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diff --git a/old/53455-h/53455-h.htm b/old/53455-h/53455-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7d543dd..0000000 --- a/old/53455-h/53455-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8691 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rank and Talent; A Novel In Three Volumes, Volume 1, by William Pitt Scargill. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - -<style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -hr { - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.attribution { - text-align: right; - margin-top: 1em; -} - -.blockquote { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.cover { - margin: auto; - max-width: 45em; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - margin: 1em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .verse { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent1 { - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.poetry .indent2 { - text-indent: -1em; -} - -.poetry .indent9 { - text-indent: 6em; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -@media handheld { - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -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) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="cover"> - -<p class="titlepage larger">RANK AND TALENT;<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smaller">A NOVEL.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY THE</span><br /> -AUTHOR OF “TRUCKLEBOROUGH-HALL.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent1">When once he’s made a Lord,</div> -<div class="verse">Who’ll be so saucy as to think he can</div> -<div class="verse">Be impotent in wisdom?</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Cook.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Why, Sir, ’tis neither satire nor moral, but the mere passage -of an history; yet there are a sort of discontented creatures, -that bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest -the doings of any man to their base malicious appliment.</p> - -<p class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Marston.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">IN THREE VOLUMES.</p> - -<p class="center">VOL. I.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.<br /> -1829.</p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>RANK AND TALENT.</h1> - -<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Law is the world’s great light, a second sun</div> -<div class="verse">To this terrestrial globe, by which all things</div> -<div class="verse">Have life and being; and without which</div> -<div class="verse">Confusion and disorder soon would seize</div> -<div class="verse">The general state of men.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Barry.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Summer assizes for the county of ——, in -the year 18—, excited in the county-town where -they were held rather more than the usual sensation; -but in the remote and smaller town of -Brigland, they roused a stirring interest. Long -before the day of the trial, every vehicle which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -could be hired was engaged to carry the curious -to the assizes, to hear the action brought by poor -old Richard Smith against the Hon. Philip -Martindale, for an assault and false imprisonment. -The defendant was by no means popular -at Brigland, and there were circumstances, -which rendered the injury done to the plaintiff -peculiarly hard and oppressive; and whenever -the sympathy of the multitude is with the poor -oppressed against the rich oppressor, that sympathy -is very strong, and indignation is not -choice in the terms of its expression, nor does -cool deliberation precede judgment. It was the -common, and almost universal wish, that the -defendant might have to pay heavy damages; -and that he might hear from the lips of the -plaintiff’s counsel some home truths, which -might mortify his pride, and abate his arrogance.</p> - -<p>In addition to the excitement which this -action produced, there was also another, though -smaller stimulus to curiosity, in the first appearance -on the circuit of a young barrister, who -was a native of the town in which the assizes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -were held. These two circumstances, therefore, -filled the court at an early hour with anxious -and curious expectants.</p> - -<p>The plaintiff’s attorney had put his brief into -the hands of the young barrister; the defendant -had retained a more experienced advocate, one -well versed in the theory of the law, and, what -is far more to the purpose, deeply skilled in the -ways of the world, and the practice of courts—one -who had the professionally desirable art of -mystifying a jury, and of persuading twelve -men out of their senses—one who would be sure -of every cause he undertook, were it not for the -summing up of the judge—one who, by means -of a loud voice and swaggering manner, was a -terror to nine-tenths of the simpletons who -entered the witness’ box—one who never cross-examined -a female witness without making her -blush, or terrifying her to tears—one who could -talk very solemnly about “our holy religion,” -and could convert into a joke the clearest principles -of morality, or the deepest sufferings of -humanity. It was a great amusement to the -country people and the county magistrates to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -hear this very clever man; and poor old Richard -Smith was very much alarmed when he found -what a dexterous and terrific adversary was -employed against him, and he expressed his -fears to his own attorney, who comforted him -by saying, “Had your cause been a bad one, I -would have retained Mr. ——.”</p> - -<p>After one or two causes had been disposed -of, that of Smith <i>versus</i> Martindale was called. -Then, for the first time, and in his native town, -did Horatio Markham open his lips in a court -of justice. Notwithstanding the profound and -anxious silence which prevailed in the court, -scarcely one-half of the persons there could -hear distinctly the commencement of his speech; -but by degrees he gained confidence, and his -voice was more audible. The audience, however, -was not very highly pleased with what -he said. Many thought that he stated the case -much too feebly. Some thought that he was -afraid of the defendant’s counsel; and others -thought he was fearful of offending the defendant -himself. The Hon. Philip Martindale, who -was on the bench, listened with but slight attention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -to the speech; and when it was finished, -honoured it with a contemptuous sneer. This -sneer was reflected in most courtly style by the -gentlemen who sat on either side of him; the -high-sheriff was one, and a clerical magistrate -was the other.