of Brigland, was one of the best-tempered -creatures in the world. He would not injure -any one; he had almost every one’s good word; -he was full of smiles and courtesy; he had -nothing of the pomp or pride of priestly -manners; he did not keep his parishioners at -an awful distance, or affect to exercise any -spiritual dominion over them by virtue of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -calling; he was familiar with all, and good-humoured -to all; he had not the slightest -tincture of bigotry or party-spirit; in politics -and religion he was most truly liberal; he had, -of course, his own opinions on these subjects, -but he called them into use so seldom, that he -and his neighbours scarcely knew what they -were; he was equally obliging to all parties, -and there were many differing sects of religion -in his parish; every possible variety of sectarianism -flourished at Brigland, and they all -united in praising the curate’s liberality.</p> - -<p>There were also many members of the established -church in the parish; but though -they all praised their curate, they did not all -very frequently attend his ministrations. Old -Mr. Martindale used facetiously to say, that he -should go to church much oftener if Mr. -Denver would make longer sermons, but that -it was so tantalising to be woke before his -nap was half finished. But Mr. Denver served -two other churches beside Brigland, and one -of them was almost eight miles distant, so he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -had not much time to spare on Sunday; for -he had two services at his own parish, and -one every Sunday at the other two.</p> - -<p>Our worthy curate was a married man, but -he had no family; and that circumstance gave -him abundant opportunity to interest himself -about the affairs of all the town. Mrs. Denver -assisted him greatly in this public and universal -sympathy. Mrs. Denver was said to be a very -intelligent woman, and had enjoyed that reputation -for many years. Her maiden name -was Smith—no relation to old Richard Smith; -and she had borne that name so long, that she -was tired of it, regarding it as Archbishop -Tillotson did the Athanasian Creed, wishing -that she “was well rid of it.” Many people -thought that Mr. Denver married her from -a motive of pure good nature, because nobody -else was likely to marry her. She was -of high family “originally,” as she used to say; -being descended from the Simsons of Devonshire, -one of whom was knighted by Richard -the Third; and she was very particular in stating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -that her ancestors did not spell the name with -p, for that was an innovation, and it was a very -inferior family that was called Simpson.</p> - -<p>All the gossip of the town and neighbourhood -flowed to the parsonage as a centre, and -again flowed from it as from a perennial and -exhaustless fountain. In justice to the worthy -curate it must be stated, that so far as he was -concerned, there was nothing of censoriousness -blended with his collecting and communicating -disposition: he was happy to hear intelligence, -and pleased to spread it; but he -never pronounced an opinion as to the propriety -or impropriety of the matters of which -he heard and of which he spoke. It was not -exactly so with Mrs. Denver; her candour was -not equal to that of her husband: not that she -was at all censorious, very far from it; but she -could not help, as she said, feeling indignant -at the vices and wickednesses which abounded -in the world; and she was certainly not to be -blamed for what she could not help. Sometimes -she would even be angry with her husband -on account of the placidity of his temper;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -and she would even acknowledge that she -could have no patience with the abominations -of the age. It must be also added, that Mrs. -Denver was not quite equal to her husband -in the virtue of liberality towards sectarians. -She had been brought up as a member of the -church established by law, and she could not -see how it was possible that any other religion -should be true; and for her part, she was fully -determined not to countenance any false religion. -It was rather unfortunate for the poor -woman, that, with the exception of the Martindales, -the principal people at Brigland were -dissenters; and so there were two or three -drawing-rooms from which her orthodoxy would -have excluded her, but to which her love of -the good things of life attracted her. Mrs. -Denver was decidedly loyal: her reverence for -majesty was unbounded. She was so grateful -to Richard the Third for having knighted one -of the Simsons, that she thought she could -never say enough in favour of royalty.</p> - -<p>Now it came to pass in the progress of -events, that while Mr. Martindale and Horatio<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -Markham were in Richard Smith’s cottage, -Mrs. Price, the wife of Philip Martindale’s -attorney, had gained a piece of intelligence -which, as she received it, was imperfect and -obscure, but which she hoped and trusted that -Mr. and Mrs. Denver might be able to elucidate -and complete. She therefore made a -very early call at the parsonage, and began by -offering an apology for looking in so soon in the -day. The apology was most readily accepted: -for the good people of the parsonage knew that -Mrs. Price would not have called so early had -there not been something important to communicate. -As soon as she was seated she -began:—</p> - -<p>“I suppose you have heard, Mrs. Denver, -of the sheriffs’ officers being in possession at -the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>“Sheriffs’ officers in possession at the -Abbey! Why, Mrs. Price, what do you -mean?”</p> - -<p>“Mean, Mrs. Denver! why I mean what I -say; there are two sheriffs’ officers now at the -Abbey. They were sent in yesterday morning;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -and old Mr. Martindale saw them there, and -asked them what business they had there, and -they told him that they were in possession; and -the old gentleman asked what was the amount -of the claim, and it was such an enormous sum -that it was more than he could pay. I don’t -know all the particulars, but I heard Oliver -talking the matter over to my husband; and -Mr. Philip is gone to London in a hired chaise, -for they would not let him have his own carriage; -and he is gone to get some money of -the Jews. He intended to travel all night, that -he might get home early this morning, and -send the officers away before the old gentleman -could know any thing of the matter.”</p> - -<p>“Bless me, Mrs. Price, why you astonish -me! Who would have thought it? Well, that’s -what I always said; I knew it must come to -that. You know it was not likely that he -could ever support the expense of that great -house; and really between ourselves, I never -thought that old Mr. Martindale was so very -rich as some people said.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether the old man is very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -rich,” replied Mrs. Price; “I am sure the -young one is very poor. My husband has -advanced money to him which has been owing -a very long while; and I cannot see any probability -of his getting it again in any reasonable -time; and then he cannot even pay the -damages in which he was cast in the action of -old Smith.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, now you talk about old Smith,” interrupted -Mrs. Denver, “do you know any thing -about that man’s history? for I scarcely ever -heard of him before this action took place. -Pray where does he live?”</p> - -<p>“He lives in the lone cottage in Old Field -Lane, I understand. But there is something -very odd about that man. I thought perhaps -you might know something about him. As for -his being a poor man, I don’t believe any such -thing. Every body says he has money; and my -husband says that he is very sure that Flint -would never have undertaken that cause for a -poor superannuated labourer; and then Flint told -my husband that there was no hurry about the -damages. I very much doubt whether the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -man’s real name is Smith; for that is such a -very convenient name for any one to assume.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have never heard any thing of -him before; but now you mention it, I think -I remember to have seen him one morning -when I walked up to the spring with -Mr. Denver.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the reverend gentleman entered -the apartment where the ladies were conversing, -and he was immediately assailed with -an impetuous torrent of interrogations from -both of them, as touching the birth, parentage -and education, life, character, and behaviour of -the above-named Richard Smith. To these -inquiries he returned answers not very satisfactory; -and they all three began to blame -themselves and each other that they had suffered -the old man to settle quietly in the parish -without making due previous inquiry concerning -his history and origin. He had been, as -they all acknowledged, a very quiet, inoffensive -creature; but quietness was sometimes a symptom -of mischief: it was so with children, and -why might it not be so with old men too.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>Though Mr. Denver had it not in his power -to indulge Mrs. Price with any information, the -worthy lady was too generous to withhold from -him any information which it was in her power -to convey; and she liberally repeated the story -of the bailiff being in possession at the Abbey, -and of the Hon. Philip Martindale having -made a journey to London for the purpose of -borrowing money of such as accommodated their -particular friends on the most liberal terms and -with the strictest secrecy. Mr. Denver was as -usual astonished, amazed, thunderstruck at all -that was told him. By the way, some of the -perpetual curate’s good friends used to think -that the good man was not altogether judicious -in the use of the word “thunderstruck,” which -he always employed when he received any intelligence -from any of the ladies of Brigland.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Price went on to say, that old Mr. Martindale -had expressed his determination to disinherit -Mr. Philip; but as that was a very particular -secret, she begged that it might not be -mentioned. At hearing this request, Mrs. -Denver looked at her watch, for she thought it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -high time that she should take her morning’s -round, and endeavour to ascertain whether this -profound secret were known to any one else. -Mrs. Price took the hint, and departed.</p> - -<p>It is by no means the best method to keep a -secret to endeavour to find out how many others -are in possession of the same. Many a secret -has been thus revealed, which might otherwise -have been inviolably and safely kept. On the -subject of keeping secrets, a great deal may be -said; and the matter is surrounded with more -difficulties than superficial observers are apt to -imagine. For what is the use or benefit of -knowing any thing, if we cannot let that knowledge -be known. If a secret be confided to us, -an honour is thereby conferred; but if that secret -be not by us again talked about, directly or indirectly, -how can the world know how much we -are honoured? Who would give a fig to receive -the honour of knighthood, if he were under an -obligation to let no one know it? or who would -give fifteen pence (pounds some say it costs) -for a doctor’s degree, if he could never blazon -the honour to the world? We check ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -in the discussion with the consoling consideration -that our business is with facts not with philosophy. -Suffice it then to say, that before the -day closed, every inhabitant of Brigland who -had any care for other’s business, knew that old -Richard Smith was mysteriously wealthy, that -bailiffs were in possession at the Abbey, that the -Hon. Philip Martindale was gone to London to -borrow money, and that old Mr. Martindale -would never speak to the young gentleman -again. Then every body began to think that -the Hon. Philip Martindale was the most profligate -young man that ever lived; then all his -follies became vices, and his irregularities most -horrible enormities; then the talk was very loud -concerning his pride and his overbearing manners; -then Mrs. Dickinson, the landlady of the -Red Lion, began to fear that she should not be -paid for her chaise.</p> - -<p>The good people of Brigland were unnecessarily -alarmed for the result of Philip Martindale’s -indiscretions: it was not true that the -old gentleman knew for what purpose the -bailiffs were in the house; nor was it probable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -that, had he known it, he would therefore have -cast off his dependent relative. Power is not -willingly or readily parted with. So long as -the honourable gentleman acknowledged by -endeavours to conceal his irregularities that he -stood in awe of his opulent relative, so long -would he continue an interesting object of -patronage to the old gentleman. As, however, -it may not be easy to gather from the floating -rumours of the gossips of Brigland what was -the real truth of the matter, it may be as well -to state explicitly that the Hon. Philip Martindale -had paid certain debts of honour with that -supply which Mr. Martindale thought had been -devoted to some other purpose, and an impatient -creditor had actually put into force a -threat which he had made of sending officers -to the Abbey. The young gentleman had recourse -in this extremity to some good friends -in the city, by whose prompt assistance the -supplies were raised, and the Abbey was cleared -of those birds of ill omen. Oliver’s story, as -we have seen, had satisfied the old gentleman; -and he alone remained in ignorance of a fact in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -his relative’s conduct, which certainly would -have disturbed him greatly, but which would -not have provoked him to disinheriting.</p> - -<p>By the same conveyance which brought the -means of liberating the Abbey, old Richard -Smith received through the hands of his attorney -a satisfaction also of his claim; and as Mrs. -Price was all the day occupied in telling the -same story as she had told in the morning, it -came to pass that she told more lies at the end -of the day than she had at the beginning. In -the mean time, the day was passing rapidly -away, and Philip Martindale did not return. -Oliver was a little puzzled to account for this -delay to himself, but he could easily account -for it to the old gentleman. What a pity it is -that those ingenious gentlemen who can invent -lies for the satisfaction of others, cannot invent -any for the solution of their own difficulties. -Mr. Oliver was in some degree of alarm, lest his -stories, by some movement of his master, might -not well hang together; and had it not been -for some very natural fear that he might altogether -lose his character and his place, he probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -would have been provoked to tell the old -gentleman the truth: he considered, however, -that as he had so long played a double part, it -would be now too late to affect honesty.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I joy to see you here, but should have thought</div> -<div class="verse">It likelier to have heard of you at court,</div> -<div class="verse">Pursuing there the recompenses due</div> -<div class="verse">To your great merit.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Tuke.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is now high time to introduce more -particularly to our readers the Hon. Philip -Martindale. He has been glancing and flitting -before our eyes; but he has not stayed long -enough to be fairly seen and understood. He -did not appear to great advantage at the -assizes, where he sat laughing or sneering at -the progress of his own cause; nor would he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -have made a very imposing figure, had we -opened upon him on the evening of the day -of the trial, when, on his return home, the -trusty Oliver announced to him the arrival -of two gentlemen, calling themselves sheriffs’ -officers. To delay any longer to introduce -our honorable acquaintance to our readers, -would be intruding upon their patience beyond -reason.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Philip Martindale finding that -it would not be possible to get rid of this encumbrance -by any other means than by discharging -the debt, and knowing that the debt -could not be discharged without money, and -knowing that money was not at that emergency -to be obtained but by the medium of the -people of Israel, sent his trusty Oliver to the -Red Lion to provide a chaise to carry him on -his way to London. It would be more agreeable -to us, if it were possible, to bring our -readers to an acquaintance with the honorable -gentleman lolling in his own chariot, for -that would be more befitting his rank in -society, than to see him travelling in so plebeian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -a vehicle as a hired chaise, drawn by a pair -of hack horses. But though the Hon. Philip -Martindale was a man of high rank, and somewhat -proud of the station which he held in -society, he was not altogether unable or unwilling -to condescend; and though the Denvers, -the Flints, the Prices, and all the other -gentry, thought him a very proud and haughty -man, yet there were many in Brigland, many -in Newmarket, and many in London and its -vicinity, who could bear testimony to his -condescension.</p> - -<p>To describe a journey to London in a post-chaise, -along thirty or forty miles of turnpike-road, -bounded on the right hand by hedges -and ditches, and on the left by ditches and -hedges, requires powers of description and -imagination to which we are too humble to -make pretension. As we are not presuming -to descant on the history of the journey, we -may as well say a word or two concerning the -person who took the said journey. We are -perfectly aware that it would be more artist-like -and effective, to let our characters speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -for themselves, and by their own acts or words -develope their own peculiarities; but this is not -altogether possible to be done effectually; for -the same words from different lips have a -different meaning; and there is a peculiarity -of tone and accent and look which does much -towards rendering the character intelligible. -These matters may be imitated in the drama on -the stage, but they cannot be well transfused -into plainly-written dialogue.</p> - -<p>Without farther apology, then, we proceed to -speak of the Hon. Philip Martindale somewhat -more particularly. We speak of this -person in the first place, for that was a first consideration -with himself. He was tall, but not -thin; rather clumsily formed about the shoulders; -his gait was rather swaggering than -stately; his features were not unhandsome, but -they wanted expression; his manner of speaking -was not remarkable for its beauty, for he -had a habit of drawling which seemed to -strangers a piece of affectation; his style of -dress was plain, somewhat approaching to that -of the driver of a coach, but any one might see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -in a moment that he was a man of some consequence. -As to his mind, he was by no means -a blockhead or a simpleton; nor was he to -be considered as ill-humored. He was of -an easy disposition; and had he been placed -in a situation which required the exercise -of his mental powers to gain a living, he would -have passed for a man of very good understanding.</p> - -<p>But there is one kind of capacity required to -gain a fortune, and another to spend it. Philip -Martindale possessed the former, but he wanted -the latter. Our readers are already aware -that the young gentleman had for a short time -assayed a professional life, and had given promise -of fair success; but when he found that a -title was awaiting him, and that a dependence -was offered him, he renounced his profession, -and gave up an independence for a dependence. -Now ever since he had changed his style of -life, he had changed his habits of social intercourse. -While he had chambers in the Temple, -he had for companions men of literary -acquirements and taste; and all he knew of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -the prowess and powers of the celebrated dog -Billy, or of the no less celebrated heroes of -the ring, was from the interesting and beautiful -reports which grace the columns of our newspapers: -he was then acquainted with no other -coachman than the driver of his father’s carriage, -and he was not very intimate with him: at that -time he was as ignorant of the highest as he -was of the lowest ranks; and if he occasionally -spent an evening at the Opera, he had nothing -to do but to attend to the performance.</p> - -<p>But when his circumstances changed, all -other things changed too; he renounced the -middle of society for the two extremes. It -was new for him to have expensive horses; and -it was pleasant for him to talk knowingly about -what he knew imperfectly; and coachmen, -grooms, and stable-boys, could talk best upon -a topic which was a favorite with him; and -as he had never before been so flattered by -homage and deference, he thought that coachmen, -grooms, and stable-boys, were most delightful -companions; and his acquaintance with -them extended and increased accordingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -Then it was that he began to feel the pleasures -of high rank. Nobody can enjoy the pleasures -of high station who associates only with his -equals; it is when he looks into the depths -below that he can feel his elevation. The ring -and the cockpit are most admirable contrivances -to bring men of high rank to a full -sense of their dignity. The Hon. Philip Martindale -used them abundantly, and doubtless -with great advantage. As he descended, so -also did he ascend; and from association with -black legs, he became qualified to claim acquaintance -with the highest ranks in society. -The cockpit and the betting-table are very -appropriate vestibules to Almack’s; and the -slang of the stable is a very suitable accomplishment -for a legislator. Farther particulars -concerning the Hon. Philip Martindale may be -learned from his history, as herein recorded.</p> - -<p>As soon as the honorable gentleman arrived -in London, he proceeded forthwith to his accommodating -friends in the city, from whom -he procured the means of ridding the Abbey -of its unwelcome guests; and it was his intention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -to return immediately to dismiss the disagreeable -ones in person. But so full of -accident and event is human life, that this -intention was not put into immediate effect. -Just as our young gentleman had left the door -of a banking-house in Lombard Street, close -behind him, he saw on the opposite side of the -way an old, or more properly speaking a new -acquaintance, who was as familiar as an old one. -The personage in question wore a scarlet coat, -white hat, yellow silk handkerchief, and crimson -face mottled with purple. Without bending -his body, or moving a muscle, he touched his -hat to the Hon. Philip Martindale, who most -graciously acknowledged the salute, and made -a movement to cross the way towards him; -whereupon he of the crimson face and scarlet -coat hastened to anticipate his honorable friend; -and the parties met in the middle of the street, -even as Napoleon Bonaparte and the Emperor -of Russia met in the middle of the river.</p> - -<p>When the high-contracting parties were thus -met, the Hon. Philip Martindale commenced -the discourse by inquiring of his friend, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -was in the guards, that is, was guard to a mail-coach, -and who was addressed by the name of -Stephen, if he had succeeded in the commission -with which he had been intrusted: this commission -was the purchasing of a dog for fighting. -Stephen expressed his great concern that -this important affair had not been concluded; -but he was happy to have it in his power to -say, that he had heard of a capital bull-terrier -to be disposed of at Finchley; and as price -was no object, he hoped to bring him up next -journey. In the mean time, he was very glad -to inform his honour that he had that very -morning brought up a couple of game-cocks -in very high condition; and if Mr. Martindale -would condescend to go as far as Tothill Street, -he might see them that very afternoon.</p> - -<p>This was too strong a temptation for the -legislator to resist. Having therefore made -arrangements for remitting to Brigland the -means of discharging the claims upon him -which were most urgent, he resolved to remain -in town for that night at least, and leave it to -Oliver’s ingenuity to account for his absence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -if there should be any occasion to account for -it at all. He appointed, therefore, to meet his -friend Stephen in Tothill Street at five o’clock; -and in the mean time, betook himself to a coffee-house -in the neighbourhood of Charing Cross -to fill up the interval.</p> - -<p>This interval was exceedingly tedious. There -were many newspapers in the room, but there -was nothing in them. There was a clock, -but it did not seem to go; at least so he -thought, but after looking at it for a very long -time he found it did go, but it went very slowly. -Then he looked at his watch, and that went -as slow as the clock. Then he took up the -newspapers again one after the other very -deliberately. He read the sporting intelligence -and the fashionable news. But he did -not read very attentively, as he afterwards -discovered. Then he looked at the clock again, -and was almost angry at the imperturbable -monotony of its face. Then he took out his -pocket-book to amuse himself by reading his -memorandums, but they were very few and -very unintelligible. Then he rose up from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -seat, and went to the window, and looked at the -people in the street; he thought they looked -very stupid, and wondered what they could all -find to do with themselves. He looked at the -carriages, and saw none with coronets, except -now and then a hackney-coach. Then he began -to pick his teeth, and that reminded him of -eating; and then he rang the bell, which presently -brought a waiter; and he took that -opportunity of drawling out the word “waiter” -in such lengthened tone, as if resolved to make -one word last as long as possible.</p> - -<p>While he was occupied bodily with his sandwich, -he was also mentally engaged in reflections -on days that were gone; and he could not -but think that his hours were not so heavy -when he was toiling at the study of law, as -now when his rank was higher, and when his -residence was one of the most splendid seats -in the kingdom. He thought it was very hard -that he should stand in awe of an old humorist, -and he had for a moment thoughts of emancipating -himself from trammels, and assuming -to himself the direction of his own actions;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -but then, on the other hand, he also considered -that without the assistance of the old gentleman, -he should not be able to clear off the -encumbrances with which his own hereditary -estate had been burdened by his anticipations. -His only resource was an advantageous -match; but the difficulty was how to accomplish -that object, and to preserve his dignity.</p> - -<p>In the same street in which Lord Martindale, -his father, lived, there was an heiress, but not -altogether unobjectionable. Her origin was -plebeian; her wealth was commercial; her connexions -decidedly vulgar, notwithstanding all -her pains to keep them select, and to curtail the -number of her cousins; her manners awkward, -and her taste in dress most execrable. Whenever -Philip Martindale felt impatient of controul, -he thought of Miss Celestina Sampson, -and of the many thousands which her industrious -father had accumulated by the manufacturing -of soap; and by thinking much on the -subject, he had been gradually led to consider -the match as not altogether intolerable. He -thought of many other persons of as high rank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -as himself, and even higher, who had not disdained -to gild their coronets with city gold. -There was nothing glaringly or hideously vulgar -in Miss Sampson’s manners, though she was -not the most graceful of her sex. Then her -person was rather agreeable than otherwise, -especially when she was not over-dressed; -and as for her cousins, they might be easily -cut.</p> - -<p>In truth, these meditations had so frequently -occupied the young gentleman’s mind, that -there began to be actually some talk on the -subject among the friends of the parties. These -thoughts were by some fatality passing in his -mind while he was waiting for the arrival of -the hour for which his engagement was made; -and by a very singular coincidence he was reminded -of Miss Celestina: for while he was -wishing the time to move more rapidly, there -entered into the coffee-room two young gentlemen, -who very noisily manifested their importance. -They lounged up to the table on which -the papers were lying, and each helped himself to -one; then they sat down at separate and distant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -tables, each spreading his paper before him, -and lolling with his elbows on the table, and his -feet stretched out to the widest possible extent, -as if begging to have his toes trod on; and -they ever and anon laughed aloud, and called -out the one to the other at any piece of intelligence -which excited their astonishment, or gave -occasion to witty remark. Among other announcements -which they thus communicated to -each other, was a short paragraph in the -fashionable intelligence which had altogether -escaped the notice of Philip Martindale; and -as its announcement was preceded by a very -loud laugh, his attention was especially drawn -to it, and it was as follows:</p> - -<p>“It is currently reported that the Hon. -Philip Martindale of Brigland Abbey, eldest -son of Lord Martindale, is about to lead to the -hymeneal altar the accomplished and beautiful -daughter and heiress of Sir Gilbert Sampson.”</p> - -<p>“There, Smart,” said the reader of the -above paragraph, “you have lost your chance -for ever. What a pity it is you did not make -a better use of your time. By the way, do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -know any thing of the Hon. Philip Martindale?”</p> - -<p>“I know nothing about him, except that I -have been told he is one of the proudest men -that ever lived; and I can never suppose that -he would condescend to marry the daughter of -a soap-boiler.”</p> - -<p>“There is no answering for that,” responded -the other; “necessity has no law. Brigland -Abbey cannot be kept up for a trifle; and if I -am not misinformed, this same Philip Martindale -has been rather hard run on settling-days.”</p> - -<p>At hearing this conversation, the young -gentleman was greatly annoyed; and in order -to avoid any farther intelligence concerning -himself, he took his departure, for the hour -appointed for meeting his friend Stephen was -now very near at hand. He was in very ill-humour -with what he had heard, and was quite -shocked at the liberties which common people -took with the names and affairs of persons of -rank. He had composed in his own mind, and -was uttering with his mind’s voice, a most eloquent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -philippic against the daring insolence of -plebeian animals, who presumed to canvass the -conduct of their superiors; and he was dwelling -upon the enviable privacy of more humble life, -which was not so watched and advertised in all -its movements, till it occurred to him that -this publicity was one of the distinctions of high -life, and that even calumnious reports concerning -the great were but a manifestation of the -interest which the world took in their movements. -It also came into his mind that many -of those actions which seem otherwise unaccountable -and ridiculous, owe their being to a -love of notoriety; and he thought it not unlikely -that some of the great might play fools’ tricks -for the sake of being talked of by the little. -So his anger abated, and he more than forgave -the impertinent one who had made free with -his name in a newspaper.</p> - -<p>It has been said that we live in a strange -world. We deny this position altogether. -Nothing is less strange than this world and its -contents. But if we will voluntarily and wilfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -keep our eyes closed, and form an imaginary -world of our own, and only occasionally -awake and take a transient glance of reality, -and then go back to our dreamings, the world -may well enough be strange to us.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“How durst you come into this room and company without leave?”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Killegrew.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Philip Martindale proceeded, as we -have stated, from the coffee-house towards -Tothill Street, with a view of keeping his -engagement with his friend of the scarlet coat -and crimson countenance. He had entered -into his memorandum-book the number of the -house to which he had been directed, but he -omitted as useful a notice, namely, to take down -the division or apartment in which the gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -of the pit had his residence. For the fact -is, that the ingenious bird-feeder and fancier -resided in an upper apartment, nearer to the -sky by one flight of stairs than the Hon. -Philip Martindale imagined. The house was -a miserable contrast to the splendid mansion -which he had left. Whether it had ever been -cleansed either by paint or water, since the day -it was built, seemed a matter of doubt. The -windows had been broken, and had been mended -partially but not with glass. The very window-frames -seemed to be in such a state of dilapidation -that a breeze might blow them from their -position.</p> - -<p>When the door was opened by a middle -aged female, whose miserable and dirty attire -made her look twenty years older than she was, -the olfactory nerves of the young gentleman -were assailed by a grievous combination of -various odours, among which onions, tobacco, -and gin, were the predominant. Asking of the -miserable being who opened the door whether -Clarke was within, he was told to walk up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -stairs. Very slowly and very cautiously did -he mount the creaking staircase, setting his -foot gently and inquiringly upon each successive -stair to ascertain whether it would bear his -weight: of one or two he had so much distrust -as to step completely over them.