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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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