</p> - -<p>Witnesses were then called to prove the case. -From them it appeared very clear that the -Hon. Philip Martindale had, upon very defective -evidence, and against very credible evidence, -committed Richard Smith to jail as a -poacher; and the said Hon. Philip Martindale -had also with great severity, not to say cruelty, -struck the said Richard Smith, in order, as -the defendant had said, to punish the old -man for his insolence. What this insolence -was, would not have appeared to the court, had -it not been for the dexterity of the defendant’s -counsel, in cross-examining one of the plaintiff’s -witnesses.</p> - -<p>This witness was a very pretty, modest-looking -young woman, who seemed to suffer -quite enough from the publicity in which she -was placed by being brought to speak in open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -court. The temptation was too strong for the -defendant’s counsel to resist; and he therefore -took abundant pains to show his wit, by asking -a long string of impertinent questions, and repeating -the answers to those questions in a loud -insulting tone. He and those who follow his -example, are best able to say how far such a -mode of proceeding can answer the ends of -justice—how far it is consistent with the gravity -and decorum of a court, and with the character -of a gentleman—how far it is calculated to -impress the multitude with a sentiment of reverence -for the expounders of the law—and how -far it is likely to advance those who adopt it, -in their own esteem.</p> - -<p>The cross-examination of this young woman, -who was the plaintiff’s niece, led to a re-examination, -in which it was made manifest to the -court, as it had been previously known to most -then present, that the severity of the Hon. -Philip Martindale towards poor old Richard -Smith arose from the vigilance with which the -old man guarded his niece, and preserved her -from the artifices of the defendant. When this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -fact came out in evidence, there was an involuntary -and indescribable expression of contempt -in the court; and the honourable defendant -endeavoured to smile away his mortification, -but did not succeed, though he was countenanced -by the high-sheriff on one side of him, -and a clerical magistrate on the other. The -contrast between impertinence and decorum was -never so strongly manifested as in the cross-examination -and re-examination above alluded -to; and it has been said that the witty barrister -himself was not quite at his ease, and that he -broke down in an attempted jest upon gravity.</p> - -<p>The counsel for the defendant called no witnesses, -but made a witty speech; in which he -proved by arguments which made the multitude -laugh, that it is a very slight inconvenience to -be imprisoned for a few months; that seduction -is a very venial offence, and highly becoming a -gentleman; that it is a great condescension in -a man of high rank to knock down a poor cottager; -that gray hairs are a very ludicrous -ornament; that it is very insolent in a poor man -to interrupt a rich man in his pursuit of vicious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -pleasure; that the game-laws are so very excellent, -that persons only suspected of violating -them ought to be punished. Then he gave the -jury to understand, that if they should be foolish -enough to give a verdict for the plaintiff, they -must award the least possible damages. Then -he sat down, and took a great quantity of snuff, -and winked at the high-sheriff. In spite of all -the wit and coxcomical impertinence of this redoubtable -advocate, the jury found a verdict for -the plaintiff, giving him one hundred pounds -damages.</p> - -<p>This verdict, and the unpretending sobriety -of the young barrister’s mode of arguing his -case, occasioned much conversation in the town, -and gave also ground for some observations -among the gentlemen of the bar. Some of -these gentlemen had known Horatio Markham -from the very first day that he had entered his -name in the Temple. They were acquainted -with his taste and the line of his reading, and -they knew that the oratorical writers of antiquity -and of modern times occupied a place on -his shelves and a share of his attention; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -they expected that when he held such a brief as -that of which we have made mention, he would -indulge a little in declamation. It was therefore -a matter of surprise to them when he -confined himself so strictly to the record, and -suffered his case to rest so independently on -its own strength. The opposing counsel was -completely at fault. He had calculated so -confidently on Markham’s eloquence, and was -so familiar with the common places of declamation, -that he was quite prepared with a -copious supply of extemporaneous witticisms, -with which he designed to overwhelm the young -gentleman, and throw ridicule on his cause. -It was therefore a disappointment to him when -he found that all this previous preparation was -labour lost. But though most of the barristers -on the circuit joined with the witty counsel for -the defendant in his vituperation of those who -had been instrumental in procuring such a verdict, -yet secretly they were not displeased that -their tyrant had been so fairly set down. Markham -was absolutely beginning to be a favourite -on the circuit. The judge himself all but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -publicly complimented him on the able and -gentleman-like manner in which he had managed -his cause; and even the honourable defendant -was mortified that there was nothing in Markham’s -language to which any exception could -be taken.</p> - -<p>When the court had broken up, the young -barrister most unblushingly walked into a linen-draper’s -shop, and passing on to a little back -parlour, took off his gown and wig, and sat -down to dine with his father and mother. The -old people were proud of their son, and the -young man was not ashamed of his parents. -But he had seen many instances of young persons -who had scarcely deigned to acknowledge -those to whom they were not only bound by the -ties of nature, but to whose self-denial they -owed their distinction and station in life. These -little think how much substantial reputation -they lose, and how little shadowy honour they -gain.</p> - -<p>As the family of the young barrister was -sitting at dinner, there entered to them unannounced, -and without apology, an elderly man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -in very singular attire, and of very singular -appearance. Markham had a recollection of -having seen him in court. His countenance -had an expression of archness, and he seemed -by his looks as though he were on the eve of -uttering some choice piece of wit; there were -also observable indications of impetuosity and -strong self-will. His head was nearly bald; -his shoulders of ample breadth; his stature -short; his voice shrill; and his manner of -speaking quick and dogmatical. Without -taking any notice of the father and mother of -the barrister, he addressed himself directly to -Horatio.