</p> - -<p>When arrived at the first landing-place, he -heard a multitude of voices, which he naturally -supposed to proceed from some gentlemen of -the fancy. Without knocking at the door, he -immediately let himself in, and found to his -great astonishment that he had mistaken the -apartment. He found himself surrounded by -a group of dark-complexioned, sallow-looking, -unshorn beings; some of whom were sitting on -the floor, others on crazy boxes and broken chairs, -and all of whom were smoking cigars. The -dingy dress which they wore, and the faded -decorations which were suspended on their left -breast, immediately proclaimed them to be -emigrants. As soon as he entered the room, -their voices were stilled, and they turned their -inquiring and sickened looks towards him as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -to a harbinger of some intelligence of good. -The moment that he felt where and with whom -he was thus accidentally placed, his spirit sunk -within him; and he did feel a deep compassion -for the miserable objects which surrounded -him.</p> - -<p>One of the party, by the freshness of his dress -and the cleanliness of his person, appeared to -have arrived but recently among them. He -was a man of middle age, wearing a very respectable -military dress; and though of thoughtful -look, he did not appear dejected or heartbroken. -To him Mr. Martindale addressed -himself in the Italian language, apologising for -his accidental and unintentional intrusion. The -stranger replied in English, spoken with a -foreign accent, but with tolerable fluency, stating -that he had just arrived in England, and being -directed to where he could find some of his -fellow-countrymen, he had but recently entered -the house, and was grieved to see them so -situated. He also said that he himself was -not much better provided for, but that his wife -and child were in England, though he could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -at present discover in what part of the country. -He said that he had received letters from them, -but that those letters were lost, with part of his -own luggage. But he trusted, he continued, -that he should find out, by inquiry, where his -family was; and he concluded a long harangue -by asking Philip Martindale, with great simplicity, -if he knew where Mr. Smith lived.</p> - -<p>This is a question which wiser men than the -Hon. Philip Martindale would be puzzled to -answer; and it is a question which weaker -men than he would have smiled at. He was -not a man without feeling, though he was a -man of the world; and it excited in his mind -other thoughts and feelings than those of a -ridiculous nature, when he saw a foreigner in -England, whose discovery of his wife and child -depended on the finding out of the residence of -a person of so common a name as Smith. Forgetting, -therefore, his engagement with Stephen -the guard, he set himself seriously and closely to -interrogate the poor man, in order to find some -better and more definite clue to the discovery -of his family than the name of Smith. Thereupon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -the countenance of the foreigner brightened up, -his eyes sparkled, and the tear was on his -cheek, when he said:</p> - -<p>“Oh! sare, you are good. I thank you -much for your great trouble: you are all so -good in England to the poor estranger when he -is in misery. It is sad to leave my own land; -but what am I without my poor child?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my good friend,” replied Philip, “I -hope and trust you will find your child. But -surely you must have some other knowledge of -the person with whom your family is residing -than merely the name of Smith. You have -had letters from them, you say; can you not -recollect from what place those letters were -dated?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I could not recollect it once: it -was no name in the geography; it was in the -province.”</p> - -<p>“Then, of course, it was not London;” replied -Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>“No, no, no, it was not London; it was in -the province: it was far away from London -thirty or forty mile.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But did not you sometimes send letters to -your family, and can you not tell how you addressed -your letters to them? Perhaps if you -were to consider a little while, you might be -able to call to mind something that might assist -in discovering the place of their abode. If you -had letters, most likely some account was given -of the place where they lived: or if it were a -small village, they may have mentioned the -name of the nearest post-town.”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, it was very pretty place. It was -thirty or forty mile from London. It was very -beautiful place. There was large, very fine -palace called Abbey. There was very fine -lake.”</p> - -<p>This description reminded Philip Martindale -of the place of his own residence, and he therefore -asked if the name of the place was at all -like Brigland. The foreigner looked thoughtful, -and attempted to repeat the word, saying: -“Breeklan! Breeklan!” Then, after a pause of -a few seconds, his features underwent a complete -change, and with a kind of hysteric laugh -or screech of exultation, he cried out:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, that was it! that was it! Oh, good -sare, it was Breeklan—oh, tell me where is -Breeklan, and I will see my child and my dear -wife—oh, I will see them once again—oh, you -have save me from great misery.”</p> - -<p>Then he seized Philip Martindale’s hand -and pressed it with great emotion, repeating -his solicitations; and the tears rolled down his -cheeks, and he smiled with such an expression -of delight, that the young gentleman was -moved; and after he had given some charitable -donations to the rest of the unhappy ones in the -miserable apartment, he proceeded to conduct -the newly-arrived stranger where he might -find a conveyance to take him to Brigland.</p> - -<p>Philip Martindale then returned to the house -where the game-cocks were to be seen, and -there he met his friend Stephen the guard, and -some other friends of the fancy, by the fascinations -of whose sweet society he was detained -in the metropolis somewhat longer than he designed, -and by whose winning ways he found -himself poorer than was quite convenient. The -opinion he expressed concerning the fighting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -birds—the particulars of the exhibition with -which he was afterwards favoured at the Westminster-pit—the -brilliant conversation in which -he there engaged—the bets which there he laid -and lost—the flattering homage which he there -received—the satisfaction which resulted from -it—all these and many other matters of a like -nature we pass over unrecorded; trusting that, -where one reader blames the omission, fifty will -commend it.</p> - -<p>But though we describe not these scenes, it -does not follow that we should pass them over -without reflection. One very natural reflection -is, that gentlemen of high birth and estate -are much to be envied for the pleasure which -they enjoy in those scenes. There must be a -peculiar delight in such pursuits, or the superfine -part of our species could not possibly condescend, -for the sake of them, to associate on -most familiar terms with persons whose birth is -most miserably low, whose understandings are -most grievously defective, whose manners are -abominably coarse. Take from the side of one -of these honorables the jockey, the boxer, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -feeder, or the coachman, with whom he is all -courtesy and good humor and familiarity, and -place there a man of middle rank in society, -respectable in every point of view, with what -cool contempt would the dignity of high birth -regard him. One other reflection is, that -such pursuits ought to be calculated to raise -these said gentle and noble ones very high in -their own esteem, inasmuch as they are not -thereby raised in the esteem of others. Their -disinterested generosity is also much to be applauded, -seeing that by thus lavishing their -wealth on those whose only support is the -gambling propensity of men of wealth, they -take away from the public a large number of -such as might otherwise have exercised their -wits in picking pockets or breaking into houses. -They who would suppress gambling deserve the -thanks of the ninnies who would be thus preserved -from being plundered in an honorable -and gentlemanly manner; but what would become -of the rogues and sharpers who live upon -the folly of right honorable and high-born -simpletons? Politic morality is perhaps one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -the greatest difficulties which legislators have -to contend with. Begging pardon for these -reflections, we proceed with our story.</p> - -<p>We have stated that the Hon. Philip Martindale -suffered in his purse from his visit to -the Westminster-pit. The following morning -he meditated much upon the subject; and he -also applied the powers of his mind to the ring, -and recollected that he had there oftentimes -suffered as much in his purse as some of the -pummeled heroes had in their persons. Then -while he was in the humor for thinking, he -endeavoured to calculate how much these -amusements had cost him; and in the course of -that calculation it most unaccountably came -into his mind that many of the frequenters of -these exhibitions had no ostensible means of -living, and that they yet lived well, and that -of course they must have lived upon him and -others of high rank and birth. Following that -train of thought, and finding that several of the -superfine ones who had formerly patronised these -sports had for some reason or other gradually -fallen off from them, he began to think that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -he would also abstain from them, and confine -himself to the more respectable and gentleman-like -avocations of the race-course and the -hazard-table: for there he should meet with -a more numerous assemblage of persons of his -own rank; and as he had three horses entered -to run at Newmarket, and as one of these -was an especial favorite, he had some expectation -of retrieving his losses, at least in part. -He fully determined that he would no longer -associate with the vulgar ones of the ring and -the pit. Oh, what an excellent homily is an -empty purse!</p> - -<p>Now it happened very fortunately for the -trusty Oliver, and for his master too, that when -the latter had finished his meditations, and was -entering the shop of his gunsmith, he should -meet there his worthy friend Sir Andrew Featherstone. -The greeting was cordial; for the -meeting was agreeable on both sides. Sir -Andrew Featherstone was a baronet of very -ancient family:—that rendered him acceptable -to the Hon. Philip Martindale. But he had -other recommendations—he was the best-tempered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -man in the world. There are myriads of -this description. He kept a most excellent table, -had a capital pack of hounds, and two very -beautiful daughters, whom we shall have great -pleasure in introducing to our readers in due -course of time. The families of the Featherstones -and the Martindales had been intimate -time out of mind; and it was the wish of Sir -Andrew to marry one of his daughters to the -Hon. Philip Martindale. But the young gentleman -himself had never given the subject a -single thought. By one of those remarkable -coincidences which are happening every day, -Sir Andrew mentioned the archery-meeting, -and expressed a wish that Philip would honor -it with his presence. The young gentleman -found this reality as great a relief to his mind, -as his trusty Oliver had found the invention a -relief to his mind; and he immediately dispatched -a note to his venerable relative, stating -his engagement, and fixing the day of his return -to Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“A was an archer, and shot at a frog.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Anon.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The residence of Sir Andrew Featherstone -was called Hovenden Lodge; why it was called -a lodge we cannot say. It was a large plain -house, situated in a small level park. The hand -of improvement had been very busy with it, but -the genius of propriety had not presided over -the improvements. Several different styles of -architecture had been introduced, and to very -ill effect; for the very square broad-sided form<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -of the building rendered it unsusceptible of decoration. -But Sir Andrew cared nothing about -it—he left all those matters to the ladies, who -gave directions according to their own taste or -lack of taste; and all the return which he made -for their architectural diligence and their skilful -improvements was to laugh at what he called -their absurdities. The usual order was quite -reversed at Hovenden Lodge; for while Lady -Featherstone and her two daughters, Lucy and -Isabella, were drawing plans, or marching about -the park, and pointing out to the architect the -improvements which they thought desirable, -Sir Andrew was standing by the kitchen fire -and lecturing the cook, or translating aloud -recipes from his favorite French cookery-book, -which was the only book that he had ever -purchased; and very highly did he value it, -fancying that few persons in this kingdom were -aware of its existence. He often however had, -or we should more properly say, might have -had, the mortification of finding that he had -been translating from French into English that -which had been previously translated from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -English into French; for whenever his knowing -lady reminded him that any recipe was already -in the English cookery-books, he would always -contend for or discover some delicate variation -which gave the French the advantage. He -thought, too, that there was a peculiar piquancy -in the French terms, and that there was a particular -relish in foreign names, which he always -took care to utter, but which his obstinately -English organs of speech rendered mightily -amusing in their utterance.</p> - -<p>The greatest evil of the archery-meeting in -Sir Andrew’s opinion was, that it must be attended -only with a cold collation, and that -must be in a marquee. It had been discussed -repeatedly, but as frequently decided against -him, that it was absolutely impossible to have a -hot dinner. He did not like it, but he bore it -very good-temperedly; and was brimful of jokes, -ready to let fly with every arrow.</p> - -<p>Lady Featherstone, who was never so happy -as when she was patronising, was delighted -with the thought of the long table under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -marquee, and her own self smiling, nodding, -and bowing most gracefully to every body: she -could undergo a cold dinner every day of her -life, for the happiness of thinking that every -body said, “What a charming woman is Lady -Featherstone!”</p> - -<p>The young ladies were in proud and confident -expectation of winning the prize; but in -still more proud and more confident expectation -of exhibiting their elegant selves to an admiring -multitude. This, indeed, is the great -beauty of archery; it is an <em>elegant</em> exercise, or -in other words, it gives an opportunity to young -ladies to exhibit themselves in elegant or attractive -attitudes; and many a young woman -who would have scarcely any chance of a display, -hereby acquires a right to be stared at -most perseveringly and inveterately. She may -be as long as she pleases taking her aim; and if -she fears that she shall not hit the target, she -may take an aim elsewhere.</p> - -<p>And it is a very pretty thing too for young -gentlemen in the last year of being at school,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -or in the first of their undergraduateship. -Dressed in the archery uniform, they look so -very much like Robin Hood: they go back to -old times in almost more than imagination; but -more especially, they have an opportunity of -playing off the <em>polites</em>. At all events, it is a -very innocent amusement; and if properly managed -by the lady-patroness, it may rise into -something of a matter of importance. If any -of the party be in possession of the powers of -eloquence, they may draw up a very pretty -report of the meeting; and the editors of country -papers will feel much honored by inserting -the said report; and there will be a very pretty -sprinkling of very pretty compliments to the -very pretty young ladies, who may be compared -to Diana’s nymphs; and there may be quotations -from the old songs about Robin Hood -and Maid Marian; and very pretty talk about -the greenwood shade and the merry horn. -Then the editor of the newspaper sells an extra -number of papers, which are sent in different -directions to distant friends.</p> - -<p>The display of beauty and fashion which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -exhibited in Hovenden Park on the above-named -occasion, bids defiance by its brilliancy -to our powers of description. Sir Andrew -himself, though his occupation was gone for -that day at least, endured with a very good -grace his absence from the kitchen; and was -prepared to hear and say all that was polite, -together with a little that was satirical. Before -the business of the day began, he said in the -hearing of the exhibitors: “Where shall I -stand to be most out of the way; I think I had -better take my station in front of the target.”</p> - -<p>With many such sayings he entertained the -young people; and some of the young ladies -laughed so heartily at his attempts at humor, -that they could hardly direct the arrows; and -then, when any one shot very wide of the mark, -he smilingly said, “Well done, my good girl, -that’s right, take care you don’t spoil the target.” -And notwithstanding all the frowns and rebukes -of Lady Featherstone, the facetious baronet continued -his interruptions much to the amusement -and a little to the annoyance of the party.</p> - -<p>We should not have mentioned this crotchet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -of Sir Andrew’s, but that we think it may be -not amiss to take this opportunity of observing -that persevering witticisms, forced out in rapid -succession on all occasions, and a series of smart -sayings, good, bad, and indifferent, uttered -without abatement, may often excite the outward -and visible sign of merriment long after -they have ceased to be agreeable. For laughter -is not always the sign of satisfaction, any more -than tears are always a token of sorrow. There -is no man, however stupid, who cannot occasionally -say a good thing; and very few, if any, can -utter real wit in every sentence; and miserable -is the annoyance of everlasting efforts at facetiousness. -It is only tolerable in those who are -very young or very weak.</p> - -<p>But as one great object of archery-meetings -is display, we should be guilty of injustice in -omitting to notice a young lady of the party, -who came with the full intention of eclipsing -every one there;—and she succeeded. We -refer to Miss Celestina Sampson. She came -accompanied by her father, Sir Gilbert Sampson; -who, though a new man, was very well received<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -by Sir Andrew. Miss Sampson was not a -beauty, but was good-looking and rather pretty; -of middle stature, light complexion, and fine -natural colour; good-humored and cheerful; -ambitious of elegance, but not well-informed as -to the means; critical as to the externals of -behaviour, and much exposed herself to the -same kind of criticism; sadly afraid of vulgarity, -though often sinning through mere ignorance. -Her appearance and dress attracted, as she -designed, universal attention; but not, as she -hoped, universal admiration. She had studied -costume with more zeal than taste; and vibrating -between the costume of Diana and Maid -Marian, she at last appeared, if like any thing -at all, a tawdry imitation of Fatima, in the play -of Blue-beard.</p> - -<p>As Sir Gilbert Sampson was also present, we -may say a word or two of him. He had been a -soap-boiler. True; but what of that?—he had -retired from business, and had washed his hands -of soap. He had been a soap-boiler. True; but -whose fault was that? Not his own: he had no innate, -natural, violent, irresistible, unextinguishable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -propensity for boiling soap; for if he had, -he would never have relinquished the pursuit. -The fault was his father’s; for had the father -of Sir Gilbert been a duke, Sir Gilbert would -never have been a soap-boiler. As to the rest, -Sir Gilbert Sampson was a man of good understanding, -of extensive knowledge, possessing -strong natural powers of mind, and altogether -free from every species of affectation.</p> - -<p>Lady Sampson had, while she lived, governed -by permission of her lord and master. She had -dictated concerning the petty details of life; and -after her death, her daughter reigned in her -stead. Sir Gilbert never troubled himself -about trifles; but Miss Sampson took all that -care entirely off her father’s hands. The pleasure -of his life was the company of a few old -acquaintances; but he tolerated parties when -Miss Sampson could manage to assemble them.</p> - -<p>And this was not a difficulty, even though Sir -Gilbert had been a soap-boiler; for his cook -was not a soap-boiler, and his fishmonger was -not a soap-boiler, and his wine merchant was -not a soap-boiler. Sir Gilbert’s dinners were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -very excellent; and those who partook of them -praised them much, and did not say a word -about soap while they were at dinner; and -that was very kind, and exceedingly condescending: -for it is a piece of great presumption -in a man who has acquired a property by -honest industry to give sumptuous entertainments -to those who are spending or who have -spent what their ancestors earned for them.</p> - -<p>Enough for the present of Sir Gilbert Sampson. -Be it however observed by the way, that -our good and facetious friend, Sir Andrew -Featherstone, regarded Sir Gilbert without any -feeling of aristocratic pride, and so did many -others of his acquaintance; and that even -the Hon. Philip Martindale behaved very politely -to him, inasmuch as he was occasionally -under apprehension that it might be desirable -for him to disencumber and improve the -Martindale estate by the means of Sir Gilbert’s -wealth. At this meeting, owing to previous -matters already recorded, the idea of the possibility -of Miss Sampson becoming Mrs., and, in -process of time, Lady Martindale, took very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -strong hold of the young gentleman’s imagination. -He therefore, without being aware of -any difference in his manner, paid very extraordinary -attention to Sir Gilbert; and as the -young lady observed this, and was rather ambitious -of the honor of so high an alliance, and -as she thought that the best way to make a conquest, -or to secure one already made, was to make -herself agreeable; and as she thought that the -best way to make herself agreeable was to put -herself very much in the way of the person to -whom she wished to be agreeable, and to talk -to him and listen to his talk, and smile at what -he said if he seemed to think it witty, and to -manifest that her attention was more taken up -with him than with any one else: Miss Sampson -acted upon this principle, but in the over-officiousness -of her zeal carried her system so far as -to make it almost a persecution.</p> - -<p>As to the effect thereby produced upon the -Hon. Philip Martindale, very little if any progress -was made in his affections. He was accustomed -to homage and attention, and took it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -as a matter of course; he had experienced -quite as much attention from the friends of -ladies of higher rank than Miss Sampson; and -the charms of the young lady’s person or conversation -were nothing to him in his matrimonial -speculations. If Mr. John Martindale had -been a man of infirm health, and likely soon to -decide the question as to who should possess -his large property, Philip Martindale would -not have had any thought whatever of an -alliance so much beneath the dignity of his -rank and the purity of his blood; or were the -old gentleman a little less capricious, or had -the young gentleman been a little more prudent -in the management of his affairs, then -Miss Sampson might have had the beauty of a -Venus, the wisdom of a Minerva, or the wealth -of Crœsus, and these qualities would have -made no impression. On the other hand, under -the then present circumstances, Miss Sampson -needed not to take any pains to render herself -agreeable; for had her person been deformed, -and her mind that of an idiot, yet her father,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -by the accumulation of a large fortune, had -done quite enough to make her perfectly -agreeable.</p> - -<p>And yet, notwithstanding all this confession -which we have made for Mr. Philip, we would -not have our readers to imagine that the young -gentleman was devoid of good qualities or good -feelings altogether; he might not have been so -candid in his confession for himself as we have -been for him, but he was not altogether aware -of the influence of circumstances upon his -mind. He was placed in a certain rank in -society, and must keep up the dignity of that -rank; and it was his misfortune if necessity put -him upon using means for that purpose not -quite in unison with his better judgment. -Royalty itself has not free choice in matters of -the heart; and nobility, as it approaches royalty -in its splendour, is sometimes assimilated to it -in its restraints and perplexities. Still, however, -making every concession which candour -and human kindness prompt us to make in behalf -of Philip Martindale; and admitting all -the extenuations which a merciful advocate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -could suggest, we cannot help thinking, and it -is our duty to say it, that if he had abstained -from the foolish and low pursuits of gaming in -all its varieties, and if he had cherished and -preserved that spirit of independence which his -excellent mother, Lady Martindale, had endeavoured -to instil into his mind, he might have -upheld the dignity of his rank, if he had sacrificed -a little of its splendour. But to our history.</p> - -<p>We have mentioned as the patroness of the -archery-meeting, Lady Featherstone; and we -have said that this lady had two daughters, -Lucy and Isabella. It has also been observed -that Sir Andrew Featherstone felt a wish to -unite one of these young ladies in marriage -with Philip Martindale. This was a very -natural ambition. The two families had been -intimate for several generations. The Martindales -had, by various circumstances, gradually -advanced in wealth; but the reverse had been -the lot of the Featherstones, though they were -quite as old and good a family as the Martindales. -Singular indeed it was that the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -person in the Martindale family who showed -any symptoms of alienation from the Featherstones -was old John Martindale: the singularity, -however, consisted in this, that he had not shown -any coolness, or behaved with any reserve, on -the increase of his own property; but he had -carried himself proudly towards them only since -his cousin had acquired a title of nobility and -had become a peer. Yet the old gentleman -professed to laugh at titles; but nobody thought -that old John Martindale was a fool.</p> - -<p>Sir Andrew Featherstone, being a good-humoured -man, took little notice of countless -insults, affronts, slights, and disrespectfulnesses, -whereby myriads of the human species are most -grievously tormented. He did not, therefore, -heed or observe the coldness of old Mr. Martindale; -nor was he at all angry with Philip that -he gave much of his attention to Sir Gilbert -Sampson, and that he tolerated the attentions of -Miss Sampson. Lady Featherstone, however, -was more observant; and notwithstanding the -incessant and manifold attention which she paid -to all the party, could not help noticing how -very gracious Philip Martindale was with Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -Gilbert. Various were the stratagems by which -her ladyship endeavoured and contrived to place -Philip in juxtaposition with her daughters when -they adjourned to the collation; and very -agreeable was her surprise when, after the -strictest observation, she did not discern any -wandering of the eyes of the young gentleman -towards that part of the table where Miss -Sampson was seated. Her fears were still farther -diminished, when she found that Miss -Sampson was deeply, and to all appearance -most agreeably, engaged in conversation with -a very elegant young gentleman, who seemed -almost as much pleased with Miss Sampson as -he was with himself. We owe it to our readers -to introduce this young gentleman.</p> - -<p>Henry Augustus Tippetson was a gentleman -of good family, but being a younger brother, -and very indolent, was not likely to make any -great figure in the world. He was of middle -stature; very slender, very fair, very near-sighted -when he happened to think of it; having -flaxen hair and blue eyes; suspected, but unjustly, -of using rouge; very expensive in his -dress, and one of Delcroix’s best customers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -He was not one of the archers, though he had -once attempted to use a bow. He found that -the exertion was too much for him, and he -feared it might harden his hands. He expressed -to Miss Sampson the same fears for -her; but the young lady heeded not the apprehension.</p> - -<p>Lady Featherstone was very happy to see -Miss Sampson so employed; but when her -ladyship turned her attention to her own daughters -and the gentleman whom she had seated -by them, not all her powers of penetration -could discover to which of the young ladies -Philip Martindale was paying the greatest attention; -and most of all was her mind disturbed -by observing, that when he addressed himself -either to one or the other, though it was with -perfect politeness, it was with perfect indifference.</p> - -<p>The sports of the day were concluded by a -ball, which resembled in every point every -ball of the same character. There was the -usual allowance of dancing, negus, nonsense, -tossing of heads, sneering, quizzing, showing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -off, blundering, and all the rest of that kind -of amusement. It enters not into our plan to -dwell any longer on this festival. We must -return to Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“For fame, (whose journies are through ways unknown,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Traceless and swift and changeful as the wind,)</div> -<div class="verse">The morn and Hurgonil had much outgone,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">While Truth mov’d patiently within behind.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Davenant.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From Hovenden Lodge, Philip Martindale -returned home; and after finding every thing -as it should be at the Abbey, and arranging -with the trusty Oliver concerning uniformity -of narrative, he called upon the old gentleman -at the cottage. There he underwent a long -harangue on the folly of archery, and the silliness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -of Sir Andrew Featherstone, together with -a desultory dissertation on the frivolity of the -age in general. From which dissertation, it -was to be inferred that old John Martindale -was the only man living who had the least idea -of propriety and wisdom of conduct.</p> - -<p>With becoming deference and submission, -the young gentleman gave his assent to whatsoever -the senior was pleased to assert. This -is one of the greatest pains of a state of dependence, -that it robs a man of the pleasure -of contradicting; and it is also one of the -greatest evils of holding intercourse with dependants, -that a man is thereby deprived of -the pleasure of being contradicted. These were -evils which the old and the young gentleman -both felt, but the old gentleman felt it most -deeply. Contradiction was so much his element, -that he could hardly live without it; and rather -than not enjoy the pleasure of it, he would -contradict himself. That must have been a -man of uncommon and high powers of mind, -who could so have managed the old gentleman -as to stimulate without offending him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -Hon. Philip Martindale was not equal to it, -either from want of capacity or from lack of -attention and diligence.</p> - -<p>When the old gentleman had finished a -tolerably long harangue on fools and follies of -all descriptions, it almost occurred to him that -if so great was the number of follies, and so -long was the list of fools, there could be little -else than folly in all human pursuits; and that -he himself, in his own singularity of wisdom, -was something of a fool for being so outrageously -wise, when there was nobody left to keep -him in countenance. Paradoxical as it may -sound, it is not far from truth that excess of -wisdom is excess of folly. The old gentleman -thought so when he said to his cousin:</p> - -<p>“I dare say now that you think me an old -fool for my pains, if you would be honest enough -to speak your mind.”</p> - -<p>Not waiting for a reply to this very wise, -though not very original remark, Mr. Martindale -continued his talk: “I am sorry, Master -Philip, you thought fit to take yourself off just -at the very moment that you were wanted. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -have had a very pleasant and intelligent companion -at the cottage for the last two days, -I particularly wished to introduce him to you; -I mean the young barrister, who pleaded old -Richard Smith’s cause so temperately and so -successfully. I should have thought that the -company of an intelligent young man would -be far more agreeable than a set of idle gabbling -chits, and an old simpleton of a baronet, -who has not an idea in the world beyond a -cookery-book. But every man to his taste.