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you don’t know me—my name is -Martindale.”</p> - -<p>“The Hon. Philip Martindale?” replied the -young man with great composure; for he was -quite ignorant of the person of the defendant -in the recent action.</p> - -<p>“The Hon. Philip Martindale!” echoed the -stranger, with a tone and with a look which -answered the question very decidedly. “The -Hon. Philip rascal!—no, sir; my name is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -made ridiculous by any such lying adjunct. -My name is John Martindale; and it is my -misfortune to be called cousin by that hopeful -spark who was defendant in the action this -morning. I am come, sir, to tell you that I -think you did yourself honour by the manner in -which you conducted the poor man’s cause.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham perceived that, though the -gentleman was somewhat of an oddity, he was -a man of some consequence, and apparently a -man of good feeling; he therefore replied:</p> - -<p>“Sir, you are very polite; you.…”</p> - -<p>“No such thing,” interrupted Mr. Martindale; -“I am not polite, and hope I never shall -be polite. My cousin Philip is a very polite -man.” Then directing his conversation to Mr. -Markham the elder, he continued: “I congratulate -you, sir, on having for a son a young -man who can make a speech without fine words -and metaphors.”</p> - -<p>This seemed to the father a singular ground -of congratulation, and he did not know how to -reply to it: fortunately, the speaker did not -wait for a reply; but turning again to the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -man, he said: “You must come and spend a -few weeks with me in my cottage at Brigland. -I will have no excuses, so tell me when you -will come. Will you go home with me tonight?”</p> - -<p>Markham recollected that he had in his -boyhood heard frequent talk and many singular -anecdotes of Mr. John Martindale of Brigland; -but as his general character was one of benevolence -and shrewd sense, he was not reluctant -to accept the invitation, especially as it -was given in such terms as not to be refused -without that degree of rudeness which did not -seem suitable from a young man of humble -origin towards an elderly person of high rank. -He therefore professed his readiness to spend a -short time with his new friend, and fixed the -following day for the purpose. The stranger -then took his leave.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly,</div> -<div class="verse">Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion</div> -<div class="verse">To poise my breath; for he that laughs and strikes</div> -<div class="verse">Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Marston.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Brigland-Abbey was one of those desirable -mansions which auctioneers love to describe, -but which are beyond all power of -advertising flattery. It stood on a gradually -descending and very extensive sweep of land; -at the back of which rose a dense and ancient -forest, and in front flowed a stream which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -been artificially widened into the semblance of -a fair and placid lake. The building was in -harmony with the scenery; graceful, stately, -extensive. The architect had successfully imitated -the florid Gothic style of building; and -over the principal entrance was a window of -enormous magnitude, and most brilliant colouring. -Through this window the beams of the -declining sun cast on the marble pavement of -the great hall a luxuriant mass of variegated -light, forming one of the most magnificent -specimens of internal beauty which any mansion -in this kingdom has to boast. This beautiful -estate was the property of Mr. John Martindale, -but the residence of the Hon. Philip -Martindale. The elder Martindale had, for -the place of his abode, a fancifully constructed -cottage, immediately opposite to the great gates -that opened into the park; and so well placed -was this residence, that it had a most beautiful -and imposing view of the great building. For -when Mr. Martindale had finished the erection -of the splendid abbey, it was remarked to him, -as it has been remarked to many others who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -have built splendid mansions, “Now you should -have another house opposite to this, that you -may enjoy the pleasure of looking at this magnificent -pile.”</p> - -<p>On this principle the proprietor acted; residing -in a dwelling called the cottage, and -giving up the great house to his hopeful cousin. -He found a peculiar pleasure in this whim; -for thereby he became master of the master -of the great house; and nothing pleased him -more than to be mistaken for a person of no -consequence, and then to be discovered as -the opulent and remarkable Mr. Martindale. -Some of his neighbours used to report that he -had a right to a title, but that he would not -prosecute his claim, because he despised titles -as mere foolery. These good people were -wrong in their conjecture; but the supposition -was not displeasing to Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>As we are on the subject, we may as well -state here that he was an old bachelor, of extensive -wealth; and that he was third, fourth, -or fifth cousin to a Mr. Martindale, who had -recently been created Lord Martindale, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -whose income was not quite equal to his title. -Now, though Mr. Martindale professed a great -contempt for titles, the fact is, that on his remote -relative’s obtaining this distinction, he -took more notice of him than ever he had before, -and gave very strong indications that it was his -intention to make the Hon. Philip Martindale -his heir. He had established the young gentleman -at the Abbey, tempting his vanity by the -offer of a residence far too magnificent for -his means, and too extensive for his establishment.</p> - -<p>The young man’s vanity was pleased with -this arrangement, for he very sensibly felt that -he was the occupier of the great house; but he -was not so deeply sensible of the fact, that he -was quite under the command of his opulent -and humorous relative. He looked forward to -the possession of ample means at the decease of -Mr. Martindale; but he was desirous of supplying -his deficiencies, if possible, before that -time. It might, indeed, be imagined that the -heir-apparent to a barony, and the expectant of -most ample wealth, might have made his selection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -among the daughters of opulence. There -were, however, difficulties and objections. The -young gentleman himself was, especially, particular -as to rank and connexion. None of his -family had ever been engaged in or connected -with trade, so far as he could ascertain; and -most of the large fortunes which appeared at -all accessible, had been the obvious result of -commercial engagement of some kind or other. -He might have had rank; he might have had -wealth; but he could not have both.</p> - -<p>The occupant of the cottage observed his -relative’s vanity, and was in the habit of mortifying -it, even though he was not quite free -from some tincture of the same in his own -temperament. He also was not insensible to the -fact, that his honourable cousin was not overstrict -in his morals; but his mode of reproving -irregularities did not much tend to their correction. -The old gentleman was not a magistrate, -but was, as far as he thought fit, the dictator of -his cousin’s proceedings in the office of magistrate: -not that the transaction alluded to in the -first chapter was with the approbation or even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -knowledge of the elder Martindale. Such, -however, was the oddity of this gentleman’s -humour, that had Horatio Markham declaimed -with what some would have considered merited -severity against the magistrate for his violation -of the laws, he would have been the first to -take fire at the insult offered to his relative. He -was unprepared for so much temperance, so -much good sense, and so little common-place. -This circumstance, together with the fact that -Markham was of plebeian origin, led Mr. Martindale -to invite the barrister to Brigland, that -he might amuse himself with his cousin’s annoyance -and embarrassment.</p> - -<p>As Markham was entering the village on -the side of the park, he naturally paused to -admire the beauty of the Abbey; and while he -was thus engaged, Mr. Martindale rode up to -him, and without any preface of common-place -salutation, called out—</p> - -<p>“That is a fine house, Mr. Barrister. I dare -say you would rather pay a visit to an honourable -in the Abbey, than to a plain mister in a cottage.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<p>Horatio apologised that he had not observed -Mr. Martindale; but as he began to discern his -peculiar humour, he replied: “I was certainly -admiring the taste of the architect, and his -judgment in selecting so fine and commanding -a situation: the very ground, by its disposition, -seemed to ask for a mansion of no ordinary -magnificence.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ho—you understand how to pay compliments. -I suppose you did not know that -your humble servant, plain John Martindale, -was the designer and builder of this mansion. -Did you never hear the proverb, that fools -build houses, and wise men live in them?”</p> - -<p>“Is the occupier of that mansion a wise man, -sir?” replied Horatio.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that he is. And so from that -you would infer that it was not a fool who built -the house. Well, well, you shall see him soon, -and judge for yourself. I told my honourable -relative that I should insist upon bringing you -to the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham bowed, and they entered the -cottage. This building was, in its construction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -and appearance, almost indescribable. There -was no semblance of arrangement or regularity -about it. It was very large, and at the same -time thoroughly inconvenient. Its furniture -was in some points very elegant, and in others -mean. While it was in course of building, -Mr. Martindale had changed his mind about -the plan of it fifty times, or more; and in the -furnishing, there had been evidently as much -caprice. There was a room called the library; -but which that room was, a stranger would -have been puzzled to guess; for not a single -apartment through the whole house was free -from books, and in no one room were the books -arranged in any order. There were books upon -the tables, and books upon the chairs, and books -on the floors. The very staircases were not free -from them; and whenever a visitor came to the -cottage to spend a day or two, it was an essential -part of the preparation to remove the books -from the bed on which they were lying.</p> - -<p>Now Mr. Martindale was very particular -about his books, and would not suffer any of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -domestics to meddle with them. In his younger -days he had been a reader of books; and when -he came to his property, he began to purchase, -and cease to read. It was indeed conjectured -by some that his large property, which came to -him from a distant relative, and in some measure -unexpectedly, had, in a degree, disordered his -mind. There might, perhaps, be some foundation -for this suspicion; but it is a fact, that -even before his acquisition of great wealth, he -had been remarked for many singularities.</p> - -<p>“Now, Mr. Barrister,” said the occupier of -the cottage, “what time would you like to -dine? You have villainous late hours in London, -I know. Some of the great folks there -don’t dine till to-morrow morning. If I should -ever sport a house in town, and give dinners, -I think I shall send out my cards inviting my -company to dinner on Tuesday next, at one -o’clock on Wednesday morning. Will five -o’clock be too soon for you, Mr.?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, sir.” So the business was settled; -and then Mr. Martindale proposed a walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -into the town to call upon the clergyman, -whom he designated by the not much admired -name of parson.</p> - -<p>“Good morning to you, Mr. Denver; will -you condescend to dine at the cottage at five -o’clock to-day? In the mean time, let me -introduce to you my friend Mr. Markham, a -barrister; who has distinguished himself by -obtaining a very proper verdict against my -hopeful young cousin, the Hon. Philip Martindale.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver accepted the invitation, politely -bowed to Mr. Markham, and expressed great -sorrow at the event which was alluded to by -Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>“He is a wild youth, Mr. Parson; why -don’t you preach to him, and make him better?” -replied Mr. Martindale.—“If I were a parson, -I would take much better care of my parishioners -than nine out of ten of you black-coated gentry. -You are afraid of offending great folks. Now, -you would not dare to go up to the Abbey this -morning, and tell my honourable cousin that he -ought to be ashamed of himself.