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, sir,” replied Philip, “that I -was not aware of your friend’s being at Brigland. -It would have given me great pleasure -to be introduced to him. He certainly conducted -his cause with great propriety, and did -not take, as some persons might have done, an -opportunity of insulting me.”</p> - -<p>“He did not conduct himself as your advocate -did, Master Philip; he did not attempt -to convert a court of justice into a bear-garden, -or degrade the dignity of his profession by -playing the buffoon to make boobies laugh. -Mr. Markham is a man of good sense, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -think his conversation would have been of -service to you: though he is a young man, he is -very extensively informed.”</p> - -<p>“I have not the least doubt of it,” replied -Philip; “I am only sorry that I was so unfortunate -as to be out of the way when he was -here. I shall be more fortunate I hope another -time.”</p> - -<p>That was a lie; but dependants must lie if -they would not lose their places. The Hon. -Philip Martindale recollected the time when he -was under no necessity of saying the thing which -was not, when he was independent but of his profession; -but then he was not called the honourable, -then he had no rank to support or dignity -to keep up. It was really mortifying and distressing -to him that those very circumstances -to which he had looked with hope and pleasure, -and from which he had anticipated an accession -to his happiness through the gratification of his -pride, should become the means of annoying -him so keenly where he was most susceptible. -The dilemma in which he was placed was -grievously perplexing. Turn which way he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -would, mortifications awaited him. There was -the daughter of a retired soap-boiler on one -side; there was the son of a country shopkeeper -pestering him on the other. To go back to his -profession was quite out of the question. To -marry rank and fortune too was not in the compass -of probability. Oh, how perplexing and -troublesome it is that such perpetual encroachments -should be made upon persons of rank; -so that notwithstanding all the care and pains -which they take to avoid it, they are perpetually -brought into contact with the commercial -cast. Most deeply did Philip Martindale feel -this inconvenience, but he could find no remedy -for it. He had however one consolation, in the -thought that he was not alone in his sorrows. -He was acquainted with others who carried -their heads much higher than himself, who yet -suffered the convenient degradation of commercial -affinities.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, “I am -sorry that Mr. Markham is gone; and I fear -we shall not see him again very soon.”</p> - -<p>This was no subject of regret with the Hon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -Philip Martindale; he was glad to hear that he -was not likely to be soon annoyed by an introduction -to a man of such equivocal rank as Horatio -Markham. But seeing that his opulent relative -was very much pleased with this stranger, -he thought it might be agreeable if he made -farther inquiries; he therefore asked, how it -happened that Mr. Markham had made so short -a visit. To his inquiries he received for answer, -that an express had arrived calling the -young barrister to London, and offering to his -acceptance a highly respectable legal situation -in one of the colonies. For this information -Philip was thankful; and finding that there was -no danger of being compelled to realise his profession, -he began to speak very highly of the -young barrister’s moral and intellectual qualities, -and to express in still stronger terms the -sorrow he felt at not being able to have the pleasure -of his acquaintance. Cunning as old Mr. -Martindale in general was, he was so far deceived -by these protestations, that he was put by them -into high good humour, both with himself and -his relative; and then he went on to talk about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -Richard Smith and his niece. This, however, -was a topic not altogether agreeable to Philip; -but the young gentleman so far succeeded in -explaining that affair, that Mr. Martindale was -ready to accept the explanation. He then -told Philip that Mr. Markham and he had -visited the cottage; and so communicative and -good-humoured was the elder Martindale, that -he even repeated, as far as he could recollect, -what took place at that visit, and how he had cautioned -the young barrister not to lose his heart.</p> - -<p>While this discourse was going on in the -cottage, the town of Brigland was agitated to -its very centre by a tragical event which had -occurred at old Richard Smith’s cottage. Multitudes -of idle people were running from place -to place, full of dreadful news of a murder that -had been committed in the course of the preceding -night. Almost every one had a different -story to tell; and the affair lost nothing of -its horror and mystery by being transmitted -from one to another. Mr. Denver, as in duty -or in habit bound, brought the tidings to Mr. -Martindale at the cottage. The story, as related<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -by the good-humoured perpetual curate, -spoke of poor old Richard Smith as having -been murdered by the gipsies, and of his niece -being carried away nobody knew where. Upon -cross-examination, however, it was elicited that -Mr. Denver had acquired his information by a -very circuitous route; for he had heard Mrs. -Price and Mrs. Flint both at once telling a -different version of the same story to Mrs. -Denver, who, while those two ladies were -speaking narratively, noisily, and contradictorily, -was herself also talking exclamatively and -interrogatively. The ladies who communicated -the event to Mrs. Denver had received their -information also from compound sources, but -both were satisfied that they had received their -intelligence from the best authority; and in -order to prove that they were both rightly informed, -they both of them talked very loudly -and very rapidly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver must have been a very clever -man under such circumstances to have made out -any story at all; and he was a very clever man -in such matters, and very much experienced in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -carrying and collecting intelligence: indeed, -the mode above stated was that in which he -usually acquired his knowledge. Practice gives -great facility. But it must be acknowledged, -notwithstanding all Mr. Denver’s accuracy and -dexterity, that there were in his narrative some -errors. It was not true that Richard Smith -had been murdered; and it was not true that -his niece had been carried away by violence or -otherwise. These were the only two errors in -the whole account. Much more however was -reported, which Mr. Denver did not relate; and -that which he did not relate was the part to -which was most especially applicable that pathos -of look and exclamation with which he introduced -his narrative. This part of the story -unfortunately was not true; we say unfortunately, -because it is really mortifying to the -multitude when investigation and inquiry deprive -them of the richest part of a most horrible -story. It was not likely that Mr. Denver -should mention this part of the report when -he saw Mr. Philip; for it was to that gentleman -that it referred.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>The report was, that Richard Smith had -been murdered by some ruffians who had been -employed by the Hon. Philip Martindale to -carry off the niece of the poor old man. There -was mention made of a fierce-looking military -man, who was to all appearance a foreigner, -who had been seen lurking about Brigland -Common, and conversing with the gipsies that -had but recently made their appearance there; -and one person actually saw this foreigner enter -the lane where old Smith’s cottage stood. All -this part of the tale was very properly and very -considerately omitted by Mr. Denver, who was a -very candid man; and who thought that if it -were true, it would in proper time transpire; -and that if Mr. Philip had employed ruffians to -carry off the young woman, he might have his -own reasons for it.</p> - -<p>At the hearing of this very serious story, the -two Martindales expressed their horror and astonishment; -and Philip immediately asked Mr. -Denver why he had not gone to the old man’s -cottage, in order to make some inquiry about -the matter: to which interrogation Mr. Denver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -gave no answer. The retailers of intelligence -would indeed lose many a choice and delightful -story, if they were to take great pains to investigate -the matter before they talked about it.</p> - -<p>Philip Martindale requested Mr. Denver immediately -to accompany him to the spot, that -they might be assured whether or not any -violence had been used, and whether there was -any necessity for the interference of a magistrate. -In their way they called on the constable, who -was frightened out of his wits at the thought -of going into a house where a man lay murdered. -But the presence of Philip Martindale -inspired him with an extraordinary share of -courage. As they proceeded, they saw groups -of people standing here and there, discussing -with great gravity, the mysterious affair of the -old man’s cottage. They looked with great earnestness -on Mr. Martindale and his companions; -and their murmurings and whisperings grew -thicker and deeper.</p> - -<p>When at length they arrived at the cottage, -they found it surrounded by a crowd of women -and children, and idle girls and boys. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -women were all talking, and the girls and boys -were clambering up to the cottage-windows, or -were mounted on trees that were near, as if to -catch a glimpse of something within the cottage. -At the approach of Philip Martindale -and his party, the boys and girls slunk down -from the windows; the women stayed their -loud talking; the whole multitude buzzed with -low whisperings; and the faces of all were -turned towards the magistrate, who was hastily -dragging the clergyman by his arm, and was -followed at a very respectful distance by the -constable.</p> - -<p>Not staying to make any inquiries, Philip -Martindale hastily opened the door of the -cottage, and leading in Mr. Denver, he turned -round and urged the constable to make haste in. -When he entered the apartment, he saw presently -that one part of the clergyman’s narrative -was incorrect, namely, that which referred to -the murder of old Richard Smith; for there sat -the old man in life and health, but apparently -in a state of great agitation, unable to answer -a word to the impatient and numerous interrogatories<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -of Philip Martindale and Mr. Denver. -A very short interval elapsed, before -there appeared from an inner-room a person -who was likely to be able to give some rational -account of the mystery. This person was a -surgeon. As soon as he heard Mr. Martindale’s -voice, he came forward to explain the affair.</p> - -<p>“Pray, Mr. Davis,” exclaimed the magistrate, -“what is the cause of all this bustle -and confusion? Mr. Denver has been informed -that this poor man was murdered. What has -given rise to such a rumour?”</p> - -<p>“I am happy to say, sir,” replied Mr. Davis, -“that there has been no life lost, though there -was great danger of it; and I fear that this -poor man will suffer seriously from the agitation -which he has undergone. If you will give me -leave, sir, I will tell you all the particulars. -A little better than an hour ago, just as I was -preparing to go my rounds, a boy came running -almost breathless into my surgery, imploring -me to make all the haste I could up to -old Richard Smith’s cottage, for there was a -man there who was so dreadfully wounded that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -he was almost killed. Of course I made the -best of my way here; and when I arrived, I -found the poor man sitting, as he is now, quite -speechless; and while I was endeavouring to -learn from him what was the matter, there -came into the room a gentleman, who spoke -like a foreigner, and asked if I was a surgeon, -and begged me to step into the back room; there -I found upon the bed one of the gipsies that -have been here for some days, just at the edge -of the common. They are gone now, all but -this man. I found, sir, that this man had been -severely wounded with a pistol-ball, and that -he had suffered much from loss of blood. I -immediately dressed the wound, which is by -no means dangerous, and then inquired of the -foreign gentleman what was the cause of the -accident; for I could not get a single word -from the man himself. It appeared, sir, from -the account which the stranger gave me, that -the gipsey had broke into the cottage in -the night, or rather early in the morning, and -that he was threatening to murder this poor -old man if he would not tell where his money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -was. The stranger hearing a noise in the apartment -where Richard Smith slept, listened, and -soon ascertained the cause of it; fearing that -the robber might have fire-arms in his possession, -he seized a pistol, and without farther -thought entered the room, and discharged it -at the robber. The gentleman also informed me -that he heard the voices of persons outside the -cottage, but that after he had discharged the -pistol, they retreated. He tells me that Richard -Smith, in consequence of the fright, has not -been able to speak since.”</p> - -<p>On hearing this account, Philip Martindale -expressed a wish to see the foreigner, of whom -Mr. Davis had made mention; and upon his -introduction, he immediately recognised the -Italian whom he had met in London a day or -two ago. The poor foreigner looked full of -concern for the hasty manner in which he had -acted, and seemed to fear that he had violated -the law. He made many apologies to Philip -Martindale, whom he presently recognised as -a person of some importance; but his mind -was soon set at ease, when he was informed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -that what he had done was perfectly legal. -He then repeated with great energy the obligations -under which he lay to his very good -friend, who had so kindly assisted him in finding -his wife and child.</p> - -<p>The next step was the committal of the -wounded man for burglary; and upon the assurance -of Mr. Davis that he might be safely -moved, the commitment was accordingly made -out; and the stranger, who gave his name as -Giulio Rivolta, was bound over to give evidence -at the trial.</p> - -<p>Matters being thus arranged, Philip and the -clergyman returned to give the old gentleman -a more accurate version of the story than he -had before heard. Mr. Denver underwent, as -was usual, a lecture from the old gentleman, on -the folly of telling stories just as he heard them, -without taking any trouble, to ascertain as he -easily might in most cases, whether those said -stories were true or false. And when the truth -of the matter came to be generally known in -Brigland, every body laughed at every body -for circulating, inventing, and believing improbable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -tales; and all the idle, gossiping -people in the town, went about from house to -house, complaining, bewailing, and lamenting, -that Brigland was the most idle, gossiping, -censorious place in the world. But still it was -insinuated that there was something very mysterious -in the business, which was not yet -brought to light. There was more talk than -ever concerning Richard Smith; and nobody -could recollect when or how he first came to -take up his abode at Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,</div> -<div class="verse">And to do that well craves a kind of wit;</div> -<div class="verse">He must observe their mood on whom he jests,</div> -<div class="verse">The quality of persons and the time.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The time was now arrived for Brigland -Abbey to become the scene of festivity and -hospitality. Under the direction and with the permission -of old Mr. Martindale, the young tenant-at-will -assembled at his splendid residence a set -of people called his friends; but why they were -called his friends is difficult to say, unless they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -were so designated for want of some other -comprehensive name. Two of the party certainly -were his friends; and well would it have -been for him, had he availed himself more of their -friendship, and been ruled by their advice. We -allude to his father and mother, Lord and Lady -Martindale.</p> - -<p>It is with great pleasure that we introduce -to our readers a pair so truly respectable and -honorable in every point of view. High rank -certainly displays to great advantage those -qualities which it is unable to give. Common-place -minds do very well in common-place -situations. It is sad indeed if they whose time -is fully occupied by the duties of their station, -and whose employments are marked out for -them, should widely or grossly deviate from -propriety: they have, comparatively speaking, -but little room or time for folly. But they -who have the direction of all their time, the -choice of all their pursuits, need great steadiness -of mind, and a strong sense of propriety -to avoid follies and extravagance. They who -have nothing to do have much to think of, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -they need to be vigilant; and when their conduct -is indeed proper and good, then high rank -and the leisure which wealth bestows appear -to great advantage.</p> - -<p>Thus honorable and reputable was the conduct -of Lord and Lady Martindale. His lordship’s -estate was not very large for his rank, -yet quite large enough for him to make a fool -of himself had he been so inclined:—he was -wealthy enough to be his own coachman had he -been so disposed, or to benefit the country by -playing at cards and dice at Newmarket in -order to improve the breed of horses:—he -might have immortalized himself on the canisters -of a snuff-shop, or by the cut of a coat:—he -might have run away with his neighbour’s -wife, or have insulted and neglected his own:—he -might have spent more money upon his -dogs than upon his children:—he might have -sought for distinction through the medium of -cookery, and have become so excessively refined -as to ask if Captain Cook had not in one of his -voyages seen a nation of cannibals who ate roast -beef and drank port wine: and by many other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -fooleries, equally reputable, he might have -tempted the multitude to ask what lords were -made for.</p> - -<p>In like manner her ladyship might have done -her part towards the dilapidation of their property. -She might have spent a year’s income -in a single entertainment:—she might have sent -her jewels to the pawnbroker’s to pay her gambling-debts:—she -might have forgotten the -names and number of her children:—she might -have been so superbly ignorant as not to know -whether the kitchen was at the top of the -house or at the bottom:—she might have played -as many mad pranks as others in high life have -done; but she coveted not that species of notoriety -which arises from violating the principles -of decorum and common sense.</p> - -<p>The life of this truly respectable couple was -not however indebted for its respectability -merely to the absence of vice and folly. They -cultivated positive as well as negative virtues. -When they went into the country, it was for -some better purpose than to be stared at; and -when they resided in town, they did not convert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -their house into a place of public amusement. -The tenants in the country knew of -their landlord’s presence there because they saw -him not only in the field, but in their houses; -and he saw that his steward neither oppressed -the tenants, nor defrauded his master; and the -poor people in the cottages saw him, and the labourers -too could tell him their grievances, if -they had any. Lady Martindale was also actively -benevolent,—not merely giving away a -periodical lot of advertised blankets, or a few -bushels of coals to such as would take the trouble -to fetch them; but she knew to whom her -benevolence was directed, and considered rather -what the poor had need to receive than what -might best suit her to bestow. There was the -same activity of benevolence when they were in -town; and it was regulated there also by the -same principle of propriety, not of convenience -or fashion.</p> - -<p>There was, however, in Lord Martindale one -fault, and that in his son was almost a virtue, -in consequence of its accompaniments—he had -a great share of pride. He never spoke to or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -conversed with any of his inferiors, but that his -style always proclaimed him a man of rank and -consequence. We much doubt if, in the days -when angels visited the sons of men, these heavenly -visitants behaved with much more stately -reserve than did Lord Martindale in his walks -and visits of benevolence; or whether they -showed so great a sense of their superior nature -as he did of his superior rank. In this respect -Lady Martindale had the advantage of -his lordship. Nobody could help noticing her -very graceful and dignified deportment; but the -most humble never felt humiliation in her presence.</p> - -<p>It was a pity that so excellent a couple were -not more fortunate in their eldest son; but it -was happy for them that they were not quite so -much aware of the contrast as some of their -neighbours were. It is not for us to propound -theories of education, nor do we know of any -one system which has been infallible in its application -and universal in its success. We can -only state the fact that Lord and Lady Martindale -did not neglect the moral education of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -their children, nor did they carry discipline so -far as to render re-action a necessary consequence. -They were not low in their tastes, or -headstrong in will; but their eldest son followed -a line of action almost diametrically opposite to -theirs. We do not represent, or at least we have -not designed to represent, the character of -Philip Martindale as being inveterately and -unexceptionably vicious: we do not regard him -as a monster of iniquity, but, according to the -candid interpretation of Mr. Denver, he was -rather a gay young man; and being unfortunately -acquainted with some irregular companions, -he had been occasionally led into follies. -But, to proceed in the candid strain, he had not -a decidedly bad heart; for he was not gratuitously -vicious, and he was not altogether insensible -to the emotions and feelings of humanity. -Yet notwithstanding all our disposition -to candour, we must acknowledge that the -temper, tastes, and conduct of the Hon. Philip -Martindale did occasionally lead him into mortifications -and sorrows.</p> - -<p>We are not expected to enter so minutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -and copiously into the description of the characters -of the other guests at Brigland Abbey, -as we have into the characters of Lord and Lady -Martindale. Of Sir Andrew Featherstone and -his lady and daughters we have already spoken. -Our readers too are not altogether unacquainted -with Sir Gilbert Sampson and his daughter -Celestina. Sir Gilbert and Lord Martindale -were very good friends; and Sir Gilbert was -astonished that Lord Martindale should not be -more sensible of his son’s follies, and Lord Martindale -could hardly think it possible that a man -of Sir Gilbert’s good understanding could tolerate -such ridiculous affectations in his daughter.</p> - -<p>In addition to these guests at the Abbey, -there were also present the Dowager Lady -Woodstock and her four daughters, Anne, Sarah, -Jane, and Mary. Lady Woodstock was the -widow of a baronet, whose services in the navy -the country had repaid with little more than a -title; but we would not say a word in censure of -such economical remunerations, nor, on the other -hand, would be very censorious, if the recompense -had assumed the more solid form of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -noble pension. We have read, and have in our -political feelings profited by reading, the fable -of the old man, his son, and his ass, and we -know how difficult it is to please every body. -We know that if the government does not reward -its servants liberally, they will be very -angry; and we know that if it does reward them -liberally, others will be very angry. But let -that pass. It is, however, a fact, that Lady -Woodstock and her four daughters lived at -Hollywick Priory in very good style, considering -the limited means which they possessed. -They were also very highly respected, and very -much talked about as being persons of very superior -minds and most amiable dispositions. -They had cultivated their understandings; and -indeed the pursuit and enjoyment of literature -was the only occupation in which they could -engage. They had no house in town, nor had -they the means of splendid hospitality in the -country. But what is most to our present purpose, -they were one and all great favorites -with old John Martindale. Lady Woodstock -was a woman of great delicacy of feeling, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -was most scrupulously adverse to any thing like -exhibiting her daughters, or as it were carrying -them to market. It was only in consequence of -the very earnest and almost angry importunity -of the old gentleman that she would consent to -share the festivities of Brigland Abbey. And -when that paragraph appeared in a morning -paper, announcing the approaching nuptials of -the Hon. Philip Martindale and Miss Sampson; -and when she knew that Sir Gilbert and his -daughter were to be of the party, her reluctance -abated. For though Lady Woodstock would -have despised the use, and dreaded the repute, -of stratagem to dispose of her daughters, she -would not have been sorry to have them or any -of them well settled.</p> - -<p>As to the report that old Mr. Martindale -himself had any design of offering his hand to -the widow, the lady herself had not the slightest -suspicion of the existence of such design, or -even of the circulation of any such report. Lady -Woodstock was a person of good sense and extensive -information; but, happily, free from -every species of pedantry; totally unpretending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -and unartificial. She had pursued knowledge -as the means of an agreeable occupation, and -not as a medium of display or exhibition. She -had read much, and had reflected more; so -that her conversation was not the idle echo of -others’ thoughts, but the result of her own -mind’s movements and observation. Under -such direction and tuition, her daughters had -grown up to womanhood.</p> - -<p>The young ladies were not distinguished for -any great share of personal beauty, nor were -they remarkable for any deficiency in that respect. -They were not romantic, nor were they -deficient in sensibility. They could talk well, -but did not utter oracles or speak essays. -They were not merely acquainted with books -but with what books taught. They were also -well aware that the knowledge which they -possessed was in all probability possessed -by others; and that many with whom they -might converse were far better informed than -themselves. They did not set up for literary -ladies on the strength of having read Locke’s -Essay, or being acquainted with a few Italian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -poets. In fact, they had read to good purpose, -and had thought to good purpose too. The -worst of the matter was, there were four of -them; and they were so nearly alike in moral -and mental qualities, and so much together, and -in such perfect confidence with each other, that -there was not opportunity and distinctness enough -for any one of the four to make an impression, and -preserve or strengthen it. For if, by chance, -any susceptible youth, who might be desirous of -choosing a wife for her moral and mental qualities, -should be seated next to or opposite to -Miss Woodstock, and should by hearing very -sensible and unaffected language fall from her -lips, or by observing in her smiles or more -serious looks an indication of excellent moral -feeling, find that his heart was almost captivated; -probably on the following morning chance -might place him near another sister with whose -taste he might be fascinated, and whose most -agreeable manners would make him almost regret -that he had already lost so much of his -heart; and while he might be balancing in his -mind on which of the two his affection should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -rest, a farther acquaintance with the family -would still farther unsettle and embarrass his -judgment; and he would at length conclude -that, as it was impossible to be in love with four, -he could not really be in love with any; and -the result would be general commendation and -respect; and the four young ladies would be -left to enjoy their reputation of being the most -agreeable, unaffected young women living.</p> - -<p>Visiting in the country is what must be done; -but there is some difficulty in managing it well, -and making it perfectly agreeable. The entertainer -must be entertaining, or the entertained -will not be entertained; and the entertained must -endeavour to entertain themselves, or their entertainer -cannot entertain them. The Hon. -Philip Martindale was not the most dexterous -hand at this kind of employment. In fact, he -felt himself not altogether master of his own -house; and the good people who were there -seemed rather to be visiting the house than its -occupier. They did very well at dinner-time. -Then there was amusement for all, adapted to -the meanest capacities. There was also in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -mornings for the gentlemen the pleasure of shooting; -or, more properly and accurately speaking, -the pleasure of looking for something to shoot -at: for as Philip Martindale was not very popular -at Brigland, the poachers made a merit of -plundering him with peculiar diligence. It also -happened that the gentlemen who were at the -Abbey were none of them very keen sportsmen. -Sir Gilbert Sampson carried a gun, and occasionally -discharged it; sometimes successfully, and -sometimes unsuccessfully; and, in the latter -case, Sir Andrew Featherstone laughed at him, -and said it was a sad waste of shot, for powder -alone would make noise enough to frighten the -birds: and then he would ask Philip Martindale -if small shot were not very useful to clean -bottles withal.</p> - -<p>As for old John Martindale, he was so perverse -and obstinate that he would scarcely ever -join the party at the Abbey till dinner-time; -and then he would complain of late hours, and -sit till midnight or later grumbling at the -foolish fashion of turning night into day. Several -mornings were wet, very wet: there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -no getting out of doors, and the Abbey was -very ill-furnished with playthings. The young -ladies could draw. The Miss Featherstones -were adepts especially in architectural drawing. -They sketched the interior of the principal -apartments in the Abbey; and talked very -learnedly of Palladio and Vitruvius, and Sir -Christopher Wren and Mr. Nash, and others. -They thought that Waterloo Place was not -equal to the Parthenon, and St. Paul’s Cathedral -was not equal to St. Peter’s. They -talked about the building in which they were -then sitting, demonstrated that it was the most -beautiful and best proportioned building in the -world, and then proceeded to show how much -more beautiful it might be made. As the -party had nothing else to do, they were very -happy in listening to the architectural lectures -of the Miss Featherstones.</p> - -<p>There were more wet mornings than one; -and as the Miss Featherstones had succeeded -so well once in lecturing on architecture, -they repeated the experiment. It was rather -wearying, but it was better than nothing. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -the morning of which we speak, old John -Martindale was present. Contrary to his usual -practice, the old gentleman made his appearance -soon after breakfast, to congratulate them, -as he said, on a fine wet morning. It appeared -as if his object was to see what the party would -do to amuse themselves and one another. The -Miss Featherstones had recourse to their portfolio -of plans and drawings, and sections, and -elevations; and these they spread out on the -table, in order to excite admiration, and to -prompt discussion. Old Mr. Martindale was -so perverse that he would not take any notice -of the display; and the rest of the company -had already, on a previous occasion, said all -that they had to say. Isabella, the youngest -of the Miss Featherstones, prided herself on -her very superior wisdom, and therefore was -very much disconcerted that any one should -slightingly regard her favorite study; and especially -was she disturbed that Mr. Martindale, -who clearly had so great a taste or fancy for -that pursuit, should behold unmoved, and without -the least affectation of interest, a splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -display of architectural drawings, and give no -heed to the very philosophical remarks which, -in her wisdom, she was making on the various -styles of building. Determining, therefore, to -compel the attention which she could not -attract, she addressed herself directly to the -old gentleman, asking his opinion of a design -which she had drawn for the improvement of -Hovenden Lodge. The answer which the -old gentleman gave was so very uncourteous, -that we almost blush to repeat it. Looking -very sarcastically at the inquirer, he said:</p> - -<p>“Hovenden Lodge, madam, is not yet quite -spoiled by the improvements; but if you take a -little more pains, I think you may make it one -of the most ridiculous buildings in the kingdom.”</p> - -<p>In justice to Mr. Martindale, we are bound -to state that he would not have made such an -observation to every one; but he knew Miss -Isabella, and was sure that no very serious effects -would follow from any severity of remark -which he might make. And the result was as -he had anticipated: for the young lady was not -a whit abashed, but the rather encouraged to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -proceed, and to reply according to the spirit of -the old gentleman’s remark.