—Eh! what say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -you, Mr.? Will you take my arm, and walk up -to the great house, and set about rebuking the -wicked one?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver gently smiled, and said: “I -fear, sir, that we should not find Mr. Philip at -home this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Not find him at home!” exclaimed Mr. -Martindale; “why not? Where is he gone?”</p> - -<p>“He left Brigland early this morning in a -post-chaise; and the lad who drove him the first -stage saw him take another chaise, and proceed -towards London.”</p> - -<p>“What! go to London at this time of year!—Let -me know nothing about it!—What is he -gone for?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot conjecture,” replied the reverend -divine, “what can be Mr. Philip’s motive for -visiting the metropolis at this unusual season.”</p> - -<p>“Conjecture!” said Mr. Martindale; “no, -I suppose not. But it is so very odd that he -should go in such a violent hurry, and not say a -word to me on the subject.”</p> - -<p>In this, the old gentleman was wrong; for it -was by no means unusual for the Hon. Philip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -Martindale to make an excursion for a day or -two without saying any thing about the matter -to his worthy relative. These excursions were -sometimes to Moulsey, and sometimes to Epsom, -and sometimes to Newmarket, and sometimes -to St. Mary Axe; and as these excursions -were on a species of business with which the -old gentleman had no sympathy, the young -gentleman thought it superfluous to announce -his departure and arrival. A present advantage -arising from this arrangement was, that -he enjoyed a greater reputation for steadiness -than he really deserved, though without a -knowledge of these matters his indulgent and -opulent relative thought the young man rather -too wild. A future disadvantage, however, -was likely to compensate for the present advantage; -for it was next to impossible to carry -on this game without detection, and also very -difficult to escape from the vortex.</p> - -<p>The knowledge of Philip’s absence without -leave discomposed the old gentleman, and rendered -him not very well disposed for the enjoyment -of company; he had, however, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -consolation of anticipating the exercise of a -little extra tyranny over his dependent relative, -in consequence of this transgression. It is a -truth, and a sad one too, that many persons, -situated as Mr. John Martindale, are not always -really sorry for an opportunity of showing their -authority by means of the eloquence or annoyance -of rebuke. Had Philip, by any exertion -of his own, or by any spirit of pride, removed -himself from a state of dependence, it -would have been a serious loss to his cousin; -and even the very appearance of an act of -independence disturbed the old gentleman, and -rendered him for a considerable time silent and -sulky.</p> - -<p>Soon after dinner, however, Mr. Martindale -recovered his spirits. He became quite cheerful -with the thought that he should make the -young man do penance for his transgression. -He was, however, not altogether at ease, because -his curiosity was excited as to the object -of the young gentleman’s excursion. Mr. Denver -was unable or unwilling to satisfy his -curiosity; and therefore, without making any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -apology to his guests, the old gentleman withdrew -from table, and walked up to the Abbey, -with a view of ascertaining, if possible, from -some of the servants, the cause of their master’s -sudden absence from home.</p> - -<p>When three persons have dined together, -and have been talking about nothing, or next -to nothing, and when one of the three withdraws, -it is not very unusual or unnatural -that he should form a topic for the remaining -two to discourse upon. This was the case -when Mr. Martindale left the clergyman and -the barrister together.</p> - -<p>“It is very singular,” said Markham to his -companion, “that a man of such large fortune -as Mr. Martindale, should, after building so -splendid a mansion, content himself with residing -in such a cottage as this.”</p> - -<p>“So it appears to us, who have no such -choice,” replied Mr. Denver; “but to Mr. -Martindale, who is rolling in riches, some other -stimulus is necessary than the mere outward -manifestation of wealth; and I dare say that -he enjoys more pleasure from the whim of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -having a dependent relative in the great house, -than you or I should from dwelling there ourselves. -This I can venture to say, that Philip -Martindale has not received any great addition -to his happiness from being placed at the -Abbey. The old gentleman scarcely allows him -a maintenance, and is constantly dictating to -him in the merest trifles imaginable.”</p> - -<p>“What a miserable existence it must be to -live dependent on another’s caprice!” exclaimed -Horatio.</p> - -<p>“Not very pleasant, to be sure,” replied the -clergyman; “but it is in expectation of hereafter -enjoying an independency; and what else -can the young man do? Lord Martindale, his -father, has but very contracted means, and a -large family to provide for. Indeed, I believe -that his lordship himself is, in a great degree, -dependent on Mr. Martindale to keep up the -dignity of his rank.”</p> - -<p>“And does the old gentleman exercise such -authority over Lord Martindale and the rest of -his family, as he does over the young gentleman -who resides at the Abbey?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not quite so much, I believe: he was -desirous that his lordship and family should -reside at the Abbey; but Lady Martindale so -strongly objected to the measure, that it was -given up; and Mr. Philip, after a little hesitation, -assented to his relative’s proposal to -take up his abode here, though Lady Martindale -strongly urged him not to relinquish his -profession.”</p> - -<p>“Profession!—what profession? I think I -remember that name in the Temple.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he was at the bar; and I have heard -that he was rather successful, considering the -short time that he had practised; but as soon -as his father became a peer, and his wealthy -relative offered him this magnificent seat, he -gave up practising, and cut his old friends.”</p> - -<p>“Then he has made a very foolish exchange; -for the old gentleman, as you call him, does -not seem likely to gratify his heirs by a speedy -departure from this life, and in all probability -his domineering habits will rather increase than -diminish as he grows older. But from the -brief which I held yesterday, it seems that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -Mr. Philip Martindale is a man of very -profligate habits. How does that suit his -cousin?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, the young man is rather gay; -and so indeed was the old gentleman formerly, -or his old acquaintance very much belie him. -Now, however, he is occasionally very grave in -his way, and frequently gives his cousin very -serious lectures, which are not of much avail; for -Mr. Martindale’s style of reproof is more jesting -than rebuking: he says whatever he thinks; -and has the oddest mode of thinking of any -man that I know. He says any thing to any -body, and where he is known nobody heeds him.”</p> - -<p>“It struck me yesterday, that there was -something very peculiar in the manner in which -Mr. Martindale spoke of his cousin; for the -charge against the young man was of a very -disgraceful nature, and I thought it not very -becoming to treat it with any degree of levity.”</p> - -<p>“You must make some allowance for the -exaggerations of briefs; though I must acknowledge -that Philip Martindale was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -much to be blamed. Old Richard Smith is a -very respectable man for his station in life; and -the young woman whom he calls his niece, has -always conducted herself in a very proper and -becoming manner. But they will not be able -to remain at Brigland after this event, unless -the old gentleman takes their part very decidedly. -I understand that Mr. Philip is very -much mortified at the result of the trial; and -you, I hear, sir, are in very high favour at -Brigland, on account of the success of the trial. -The old man says that he is very desirous of -thanking you for your exertions. Even Philip -Martindale spoke handsomely of you, though -you were employed against him; and he was -disgusted at his own counsel, whose impertinence, -he believes, provoked the jury to their -verdict.”</p> - -<p>To a much longer speech than this had -Horatio Markham given his attention, when he -and the reverend divine were interrupted by -the return of Mr. Martindale in a downright -passion. The cause of that passion we shall -narrate in the following chapter.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“There was a time,—</div> -<div class="verse">And pity ’tis so good a time had wings</div> -<div class="verse">To fly away,—when reverence was paid</div> -<div class="verse">To a grey head; ’twas held a sacrilege</div> -<div class="verse">Not expiable, to deny respect</div> -<div class="verse">To one, sir, of your years and gravity.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Randolph.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Martindale, as we have said in the -preceding chapter, left his company, and walked -up to the Abbey to ascertain, if possible, from -some of the servants the cause of their master’s -sudden journey. The old gentleman was not -in the habit usually of entering the house by -the grand entrance; but on the present occasion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -seeing the great doors partly open, he directed -his steps that way; and as he approached, he -heard voices with which he had not been familiar, -and when he opened the door, he saw -two vulgar-looking fellows gaping about in -broad astonishment at the splendid decorations -of the great hall, interspersing their profound -remarks with unseemly puffings of tobacco-smoke -from two pipes with which they were regaling -themselves. It was not on trifling occasions -that Mr. Martindale was struck dumb with -astonishment; but at the sight which he then -saw, he was so far thunderstruck that he did -not instantaneously commence the pouring forth -of his interrogatory eloquence. He gazed for -a moment or more on the two men, and they -gazed as long at him; but their looks were not -so full of astonishment as his were: at length -he spoke in very hurried tones.</p> - -<p>“Who are you? What do you want here? -What do you mean by smoking your filthy -pipes in this place? Have the goodness to -walk out directly.”</p> - -<p>To this speech one of the men calmly replied,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -“We have as much right here, sir, as you -have, and perhaps more; for I guess you are -only one of the upper servants, and we are -sheriffs’ officers.”</p> - -<p>“Sheriffs’ devils!” foamed forth the old gentleman; -“and who sent you here, I pray? I -will have no sheriffs’ officers here, I can tell -you.”</p> - -<p>This language was not respectful to the men -of office, and therefore it was more sharply -taken up by the speaker, who, laying aside his -composure, very loudly answered:</p> - -<p>“Come, old fellow, let us have none of your -insolence, or I shall soon let you know who is -master.”</p> - -<p>Furiously again Mr. Martindale was beginning -to reply, by repeating the word “Master! -master! master!” when the noise brought -the butler to the scene of contention. This -butler was more properly a spy over the actions -of the Hon. Philip Martindale than a servant of -his: he was the immediate pensioner of the old -gentleman; but he was also somewhat attached -to his nominal master, and he therefore acted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -the part of a traitor rather treacherously. He -knew, but had not communicated to Mr. Martindale, -the intention of the young gentleman -to make a journey to London, and he knew -also the business on which he had gone; and -he had also, on previous occasions, known more -than he had thought fit to communicate to his -employer. When this trusty domestic made -his appearance, Mr. Martindale addressed him -very impetuously:</p> - -<p>“Oliver! what does all this mean? Here -are two insolent dirty fellows calling themselves -sheriffs’ officers, and strutting about as if the -house was their own. Where do they come -from? What do they want here? And pray, -where is your master? I must insist upon -knowing the meaning of all this.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver looked foolish and confused, and -while he was beating his brains for a plausible -lie, one of the officers began to save him all -further trouble of invention by saying:</p> - -<p>“Why, if you must know the meaning of -all this, I will tell you. The Hon. Philip Martindale -is—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is gone out shooting,” interrupted the -trusty Oliver: “he went out early this morning, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“Shooting with a long bow,” muttered the -officer. “Shooting at this time of year, you -rascal!” exclaimed Mr. Martindale: “why, you -puppy, this is only the beginning of August.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean shooting game, sir, but shooting -with bow and arrow. He—he—is gone to—an -archery meeting.”