</p> - -<p>“I think I shall endeavour to persuade papa -to build a gothic front to Hovenden Lodge, in -imitation of Brigland Abbey; and then, Mr. -Martindale, I suppose you will acknowledge that -it is really improved.”</p> - -<p>“And then, Miss Isabella, I will pull down -the front of Brigland Abbey, and supply its -place by an exact imitation of the present front -of Hovenden Lodge; and then it will be a difficult -matter to decide which is the greatest -blockhead, Sir Andrew Featherstone or old -John Martindale.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Mr. Martindale, you are -very polite,” replied Isabella, almost angry at -being outdone in the way of banter.</p> - -<p>“No such thing, madam, I am not polite. I -am not fond of nonsense;” and then, in order to -soften in some degree the apparent ruggedness -of his manner, he added: “But if you have a -taste for architecture, I shall be very happy to -show you some engravings and drawings which -I brought with me from Italy. You shall come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -down to my cottage to-morrow morning, and -you will find some pictures worth looking at.”</p> - -<p>“When were you in Italy, sir? I never -heard of it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not. I was there twenty years -before you were born.” Mr. Martindale then -turned away from the table, and looking out -at window, declared that there was no occasion -for any one to stay within on account of -the weather; and, by way of setting an example -to the rest of the party, he directly walked -out alone. Isabella was pleased at the promise -of poring over some architectural drawings, and -most especially delighted with an opportunity -which seemed to be promised of talking about -Italy. It was a place which she had never -visited, but she was proud of an acquaintance -with its poetry and topography.</p> - -<p>Since the peace of 1815, such myriads of -people have visited France, that Paris has become -as vulgar as Margate. It is most earnestly -to be desired that the plebeian part of the -community will not pollute with their presence, -or profane with their prate, the classic plains,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -groves, temples, and cities of Italy. The establishment -of steam-packets threatens the encroachment; -and then the resource of the fashionable -must be Constantinople; from whence, -perhaps, they ultimately may be driven onwards -to Ispahan and Delhi. The East India Company -will not let them go to Canton.</p> - -<p>The rest of the party gradually dispersed, -most industriously and diligently bent on seeking -some amusement wherewith to while away -the weary hours which must be got rid of by -some means or other before dinner. Let not -the reader lightly regard this fact; for it is one -of the greatest difficulties in the life of some -persons at some periods of the year. There are -to be found in this world not a few who are -abundantly able and willing to reward with -great liberality the genius who should be fortunate -enough to discover or invent an infallible -method of rendering it pleasant or tolerable -to wait for dinner in the country.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,</div> -<div class="verse">And time to speak it in; you rub the sore</div> -<div class="verse">When you should find the plaster.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wandering in various directions, and engaged -in divers pursuits, the visitors at Brigland -Abbey were dispersed, to fill up the -dreary morning hours. To follow them all is -impossible; and to follow most of them would -be uninteresting and uninstructive. Leaving, -therefore, unobserved, all but Lady Woodstock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -and her eldest daughter, who reluctantly suffered -themselves to be accompanied in their -walk by Sir Andrew Featherstone, we will -attend these three in their morning’s ramble.</p> - -<p>With the scenery of the Abbey itself, and -its park, our readers are partly acquainted. -They know that the house stood on an open and -gracefully sloping lawn; and that behind it -rose a dense plantation, or rather wood. This -wood was in one direction very extensive; but -its breadth rendered it little more than a belt, -which divided a tract of uncultivated land from -one which was most highly embellished by art -as well as by nature. In front of the Abbey, -as far as the eye could reach, the land was -highly cultivated, and thickly studded with -trees and human dwellings. At the back of -the wood the land was open and unenclosed; -for the soil, if soil it might be called, was but a -very thin stratum of light earth; through which, -at short intervals, appeared the bare or moss-covered -rock, which was the basis of the whole -district. One part of this open space bore the -name of the Common; and it was partly surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -by a few miserable cottages: beyond -that it bore the name of Brigland Heath. There -was one advantage, however, in this barren -scene; that the ground, being very high, -afforded extensive prospects, keen air, and dry -footing. There had been formerly a passage -through the wood from the park to the common; -but since the erection of the Abbey, that -path was no longer used: there remained, however, -a serpentine-road towards the heath; and -at the end of this road stood one of the park-lodges, -on the borders of the heath; and as the -lodge was built to correspond with the style of -the Abbey, it formed a very beautiful object in -that otherwise dreary situation.</p> - -<p>To this open and extensive heath the three -above-named betook themselves for the sake of -enjoying the fine air and wide scenery. Sir -Andrew Featherstone, who was very ready -with his quaint remarks when any thing was -said or done at all susceptible of ridiculous -construction or comment, was mute as fish, and -awkward as a fish out of water, when his company -was decidedly serious. Though the facetious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -baronet very promptly offered, or rather -urged his services to accompany Lady Woodstock -to the heath, yet before the party had -made much progress, Sir Andrew felt himself -almost weary of his charge. He had made -several attempts at talk, and had failed; and to -the few remarks uttered by the ladies, as he -was not prepared with a lively or witty reply, -he returned none at all, or such a one as did -not by any means promise to be productive of -further colloquy or discussion. Happy to avail -himself of any thing which afforded a prospect -of a subject for discourse, as soon as they had -passed the lodge, the worthy baronet most fortunately -descried at a little distance a great -concourse of people issuing from that part of -the wood which bordered on the common, and -apparently surrounding a funeral procession. -The multitude took the direction towards the -town; and the curiosity of Sir Andrew and his -party being excited by the unusual number of -people who surrounded the procession, took the -same direction, and arrived at the church-yard -almost as soon as the funeral. Curiosity is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -contagious; few can resist the impulse to gaze -upon a spectacle surrounded by many spectators. -The party from the Abbey were curious -to know who and what it was which excited so -very general an interest. They approached as -near as they could, without forming part of the -crowd. They waited till the coffin was deposited -in the earth; and as many of the crowd -stayed to gaze into the grave where the body -was laid, the mourners in returning from the -church-yard were less encumbered by the -curious multitude, so that they were distinctly -visible. The procession of the mourners was -but short, yet several of them were real -mourners. There is something very touching -in the struggle which real sorrow makes to -calm its agitation, and to suppress its tears; -and there sometimes is a strong and deep -feeling which tears or loud laments might -relieve, but which, from a sense of its own -intensity, dares not indulge in those expressions -over which it might have no controul, or in -yielding to which it might be betrayed into -extravagance. This was a feeling which manifestly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -had possession of more than one of the -mourners, who had attracted the curiosity -of Sir Andrew Featherstone and the ladies -that were with him. The keenness of their -sorrow prevented Lady Woodstock and her -daughter from gazing upon them with an eye -of too curious inquiry. To gaze upon the -afflicted without a look of sympathy is very -cruel; and to look with compassion upon the -eye that is full of tears, which it would fain -suppress, does but still more unnerve the sorrowing -heart. Lady Woodstock observed that -the principal mourners were two females, who -appeared, by their resemblance to each other, -to be mother and daughter; and the scene -brought to her recollection the time when she -herself, accompanied by the daughter who was -then leaning on her arm, did, in violation of -the practice of the world, follow to the grave -the remains of her beloved husband: nor were -the recollections of her sorrows painful when -thus brought back to her mind, but the rather -was there a pure and holy pleasure in the tear -which rose to her eye at the thought of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -past, so that she felt more than satisfied at -having in that instance dared to be singular. -Fashion forms pleasant leading-strings for those -minds which are too weak to walk alone. The -mind of Lady Woodstock was not of that -description.</p> - -<p>Sir Andrew Featherstone inquired of one of -the spectators what was the name and character -of the deceased, who seemed to have occupied -so large a share in the interest and sympathy -of the people of Brigland. He was informed -that the name of the departed was Richard -Smith; that he was a poor man whom nobody -knew much about; but that lately a report was -spread abroad that he was a rich man and a -miser, and that, instigated probably by that report, -one of the gipsies that had lately been in -that neighbourhood, had broken into his cottage -with the intent of robbing him; but there happened -to be in the house with him at the time -a foreign officer whose wife was related to -Richard Smith, and this stranger wounded the -gipsey so severely, that he was not able to effect -his escape, and he was therefore sent off to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -county jail; and that the old man was so dreadfully -alarmed, that he soon after died in consequence -of the fright. It appeared also from -the informant, that the unusual number of persons -congregated to witness the funeral was -owing to the singularity of the circumstances -of the old man’s death, and also to the desire -felt to see the foreigner and his family; for the -two females were, one of them the wife, and the -other the daughter of the foreigner. The -youngest of the two was the young woman of -whom mention has before been made, as being -the niece of old Richard Smith. This narrative -happened to be somewhat more correct than -many narratives which are thus picked up by -an accidental inquiry. The account, however, -of the motive which prompted the attendance of -so many spectators of the funeral, in some degree -disappointed the expectation of Lady -Woodstock and her daughter; for they had -promised themselves the pleasure of hearing an -account of some specimen of humble virtue -and extensive benevolent influence in a comparatively -low sphere of life. They could not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -therefore, but painfully smile at the thought -that accident and unessential circumstance -should excite an interest so strong and extensive.</p> - -<p>At all events, serious feelings had been excited -in the minds of the ladies; and even Sir -Andrew himself partook of them, and no longer -tasked his imagination for something remarkably -witty or singular wherewith to amuse his -companions, but very suitably and decently -joined his companions in that species of talk -which minds of their description would naturally -have recourse to on such an occasion. -And really, Sir Andrew could talk very well -and very rationally when he was once set in the -right key; but generally he seemed to think it -necessary, in order to make himself agreeable, -to be always uttering some quaint saying that -should make his hearers laugh. He too often -forgot that that which is very well as seasoning, -is very unpalatable as food. This is a simile -drawn from Sir Andrew’s favorite pursuit, -which was the art of cookery, as we have above -named.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the party was assembled at dinner, it -so happened that the old gentleman, Mr. John -Martindale, took his seat at the side of Lady -Woodstock, or to speak more definitely, caused -Lady Woodstock to take a seat at his side. -Some elderly unmarried gentlemen are remarkable -for their love of monotony and exactness, -always choosing the same seat, and ever going -through the same daily routine. It was quite the -reverse with John Martindale. In his own residence -there was nothing of uniformity, and in -his own habits there was nothing like regularity. -He would sometimes rise at four or five, and -sometimes not till eleven or twelve; and more -than once he has been known to breakfast one -day at the very same hour, at which he had -dined the preceding day. He had the same -crotchet in other houses where he could take -the liberty, and in fact would rarely enter any -house in which he was not so indulged. When -he was at the Abbey, it was his very frequent -practice to take a seat at table before any of the -rest of the party, and to call some one by name -to sit by him; and on these occasions he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -generally very talkative; but if he were silently -inclined, he would go creeping to the lower end -of the table like a humble tolerated guest, and -never speak but when spoken to; and that -was not frequently when amongst those who -were acquainted with his habits. The present -was not the first time that he had so distinguished -Lady Woodstock; indeed, so frequently -on other occasions, and at other tables, had he -singled out this lady, that it is not to be wondered -at that a rumour should have gone abroad of -an intention on the old gentleman’s part to -make her ladyship an offer of his hand. To say -the truth, even Philip himself began to have -some apprehensions, and rather to increase in -his polite attentions to Miss Sampson.</p> - -<p>“Now pray, madam,” said Mr. Martindale, -in a very loud voice, “how have you been -amusing yourself this morning? I suppose you -would have stayed within all the morning studying -architecture, if I had not mercifully driven -you out to breathe a little wholesome air. You -have not such fine air at Hollywick as we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -on the heath. You have been walking that -way I presume.”</p> - -<p>Lady Woodstock gently replied: “Sir Andrew -Featherstone was so polite as to accompany -me and one of my daughters in a ramble -on the heath.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Andrew was very polite, indeed,” replied -Mr. Martindale; “and I have no doubt -you had a most delightful walk. Sir Andrew -made himself very agreeable, I hope; he is a -witty man. But how is it, my good lady, that -you look so unusually grave? Have you been -laughing so heartily at Sir Andrew’s wit, that -you have no more smiles left for us?”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship then explained, and said that -she really did feel rather more serious than -usual. She then related what she had seen -and heard that morning. Mr. Martindale listened -with great attention to her narration, and -as soon as it was concluded, he abruptly turned -round and addressing himself to his relative -exclaimed: “Philip, do you hear that? The -poor old man who brought the action against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -you the other day is dead and buried. Lady -Woodstock has been at his funeral this morning; -and I think you should have been there -too, if you had a spark of grace about you, young -man.”</p> - -<p>“You astonish me, sir,” replied Philip; “I -had not heard that the poor man was ill.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, but you ought to have known it. Did -not you tell me the other day that he was so -terrified at the gipsey breaking into his dwelling -and threatening his life, that he was quite -speechless. You ought to have made inquiries -about him. If the poor man did bring an action -against you, you ought not to bear malice.”</p> - -<p>The Hon. Philip Martindale was most deeply -mortified at being thus lectured at his own -table, and schooled in the presence and hearing -of his guests. To be dependent is bad enough; -but to be thus publicly exposed as it were, is -one of the severest parts of dependence. He -had never felt any thing so mortifying while -he was in chambers in the Temple; and he could -not help thinking that those former acquaintances -towards whom he had carried himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -with proud and haughty reserve, would now -look down on him with a much better grace -than he could ever have looked contemptuously -on them. The feeling of littleness is a very -painful feeling, especially to one who has sacrificed -his independence for the sake of the semblance -of greatness. This was the case with -Philip Martindale, whose dependent condition -was entirely on his part wilful and voluntary. -He had been cautioned by his most -excellent mother, but he gave no heed to her -admonitions. Lord and Lady Martindale felt -on this occasion almost as much mortified as -the young gentleman himself: indeed, there -was at the table a general feeling of awkwardness -and constraint. Philip himself was so far -moved, that though he trusted not himself to -the language of resentment, he could not altogether -suppress a look of indignation at being -thus accused of bearing malice against a poor -old man. After a little interval of embarrassment, -he ventured to say something in vindication -of himself; but the very language and -manner which he used, sufficiently manifested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -that he was fearful of offending the old gentleman, -and left a very unpleasant impression -on the mind of Lady Martindale.</p> - -<p>In the evening of that day, Lady Martindale -took occasion to converse with her son on the -subject of his dependent situation, and to urge -upon him the propriety of renouncing a patronage -of such a mortifying nature. Her reasoning -was very good, and her arguments for the -most part unanswerable. It was very true that -no confidence could be placed in the whims -and caprices of a wealthy old humorist. He -might, notwithstanding his advanced years, -take it into his mind to marry. He might -find out some new favourite on whom he might -bestow the greatest part of his property. He -would in all human probability live many years; -and his capriciousness might, and most likely -would, rather increase than diminish. Lady -Martindale also reminded her son, that the allowance -which he received from the old gentleman -was barely sufficient to meet the increased expenses -of so large an establishment; so that -although he had the honor of living in a splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -mansion, he was rather poorer than richer -by the change. To all this not a word of objection -could be made; but there was an argument -unnamed which had more weight with -the young gentleman than all those which Lady -Martindale had used. He was aware that he -had so far anticipated that he must be indebted -to other means than his own hereditary property, -or the result of his own professional diligence, -to get rid of the encumbrance. It was a -truth, though a painful one, that he could -never keep up his dignity but by continuing his -dependence. His answers, therefore, to Lady -Martindale’s persuasions, were such as gave -her no hopes of success. As for returning to -his profession, his own pride forbade that, and -his “dread of shame among the spirits beneath.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent2">“——Whilst I remember</div> -<div class="verse">Her and her virtues, I cannot forget</div> -<div class="verse">My blemishes in them.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In pursuance of the promise made by old -Mr. Martindale, Miss Isabella Featherstone, and -others of the party who had no other amusement -in view, went the following morning to -the cottage to look over the prints and drawings. -The old gentleman had no light task to -find and set in order his dispersed treasures: -for his pictures were, as his books, in every -part of the house, not even excepting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -kitchen. He had risen early in order to find -them; and it had been to him a task not without -labour, though accompanied also with some -powerful and interesting feelings. He had -been looking back to past times and to years -long gone by. He had been conversing with -his former self, and had revived the forms of -old acquaintances long since dead. He saw -them again, and heard them again: their faces -gleamed upon him through the lines of many -an old engraving. He saw again, after dust -had long covered, and darkness had long concealed -them, drawings of many a palace in -Rome, in Naples, in Venice, from the contemplation -of which he had imbibed his love -of architecture; and he began, as he looked -back into the past, to entertain some feelings of -regret. Almost every body looks back to the -past with regret, especially old bachelors. By -this employment the feelings of the old gentleman -were greatly excited, and he began to -be almost sentimental; so that when his visitors -arrived at his cottage, he received them, not -as usual with the odd manners of a humorist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -but with a most courteous and old-fashioned -politeness.</p> - -<p>Isabella Featherstone observed his altered -manner, and supposed that he was endeavouring -to make amends for his abrupt and uncourteous -manner of the preceding day. All the party, -indeed, thought that a remarkable change had -taken place in Mr. Martindale, but no one -thought of attributing the change to any thing -else than a little caprice. Isabella took great -pains to show how ready she was to accept the -practical apology, which she conceived was -thus offered by the old gentleman. She talked -therefore with more than her usual fluency, and -exclaimed with more than usual rapture at -every thing which could at all vindicate or allow -of rapturous exclamation. The remains of antiquity, -the works of modern art, the heathen -temple or Christian church, were in their turns -all complimented to the utmost of the young -lady’s power of eloquence. Unmeaning compliments -are inexhaustible; and well it is that -they are so, or the great abundance and almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -infinite variety which was drawn forth from -Mr. Martindale’s portfolios would have puzzled -and perplexed the flatterer. To all this -commendatory language the old gentleman was -silent; and the party, who could not but notice -the fluency of Isabella’s compliments, began to -tremble for her, thinking that the old gentleman -was silently meditating some keen satirical -retort; the usual coin in which such geniuses -as he repay the volubility of superabundant -compliment. But their fears and apprehensions -were unfounded. The young lady continued -unexhausted and unreproved.</p> - -<p>To examine a very large collection of prints -and drawings, especially when an interest is -felt or affected, occupies no inconsiderable portion -of time. So the morning was rapidly -passing away, and might have been entirely -consumed by this amusement, had it not been -for an interruption which put a stop to their -employment.</p> - -<p>A servant announced that the Rev. Mr. -Denver and another gentleman wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -speak with Mr. Martindale on particular business. -The old gentleman was not best pleased -with the interruption. Impatiently asking the -servant into which room he had introduced the -gentlemen, he immediately followed the man -out of the apartment; and such was his haste, -that he never thought to put out of his hand -an engraving which he was just about to show -to his party, but carried the print with him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver introduced to Mr. Martindale -with great parade Colonel Rivolta, whom he -described as having recently made his escape -from the continent, where he was exposed to -persecution, if not to death, on account of his -political opinions. The reverend gentleman -then proceeded to state, that the Colonel had -previously to his own arrival in England sent -over his wife and daughter, whom he had -committed to the care of Richard Smith; that -with them he had also transmitted some property, -which old Richard had invested for their -use and benefit; that unfortunately the very -first night of the Colonel’s arrival at Brigland, -the cottage in which Richard Smith dwelt had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -been entered by the gipsey, of whom mention -has been already made; that in consequence of -that event the poor old man had been so -seriously alarmed, that he had been totally -unable to attend to any thing, and that he had -died, leaving this poor foreigner in a strange -land, not knowing how to proceed as to the -recovery of his little property. Under these -circumstances, Mr. Denver had taken the -liberty of introducing the poor man to Mr. -Martindale; knowing from the general benevolence -of his disposition, and from his acquaintance -with practical affairs, that he would -be best able to counsel and assist the foreigner -in his present difficulties.</p> - -<p>This appeal to the vanity and virtues of the -old gentleman compensated for the interruption -which had taken him from his company. And, -indeed, we must do Mr. Martindale the justice -to acknowledge that there really was a considerable -share of benevolent feeling in the constitution -of his mind, though that benevolence -was attended, as it not unfrequently happens, -by a very competent share of conceit. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -indeed very happy in performing acts of kindness, -and also very happy in enjoying the reputation -of those acts. This is a failing which -moralists ought to treat with much gentleness -and consideration; for it does a great deal for -those countless and useful institutions which -are supported by voluntary contributions. Forgetting -then the company which he had left, -the old gentleman began to enter very freely -and fully into the concerns of the foreigner, and -to offer his best services to assist him in his difficulties. -He soon found, however, upon inquiry, -that there was not really so much difficulty -as Mr. Denver had imagined or represented; -and he was not altogether displeased -at the opportunity thus afforded to him of ridiculing -the clergyman for his ignorance of matters -of business. It is indeed a sad fact, that -so many of this order are quite ignorant of the -affairs of common life in those points where -they might often be of essential service to their -parishioners. One should imagine that some -little knowledge of this kind might be advantageously -acquired even by the sacrifice, were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -it necessary, of some of that energy and time -devoted to dactyls and spondees, or to hares -and partridges. But we must take the world as -we find it, and be thankful that it is no worse.</p> - -<p>The information and direction which the -stranger sought were soon communicated to -him, and most thankfully received by him. He -then was rising to take leave and repeat his -grateful acknowledgments, when his eye was -arrested by the print which Mr. Martindale -held in his hand, and which he had unrolled -while he was talking. As soon as the Colonel -saw the picture, he recognised the scene which -it represented, and uttered an ejaculation, indicative -of surprise and pleasure. Mr. Martindale -then, for the first time, observed the print, -and noticed its subject: he also looked upon it -with surprise, but not with pleasure; and then -he asked the stranger if that scene were familiar -to him. With very great emotion the -Colonel replied:</p> - -<p>“That scene brings to my recollection the -happiest day of my life.”</p> - -<p>For a few seconds the party were totally silent;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -for the clergyman and the foreigner were -struck dumb with astonishment at the altered -looks of the old gentleman, and were surprised -to see him crushing the picture in both his -hands. He then, as if with an effort of great -resolution, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“And it brings to my recollection the most -miserable day of my life.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver was not used to emotions; he -was quite perplexed what to do, whether he -should sympathise or retire. He very wisely -and very calmly begged Mr. Martindale not to -be agitated. That was a very rational request; -but, unfortunately, when persons are in a state -of agitation, they are not in a condition to attend -to rational requests. Colonel Rivolta was more -accustomed to the sight and expression of strong -emotions, and he did not make any rational request; -but turning towards the old gentleman, -with a look of kindness and sympathy, he said:</p> - -<p>“Ah, sir! I am sorry, very sorry, that I have -caused you to think again of your miseries. -But your lot is now in prosperity. Ah, sir! we -are all liable to calamity: it is sad to think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -the many pains of life; but your sorrow, sir, is -no doubt without reproach to yourself.”</p> - -<p>The agitation of the old gentleman abated, -and he replied: “I thank you for your kindness, -sir, but my sorrow arises from self-reproach. -I have inflicted injuries which can -never be redressed.”</p> - -<p>He hesitated, as if wishing, but dreading to -say more. Then changing the tone of his -voice, as if he were about to speak on some -totally different subject, he continued addressing -himself to Colonel Rivolta:</p> - -<p>“I presume, sir, you are a native of Genoa, -or you are very familiar with that city.”</p> - -<p>“I was born,” replied the foreigner, “at -Naples; but very early in life I was removed to -Genoa, that I might be engaged in merchandise; -for my patrimony was very small, and my relations -would have despised me, had I endeavoured -by any occupation to gain a livelihood in my -native city.”</p> - -<p>“Then you were not originally destined for -the army.”</p> - -<p>“I was not; but after I had been some few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -years in Genoa, I began to grow weary of the -pursuits of merchandise, and indeed to feel -some of that pride of which I had accused my -relations, and I thought that I should be satisfied -with very little if I might be free from the occupation -of the merchant; and while I was so -thinking, I met by chance an old acquaintance -who persuaded me to undertake the profession -of arms, to which I was indeed not reluctant. -And so I left my merchandise, and -did not see Genoa again for nearly two years. -It was then that I was so much interested in -that scene which the picture portrays; for in a -very small house which is in the same street, -and directly opposite to that palace, there lived -an old woman, whose name was.…”</p> - -<p>The attention of the old gentleman had been -powerfully arrested by the commencement of the -Italian’s narrative; and he listened very calmly -till the narrator arrived at the point when he -was about to mention the name of the old -woman who lived opposite to the palace in question: -then was Mr. Martindale again excited,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -and without waiting for the conclusion of the -sentence, interrupted it by exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Ah! what! do you know that old woman? -Is she living? Where is she?—Stop—no—let -me see—impossible!—Why I must be nearly -seventy—yes—Are you sure? Is not her name -Bianchi?”</p> - -<p>To this hurried and confused mass of interrogation, -the Colonel replied that her name was -Bianchi; but that she had died nearly twenty -years ago, at a very advanced age, being at the -time of her death nearly ninety years of age. -Hearing this, the old gentleman assumed a great -calmness and composure of manner, though he -trembled as if in an ague; and turning to the -astonished clergyman, who was pleasing himself -with the anticipation of some catastrophe or -anecdote which might form a fine subject for -town-talk, he very deliberately said:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Denver, I beg I may not intrude any -longer on your valuable time. This gentleman, -I find, can give me some account of an old acquaintance -of mine. The inquiries may not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -interesting to you. Make my best compliments -to Mrs. Denver.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver was so much in the habit of -being dismissed at short notice from his audiences -with Mr. Martindale, that he did not -think any thing of this kind of language; but -he was sadly disappointed at being sent away -just at the moment that some important discovery -seemed about to be made; for it was -very obvious from the manner in which Mr. -Martindale had interrogated the foreigner, and -from the very great emotion which he had manifested, -that the old gentleman had something -more to inquire about than merely an old acquaintance. -Mr. Denver, indeed, had little -doubt, whatever might be the object of the -disclosure about to be made, that he should -ultimately come into possession of a knowledge -of the fact; but it was painful to be put -off to a future period, it was a suffering to have -his curiosity strongly excited and not immediately -gratified. In order, however, to insure -as early a relief as possible, he had no sooner -taken his leave of Mr. Martindale, than he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -dropped a hint to Colonel Rivolta, that he -should be happy to see him again at the parsonage -as soon as possible.</p> - -<p>When this good man was withdrawn, Mr. -Martindale requested the stranger to be seated; -and unmindful of the guests whom he had -left to amuse themselves and each other, he -commenced very deliberately to examine the -foreigner concerning those matters which had -so strongly excited his feelings.