</p> - -<p>“What! is he gone to an archery meeting -in London? But pray, Mr. Oliver, can you -tell me why he has been so careful of his own -carriage as to take a hired chaise?”</p> - -<p>“He was afraid, sir, that the journey might -be rather too long for his own horses.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” interrupted the officer, “it would -have been too far for his own horses to travel.”</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue, you puppy!” was the -only acknowledgment which the speaker received -for this corroboration of the trusty -Oliver’s speech: then turning again to Oliver, -Mr. Martindale continued:</p> - -<p>“So your master is grown mightily merciful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -to his horses all on a sudden; and was he also -afraid that his travelling chariot would be tired -of the long journey? Was it too far for the -carriage to travel?”</p> - -<p>“I guess it was rather too far for his carriage -to go from home,” replied the officer.</p> - -<p>“Fellow!” cried Mr. Martindale, “I want -none of your fool’s prate.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” replied the man; “you seem -to have enough of your own.”</p> - -<p>“Silence, you puppy! do you know who you -are speaking to? I will not put up with this -insolence in my own house. This is my own -house; I built it: every article in it is mine.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the officer, -“I did not know you: but I will immediately -explain.…”</p> - -<p>“If you will have the goodness, sir, to step -this way,” interrupted Oliver, “perhaps my -master may be returned by this time. I will -tell you all the particulars.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale had kept this fellow a long -while in his employment, and had estimated -his fidelity by his treachery, forgetting that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -they who have a double game to play make -a double profit upon it; for while the old -gentleman had been bribing him to betray the -young one, the young one had been paying -him to deceive the old one: so that by this -double diplomacy Oliver had become, to use -a phrase of Dr. Johnson’s, “a very pretty -rascal.” By deceiving both parties he had injured -both; but they had only themselves to -thank for it. Had they been simple enough -to follow the old maxim, that honesty is the best -policy, they would both have gained their ends -more effectually: the elder Martindale would -have experienced from the younger greater -deference and confidence, and the younger -Martindale would have experienced from the -elder a greater degree of liberality.</p> - -<p>On the present occasion, it never for a -moment entered the mind of the old gentleman -that the sheriffs’ officers could be at Brigland -Abbey on any serious professional engagement. -It may indeed be asked, if he did not think -that, what was he thinking of? What, indeed! -That is a question which he himself could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -answer. Having however no suspicion of what -was really the case, he was the more easily -drawn away by the crafty Oliver from the -impending explanation which was threatened -by the officer.</p> - -<p>Having thus drawn Mr. Martindale away -from the immediate explanation which was just -coming upon him, Oliver’s next concern was -to construct something of a plausible story -to account not only for the presence of the -officers at the Abbey, but for their rude behaviour, -which to his mind appeared totally insoluble -on any other theory than that of their -being in possession by virtue of their office. -To acknowledge this truth appeared to him -as the most effectual means to bring ruin on -himself and his master. As soon, therefore, as -he had conducted the old gentleman into the -library, he began to apologise for the presence -and rudeness of these men; and Mr. Martindale -being removed from the sight of those -who had excited his anger, began to grow a -little more cool, and was better prepared to -hear explanation. Fortunately for Oliver and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -his master, the curiosity of the old gentleman -was not so strongly excited by the presence -of the officers as by the absence of the Hon. -Philip Martindale. He therefore very easily -believed the story which the trusty butler invented, -that these officers had been on a visit -to one of the servants, and that they were -rather intoxicated; but the difficulty to be -solved was the absence of the master of the -house, and his travelling with post-horses and -a hired chaise. Now Mr. Oliver would have -been utterly unworthy of his place and occupation -as a professional tell-tale and a hired -spy, had he been unable to invent, or unready -to utter, a most wilful, deliberate, and glorious -lie. Having therefore disposed of the difficulty -of the presence of the officers, he went on very -deliberately to say:</p> - -<p>“Did not my master call at the cottage this -morning? I am sure he intended to do so; -but perhaps he was too early. I think he -must have called, but perhaps you were not -stirring, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Not stirring, you dog; why I was at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -mineral spring by five o’clock, or very little -after.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! then that accounts for your not seeing -my master before he went, for he set out just -after the turret-clock struck five; and very -likely he saw you walking across the meadow, -and knew it would be useless to call at the -cottage.”</p> - -<p>“But I wonder why he did not tell me of -his engagement yesterday; for he must have -known it then, if he set out so early this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I believe, sir,” replied the trusty one, “that -I am to blame for that; for a note was brought -here yesterday morning, and I forgot to deliver -it till just as my master was going to bed. -The note was from Sir Andrew Featherstone, -to say that the archery-meeting was fixed for -this day instead of next Wednesday, in order to -accommodate the young ladies from Hollywick -Priory, because they must accompany their -uncle to Cheltenham on Monday at the latest; -and so, sir, my master was forced to go in a -hurry; and as he had taken the carriage-horses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -to the assizes yesterday, and as the other horses -had not been much used to the chariot, so he -ordered me to go down to the Red Lion to -bespeak a pair of chaise-horses, and I by mistake -ordered chaise and horses; and as it was -very late when I returned, my master would -not make any alteration, and he took them as -I had ordered.