</p> - -<p>“You tell me,” said Mr. Martindale, “that -the old woman Bianchi has been dead nearly -twenty years. Now, my good friend, can you -inform me how long you were acquainted with -this old woman before her death.”</p> - -<p>“I knew her,” replied the Colonel, “only -for about four years before she died.”</p> - -<p>“And had you much intimacy with her, so -as to hear her talk about former days.”</p> - -<p>“Very often, indeed,” replied the foreigner, -“did she talk about the past; for as her age -was very great, and her memory was very good, -it was great interest to hear her tell of ancient -things; and she was a woman of most excellent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -understanding, and very benevolent in her disposition. -Indeed, I can say that I loved the -old woman much, very much indeed. I was -sorry at her death.”</p> - -<p>“But tell me,” said Mr. Martindale impatiently, -“did you ever hear her say any thing -of an infant—an orphan that was committed to -her care nearly forty years ago?”</p> - -<p>At this question, the eyes of the stranger -brightened, and his face was overspread with a -smile of delight, when he replied: “Oh yes, -much indeed, much indeed! that orphan is my -wife.”</p> - -<p>This rapidity of explanation was almost too -much for the old gentleman’s feelings. His -limbs had been trembling with the agitation -arising from thus reverting to days and events -long passed; and he had entertained some hope -from the language of the foreigner, that he -might gain some intelligence concerning one -that had been forgotten, but whose image was -again revived in his memory. He had thought -but lightly in the days of his youth of that -which he then called folly, but more seriously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -in the days of his age of that same conduct -which then he called vice. It would have been -happiness to his soul, could an opportunity have -been afforded him of making something like -amends to the representatives of the injured, -even though the injured had been long asleep -in the grave. When all at once, therefore, the -intelligence burst upon him, that one was living -in whom he possessed an interest, and over -whose destiny he should have watched, but -whom he had neglected and forgotten, he felt -his soul melt within him; and well it was for -him that he found relief in tears. Surprised -beyond measure was Colonel Rivolta, when -he observed the effect produced on Mr. Martindale, -and heard the old gentleman say with -trembling voice:</p> - -<p>“And that orphan, sir, is my daughter.” He -paused for a minute or two, and his companion -was too much astonished and interested to interrupt -him: recovering himself, he continued: -“For many years after that child was born, I -had not the means of making any other provision -for it than placing it under the care of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -the old woman of whom we have been speaking. -I gave her such compensation as my circumstances -then allowed; and as the mother of the -child died soon after the birth of the infant, I -thought myself freed from all farther responsibility -when I had made provision for the infant. -I endeavoured, indeed, to forget the event altogether; -and as I wished to form a respectable -connexion in marriage, I took especial care to -conceal this transgression. However, various -circumstances prevented me from time to time -from entering into the married state; and having -within the last twelve years come into the possession -of larger property than I had ever anticipated, -it occurred to me that there should -be living at Genoa a child of mine, then indeed -long past childhood. I wrote to Genoa, -and had no answer; I went to Genoa, and could -find no trace either of my child or of the old -woman to whose care I had entrusted her; and -I was grieved not so much for the loss of my -child, as for the lack of an opportunity of -making some amends for my crime. I am delighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -to hear that she lives. To-morrow I -will see her.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Rivolta scarcely believed his senses. -He was indeed very sure that the person whom -he had married was described as an orphan of -English parents, and he had no reason to imagine -that Mr. Martindale was attempting to -deceive him. It was, indeed, a great discovery -to him that he had married the daughter of -an English gentleman of great fortune; and -perhaps under all circumstances the foreigner -was most delighted of the two at the discovery: -for thereby he had insured to himself a -friend and protector when he most needed one; -and he was happy at the thought that his own -child would thus have a powerful friend, and be -preserved from the dangers and snares with which -he might think that she would be otherwise surrounded; -and with whatever sentiments Mr. -Martindale might regard the discovery of his -daughter, it may be easily imagined that Colonel -Rivolta’s child, over whom he had constantly -watched with the utmost care and anxiety, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -far more affectionately interesting to him than -was the daughter of Mr. Martindale to her -parent, who had never seen her since her infancy, -and who had never paid her any attention, but -had almost endeavoured to forget her. It appeared -indeed very singular to the Colonel, that -Mr. Martindale should so patiently wait till the -following day before he would see his newly-discovered -daughter. But the old gentleman -was a great oddity, and a most unaccountable -being; and so any one would have thought who -had seen him after this interview with the -foreigner calmly return to his company, and -amuse himself with looking over his portfolios -of pictures. So however he did; and when this -agitation was over, he was more cheerful than -before, and quite as full as ever of whims and -humours.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“——reason, my son,</div> -<div class="verse">Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,</div> -<div class="verse">The father (all whose joy is nothing else</div> -<div class="verse">But fair posterity) should hold some counsel</div> -<div class="verse">In such business.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The interview between Mr. Martindale and -his newly-discovered daughter took place according -to his own arrangement on the following -day. Inquiries were abundantly made, and -explanations entered into, by which the identity -of the parties was ascertained. There was, -however, little or nothing of that outrageous -and passionate exhibition which is so frequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -represented as attending such discoveries. Mr -Martindale himself had given way to strong -emotions on the preceding day, the ground of -which emotions was rather remorse than affection: -not that he was incapable of affection, or -insensible to its claims; but age makes a difference -in the mode of expressing affection; and -the old gentleman had never been in the way of -that habitual intercourse which gives to sentiments -of love their strength and feeling. Mothers -who have watched over the dawnings of -an infant mind, and assisted in the development -of the growing powers and expanding affections -of their offspring, can and do remember through -a long long life, and after a very long separation -and absence, the endearing and delightful -thoughts and feelings which occupied their souls -when attending their infant charge, and they -cannot see without strong emotion those features -ripened into maturity in which they had -taken delight in infancy; and even fathers who -have watched a mother’s care, and participated -in a mother’s interests, do, after many years, -ay, even through life, retain the sentiments of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -love and deep affection which an infant interest -has excited; but that pure pleasure belongs not -to him who has never taken a pure paternal interest -in his own offspring. Let this or any -other theory which the reader’s better judgment -may suggest, account for the fact that the meeting -between Mr. Martindale and his daughter -was not productive of any thing like a scene. -This, however, is true, that the old gentleman -was very much pleased, both with his daughter -and grand-daughter. With the latter, our readers -are already acquainted.</p> - -<p>As we have introduced Signora Rivolta to her -father, it may not be amiss to introduce her also -to our readers.</p> - -<p>Comparatively little interest can be felt in the -personal description of a lady who has passed -the season of youth; but there are some women -who have ceased to be young, without ceasing -to be personally interesting. Of this number -was Signora Rivolta. Her style and manner -was such as to inspire respect. There was -about her a certain graceful and becoming -stateliness which only one of her cast of features<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -and mould of figure could with propriety -assume. Her hair and eyes were dark; her -face oval; her eyebrows finely arched; her look -rather downcast. To speak classically, or heathenishly, -there was in her more of Minerva -than of Venus; and more of Juno than of -either. Her voice was exquisitely sweet; its -tones were full, and its modulation graceful. -Hers was the voice which Horatio Markham -heard when he stood with old Mr. Martindale -near the door of old Richard Smith’s cottage; -and it was her hand which touched the lute -that accompanied her voice; and hers was the -ivory crucifix which the young barrister carelessly -threw down, and which the young woman -so hastily picked up.</p> - -<p>At the discovery of his daughter, and her -interesting appearance, Mr. Martindale was -much pleased; and though no dramatic raptures -marked their first interview, the old gentleman -was relieved from a painful mental burden -which weighed heavily on his spirits, and which, -while it sometimes rendered him morose, sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -goaded him also to the opposite extreme -of false levity and an artificial humour. It -was this circumstance, to which might be -attributed those eccentricities of manner, which -led some observers to imagine that the old -gentleman was not sound in his intellects. Still, -however, the essential oddity of his character -was not to be removed by any changes; and a -very curious manifestation of that oddity he -gave at this interview with his daughter and -grand-daughter, when he abruptly asked the -former if she had been brought up in the -religion of the Roman Catholic church; to -this question, she replied in the affirmative. -Thereupon the old gentleman was disturbed, -and he said:</p> - -<p>“And is your daughter also educated in the -same persuasion?”</p> - -<p>“She is,” replied Signora Rivolta; “for in -what other religion could or ought she to be -educated? From the professors of that religion -I received my first impulses to devotion, and -from their kindness I experienced protection,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -and from their good counsel I had guidance. -I love that religion.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” observed Mr. Martindale, -“that is all very natural, to be sure—I can say -nothing against that; but it is a pity that, now -you are likely to remain in England, you should -not become a Protestant. I have no objection -to your religion, only there is so much bigotry -about it.”</p> - -<p>“We think it important truth, and we cannot -be indifferent to it; and we are desirous of -bringing all to the knowledge of the truth, that -all may be saved.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, that is my objection to your religion; -you think that nobody can be saved but -those who adopt your opinions—now I call that -bigotry.”</p> - -<p>“Then, sir, I fear that your church lies under -the same reproach, for many of its formularies -seem to indicate the same view of salvation.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, there may be some such language -in the prayer-book and articles, but they were -drawn up in times when men were not so -enlightened as they are now; and it does not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -follow that all Protestants should exactly -follow every minute shade of opinion or doctrine -there laid down.”</p> - -<p>Some men have been so ungallant as to say -that they would never condescend to reason -with a woman: if Mr. Martindale had made -the same determination, it would have saved -him some trouble; for in this conversation, -which was extended to a much greater length -than we are desirous of pursuing it, Mr. Martindale -had much the worst of the argument, -though not the worst side of the question. His -misfortune was, that he was totally ignorant of -the nature of the Roman Catholic religion, and -very little better informed concerning that -faith which he himself professed. It is a -practice too common to be greatly reprobated, -for persons to argue with great earnestness and -fluency on those subjects of which they are -almost totally ignorant. But, on the other -hand, if persons would never begin or pertinaciously -continue an argument till they had -made themselves fully acquainted with the -subject, then there would be a great lack of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -discussion, and the publication of controversial -treatises would greatly fall off; and there would -perhaps be a mighty deficiency in the article -of zeal. But it is needless to anticipate ills -which may never befall us; and we may venture -to bid defiance to the genius of pantology, -however loudly it may threaten to illuminate -every mind.</p> - -<p>Having stated that Mr. Martindale had the -happiness of discovering his daughter, it will be -superfluous to say that he forthwith made preparation -for her establishment in the possession -of such means as might place her in a style of -life more suitable to her condition than a little -lone cottage. But there was a change very -naturally, though very quietly, taking place in -the old gentleman’s mind and in his feelings towards -the Hon. Philip Martindale. He could -not now think of making this gentleman his -heir. In Signora Rivolta there was evidently -a prior claim. As yet, however, the young -gentleman at the Abbey was ignorant of the new -discovery; and what is more, he was not even -aware of the existence of any such person as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -Signora Rivolta; nor did he suspect that any -such discovery was within the compass of probability.</p> - -<p>By what the Rev. Mr. Denver had heard, -and by what the wife of that said gentleman -had told to Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint, and by -what Mrs. Denver and Mrs. Price and Mrs. -Flint had told to every body within the reach of -their knowledge, the whole town of Brigland -was full of confused rumours and reports of some -great calamity having befallen Mr. John Martindale. -Some said that he had lost all his property; -some said that he had only lost half; some -had it that old Richard Smith, who had lately -died, had been discovered to be Mr. Martindale’s -elder brother, and that all his immense -property must descend to the young woman -his niece. The reports at last found their way -to the housekeeper’s room at the Abbey; and the -trusty Oliver trembled when he was very credibly -and circumstantially informed that, in consequence -of the death of old Richard Smith, some -papers or parchments, or some something, had -been discovered, by which it appeared that old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -Mr. Martindale had no right to the large property -which he had so long possessed. It is the -peculiar privilege of rogues always to fear the -worst in doubtful matters. This privilege Oliver -now abundantly enjoyed. Not wishing to -keep all his news to himself, he took the first -opportunity of speaking to his master; and in -order to break the matter gently to him, and -not all at once to overwhelm him with the fatal -intelligence, he began by asking:</p> - -<p>“Have you heard any bad news lately, -sir?”</p> - -<p>“Bad news,” hastily asked Mr. Philip, -“no; what do you mean?—what kind of bad -news? Do you allude to the report that the old -gentleman is going to be married to Lady -Woodstock?”</p> - -<p>“Oh dear no, sir; it is a great deal worse -than that: but I hope it is not true; yet I am -sure I had it from very good authority, and it -is not likely such a thing should be invented.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, don’t stand prating and prosing, -but tell me at once what it is.”</p> - -<p>The trusty Oliver shook his head and sighed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -“It is nothing more nor less, sir, than that -some deeds have been discovered at old -Richard Smith’s cottage since the poor man’s -death, by which it appears that Mr. Martindale -has no right to the property he now -possesses.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” replied the Hon. Philip Martindale, -“who told you that fool’s tale? Do you -think that I should not have heard of it, if such -had been the fact?”</p> - -<p>“Why, sir, I heard it from a gentleman who -had it from Mrs. Denver; and Mr. Denver himself -was present when the discovery was made. -It was only yesterday that the matter came out; -and Mr. Denver went down to the cottage to -Mr. Martindale to tell him all about it. The -gentleman who claims the property went with -him; and Mr. Martindale has been at Richard -Smith’s this morning. The real owner of the -property comes from Italy.”</p> - -<p>At this part of the information communicated -by Oliver, the young gentleman began to be in -doubt whether there might not be something -serious in the report; for he recollected some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -talk of old Martindale’s visit to Genoa, and of -his anxiety to discover if some one was living -there or not. He also called to mind much that -had been said to him by Lady Martindale, dissuading -him from taking up his abode at the -Abbey, and placing himself in a state of dependence. -He remembered distinctly and vividly -the tone and expression with which his anxious -mother had said to him, “Now, my dear Philip, -before you decide on this step, think seriously -how you shall be able to bear a reverse, if by any -change the wealth of your cousin Martindale -should take a different direction, either by his -own caprice, or by changes over which he has no -controul.” He recollected that this caution was -uttered more than once or twice. He considered -it therefore as in some measure prophetic. He -also recollected that the old gentleman had been -very silent and absent at dinner the day before; -and from what Miss Isabella Featherstone had -said, it seemed very manifest that some serious -interruption had occurred when the party were -looking over the pictures at the cottage. There -was also to be added to this, his own knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -of the fact that Mr. Martindale had that very -morning paid a very long visit to the cottage of -the late Richard Smith. All these circumstances -put together did, to say the least of it, -greatly perplex and puzzle the mind of the -young gentleman. He dismissed the trusty -Oliver from his presence; and when alone, he -began to meditate, plan, arrange, and conjecture, -till he found himself in a complete wilderness -of perplexities, and a labyrinth of contending -thoughts.</p> - -<p>His meditations, however, availed him not. -There was not the least glimmering of light in -any direction; and the longer he thought, the -more he was perplexed. The only bearable conclusion -at which he could arrive was one of very -equivocal consolation; namely, it was possible -that things might not be quite so bad as they -had been represented.</p> - -<p>Not long had he been alone, before his solitude -was invaded by Lord Martindale. -“Philip,” said his lordship, “you look grave -this morning. Has any thing occurred to disturb -you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<p>Philip made an abortive attempt to put on a -look of cheerfulness, as he replied to his question: -“You would not wish, sir, that I should -never look grave. Perhaps, sir, I may have -lost my heart.”</p> - -<p>His lordship looked grave in his turn, and -very solemnly said: “Ah! you are not serious! -To whom, I beg to know, have you lost your -heart? This is an affair on which I should -have been consulted.”</p> - -<p>“I do not say positively that I have lost my -heart,” replied Philip, “I was speaking hypothetically.”</p> - -<p>“Hypothetically?” echoed his lordship; -“well then let me know who it is, or may be, -that has had such power over your mind, or -that may be supposed capable of making so -great a conquest.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose it should be Isabella Featherstone,” -replied Philip; but in such a manner -as abundantly proved that the supposition was -perfectly gratuitous.</p> - -<p>His lordship shook his head; and then, with -very great earnestness of manner, said to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -son: “Philip, let me speak to you seriously -and as a friend. I would not have you rely -too confidently on the expectation of inheriting -your cousin’s estate. I have my reasons -for what I say, and it is for your welfare that -I speak. The Featherstones are a very respectable -and an old family, but you must look for -something more than mere family; you cannot -keep up the dignity of your rank without an -accession, and a very considerable accession of -fortune, which you cannot have from the Featherstones. -I wish I could persuade you to -apply yourself to public business; I am sure -you might make a good figure in the house, -and provide for yourself far better and more -honorably than by living in a state of dependence.”</p> - -<p>Philip, for the first time in his life, heard -patiently this exhortation; and greatly to the -surprise and satisfaction of his lordship, went -so far as to say, that he would take the matter -into serious consideration. So pleased was -Lord Martindale even with this faint promise, -that he hasted immediately to communicate the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -same to Lady Martindale. The first dinner-bell -was ringing as Lord Martindale left his -son’s apartment; and at nearly the same -instant, Mr. John Martindale entered it.</p> - -<p>There appeared to be a cloud on the old -man’s brow; and there was a manifest coolness -in his manner as he entered the apartment, -and said to the young gentleman:</p> - -<p>“Now, young man, I am going to pay you -greater attention than you paid to me the other -day. I am going to London; and I come to -let you know. I have made some discoveries, -of which you shall know more hereafter. At -present, all I can say is, I am going to London; -and I must request that you will make some -apology to our guests for my sudden departure.”</p> - -<p>“You are not going to-day, sir; it is near -dinner-time,” replied Mr. Philip.</p> - -<p>“I can’t help that,” replied the old gentleman; -“then you must dine without me; and -if any excuse is needed for my absence, you -must invent one; or if you are at a loss for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -lie, peradventure Oliver can help you to one. -I have no time for any more prate, so farewell.”</p> - -<p>Thus speaking, the queer old gentleman left -the room; and poor Mr. Philip found himself -in a very sad and sorrowful perplexity at his -departure; especially, coupled as it was with -such reports abroad, and such language from -the old gentleman himself. The last sentence -of all, in which allusion was made to Oliver’s -inventive faculty, most closely touched the -honorable tenant of Brigland Abbey; though -the fact is, that Mr. John Martindale did not -thereby design any particular or express allusion -to any one individual part of Oliver’s -conduct, yet in this light the young gentleman -regarded it; and it therefore grieved him, -and gave him an additional impulse towards -thoughts and efforts of independence. But -there were obstacles and impediments in the way -which he could not mention to Lord Martindale; -and if they had been known, his lordship -would not have found it an easy task to remove<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -them. The considerations dwelt heavily on the -mind of the young gentleman, and made him -regret that he had been so long acting the part -of a simpleton.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title-leaf,</div> -<div class="verse">Foretels the nature of a tragic volume.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is not to be supposed that Oliver should -keep the secret which he had heard without the -assistance of some of his fellow-servants; and if -the servants of the house had kept the secret -from the servants of the visitors, they would -have been guilty of a gross breach of hospitality; -and when a gentleman is in a stable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -or a lady in a dressing-room, the distance between -them and their respective servants is not -so great but that the parties are within hearing -of each other.</p> - -<p>When, therefore, the party assembled at dinner, -Mr. Philip found himself under no necessity -of tasking either his own or Oliver’s inventive -powers to account for the absence of Mr. -John Martindale. Not one made any inquiry. -This universal silence was very ominous to -Philip; he very naturally supposed that the -secret, whatever it was, had been divulged. -He laboured hard to seem at ease; but that -was no easy task. The party at table felt themselves -also under some kind of restraint, so that -their talk was very abrupt and unconnected. -Could any one think it possible? but it really -is a fact, that the guests were almost dying -for an opportunity of talking one to another -concerning the strange news which they had -heard; and they were prepared with some notable -aphorism on pride and extravagance ready -to be shot forth as soon as the person should by -his absence give them leave to speak.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> - -<p>As for the Hon. Philip Martindale himself, a -variety of thoughts, hopes, fears, and conjectures, -were passing through his mind; but none -of them remained long enough there to be -soberly and seriously considered, or to produce -any composure or settled plan. There was, indeed, -one thought which was most frequently -springing up amidst the general agitation, and -that was the thought of Miss Sampson; and so -little command had he over the movements of -his own mind, that he found himself paying a -more than ordinary degree of attention to that -young lady. Lord and Lady Martindale could -not fail to notice this; and to the former it was -not quite so unpleasant as might have been -supposed, from the well-known high and lofty -notions which his lordship entertained on the -subject of the dignity of high rank. For though -Lord Martindale venerated nobility and high -birth, he knew that there also needed some -other appurtenances to render greatness really -and permanently imposing. He also knew that -the estate which was destined to keep up the -honour of the title was scarcely competent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -that great task. He also knew that there was -not quite so much destined for his successor as -his successor imagined; and he was well aware -of the sad necessity which had frequently compelled -persons of higher rank than himself to -condescend to ennoble plebeian blood “for a -consideration.” As to the present posture of affairs, -his lordship was not much surprised at -the rumors which he had heard; he knew that -the property in question had descended rather -unexpectedly on its present possessor, and he -was also prepared for any disappointment which -his own son might experience from the caprice -of his relative. His fears, indeed, of disappointment -to his son arose from an expectation -that Mr. John Martindale might marry, and -thus find a new set of connexions that would -have a powerful influence on his decisions and -arrangements concerning his property. Having -then heard that another claimant had started -for that property, and observing that the old -gentleman had been more than usually attentive -to Lady Woodstock, he thought it was time -that his son should make some provision for himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -With as good a grace as might be, he -therefore resigned himself to the thought that -Miss Sampson might be allowed the honor of -becoming the Hon. Mrs. P. Martindale.</p> - -<p>We are not, indeed, prepared to say that all -this was effected in his lordship’s mind without -a considerable effort and a powerful conflict. -Necessity, it is said, has no law. It would be -more correct to say, that necessity is the most -arbitrary and powerful lawgiver. Lord Martindale -was very much to be pitied, and so was -Mr. Philip. But calamities of this kind will -sometimes overtake nobility: by a variety of -circumstances, which need not be enumerated, -there will be often occurring a painful necessity -of repairing dilapidated fortunes by intermarriages -with plebeians. It does not occur to us -at present how this dreadful calamity can be -avoided. There are certainly public stations -with high salaries and easy duties; these help a -little, but comparatively very little; and there -are some of those offices which really require -men of understanding and application to fill -them; and we fear that such is the seditious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -and discontented spirit of the times, that the -people would grumble at any very great multiplication -of places of no use but to those who -fill them. Yet, upon second thoughts, there -are certain laws, such for instance as the game-laws, -which are made expressly and obviously -for the amusement of the higher classes; might -not some legislative arrangement be contrived, -which should, on the same exclusive principle, -prevent the nobility from intermarrying with -plebeians in order to repair the broken fortunes? -Seeing that the nobility, and its peculiar privileges, -and its high and mighty purity, is one of -the great blessings of our constitution, forming -a grand reservoir of political wisdom, surely -the people would not be very reluctant to contribute -liberally towards an arrangement which -should be the means of preventing the said nobility -from receiving contamination from intermarriages -with plebeians. We only suggest -that some contrivance might be made; but what -contrivance we must leave to the sagacity of -wiser heads than our own, and to those who are -more interested in it than we are.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is enough for our present purpose that -this arrangement is not yet made; and that in -consequence of the want of a suitable supply, -poor Philip Martindale was placed under the -disagreeable necessity of paying great attention -to Miss Sampson; and poor Lord Martindale -was also under the same necessity of submitting -to see and approve it.</p> - -<p>We have already spoken of Miss Sampson, -and have said or intimated that she was not a -fool. We have also spoken of Sir Gilbert -Sampson, and we have acknowledged that he -was a man of good understanding. Miss -Sampson had been an indulged child; some -called her a spoiled child, but we do not admit -that indulgence always spoils children. There -is a great deal depending on the manner in -which indulgence is administered. Indulgence -or strictness in the hands of a simpleton may be -made equally injurious. Miss Sampson certainly -had not been snubbed, lectured, scolded -at, talked to, and dragged about all her life in -leading-strings; and Miss Sampson was certainly -a thoughtless, good-tempered creature,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -not overburdened with taste, and not always so -very attentive to minuter observances as many -others of her own station; but whether she -would have been any more thoughtful and -reserved by a continued course of sloppy, -sleepy, prosy, common-place lecturing, is very -doubtful. Miss Sampson and her father were -by no means proud, resentful, or suspicious. -For though they both had heard the rumor -touching the probable evanescence of Mr. John -Martindale’s property; and though they both -might have had reason to suppose that only -property could induce Mr. Philip to make -advances of a serious nature, and though he -had once before paid, and afterwards discontinued -his attentions, yet Sir Gilbert Sampson, -who was a sensible man, and Miss Sampson, -who was not a fool, were pleased with the very -particular notice taken of the latter under present -circumstances. The parties were therefore -quits; for if it was manifest to Miss -Sampson that Philip Martindale’s affection for -her was only founded on her property, it was -as manifest to Philip Martindale that Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -Sampson’s regard for him could only be on -account of his title.</p> - -<p>When the following day dawned upon the -Abbey of Brigland, and the guests there visiting -had an opportunity, unconstrained by the -presence of the tenant of the great house, to -discuss and discourse upon the interesting topic -of the discovery of the preceding day, various -and wise were the observations which they -made; but one of the wisest of all was, that it -would be desirable for them to hasten their -departure; for it occurred to them that Mr. -Philip might prefer being alone, now he had so -much to occupy his thoughts. Sir Andrew -Featherstone and his family recollected that it -was absolutely necessary that they should be at -home in a day or two, for they were expecting -company. The Misses Woodstock also thought -that it was very rude of Mr. John Martindale -to take his departure so suddenly, and leave -them without an apology; and Lady Woodstock -thought that, though visiting at the -Abbey, her visit was rather to Mr. John Martindale -than to Mr. Philip; and even Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -Gilbert and Miss Sampson thought that they -should be better able to ascertain Mr. Philip’s -intentions by taking their departure than by -prolonging their visit; and as the time was -nearly arrived that they should have taken -their leave in the ordinary course of things, the -making a movement a day or two sooner might -not be a matter of such great moment. In -fact, there was among the whole party an -unpleasant and awkward kind of restraint, -which they could only get rid of by separation; -and they certainly had a right to be offended at -Mr. John Martindale for his rudeness in leaving -so abruptly, and not giving any explanation, or -even saying when he should return. Lady -Featherstone was the first of the party who -started the subject of departure; and when it -was mentioned, or rather hinted, to Mr. Philip, -he did not receive the intelligence with any -affectation of concern; and thus the matter -was easily managed by the rest of the party, -who soon took leave, excepting, of course, Lord -and Lady Martindale. The worthy persons -who took their departure rather hastily, made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -up their minds to forgive old Mr. Martindale -for his rudeness, provided that it should turn -out that he had not lost any very considerable -part of his fortune.</p> - -<p>Being now left to his own meditations, and -the good counsel of his father and mother, the -Hon. Philip Martindale began to employ himself -in deliberating on what steps it would be -prudent for him to take in the present conjuncture -of affairs. As yet, he knew nothing -for certainty. It was still possible that the -story circulating in Brigland, and brought to -his ears by the trusty and honest Oliver, might -not be altogether correct, and he might yet be -able to keep himself pure from the degradation -of marrying below his rank, provided he took -care not to give offence to the old gentleman; -and yet when he thought of the very cool and -abrupt manner in which his cousin had announced -his design of going hastily to London, -and of his allusion to the capacity of Oliver for -invention, he feared that some of his own proceedings -were not unknown to his relative, and -that they had effected an alienation of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -regards. He knew well enough the eagerness -with which all idle reports are received and -circulated, without any regard to their truth -or even probability, and therefore he considered -that it would be a fruitless toil to interrogate -Mr. Denver, or any of the people in the town -upon the subject; and indeed, he did not think -such proceeding very consistent with his dignity.</p> - -<p>It occurred to his mind, however, that it -might not be very unsuitable just to look in -at the cottage where old Richard Smith used -to live; for Mr. John Martindale had rebuked -his relative for neglect in this matter. He -took, therefore, an early opportunity of walking -round by the heath, to avoid passing through -the town; and he called at the cottage. The -door was fastened, and he was under the necessity -of making a long loud knocking before -he could obtain admittance; at length, the door -was opened from within by a little old woman -who was as deaf as a post, or who affected to -be so. Very little information indeed could he -extract from her. He learned, however, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -his cousin had not gone alone, but that there -were three persons with him from the cottage; -and that of these three, one was the young -woman who was called the niece of Richard -Smith, and the other two were the father and -mother of the young woman. He also ascertained -that the cottage was no longer to be -occupied by these persons, and that it was not -expected that any one of them should return to -Brigland. Whether in this party was the -claimant to the old gentleman’s property was -not to be ascertained; and indeed that question -was not directly asked, and the old woman did -not seem at all inclined to answer any questions -which were not loudly, decidedly, and frequently -repeated. Philip amused himself with looking -at the drawings which decorated the cottage-walls, -and he was surprised to see such decorations -in such a place; but he soon found an -interpretation of that difficulty when he observed -the scenes which they represented, and -when he recollected the Italian officer whom -he had met in London. Now, though he had, -as we have observed above, some faint recollection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -of having heard something of old Mr. -Martindale’s voyage to Genoa in search of -some individual or other, who, for aught he -knew to the contrary, might be a claimant, -but he could not see how property in England -should be claimed by a native Italian, as Colonel -Rivolta clearly was. Very little information, -therefore, did he acquire, and no satisfaction -could he gain by this visit to the cottage.</p> - -<p>In spite, however, of all his feeling of dignity -and propriety, he felt an irresistible propensity -to call on Mr. Denver, who, as a public intelligencer, -was certainly one of the most able men -in the town of Brigland. The very polite and -exquisitely courteous manner in which the reverend -perpetual curate received the tenant of -the Abbey, was not at all indicative of falling -fortunes or painful change of circumstance. -Low as usual did he bow, graciously as ever -did he smile. Courtesy and politeness, however, -were essential and component parts of -Mr. Denver’s constitution. We cannot say -quite so much of the Hon. Philip Martindale; -for his style of address was abrupt, and his manners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -very unceremonious; and so far was he from -endeavouring to correct this habit, that he was -in a measure absolutely proud of it. Receiving -Mr. Denver’s homage as due to his own exalted -rank and dignified character, he began his inquiries -by lamenting the death of poor Richard -Smith, and expressing a hope that the poor -man had had proper medical assistance in his -illness. To all this a satisfactory answer was -given, accompanied, as was very suitable and -regular, with a compliment to Mr. Philip’s -very great kindness and condescension. The -inquirer then proceeded to throw out an intimation, -that it would be very agreeable to him -to be informed as to who and what the stranger -was, who had recently taken up his abode at -the old man’s cottage. As far as Mr. Denver -knew, he informed Mr. Philip; telling him also -the particulars of the interview at Mr. John -Martindale’s residence, as we have already narrated -it. For we will do Mr. Denver the justice -to say of him, that although he was now -and then unconsciously guilty of circulating an -incorrect narrative, he was never deliberately and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -wilfully guilty of fabricating one. Whatever -he himself had seen and heard, he told, according -to the best of his ability, as he saw and heard -it. But if, as it sometimes happened, he heard -Mrs. Denver, Mrs. Price, and Mrs. Flint, all -talking together, and telling in one voice him -and one another the same story, but with diversified -embellishment and frequent mutual contradiction, -many interruptions, and various repetitions -and emendations; then, poor man, he -was certainly to be forgiven, if his second-hand -repetition of such story should not be altogether -coherent in its parts, lucid in its arrangement, -or exquisitely veracious in every particular. -Nor should we severely condemn him, if, with -a laudable eagerness to administer early intelligence, -he should now and then run away with -an ill-understood tale only heard by halves. -Thus it often happens, that those newspapers -which are proud of their early intelligence, are -occasionally exposed to the temptation of inserting -that which needs contradiction.</p> - -<p>When Philip Martindale had thus fairly -committed himself as an inquirer, he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -into the subject very fully; and from all that -he could learn from Mr. Denver, there did not -appear to be any very powerful evidence of the -existence of any claimant of the Martindale -property; but it was at the same time very -clear that Mr. John Martindale was gone to -London, and that these three people had gone -with him, and that they had all gone in his own -carriage. Now it was not likely that the old -gentleman should carry the oddity of his humor -so far as to accommodate a claimant of his -property with the use of his own carriage. -There was a mystery in all this not to be solved. -Philip’s inquiries were fruitless, therefore, at -Mr. Denver’s; and all that he had ascertained -was, that nobody knew what was the cause of -the extraordinary movements of his extraordinary -relative.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent1">“Such is the weakness of all mortal hope,</div> -<div class="verse">So fickle is the state of earthly things,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That ere they come into their aimed scope,</div> -<div class="verse">They fall so short of our fraile reckonings,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Spenser.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When any extraordinary event occurs in -which one is deeply interested, the person concerned -need not take much pains in his endeavours -to find it out—it will soon reveal itself. -So did it happen to Philip Martindale. But -the information did not come upon him all at -once—it was gradually developed like the catastrophe -of a well-told tale.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<p>One of the first indications that all was not -right towards him in the matter of the Martindale -property was, that a few days after the -departure of the old gentleman, some letters -arrived, which required an answer not convenient -for him to give. These letters came all -together by a very remarkable coincidence; -and indeed it was very remarkable that so -many of the Hon. Philip Martindale’s creditors -should be all at once most unaccountably -pressed for money to make up a heavy payment. -But there is no accounting for coincidences. -By this unpleasant indication of unpleasant -news, the young gentleman was mightily -disturbed. We do not however mean to -insinuate that it was not in Mr. Philip’s -power to stop the importunities of the above-named -creditors by satisfying their claims; but -as the October meeting at Newmarket was so -very near at hand, and as he had horses to run -at that meeting, it was absolutely and indispensably -necessary for him to make a reserve -to meet the exigences of that important concern. -Still, however, it was disagreeable to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -feelings to have the annoyance of such applications, -and it occurred to him that he would once -more have recourse to the children of Israel -previously to the meeting at Newmarket; and -with this intention he again visited the metropolis. -On this excursion he could very -conscientiously set out without informing his -cousin, as the old gentleman was in London himself. -Mr. Philip, indeed, had no wish to meet -his worthy relative in town, and he had not -much fear of such an accident.</p> - -<p>He lost no time when he arrived in town, but -made the best of his way to his well-known resort, -and found his kind accommodating friend -at home, but wearing an altered countenance. -Heavy complaints were heard, and gloomy -looks were seen, and it was altogether impossible -just at that unfortunate crisis to afford any -accommodation.—“That was the unkindest -cut of all.”</p> - -<p>Very properly resenting this insult, he speedily -left the house; and being guided by his own -knowledge as well as by the reports of others, -he hastened to bestow his patronage on another -of the same profession. But the Hon. Philip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -Martindale of Brigland Abbey was not, it appeared, -at that time a name in high repute with -that class of gentry who observe the strictest -honor and secrecy in their transactions; and -he had the mortification to find that his journey -to London had been of no avail, and was not -likely to be productive of any thing beneficial. -Some people would, under these circumstances, -have been disgusted with the world, and have -retired to a hermitage, thinking that all their -fellow-creatures were so worthless and unprincipled -as not to be worth noticing or fit to live -with. But happily in this instance for the Hon. -Philip Martindale, he was not so easily disgusted -with the world; he was under great -obligations to it, and hoped to be under more. -It is certainly a very pleasant thing to have -a good opinion of oneself, but it is pleasanter -to have that opinion positively than comparatively; -and to quarrel with all the world at once -is no great proof either of wisdom or virtue. -Besides, Mr. Philip knew that half a dozen -tradesmen, and half as many money-lenders, -were not all the world.</p> - -<p>The old proverb concerning misfortunes not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -coming singly, seemed to be about to be verified -in the case of Philip Martindale; for as he was -thoughtfully pacing the streets of the great city, -and thinking of the various ills of life, and wondering -how it should come to pass that a gentleman -called the honorable, and residing in a -magnificent mansion, and being heir-apparent -to a title, and being nearly related to and a -great favorite of a person of enormous wealth, -should not be comfortable and satisfied in his -own feelings as one residing in an inn of court, -and giving much of his days to the dry study of -the law. As he was thus meditating with himself, -and communing with his own thoughts, he -was roused from his reverie by the sound of the -well-known voice of old John Martindale; for -the old gentleman had just left the Bank at the -moment that his cousin was passing it. With -no very pleasant feeling did Philip return the -old gentleman’s greeting.</p> - -<p>“So you have come to town to look after -me, Master Philip. But who would have -thought of meeting you in this part of the -world? What, have you any sly money transactions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -or are you come to look after some rich -citizen’s daughter. Or, perhaps, you have been -at my hotel, and you were directed here to find -me. But is your company all gone? Is it not -rather rude to leave them? Well, but I hope -you will not stay long in town; for there are -sad doings at the Abbey when you are out. -The other day, when you went to the archery -nonsense at Hovenden, I actually found a -couple of fellows smoking their filthy pipes in -the great hall at the Abbey, and I had much -ado to send them out of the house. Oliver told -me they were drunk. They had the impudence -to call themselves sheriffs’ officers. Now, I do -not like this.”</p> - -<p>The old gentleman had talked himself almost -out of breath, and it was well for the young -gentleman that the old one did not like the -sound of any one’s voice so well as that of his -own. Philip was one of those conscientious -people who endeavour as much as possible to -avoid all unnecessary lies; and when he wished -to deceive, he preferred the circuitous shuffling -mode of equivocation to a plain downright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -honest lie. In some cases he found a difficulty -in escaping by this contrivance; and this difficulty -he would have found in the instance in -question, had not old Mr. Martindale been too -much taken up with other thoughts and other -interests than those of Philip Martindale and -Brigland Abbey. But in truth he had been so -much delighted with his newly-discovered -daughter, that he took no very lively interest in -any thing else. At their first meeting there -were, as we said, no very extraordinary raptures -or dramatic exhibition; but as they grew -better acquainted, the old gentleman was -charmed with the mild good sense and amiable -manners of Signora Rivolta, and was greatly -pleased with the intelligence and meekness of -his grand-daughter Clara. Even Colonel Rivolta, -though he had commenced life in a mercantile -line, and had spent his best days in the -army, yet was not destitute of information and -literary taste. But the Hon. Philip Martindale, -though born a gentleman, educated at an -English university, and destined for the legal -profession, was, notwithstanding all these advantages,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -by no means attached to literature, or -endowed with any great share of taste. The -old gentleman therefore had not been much -delighted with his society, inasmuch as his conversation -was either grievously common-place, -or concerning those sports in which Mr. John -Martindale took no interest. Serious rivals -therefore had started up to engross the notice -of the opulent relative. This fact was known -very quickly to those whom it concerned; viz. -the gentlemen of the strictest honor and -secrecy. Theirs, indeed, would be but a bad -business, if they could not now and then get -possession of early intelligence and important -secrets.</p> - -<p>Very briefly did Mr. John Martindale inform -his cousin of the discovery which he had recently -made; and requesting, or rather commanding -the young gentleman to enter the carriage, -they proceeded westward, towards Mr. Martindale’s -hotel. In the middle of the day the -streets of the city of London, though very -unfavorable for conversation, so far as foot-passengers -are concerned, afford peculiar advantages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -and opportunities for this purpose to -those who ride in carriages; for the multitude -of vehicles, and their frequent misarrangement, -very conveniently retards progress. Philip -Martindale wished himself at home in Brigland -Abbey, or quietly perusing briefs in his chambers -at the Temple, or any where rather than -where he was. But there was no escape for -him.</p> - -<p>“Now, Philip,” said the old gentleman, “I -am going to introduce you to your new relations, -or at least to mine, for I suppose you -will hardly condescend to acknowledge them.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be very happy, sir, to see, and very -proud to own, any relations of yours.” So said -the Hon. Philip Martindale; but his heart and -lips were sadly at variance. He was not very -well pleased that such relations existed; and it -would not be very agreeable to him to be on -terms of acquaintance, as he certainly must if -his cousin commanded him, with persons of low -and vulgar minds as he supposed these new -relatives must be. The old gentleman suspecting -that his high-minded relative was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -fancying that the persons in question were of -low caste, in consequence of their having been -discovered in a cottage with a poor man, -replied:</p> - -<p>“And I will tell you what, young man, -they are not persons of whom you need to be -ashamed. Colonel Rivolta held a very respectable -station in the army, though he did fight for -that fellow Bonaparte; and his wife, who is my -daughter, is as well informed and well behaved -a woman as ever I saw in my life. The young -woman, I believe, you have seen before.”</p> - -<p>Philip did not like the tone in which the -latter part of this sentence was uttered, and -perhaps there was not a possibility of uttering -it in any tone that should be agreeable. Many -other topics of conversation were introduced, -none of which were very agreeable; and even -that which the old gentleman uttered with great -glee, as being a matter of great interest and good -tidings to his cousin, was by no means agreeable -to the young gentleman. After having talked -some little time on the subject of his discovered -daughter, and as if fearing that his honorable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -cousin might apprehend from this discovery -some ill fortune to himself, with the kind purpose -of banishing such fear, he observed:</p> - -<p>“But you need not be jealous, Philip; I shall -not forget you: so make your mind easy.”</p> - -<p>There is a wonderful difference, thought -Philip, between making a man his heir and not -forgetting him. Now, this not forgetting appeared -to him more cruel and tormenting than -entirely discarding him. It is very true that -Mr. John Martindale had made no absolute -promise that Philip should be his heir; and -even if he had made the promise, and had -violated it, there was no such thing as prosecuting -him for breach of promise. He had -merely given strong indications that such was -his intention. Persons who are very rich, and -have no legal heirs, may entertain themselves -very much at the expense of hungry expectants -and lean legacy-hunters. Who has -not seen a poor dog standing on his hind legs, -and bobbing up and down after a bone scarcely -worth picking, with which some mischief-loving -varlet has tantalised the poor animal till all its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -limbs have ached? That poor dog shadows out -the legacy-hunter or possible heir. Every -body has a right to do as he pleases with his -own property, so far as concerns the disposition -of unentailed estates; and every body has a -right to do a great number of actions which -may render his fellow-creatures miserable and -uncomfortable. Very few of the annoyances -to which man is exposed from his fellow-men -have a remedy from law. To be sure, it may -be said that the legacy-hunter is a simpleton -for giving another power over him; but, alas! -how could a young man, situated as the Hon. -Philip Martindale, help himself. As he himself -observed to his mother, “if I refuse the offer -of the Abbey, I may so far offend the old -gentleman, as to induce him to leave his property -elsewhere.” But the young gentleman -forgot that accepting the offer might, and very -naturally would, lead him into many difficulties, -and fix him as a dependent. He afterwards -discovered this, when it was too late to find a -remedy for the evil. But to proceed with our -narrative.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - -<p>After Mr. Martindale the elder had addressed -what he thought an encouraging speech -to his cousin, he called out to the coachman to -stop when they were near to Temple Bar. The -old gentleman then alighted, saying, he would -return in a few minutes; and in a very few -minutes did he return, bringing with him a -gentleman whom Philip had seen before. This -was no other than Horatio Markham. Now -here was another mortification. Thus the poor -man was annoyed with one trouble after another; -and thus his mortifications increased upon -him, and all because he must support the dignity -of his rank. He could not be uncivil to -Markham, nor indeed did he wish to be so. -He had said, and that very sincerely, that there -was nothing at all objectionable in Markham’s -speech at the trial. He had been rather -pleased with it than otherwise; he thought it -far better than that of his own counsellor; and -he had observed to several persons that there -were some spouting prigs at the bar, that in a -cause like that would have represented the defendant -as a demon of incomparable malignity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -and would have smothered him with a countless -accumulation of awkward metaphors. He had -said that Markham had shown much good sense -in stating his case clearly and strongly, and -without any of that school-boy slang, and those -theme-like declamations by which some ill-judging -ranters seem rather to seek the applauses -of a tasteless mob than to apply themselves -to that which may benefit a client. All -this he had said, and all this he had really and -truly thought; but he had no wish for all that -to be brought into immediately close contact -and intimacy with the person of whom he had -said it. He respected Markham as a young -man of good understanding and sound judgment; -but he had no particular desire to be acquainted -with all young men of good understanding -and sound judgment. Still, however, -he behaved civilly to Markham; and recollecting -what his cousin had told him, that the young -barrister was about to carry his legal talents to -another part of the world, he on this account -behaved to him with the less reserve, because -there was not much danger of soon meeting him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -again, or being much troubled with his acquaintance. -On the other hand, Horatio -Markham, knowing or shrewdly suspecting the -character and disposition of the gentleman to -whom he was introduced, did not give himself -any pedantic or professional airs, but with a -very becoming and gentleman-like distance -quietly entered into common-place talk, directing -himself more to the elder of the two with whom -he had been previously acquainted, than with -the younger to whom he had been but recently -introduced. Philip Martindale, therefore, began -actually to like his new acquaintance, who -was agreeable because he did not take any especial -pains to make himself so, and who appeared -to be well-informed because he did not -studiously make a display of his knowledge. -Now Philip, who could not tolerate any pedantry -but the pedantry of rank, and that pedantry -only in himself, was pleased with Markham for -the absence of pedantry and affectation.</p> - -<p>After a long and tedious rumbling, the carriage -deposited the party at a hotel in the -neighbourhood of St. James’s Square. Most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -agreeably disappointed was Philip when he was -introduced to Signora Rivolta. There was no -appearance of vulgarity or plebeianism about her. -There was nothing in her style which indicated a -disposition or tendency to impertinent encroachment; -but, on the contrary, her most excellent -and graceful carriage seemed as that of one -conferring, not receiving a patronage. In Clara -Rivolta, the daughter, he recognised that sweet -prettiness which had first attracted his disrespectful -attention; but there was added to this, a kind -of mild dignity, a steady and calm self-possession, -which appeared much more obviously and -impressively under change of circumstances. -In Signora Rivolta there was much more stateliness -than in Clara; but there was a charm in -the general expression of the features, gait, and -manner of the latter, not easily described. -There was nothing of pertness in her self-possession, -and there was not the slightest -appearance of or the remotest approach towards -artificialness in any one part of her carriage and -demeanour. Philip was not much in the habit of -falling in love, nor was he frequently thrown into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -raptures by intellectual and moral charms; yet -in the present instance he was very much struck -both with the mother and daughter. Irresistibly -was he led to behave to both with most respectful -deference, and he for a moment forgot that these -charming women would in all probability deprive -him of the inheritance which otherwise seemed -destined for him. Why could he not make an -offer of his hand to Clara? What obstacle could -there be to interfere with his success? Would -his cousin object to it? Not likely. It would -be a very convenient match, so far as pecuniary -arrangements were concerned, and might save -the old gentleman some trouble in disposing of -his property. As for Miss Sampson, there -might be a disappointment to her in such a -step; but her fortune would not suffer her to -wear the willow long.</p> - -<p>Thoughts of this kind occupied the mind of -the heir of Lord Martindale, and this seemed -the most agreeable plan which he could possibly -adopt to get rid of his difficulties. Before -the day closed, he had made up his mind it -should be so. In contemplating this new arrangement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -he forgot to take one thing into -consideration, that is, the probable consent of -the young lady; and he also forgot or neglected -to observe one thing, that is, the very particular -attention paid to the young lady by Horatio -Markham. It is pleasant to be deceived, and -so we sometimes deceive ourselves, if nobody -else will take the pains to do it for us. Very -completely did Mr. Philip deceive himself in -the idea that scarcely any thing was wanting to -effect an union between Clara Rivolta and himself, -save his own consent. He considered not -that a young woman under twenty years of age, -of secluded habits and of reflecting turn of mind, -of calm good sense and of a feeling and sensible -soul, unused to the fashions and flurries -and formalities and flatteries of the great world, -would entertain a very different idea of love -from that entertained by a young gentleman -between twenty and thirty, whose expectations -were mortgaged to money-lenders—whose pleasures -were the turf and the ring—whose spirit -was agitated with gambling—whose motive for -marrying was the means to keep up the dignity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -of his rank. He might have thought it possible -that Clara Rivolta could not love the Hon. -Philip Martindale, and he might also have -thought it as possible that she would not marry -him if she did not love him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Oh, for a horse with wings!”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“We must find</div> -<div class="verse">An evident calamity, though we had</div> -<div class="verse">Our wish, which side should win.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Philip Martindale was very glad that -his cousin had not asked any importunate questions -concerning the motive of his journey to -London, but he was very sorry that the journey -had been fruitless. He was desirous of returning -as soon as possible to Brigland, that he -might there discuss with Lord and Lady Martindale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -whom he had left at the Abbey, the -important matter which had occupied his -thoughts, as described at the close of the last -chapter. For as yet they knew nothing of the -discovery of Mr. John Martindale’s daughter; -and their impression concerning the young -gentleman’s journey to town was, that he had -been there with a view of endeavouring to -ascertain the real meaning and origin of the -rumours which were afloat as touching their -opulent relative. Philip, on his return to -Brigland, explained the whole affair.</p> - -<p>Thereupon serious looks were assumed by -Lord and Lady Martindale, and those serious -looks reflected by their honorable son. They -were all three greatly perplexed—they all three -uttered many wise sayings—they all three talked -the matter over with great deliberation—they all -three resolved and concluded that something -must be done; but they were all three at a loss -to know what must be done. Looking at one -another was not the best way to get over their -perplexities, and yet it is what people often do -in perplexities; nor was there any progress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -made by the simultaneous and harmonious expression -of wishing that matters had been -otherwise. The past will not return, and that -which is done cannot be undone. There is no -great wisdom in this discovery; the merit is in -applying it to practical purposes. A great -deal of time is lost, and a great deal of trouble -and pains incurred, for want of the wisdom -which the above truism would teach. Lady -Martindale repeated what she had said before, -as to the impolicy of Philip’s accepting the old -gentleman’s offer of the Abbey. Philip repeated -what he had said before, namely, that -he might have offended and alienated the old -gentleman by a refusal. Lord Martindale repeated, -that there was some truth and propriety -in what they both said. Still they were -no nearer to a conclusion promising any satisfaction.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this perplexity, Philip -thought it would be a good time to propose -his own scheme for getting rid of all the difficulty -by offering his hand to Clara Rivolta. -He was not, however, without his fears that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -proposal would not be acceptable to Lord and -Lady Martindale: he therefore approached -the subject cautiously and circuitously. After -a little pause, and with a change of tone and -altered look, as if the question of what must be -done had been adjourned and a new topic called, -he began to talk of the meeting with these newly-discovered -relatives in such a manner as to lead -Lady Martindale to ask particularly as to their -appearance and manner. To this inquiry he -gave such an answer as impressed her ladyship -with a higher opinion of them all three than he -had actually expressed in his description of them. -He uttered his compliments in the tone and -with the air of concession, and his language -was circuitous, so that it did not appear purposely -directed to the object of exciting a high -opinion of the party. When he spoke of Signora -Rivolta, he did not say that her style was truly -noble and commanding, but he said that her -style and address reminded him of the Hon. -Mrs. B——, or of Lady Charlotte D——. Then -he added some little qualification of the comparison; -but the qualification was rather in favor -of the daughter of John Martindale, so far as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -the taste of Lady Martindale was concerned; -for it is a notorious fact that all sensible people -think differently from the rest of the world. -Therefore, if there be in any character or individual -a little more or a little less than what -the world in general is supposed to consider the -medium of excellence, sensible people rather -admire such excess or defect. Sensible people, -for instance, may admire that eccentricity -which is not according to the popular standard. -Some may admire rather more than the -standard allowance of pride, or prefer a little -deficiency in the article of meekness. Philip -was well acquainted with his mother’s taste in -all these matters, and therefore he extolled the -ladies to his mother’s mind, though he did not -loudly praise them to her ear; for he spoke of -the daughter after the same manner as he had -spoken of the mother.</p> - -<p>Another pause following this part of the conversation, -gave an opportunity to Lord Martindale -to suggest that it might perhaps be advisable -for Philip to marry the young foreigner, -and thus to have a double hold on Mr. John -Martindale’s affections. This proposal was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -artfully insinuated into his lordship’s mind by -the manner in which Philip had spoken of the -high esteem in which Mr. John Martindale appeared -to hold his new family. When his lordship -had spoken, Philip did not reply, waiting -for Lady Martindale’s opinion, which was generally -of more weight in the family than that -of his lordship. No answer being given, the -question was repeated.</p> - -<p>Philip then replied, that what his lordship -had said was perfectly true; the property of -Mr. John Martindale would be clearly secured -by this arrangement, and so far as the young lady -was concerned, there could be no objection on -the ground of style and manner, or of education.</p> - -<p>This was said hesitatingly, so that his lordship -was under the necessity of asking what -other objection there could be; to which Mr. -Philip ventured to mention the circumstance of -her mother’s birth. Now this on Philip’s part -was a very affected refinement; but it was said -for Lady Martindale’s ear, who then replied, -that such objection was fastidious indeed, if the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -ladies were such as they had been described. -The greatest objection to such a step was, in -her opinion, that it was not quite so sure of -answering the purpose in point of property as -they imagined. There was no answering for -caprice; and it was possible that the property -might be so left, as that Philip might have no -power over it.</p> - -<p>This objection staggered the young gentleman’s -resolution, and rendered his scheme not -so totally unexceptionable as he had imagined -it to be. He looked thoughtful; and Lady -Martindale continued, saying, that after all this -plan would but increase and perpetuate her -son’s dependence: that so long as he was unmarried, -an opportunity might occur for him to -marry a fortune, and place himself out of the -power of Mr. John Martindale’s caprice. But -again Philip replied, that if he should marry a -fortune, and not please his cousin by his marriage, -he should then lose all expectation from -him, and that there were very few fortunes accessible -that would compensate for the loss of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -Mr. John Martindale’s friendship. The whole -deliberation at last concluded without coming -to any definite conclusion.</p> - -<p>Lady Martindale repeated, and Lord Martindale -coincided with her in the opinion, that the -wisest scheme of all would be, that Philip -should give himself to public business, and that -then he might be independent without forfeiting -the friendship of his cousin. But Philip could -not get the Jews out of his head, and the Jews -could not get Philip out of their books.</p> - -<p>In this unpleasant state of mind the honorable -gentleman continued for several days; during -which time Mr. John Martindale remained still -in London, highly delighted with his Italian -relatives, and exhibiting them wherever he -could, though at that time of year there was -comparatively little opportunity of displaying -them. Philip made inquiries at his cousin’s -cottage every morning, but no intelligence concerning -the old gentleman could be procured. -Lord and Lady Martindale took their leave of -the Abbey, and Philip promised to join them in -London before the end of January, by which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -time, perhaps, something might occur which -would decide him as to what steps he should -take.</p> - -<p>The day at length arrived for the Newmarket -meeting. Much business was expected to be -transacted, and some very fine races were anticipated. -The town was delightfully full, and -Philip was in all his glory. He thought not of -the Jews, or any of his other creditors. The -charms of Clara Rivolta were forgotten; and -the lively Celestina would have been forgotten -too, but she was present on the ground.</p> - -<p>The barouche of Sir Gilbert Sampson was -most conveniently placed; and on the box -thereof sat Celestina Sampson at her father’s -side, and within were two other young ladies -attended by the fragrant Henry Augustus Tippetson. -The morning was fine, and the ground -was brilliant. Rank, beauty, and fashion were -there; the cream of English nobility; the stars -of English beauty; souls of the first order; the -pride of that nation which is the pride of the -world. Glorious was the object for which they -were assembled, and deep was the feeling with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -which their minds were animated. Who could -look without emotion, or think without interest, -on a scene like this? Where should our hereditary -legislators, our modern Solons and Lycurguses, -so well learn the science of government -as in converse with black-legs and stable-boys? -What occupation so befitting the most -noble, the right honorable of the land—the -superfine part of the species—the arbiters of -the world’s destiny—the brightest lights of the -collective wisdom of the nation—as the spending -of princely fortunes to see how much faster -one horse can run than another? And when -the horses start, and while they are straining all -their sinews, and while one rogue or another -is trying how much he can make of the simpletons -there, how intense is the interest! Every -eye is strained, every neck is stretched, -breathing is almost suspended, and the heart is -almost afraid to beat; and when the great event -is decided, then how many purses change hands, -and how many blockheads go home again repenting -their folly. But let that pass. It is -enough for us here to state that the Hon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -Philip Martindale was the winner, and that to -a very considerable amount. He received the -congratulations of his friends. Sir Gilbert and -Miss Sampson congratulated him. Henry Augustus -Tippetson congratulated him. Philip, -however, had many accounts to settle; some on -one side, and some on the other. There was -not one to whom he lost a bet who found -any inconvenience in receiving it—there were -a few of whom he won who found it inconvenient -to pay. Some of those to whom he -paid were so very desirous that he should win -again what he had lost, that they politely and -considerately invited him to the hazard-table; -and when he left the hazard-table, he was not -so much an object of congratulation as he had -been at the conclusion of the race. He was -very much fatigued; quite worn out by the -day’s toil and the night’s play. Legislation -must be quite rest and refreshment to the -honorable, right honorable, and most noble -frequenters of the race-course and the hazard-table.</p> - -<p>The honorable dependent on the bounty of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -John Martindale retired to his lodgings, and -looked over his betting-book and into his pocket-book, -and considering that he was a winner at -the race, he found himself much poorer than he -expected. He felt no inclination to lay violent -hands on himself; he did not clench his fists and -strike his knuckles upon the table, nor did he -beat his own forehead, nor did he think of -hanging himself when he took off his garters, or -entertain the slightest idea of cutting his throat -when he looked at his razors. From what we -have seen in plays and read in story-books about -gambling, one should imagine that pistol-making -and rope-twisting would be the best trades -going at Newmarket; we are not sure that it -may not be so, but we have never heard that it -is. At all events, we do know that when Philip -Martindale found that he was a considerable -loser in the long run, though he had been -a winner on the turf, he was very deeply mortified, -and looked very foolish. He wished -himself back in his chambers at the Temple; -but he did not use any violent gesticulations, or -groan aloud so as to alarm the people of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -house. We think it especially necessary to -mention these facts, in order to let our readers -know what a very curious character Philip -Martindale was. His conduct deserves to be -particularly mentioned in the present case, -because it seems to be the general practice, -judging from books, for all gamblers when they -lose their money to look very pale, to get very -drunk, to clench their fists, and to stamp so as to -split the very boards of the floor, and finally to -hang, drown, poison, or shoot themselves. The -last is the most common. Such is the usual -description, and real life no doubt has exhibited -some such cases; but powerfully as these may -have been painted, we much question if that -extreme delineation has been serviceable to the -cause of morals. Nor are we afraid that, -because we have here stated a very ordinary -case of a silly young gentleman losing his -money, and not going distracted and blowing -out his brains, we shall therefore give encouragement -to others to throw away their time -and money in the same foolish way.</p> - -<p>The poor young man however found it very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -difficult to sleep after his losses; for though he -was not distracted, he was grievously troubled -in spirit, and much bewildered in his thoughts. -He wished, over and over again, that he had -not sat down to hazard; but his wishing did not -bring back what he had lost. He almost wished -that he had not been born an hereditary legislator, -for then he might have applied himself to -some useful pursuit, and not have been under -the necessity of going to Newmarket and losing -his money in a right honorable way to keep up -his dignity. But it is very hard if a man of -rank and fortune cannot have his amusements, -and what else can a man of rank and fortune do -with his time and property than waste them -among sharpers?</p> - -<p>It became now more and more imperative -upon the young gentleman that he should seriously -set himself to repair his broken fortunes, -and his various meditations on the plans which -suggested themselves for that purpose very -naturally prevented him from sleeping. His -habits had not much accustomed him to that -application which business might require, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -his recent patrician contempt of study had put -him into possession of so large a stock of ignorance -as to be rather in the way of his promotion. -It is not indeed much to be wondered -at that, considering how widely and deeply -education has lately been diffused, the higher -sort of people should now and then court the -singularity of not knowing, and preserve their -separation from the inferior orders by an ignorance -of that which every body knows; for it -is very clear that whatever becomes universal, -must of necessity cease to be fashionable: therefore -the education bestowed upon the multitude -must compel the higher ranks in their -own defence to cultivate ignorance, unless they -would give themselves the trouble of toiling -more laboriously in pursuit of knowledge than -the lower orders. That is not very likely.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Good shepherd, tell this youth, what ’tis to love.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is now necessary for us to revert to old -Mr. Martindale and his new pets. So delighted -was he with the general character of the minds -of this family, that he was reluctant to make -any arrangement which should remove them -from continual intercourse with himself. Very -soon did they become essential to him; for they -seemed to open his mind to a new consciousness -of being. The discovery of their existence was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -the means of removing a burden from his soul; -and not only was there a negative satisfaction -derived from having thus providentially met -with them, but the very lively and unexpected -interest which he took in their being and well -being, gave to his own existence a positive -satisfaction, and a feeling hitherto unknown; -so that in the intervals of reflection and thought, -he was under a frequent necessity of saying to -himself, “But I must not forget Philip.”</p> - -<p>There was also another, though an unintentional -and unconscious rival of Philip Martindale, -in the person of Horatio Markham. But -we will do Philip the justice to say, that he -entertained no mean jealousy of this gentleman; -inasmuch as he did not apprehend the probability -of Markham’s occupying a very important -station in the old gentleman’s last will and -testament. Markham, indeed, did not seem to -be acting the part of a legacy-hunter; and -Philip felt very well satisfied with the thought, -that many rich old men had in their life-time -had many friends for whom they appeared to -have a greater regard than for their own family,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -but to whom they have seldom made -bequests of a nature so serious as deeply to -injure their own relatives. There was, however, -a danger in Markham’s intimacy with the -old gentleman under present circumstances, of -which danger Mr. Philip was not sufficiently -aware. Our allusion is to the growing acquaintance -between the young barrister and -Clara Rivolta. The young lady had a grateful -recollection of the considerate and respectful -manner in which Markham had conducted himself -at the trial, contrasted especially as that -manner was with the boisterous and vulgar -rudeness of the defendant’s counsel. So completely -indeed was the young lady disgusted -with the rudeness and coarseness manifested -by the latter, that though she was tolerably well -acquainted with English customs, so far as -books could inform her, she could with difficulty -be brought to believe that barristers were -uniformly gentlemen of education; she could -not help thinking that they must be of no -higher rank or more polished manners than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -bailiffs and constables. What ludicrous mistakes -foreigners do sometimes fall into; and if -the English were not a very polite nation, they -would laugh at these blunders.</p> - -<p>We have noticed already that Markham was -very much struck with the personal appearance -of Clara Rivolta when he saw her in the cottage -of poor old Richard Smith; he was not -less pleased with her when he saw her in those -circumstances which he had in the first instance -thought most appropriate to her. When he -became more acquainted with her, and by conversation -had traced the existence of as much -mind and of as good feelings as her features -and their expression had already intimated to -his imagination, it is no wonder that he should -be more interested in her than ever. When -also he learned, as he did from the sociable -communicativeness of old Mr. Martindale, how -nearly she was related to a wealthy man; and -when he saw how much of a favorite she was -with the old gentleman, it was not likely that -his regard for her should be diminished. Markham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -was by no means a selfish man, nor was he -insensible to the desirableness of a fair fortune. -He was not quite so romantic as to despise -wealth; and if he had been originally addicted -to that propensity, the frequent receiving of -fees would have had no small tendency to cure -it. However, it should be said that the motive -for his attachment to the young lady had not, -in the first instance, any thing to do with pecuniary -expectations. Mr. Martindale himself -contributed to cherish the attachment, for he -was constantly soliciting the young man to -favor them with his company; for as the -old gentleman lived almost entirely at Brigland, -he knew comparatively nothing about London, -and the season of the year was not that at -which any of his friends were in town.</p> - -<p>The time now was very near when Markham -should take his departure from his native land, -and enter upon his professional duties in -another region. Pleasant as preferment may -be, there is always a degree of pain felt at -parting from familiar faces and familiar scenes. -This unpleasant feeling was by anticipation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -coming upon the young barrister. He thought -that he should very much miss the society to -which he had been accustomed; he thought -there was a peculiar, indescribable charm in -the very streets of London and Westminster; -he thought, with a shudder of repugnance, of a -long, tedious, and as it were solitary voyage; -he thought that nobody would think about him -when he was gone; he thought that Clara -Rivolta would be married before he came -back. He wondered whether she knew that he -was going abroad; he wondered whether she -would care where or when he might go; he -wondered whether she had ever been in love. -These thoughts and these wonderings grew -thicker and stronger as the time moved on, -and he said to himself that Clara was a most -interesting creature, but that he was not decidedly -in love with her, as was very manifest -by his being perfectly at ease when he was -absent from her. He did not take into consideration, -as perhaps he should have done, -that the absence which he bore with so much -fortitude was an absence likely to be soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -succeeded by the pleasure of seeing her again. -There was also another thought which he overlooked, -and that was, why did he take pains to -persuade himself that he was not in love? Who -said he was?</p> - -<p>It is not fair, however, to lay open to our -readers the heart of one of the parties, and -totally to veil that of the other. Clara Rivolta -had scarcely had any other society than that of -her father and mother; and indeed, for the -last four years, a very important part of her -life, her mother and old Richard Smith had -been her only companions. The very little -which she had seen of English people had not -made a favorable impression of their character -upon her mind. While residing with her -mother at Brigland, she had seen but few of -the inhabitants of that place, and those not of -the better sort. The only individual of the -better sort, so called, that she had seen, was -the Hon. Philip Martindale; and him she -thought the worst sort of man she had ever -seen. She at first mistook him for a gamekeeper; -then she thought that he must be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -coachman or groom to the great man at the -Abbey; and nothing could exceed her astonishment -when old Richard Smith informed her -that it was the great man himself; then, like -all young people, hastily formed and readily -expressed her opinion, that the highest class of -people in England were the lowest people in -the world. She was very wrong, but she had -not much knowledge of the subject. The -English people have so much originality and -individuality, that it is not easy to find an individual -who is a complete specimen of any -class. To satirise or to compliment any class -as a class, is absurd. It may do very well for -a particular purpose, at a tavern-dinner, or in a -dedication, to use highly complimentary language, -which may be uttered with all the -plausibility of truth and sincerity. It may -also tell well in a farce or a comedy to satirise -a whole class or profession; but to use such -language in sad or sober earnest, is grievously -unphilosophical and inaccurate. There are -minds of every variety, intellects of every -rank, hearts of every complexion in all classes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -The virtues and the vices show differently under -different circumstances. It was however pardonable -in a young woman who knew scarcely -any thing of human society, to form a wrong -judgment; but, by degrees, her mind was enlarged -and judgment corrected. Had she -taken her notion of barristers solely from the -clever, witty advocate of the Hon. Philip -Martindale, she would have thought no better -of barristers than she did of the sons of nobility. -But Horatio Markham tended to correct her -judgment in this particular. He was not a -coxcomb; he was not a rude, blustering, self-sufficient -and pert blockhead, fancying himself -the depositary of all wisdom and the oracle of -all ages; he did not aim at a display of his own -wisdom, by insinuations that all the rest of -mankind were simpletons. It must however be -confessed that he was rather pedantic; he -talked a little too professionally; and he had, -in his ordinary mode of speaking and conversing, -too much of the peculiar manner of the -bar; he told many anecdotes, and they were -mostly of the luminaries of his own profession;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -his conversation was much about books; he -spoke of books critically, and as he had a good -memory, he repeated many passages, especially -of some of the more modern poets; and in -reading or quoting, he had a very peculiar and -prosy mode of utterance. In his expressions of -admiration he was very enthusiastic; but his -only censure was silence. Being, as it should -seem, much pleased with his own peculiar eloquence -of encomium, he was most pleased with -praising; and so ingenious was his praise, that -he not unfrequently found in his favorite -writers beauties which the authors themselves -were not aware of. Many others have been -accused of doing the same; but we will vindicate -them and him by observing, that it is -quite as possible for an author to strike out -beauties of which himself is unconscious and -undesigning, as it is for an artist, by an accidental -touch of his pencil, to “snatch a grace -beyond the reach of art.” The mind is not -always conscious of the gracefulness of its -transient and unstudied attitudes.</p> - -<p>We could say much more of Markham, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -we must postpone it. Our present concern is -with the mind of Clara Rivolta, and her sentiments -of and towards this young man. He was -to all intents the most agreeable man she had -seen since her arrival in England; and his slight -tincture of pedantry, and his love of quotation -and recitation, tedious and stupid as they might -have been to many others, were to her peculiarly -agreeable. Men’s hearts are stolen -through the eye—women’s through the ear. -Clara was pleased with Markham’s voice because -she liked poetry; and as the poetry first rendered -his company delightful, and his voice -to her ear musical, so in process of time his -company and his voice rendered the poetical -extracts more pleasing. Markham also understood -Italian; but to a native of Italy he -would not read or recite her own poetry; but -he often brought to her Italian poetry, and her -bright eyes sparkled at the sight, and she began -to like the English people better, because they -had paid reverence to the poets of her native -land by printing their works beautifully. -Markham wished to hear the poetry of Italy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -read by a native; Clara could not refuse him, -because he had been so obliging as to read much -English poetry to her; but she was almost -afraid to read to him, because she could not -read so well as he could. That is a pretty and -pardonable piece of vanity. But the fact is, -Markham did not read so remarkably well: he -had a singing kind of a tone; he read in a kind -of recitative; some used to say he read very ill. -We should wish these people to be sentenced to -hear reading without a tone. At all events, -Markham’s reading was very pleasant to Clara; -and to Markham’s ear there was no music so -sweet as Clara’s voice. She had read to him -two or three of the sonnets of Petrarch; and -Markham thought that he should recollect the -melody of that voice when he should be afar off -sailing on the mighty deep. How sweetly can -the closed eye, by its own internal light, call up -bright scenes which time and space have put -far from us! and as sweetly in night’s silence -and its wakeful repose rings in our ear again the -voice of the absent and the beloved. When -Clara read to Markham, there was a tremulousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -in her voice, and there was a tear in -her eye; the tear was hardly visible, and not -large enough to fall; but she felt it there, and -her tremulousness increased. Scenes of this -nature frequently occurred, and they produced -their very natural effect. Clara felt herself -very happy in Markham’s company, always -asked his opinion on matters of taste and literature, -was continually finding out new poetical -beauties in Markham’s favorite authors, and -perpetually discovering some philological difficulties -in the English language, of which no -one but Markham could give her a solution. -It was not till she knew him that her mind was -powerfully impressed with the absolute necessity -of learning with very strict and minute -attention the niceties of the English language.</p> - -<p>There was another circumstance which contributed -to increase Clara’s partiality to Horatio -Markham; namely, his affectionate attention to -his parents, and his respectful deference to their -wishes. This she had no opportunity of observing, -but she had heard Mr. John Martindale -speak of it in highly complimentary terms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -She was very well pleased to hear Markham -praised. She did not say to herself that she -was not in love, nor indeed did she know or -suspect that she was. But she was very much -pleased with Horatio Markham, and never -spoke of him to any one, though she listened -with great pleasure to any one who spoke of -him favorably. This was certainly symptomatic, -but the young woman was not aware of -the nature of the symptoms, or of what they -portended. When she learned the vocabulary, -she did not find that admiration meant love; -she did not find that gratitude meant love; -she did not find that habit meant love; she did -not find that approbation meant love; but in -process of time she began to suspect that all these -put together produced a feeling very much like -love.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;</div> -<div class="verse">If not, why then this parting was well made.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A week is soon gone. This is not mentioned -to our readers by way of information, as -if any of them should be ignorant of the fact; -but by way of directing their minds to a sympathy -with Horatio Markham, who found that -the last days of his remaining in England -were shorter in their duration than any which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -had preceded them. In spite of all he had -said to himself concerning his not being in love, -he could not but experience a very painful feeling -at the thought that he must soon leave the -pleasant party with whom he was so agreeably -spending so many of his hours. He could not -persuade himself that he was not in love; and -the more he said so, the less he believed it. He -had taken his leave of his parents and his early -friends. He thought it becoming to take a -formal leave also of his new friend, Mr. John -Martindale; he hesitated whether he should -also make a business of taking leave of Colonel -Rivolta and his family. He bethought himself -that he had in his possession a book belonging -to Clara, and that he ought to return it. He -might send it, or he might leave it with Mr. -Martindale, requesting him to present a message -of thanks; and that plan would obviate the -inconvenience of personally returning it, in -doing which he feared that he might betray -some emotion which he would fain conceal. -For the truth is, he was of opinion that it would -not be a prudent step to declare an attachment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -at a moment when he was just about to leave -England. That would be to involve himself -and Clara too in a painful perplexity. -There were many changes to be feared during -the time of his absence from England. There -was a considerate thought that it would be -scarcely advisable that he should form an engagement -so long before it could be fulfilled; -and amidst other ideas which occupied his -mind on the subject, was the consideration of -theological differences between the parties.</p> - -<p>All these things had their weight; but it -does not follow that because a young man considers, -that he is therefore considerate. Powerful -as consideration may be, feeling is much more -powerful; and it has also an efficacy in overruling -and influencing the decisions of the understanding, -and cheating the judgment by a speciousness -of reasoning. Thus it was that Markham, with -all his sagacity, allowed himself to be imposed -on. He reasoned thus:—Perhaps, if I leave -England without announcing it to Clara, it -may occur to her that I had some very powerful -reason for such neglect of common politeness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -and there may arise in her mind a suspicion -of that which really exists, and then there -may be in her mind a corresponding sentiment, -which, if not cherished, may die away and be -forgotten; and it would not be right for me to -arouse such sentiments at such a time. It will -be best then if I personally return the book, -and very coolly and politely take my leave; -yet, upon second thoughts, why should or need -there be any thing of coolness in my manner. -It will be most suitable to be perfectly uniform, -and to take my leave in a friendly, cordial manner, -as I have hitherto behaved towards her.</p> - -<p>With this resolution he made his last visit, -with a view of taking leave of Colonel and -Signora Rivolta and of Clara, and of returning -with thanks a book which he had borrowed -from the latter. Books are very convenient for -lovers; they are a species of Cupid’s go-cart; -they are the gentle and gradual introduction of -sentiment; they speak without blushing; they -are fluent in the utterance, and they can tell -many a tender tale by a doubled leaf, or a pencil -mark; or a rose-leaf may mark an interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -page. When Markham talked to himself -about a cool and quiet leave-taking and a -friendly farewell, he did not recollect or deeply -think of books interchanged, and of beautiful -passages marked for their sentiment and pathos, -and most peculiarly applicable to peculiar circumstances: -he forgot how many striking passages -and elegant extracts he had read aloud, -and how much force and energy he gave, or -attempted to give, to these expressive and select -beauties: he forgot how many associations -were connected with books. There was -also another circumstance which of course did -not occur to him. Clara Rivolta was not situated -as any young woman of English family -and extensive acquaintance; she had not seen -much of society; Markham was the only young -gentleman with whom she was at all acquainted; -and those few other persons whom -she had seen did not make any favourable impression -on her mind. By comparison therefore -with them, Markham was highly agreeable -to her, and positively also was he not unacceptable, -inasmuch as Clara herself had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -slight tincture of what may be called pedantry. -Confined intercourse with human society produces, -almost of necessity, some degree of -pedantry, which is nothing more than an undue -estimate of the importance of some one object -of human interest or pursuit. Clara had lived secluded, -had been much alone, was of a poetical -and almost romantic temperament, had contemplated -humanity and its interests through the -medium of imagination and poetry; she had lived -in a world of her own, and the world of reality -was to her thought harsh, rough, and ungracious. -When therefore she met with Markham, -who had also an imagination somewhat -poetical, and a decided taste for the lighter and -more graceful productions of genius; and when -she saw this young gentleman brought into -immediate contrast with an uncourteous and -rude coxcomb, as he was at the trial, her -opinion of him was flattering; and when, after -farther acquaintance, she observed that his -mind was well-cultivated, his manners gentle, -his deportment essentially and decidedly courteous, -and when he had taken great pains to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -render her well pleased with scenes about her, -and to communicate information to her on such -topics as she felt interested in, she became -more and more pleased with his society, always -happy to see him, always happy to hear him, -disposed to acquiesce in his judgment, and to be -guided by his opinion; and above all, as there -was not in her heart any previous attachment, -very naturally her affections rested more tenderly -on Markham than she was well aware.</p> - -<p>If, therefore, Markham had need of management -and direction, that he might take his leave -of Clara without betraying any undue emotion, -so had the young lady also as great need to -exercise a commanding discretion on her part. -But in this matter the lady was not so well -prepared as the gentleman; for the latter was -somewhat aware of the state of his own mind, -but the former knew not aright the nature of -the interest she felt in the company of her -kind and intelligent friend. Markham had told -Mr. Martindale of the day fixed for his departure, -and the old gentleman insisted that he -should spend his last day in their company.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is very remarkable, but not less true than -strange, that though Mr. Martindale had cautioned -the young gentleman against losing his -heart when he saw Clara in old Richard -Smith’s cottage, and regarded her merely as a -country girl, yet it never occurred to the old -gentleman, now the real circumstances of the -young lady were known, and Markham was in -the daily habit of seeing and conversing with -her, that there was any danger of an attachment -springing up between them. Mr. Martindale, -if he thought at all upon the subject, -thought that all Markham’s visits and attentions -were to himself, and for his sake; and he was -pleased with the young gentleman for devoting -so much of his time to the party. Signora -Rivolta, however, thought and saw otherwise. -It was clear to her observing eye and her discerning -mind, that Markham’s visits, if not -attracted by Clara, were at least rendered -agreeable by her company. It was also very -obvious to her that the barrister’s visits were -agreeable to Clara, and that an attachment to -the young gentleman had been gradually and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -insensibly forming in her heart. It might be -supposed that the faith in which Signora -Rivolta had been educated, would have influenced -and determined her to oppose every -obstacle in her power to the growth of such an -attachment; but the truth is, that she had -understanding enough to discern that the -dangers and difficulties of opposition were as -great and as serious as the danger threatened -by this young attachment: for she knew that -such had ever been the imaginative and ardent -complexion of Clara’s mind, that if love should -ever take possession of her heart, it would have -a strong hold there, beyond the power of ordinary -arguments and every-day principles to -expel. She was not quite satisfied, for she had -never had an opportunity of ascertaining how -deeply the principles of her religion were -infixed in her mind, nor could she conjecture -what power these principles might have over -her affections. She thought it safer, therefore, -to avoid bringing these principles into danger -by any premature experiment of their strength. -There was also to be added to these considerations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -another thought; it was possible that -Markham might be brought over to the true -faith; and it may also be remarked that Signora -Rivolta herself was not so very decided, as some -persons of her faith are supposed to be, in the -conviction that there could be no salvation out -of the pale of that church to which she belonged. -That there could be many virtues out -of the pale of that church, she had learned -from the amiable and excellent character of -her maternal uncle, poor old Richard Smith; -and that a religion which she had been taught -to esteem heretical, could afford a calm and -placid support in the hour of death, had been -also manifested by her uncle’s dying-bed. These -considerations rendered Signora Rivolta less -decidedly hostile to the supposed intentions of -Markham than otherwise she might have been.</p> - -<p>The day appointed for Markham to pay his -farewell visit to his good friends, Mr. Martindale -and family, being arrived, the young gentleman -went with not quite so heavy a heart -as he had expected. He felt himself perfectly -composed, and began to fancy that his attachment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -to Clara was not so decided and powerful -as to render it at all necessary to use any -peculiar caution in his tones or language of -leave-taking. He even smiled at the idea, -that though it was the gloomy month of November, -proverbial for its power of depressing -the spirits, he was yet in a tolerably cheerful -and composed state of mind.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale had removed from the hotel -in which he resided for the first week of his -stay in town, and had established his daughter -and family in a ready-furnished house. Markham -was not beyond the time appointed for his -visit, but rather before it. He was shown into -the drawing-room, which at his entrance was -empty. He was glad of that; for it gave him -time to prepare himself, to study looks and -speeches. There is more ostensible than real -advantage in a circumstance of this nature. -Empty rooms, especially such as are usually -occupied by very interesting persons, always -make one shiver, let the weather in summer be -ever so warm, or the fires in winter ever so -good. The most confident and self-satisfied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -derive no benefit from such opportunity of preparation. -So Markham presently found, though -we do not say that he was a very confident man. -He experienced after the first minute or two -an indefinable sensation, as though the very air -of the room was not in the best and fittest state -for respiration. He had no power to sit still, -and but little to walk about the apartment. -The house, being a ready-furnished house, was -not replete with much that was ornamental. -There were some few pictures, but of such -very inferior value, that no one who had any -thing else to do or think of would trouble himself -to rise from his seat to look at them. There -was a table in the middle of the room, on which -lay in disorder some books, which looked as if -they were made on purpose to be scattered on -drawing-room tables. There was also a portfolio -of drawings partly open, or so carelessly -closed, that its contents were visible and ascertainable -without being moved. Markham -looked at the drawings as they lay; then he -ventured to draw them out one after another: -they were the same that he had seen before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -repeatedly, and he thought that he should see -them no more. Then his spirits began to sink and -his cheerfulness abated, and he felt very November-like. -Arranging the drawings as nearly as -possible in the same disorder as he had found -them, he perceived under the portfolio an open -atlas. The map of that country which was -destined to be his residence for some few years -to come lay open before him. He was looking -at it with the pleasing thought that some of his -friends had been thinking of him, when the -drawing-room door opened, and Clara entered -alone.</p> - -<p>It is very provoking after taking an infinity -of trouble to prepare for a meeting, and after -composing the countenance, and arranging the -very words and tone of greeting and salutation, -to be suddenly taken by surprise, just at that -very moment when all this composure has been -disarranged and unsettled. So was Markham -taken. He very abruptly and awkwardly drew -from his pocket the book which he had borrowed -from the young lady, and was commencing -a set speech, being about to say that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -must soon leave his native land and change the -aspect of his being, when Mr. Martindale most -unfortunately entered the room and abruptly -dispersed his eloquence. The book was laid -upon the table; Markham muttered polite acknowledgments -for the use of it; and Mr. -Martindale very unceremoniously hurried the -young lady out of the room, urging her to -make all possible haste to dress for dinner. -Now it was very clear that there could be no -farther opportunity for Markham to see Clara -alone, or to ascertain the state of her feelings -towards him; and had there been any sincerity -in the many wise and prudent remarks he had -made to himself on that subject, he would not -have been sorry for the interruption, but would -have consoled himself with the reflection that -there had been a happy avoidance of that which -might have produced a painful and perplexing -explanation. The plain truth however was, that -notwithstanding all his considerate thoughts, he -was so far in love, that he would have been -most happy in the assurance that the feeling -was mutual, and that he might, when away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -England, live cheerfully on the bright hopes of -the happiness awaiting his return. Being disappointed -in his expectations of approaching an -explanation, and feeling the manifest impropriety -and indelicacy of making a regular and -formal proposal on the very eve of his departure, -he felt almost angry; he was decidedly -low-spirited and out of humour.</p> - -<p>At dinner the conversation turned almost -solely on Markham’s departure. Mr. Martindale -congratulated him on his peculiar good -fortune in meeting with such valuable patronage, -and expressed very cordially his confident -hopes that so auspicious a commencement -would be followed by corresponding success -through life. The old gentleman then administered -a very copious supply of most valuable -advice, to all of which Markham listened with -very respectful attention. The old gentleman -had indeed all the talk to himself. Colonel -Rivolta was a very brave man and a very good -patriot, but ordinarily he was not much addicted -to talking. Signora Rivolta could talk -if she would, and could be silent if she would.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -This seems no great praise, but it is a compliment -which cannot fairly be paid to great multitudes -of either sex. Many are the simpletons -that have not wit enough to talk, or not wisdom -enough to hold their peace. The mother of -Clara had reason to suppose it not improbable -that Horatio Markham might one day make an -offer of his hand to her daughter, and under this -impression was especially desirous to understand -and rightly apprehend the young man’s -character; she was also desirous of knowing -what Mr. Martindale also thought of him; and -by paying attention to the topics on which the -old gentleman thought it necessary to dwell in -giving advice, inferences might be drawn as to -the opinion which he entertained of the young -man’s moral and intellectual character. That -Clara was silent is not to be wondered at. -Young people should always be silent when old -people are giving advice. For supposing that -the young people like good advice, they can -the better hear it if they be silent; and supposing -that they do not like it, it will be the -sooner over if they do not interrupt it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> - -<p>It requires not a very lively imagination to -picture to itself how much and how deeply -Markham was disappointed at being compelled -to undergo at his farewell visit a long story of -good advice, instead of enjoying the luxury of -a pathetic parting. And as if from the pure -desire to prevent any display of the pathetic, -the old gentleman, soon after the ladies had -retired from the dining-room, desired to have -coffee sent in; and when it arrived, he most -provokingly said to the young gentleman:</p> - -<p>“Now, young man, it is growing late, and -so I will not detain you. You must be stirring -early to-morrow morning. I will make your -apology to the ladies. I shall be very happy to -hear from you, when you arrive at your station; -and if I live till you come back, I shall be glad -to see you.”</p> - -<p>There was in Mr. Martindale’s manner of -speaking an indescribable kind of positiveness -and decision, which prevented all reply or contradiction. -Poor Horatio was under an absolute -necessity of complying, and after delaying -as long as he decently could, he rose to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -his leave, and to make a long speech in good set -terms, thanking his kind friend for the notice -which he had taken of a young and obscure -stranger. But the old gentleman did not like -long speeches that were not made by himself. -Nature designs the aged to be talkers, not -listeners; as the faculty of hearing perishes -before that of speaking. Markham was compelled -to condense his farewell acknowledgments -into very few words: there was certainly -great sincerity in his repetition of the great -regret which he felt in leaving such agreeable -friends. Dismal is a November night in London; -and especially dismal was it to Markham -to walk through a drizzling rain, by the mockery -of lamp-light, all the way from Piccadilly to the -Inner Temple, and there to find his little luggage -all carefully packed up ready to start; -and to find a gloomy looking fire that seemed -to grudge the little warmth and cheerfulness -that it communicated to the apartment, and to -see his book-cases empty, and to see two candles -dimly burning on the table; but to see no human -face, no look of home, of family, of friends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -True, he was a successful man, was in the road -to preferment, had made himself many and -good friends, but he was very dull, very low-spirited. -He had been grievously disappointed, -nay, worse than disappointed; for had he found -an opportunity to speak or even look a thought -of love to Clara, and had it been met by the -coldness of distaste, he would have had then -only to divert his thoughts, and to fill his mind -with other subjects. He then would have -known what it was that he had to trust to. But -now, poor man, all was uncertainty, perplexity, -and suspense. He knew not whether Clara -was totally indifferent or not, and he had no -means left to ascertain the fact. It was clearly -his own fault that he had not sooner made up -his own mind, and ascertained his own feelings; -for that he reproached himself, but his reproaches -availed nothing.</p> - -<p>Still farther meditating on the perplexing -affair, he came to the unpleasant conclusion, -that, if there had been on the part of Clara any -feeling of regard and attachment towards him, -she must now necessarily conclude that he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -no especial regard for her, or he would not -have left England without declaring himself, or -at least without giving some intimation of the -state of his mind. But no sooner had he arrived -at this conclusion, which ought at once to -have put him out of suspense, than he flew back -from it again; and instead of sorrowing only -for himself, he began to feel great compassion -for Clara, on the gratuitous supposition that -her heart was partly if not entirely lost to him, -and lost in vain; and, thereupon, he reproached -himself for having behaved unkindly towards -her.</p> - -<p>Thus ingeniously did the young gentleman -torment himself till past midnight, till his fire -was extinct for want of stirring, and his candles -were like torches for want of snuffing. Cold -and cheerless he retired to rest, and there remains -on record no memorial of his dreams.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And if thou ever happen that same way</div> -<div class="verse">To traveill, go to see that dreadful place.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Spenser.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following day dawned brighter. Though -it was November, the sun had strength to -struggle through the clouds; and much of the -heavy weight that lay on Markham’s mind the -preceding day was alleviated by brighter hopes -and better thoughts. There was a pleasant -re-action in his spirits, and he wondered how -it was that he had been so depressed on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -previous evening. He was cheerful and light-hearted -in giving his orders concerning the -removal of his luggage, and when he went -aboard the vessel which was destined to convey -him from England, he met with so flattering -and complimentary a reception from the captain, -that all the world seemed bright about him, and -he trusted that he should not lack friends in a -distant land. His thoughts rushed impetuously -forward to the new scene which was about to -open upon him, and he was pleased to think -how many valuable introductory letters he possessed, -and he hoped that acquaintances would, -many of them, become valuable friends and -agreeable companions. But we have no intention -of accompanying our young friend on -his voyage. Suffice it to say, that he sailed in -good spirits, that the wind blew variously as it -often does on a long voyage, and that he reached -his port in safety.</p> - -<p>We must return now to old Mr. Martindale -and his family. His attachment to his family -was continually increasing. He was more than -pleased with his daughter, he was absolutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -proud of her. He always spoke of her emphatically -as <em>my daughter</em>. He consulted her -wishes in every thing, and was always guided -by her opinion, the least intimation of which -was law to him. With all his oddities, and he -had not a few, he had discernment enough to -see that Signora Rivolta was really a person of -solid understanding and of clear judgment. -He only wondered how it was that a woman -of such good sense should adopt the Roman -Catholic religion; but on this subject he seldom -touched, for he found that he could make no -impression. With the Colonel, however, he -would occasionally enter into an argument, -and not unfrequently did he fancy that in these -discussions he had the advantage. Colonel -Rivolta was not a very zealous believer in the -infallibility of His Holiness. He had never -paid much attention to theology as a matter of -argument or reflection; he did not know enough -of his native religion to be converted to any -other, though the side which he had taken in -politics rendered him not very bigoted to the -religion established in Italy. In religion he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -was a liberal, not a sceptic or an unbeliever; -he had no doubts, for he scarcely ever thought -of the subject. He had no wish to make converts, -he was willing to let every one enjoy his -own opinions; and he would never have taken -the trouble to defend the Catholic religion -against Mr. Martindale, but that he thought the -old gentleman was fond of an argument, and he -liked to indulge him. As for the religion of -Clara, which is of the most importance to our -purpose, it is rather difficult to define or describe -it. Her education had been miscellaneous; -she had been in early life initiated into -the religion of Italy, but in after-years the conversation -of Richard Smith, her great uncle, had -somewhat disturbed and unsettled her mind as -to the exclusive safety of the Catholic religion. -Her strongest ground of attachment to that -faith was, that it was the religion of her mother. -There was, however, in her mind that degree of -imaginativeness, that needed not so much external -and visible aid to devotion as that religion -presented her with, therefore she did not -feel herself dependent on its forms. Truth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -compels us to add, which we do with a considerable -degree of reluctance, that Clara Rivolta, -during her residence at Brigland, had -more than once said to her great uncle, that her -principal objection to the Protestant religion -was the indifference of its priests. This remark -had reference, we ought to say, almost solely to -Mr. Denver, the perpetual curate of Brigland; -and every allowance ought to be made for him. -It is no easy matter to serve three churches -with a very lively and ardent feeling, especially -when to the fatigue of the duty there is also -added the toil of riding several miles on a tall, -old, raw-boned, shuffling, stumbling, jumbling, -broken-winded, and ill-saddled, iron-grey mare. -Clara had never seen any other clergyman, except -one or two who had occasionally been -visiting the Hon. Philip Martindale during -the shooting season. Of these gentlemen she -knew nothing, except that whenever they met -her, they stared very rudely at her. She formed -her judgment of the English clergy from a very -few and very so-so samples. Blending a respectable -share of discrimination and reflection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -with an imaginative soul and a feeling heart, -her religion was in the most comprehensive -sense of the word purely Catholic. Outwardly -her conformity was to the religion of her birth-place; -and perhaps had she never been acquainted -with any other mode, her devotion to -that in which she had been educated would have -been much stronger. But when she was instructed -that religion was the medium by which -virtue was impressed on the mind, and man -made acceptable to his Maker, and when she -was told that there was no salvation out of the -pale of the Roman Catholic Church, and when -she saw what real excellences and what solid virtues -adorned the character of her maternal great -uncle, then she thought it absolutely impossible -that the religion of such a man could be otherwise -than acceptable to his Maker; and thereupon, -without the elaborateness of argument or -the undetectable wiliness of sophistry, there -entered irresistibly into her mind a spirit of liberality -and pure Catholicism.</p> - -<p>It may then be easily supposed that Mr. Martindale -was not much disturbed or annoyed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -the difference between his own faith and that -of his family. Whatever disturbance the subject -gave him was entirely of his own making, -and arose purely from his own fidgetty disposition. -Such however was the very high -estimation in which he held his daughter, that -notwithstanding his zeal for Protestantism, he -would occasionally attend the worship of her -church, and occasionally the compliment was -returned. This compliance on the part of the -old gentleman, together with the satisfaction -that he expressed at the occasional conformity -of his newly-found family, gave pretty strong -indication to Philip Martindale that his wealthy -cousin destined a larger share of his fortune for -Signora Rivolta than ordinarily falls to the lot -of a natural daughter. His difficulties and -perplexities therefore increased, and his choice -vibrated with great rapidity between Clara -Rivolta and Celestina Sampson. He exercised -much caution and deliberation in considerations -of various eligibilities and ineligibilities. Had -he used as much thought before he gave his honorable -countenance to the ring, the course, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -the cockpit, before he laid bets on rat-catchers’ -dogs, and borrowed money of the Jews to pay -those bets withal, he would not have needed -now to have recourse to the meanness of attempting -a heartless marriage to mend his -broken fortunes. Sadly and seriously did he -lay to heart his past follies; and he grieved -the more because he grieved in vain. He -knew very well that there was no remedy for -the past, and that it would require some ingenuity -to prevent affairs from becoming worse. -He grew quite dejected, and even demure; -and he occasionally would lecture some of -his honorable and right honorable friends on -the folly and absurdity of gaming. But his -repentance, though he was not aware of the -fact, consisted rather of uneasiness under the -consequences of transgression, than of any feeling -of regret for the transgression as considered -in itself.</p> - -<p>There was in his mind also another thought -which was very natural under present circumstances, -and that was, that it would be desirable -that he should leave the Abbey, and thankfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -resign it to his worthy relative, who on -the unexpected discovery of a new family might -be willing to increase his establishment, though -he might feel some little delicacy and hesitation -about the removal of his relative. With -this idea Philip went again to London, where -the old gentleman continued to reside with his -family; for by taking this step, the young gentleman -hoped that he should be able to ascertain -what were the intentions of his relative -towards him.</p> - -<p>Philip was very cordially received by Mr. -John Martindale, who did not interrogate him -as usual on the object of his visit to London. -This omission was a symptom of indifference; -but a still stronger symptom was manifested -when Philip announced to his relative the business -on which he had come to town. As soon -as he had done speaking, the old gentleman in -his usual abrupt manner replied: “Well, do -as you like. I think a smaller house may be -better for you. But as for my going to reside -there, I should not think of such a thing. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -shall sell the Abbey, if I can have a price for -it.”</p> - -<p>“Sell it, sir!” replied Philip in the utmost -astonishment; “you surely are not serious.”</p> - -<p>“But I am decidedly serious,” said the old -gentleman; “I have had the amusement of -building the house, and so far it has answered -my purpose. It is of no farther use to me. -Will you buy it?”</p> - -<p>Philip smiled at the question; but the smile -cost him a great effort. He saw that he was -destined to be the sport of circumstances, and -he inwardly groaned at his very unfortunate lot; -that the line which he had pursued in hopes of -coming into possession of a valuable inheritance, -had brought him into painful and mortifying -perplexities. He thought within himself how -foolish he should look at being compelled to -leave his splendid mansion; but he had never -thought before how much more foolish he -looked, when he was only nominal master of a -mansion which was far too large for him, and -too magnificent for his actual or possible means.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -It was, indeed, by the more knowing ones -shrewdly suspected that Mr. John Martindale -had, in building so splendid a concern, seriously -transgressed the limits of prudence, and that he -had not the ability, supposing him to have the -inclination, suitably and consistently to occupy -so large and splendid a building. There had -need be very great pleasure in building, for -there are often very great pains and mortifications -resulting from efforts at architectural magnificence. -Blessings, however, rest on the heads -of those ingenious architects who let us have -splendour so cheap, and who convert plaister into -stone, and splinters into timber!</p> - -<p>To return to our subject. The old gentleman -seriously and coolly persisted in his determination -to sell the house, and as coolly did he accept -Philip’s resignation of his possession. Mr. -Martindale the elder merely said:</p> - -<p>“But where do you intend to reside? At -home with his lordship? Or, suppose you look -out for a place in the country. What say you -to living among your constituents? There is a -very good house at Trimmerstone; it has not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -been occupied lately, but the last who resided -there was a man of rank. If you like to reside -there, I will put it in order for you. But it is -high time you should think of marrying.”</p> - -<p>The house at Trimmerstone had indeed been -occupied by a man of rank, or, more properly -speaking, by the housekeeper and a few old servants -of a man of rank. Many summers had -passed over its roof, and many storms had -spent their fury on its weather-beaten sides, -since any thing had been done to it in the way -of repair. At the time that Mr. Martindale -was speaking of it as a suitable residence for -his honorable cousin, it was almost in a state -of dilapidation. Philip had seen the house, and -had some recollection of it; and our readers -may easily judge of the young gentleman’s -state of mind when the proposal was made to -settle him there, and to exchange a splendid -modern mansion for an out-of-the-way, ill-contrived, -lumbering old mansion-house.</p> - -<p>Trimmerstone Hall was a long and almost -indescribable building, which seemed as if it -had stood till it half sunk into the earth. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -was approached by a long, superannuated, -everlasting avenue of trees, which had stood -growing, no mortal could tell how long. There -was such a density of foliage, that the middle -part of the building was almost in total darkness; -and whether the path between the trees -was gravel, grass, or withered vegetation, it -was not easy to ascertain. Two broad, dislocated -stone steps sinking downwards between -two stunted black brick walls, and surmounted by -a grotesque wooden portico, admitted those who -could stoop low enough to avoid hitting their -heads, into a wide, broad, cold hall paved with -marble, which nature had made black and -white, but which time and other accidents had -converted into brown and yellow. Immediately -opposite to the front door, and not many yards -from it, opened the back door, which in architectural -beauty and convenience of arrangement -was a fac-simile of its opposite neighbour. -There were windows also in the entrance-hall, -one on each side the two doors; and the windows -were constructed upon that ingenious -principle which admits any thing but light. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -one side of this hall was a mighty fire-place, -which looked as if it had never had a fire in it; -and on the other was a broad staircase, with -banisters strong enough to build a dozen -Regent Street houses withal. There were -rooms of divers dimensions and various degrees -of deformity. To describe their arrangement is -impossible, inasmuch as they had no arrangement.</p> - -<p>The state-apartments were hung with -damask or with tapestry. Time had played -sad tricks with these decorations, as it had also -with the old oak floors, which had lost their -shape and colour. No four-legged article of -furniture could by any arguments be induced to -stand steady on its legitimate supporters; and -if a four-post bedstead had been placed on the -higher side of a room, it must inevitably have -rolled on its castors to the opposite side. The -windows throughout the mansion were villainous; -and the whole building seemed fit for -nothing but to make a pencil-drawing, or an -etching from it.</p> - -<p>Though the great mass of the house appeared -to have sunk into the ground, the fine old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -chimneys looked as if they had grown taller, or -left the house to sink without them. They -almost rivalled in altitude the old trees of the -avenue. They were visible from a great distance, -but the house was not, for it stood in a -hollow; and the ground about was finely -watered by divers rivulets, which did not -seem at all particular as to the course they -took, but with a noble and liberal impartiality -spontaneously or promiscuously irrigated, that -is to say, sopped the meadows, grounds, and -gardens, which surrounded the house.</p> - -<p>Such was the habitation which the wealthy -cousin of the Hon. Philip Martindale proposed -for the residence of a young gentleman born to -be legislator, and proud of the antiquity of his -family and the dignity of his high rank. Philip -knew the house, and what is more, he knew -that his cousin knew it.</p> - -<p>It was a keen and bitter mortification to have -such a proposal made; but though he fully determined -not to stoop so low as to accept it, -he was too dependent to reject it point-blank. -He merely said:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I am inclined to think, sir, from what I -recollect of Trimmerstone Hall, that it will require -more to put it into good repair than the -present building is worth; and the situation -being so very low and swampy, I am afraid that -I should not enjoy my health there. But, sir, -there is no absolute necessity for my having a -distinct residence at present, while I remain -single. I can reside with my family; and as I -think of paying a closer attention to my parliamentary -duties, I shall of course spend more of -my time in London.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, so you will; right, I forgot that. -Yes, yes, you ought clearly to be more attentive -to your parliamentary duties. Well, I am -not sorry you think of leaving the Abbey. I -shall certainly dispose of it. It was very amusing -to build the house; and so the proverb will -be verified—Fools build houses, and wise men -live in them.”</p> - -<p>When a man calls himself a fool in the hearing -of another, that other is in duty bound to -contradict him: for it is not in the nature of -things that any man really thinking himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -fool should avow that conviction. To speak -paradoxically, if a man sincerely avows himself -a fool, he thinks himself a wise man in having -found out that he is a fool, and requires a -compliment as a matter of course. It is the -expected duty of every one therefore, hearing -another call himself a fool, to contradict him. -To do that well is difficult, and requires great -address. It must not be contradicted point-blank -and flatly, but it must be circuitously -done. Every man who calls himself a fool is -offended if he fancies that he is believed, is -offended if he be not contradicted, and is also -offended if he be contradicted, so as to give -proof that he is suspected of expecting contradiction.</p> - -<p>Now, though Philip Martindale was a gentleman -of very fashionable manners, and perfectly -informed and well instructed as to all the -forms and modes of fashionable address, yet his -knowledge was simply that of forms and modes; -he had no natural intuition; no native and -unbought perception of abstract propriety and -unchangeable good manners. Of mind and its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -movements he was totally ignorant; he knew -what was fashionable as well as any man; even -at the cockpit or the ring, though dressed like -a groom, he was known to be a gentleman. -Thus it is that those who belong to a certain -class are always known and recognised by their -inimitable and untranscribable manners, having -only to do with externals, they are perfect in -them. The less intellect they have, the more -skilful are they in the art; even as parrots -most faithfully utter the words which they are -taught, because reflection supplies them with -none other. But such parrot-like politeness -would not answer with such a man as old John -Martindale. Any thing common-place was his -aversion and abomination. It required peculiar -tact and skill to manage him; and this skill -the Hon. Philip Martindale did not possess in -a very eminent degree. When therefore the -young gentleman began to mutter forth some -affected contradiction to what Mr. John Martindale -had been pleased to say of himself, the -latter hastily interrupted him.</p> - -<p>“Pish, nonsense; none of your foolish complimenting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -I was a fool to build the house, -and I should be a greater fool to live in it. -I shall find some simpleton with more money -than wit, who may be glad to buy it at half the -money which it cost me to build it. Well, -now you are in town, you may as well stay -with us, if you are not too proud to patronise -my relations. You will find them very sensible, -well-informed people, though they have no -title.”</p> - -<p>To this invitation Philip felt no repugnance, -and consequently made no objection: for he -was very desirous of seeing more of Clara -Rivolta, and of ingratiating himself into her -favour, should such a measure be found necessary -or desirable in a financial point of view. -As the London winter was now approaching, -he also hoped that he should have an opportunity -of observing how Mr. Martindale’s relatives -would be received in the world, determining -to be chiefly governed as to his decision -respecting Clara by the manner in which her -family should be noticed. He had sense -enough to see that Signora Rivolta was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -superior woman in mind and manners; but he -was doubtful whether the rank of his cousin -was high enough, or wealth extensive enough, -to command respect for a natural daughter. -There is a jealousy of superior minds; and -artificial nobility feels indignant at being -eclipsed by natural nobility. As for Clara, -her mild and gentle spirit would create for her -affection and patronage every where. The -sweetness of her temper, the unobtrusive soundness -of her judgment, her strong natural sense -of propriety, would command universal regard; -but there was also to be considered the reception -with which the mother might meet: for -the mother and the daughter were clearly -inseparable. The one would receive no smiles -or courtesy which should be denied to or withheld -from the other. A severe trial now -awaited the half-captived heart of Clara -Rivolta.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">END OF VOL. I.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -PRINTED BY A.J. VALPY, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rank and Talent; A Novel, Vol. I (of 3), by -William Pitt Scargill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANK AND TALENT, VOL 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 53455-h.htm or 53455-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5/53455/ - -Produced by Heather Clark and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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