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Martindale, “but Parson -Denver told me that your master was gone -to London; now Sir Andrew Featherstone -has not an archery-meeting at his townhouse.”</p> - -<p>“That must be a mistake of Mr. Denver’s; -for I am sure that my master is not gone to -London. I can show you, sir, the very letter -which my master received from Sir Andrew -Featherstone.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon the trusty Oliver left the worthy -old gentleman for a few minutes to his own -meditations; and as he knew that it would be -in vain to look for a letter which had no existence -but in his own imagination, he used -this interval in properly tutoring the sheriffs’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -officers in case they should again meet Mr. -Martindale.</p> - -<p>“It is very unfortunate, sir,” exclaimed the -butler, when he returned to the library, “but -I believe my master must have carried the -letter with him; for I saw it on his dressing-table -this morning, and I read it when his -back was turned; but I think he went into the -room again before he left home, and he has, -no doubt, taken the letter with him.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, never mind; I don’t want to see -any of Sir Andrew Featherstone’s foolish letters. -Archery, forsooth! and for young women -to make such an exhibition of themselves! -It is absolutely indecent. I am sorry that -Philip should lend himself to encourage any -such ridiculous foolery. What crotchet will -seize the fashionable world next, I wonder. I -suppose we shall have the tread-mill converted -into a machine for the amusement of elegant -females. It will be a pretty species of gymnastic -exercise. Now, Oliver, I beg you will -not say a word to your master of my having -made inquiries after him, and see that these -drunken officers are sent away as soon as possible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -It is quite disreputable for the servants -to keep such company.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver made all the professions and -promises which were required of him, and was -not sorry to get so easily rid of his difficulties. -The old gentleman then recollecting that he -had left his guests to entertain each other at -the cottage, prepared to return home, but in -his way he met old Richard Smith, whom -indeed he did not personally know; but as the -poor man knew Mr. Martindale, he pulled off -his hat, and made a very humble obeisance to -the rich man. There was something very -striking in the appearance of Richard Smith, -especially when his head was uncovered. His -hair was of a silvery whiteness, and it hung -about his neck in full and graceful ringlets; -his forehead was bold and high, and almost -without a wrinkle; and his fine eyes, but little -dimmed with age, presented the appearance -of strength and vigour contending with time. -His figure was tall, and but just beginning to -bend under the weight of years. The manner -in which he made his obeisance was also impressive; -there was dignity in his humility, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -his bow was neither slavishly obsequious nor -vulgarly insolent. There was in his whole -appearance a manifestation of that indelible -nobility with which nature endows some individuals -of the human species in every rank -and condition of life, and which all the drilling -and tutoring of artificial society can neither -imitate nor improve. The venerable look and -the graceful demeanour of the old man induced -Mr. Martindale to take especial notice of him, -and ask his name, and place of abode, and -employment.</p> - -<p>“My name, sir,” replied the old man, “is -Richard Smith; my abode is at Brigland; and -I am past labour.”</p> - -<p>“Eh! what! Smith! Richard Smith!—Are -you the person that my graceless cub of a -cousin had the insolence to knock down and -send to jail as a poacher? I hope he has -paid you the amount of damages awarded to -you.”</p> - -<p>“It was only yesterday, sir, that the verdict -was given, and I have no desire to hurry the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -gentleman for payment: I wish him to make it -convenient to himself.”</p> - -<p>“What are you talking about, my good -man? Do you think it can make any difference -to my cousin when he pays such a sum as one -hundred pounds. You fancy you are talking -about a shopkeeper.”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, sir; I do not mean to speak -disparagingly of the Hon. Philip Martindale, but -lawyer Flint told me this morning, that when -he applied to lawyer Price about the settlement -of the damages and costs, he was informed that -they would be paid in a few days, but it was -not quite convenient at present.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, the lawyers want to cheat you; -Philip has money enough to pay you, and I -will take care that you shall be paid. I will -see Price to-morrow, and he shall settle the business -at once. I am afraid the young man is -not quite so steady as he ought to be. I don’t -at all approve of his behaviour to you and your -niece, and I shall tell him my mind pretty -plainly.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>The old man shook his head and sighed. Mr. -Martindale observed his emotion, and interrogated -him more closely concerning the behaviour -of Philip, assuring him that, instead of -being offended, he should be thankful for any -information concerning the conduct of his -young relative, in order that he might use his -influence to correct it.</p> - -<p>“I am not thinking, sir,” replied Richard -Smith, with great solemnity of tone, “only of -your honourable relative, but of the numbers -in his rank of life who make the miseries of the -poor their amusement and sport. I am thinking, -sir, that it is a sad mockery of the seriousness -of legislation, that profligate and ignorant lads -should sit as lawgivers.” Mr. Martindale -frowned, for he had bought a borough for his -hopeful relative; but as he stood in the attitude -of listening, the old man went on: “I -think it a sad disgrace to the country, that ignominious -and painful punishments are denounced -against those offences only which the -legislators have no temptation to commit.”</p> - -<p>“Well done, old gentleman,” replied Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -Martindale, “you talk like a philosopher. I -am quite of your way of thinking. So you -don’t think that it is enough to make young -gentlemen pay for their frolics; you would -have them sent to work at the tread-mill, or -give them a public whipping now and then by -way of example.”</p> - -<p>“And do not you think,” said the old man -more sternly, “that such inflictions as these -would be more effectual in checking the vices -of the higher orders, than a mere fine which is -paid and forgotten, or which places vice in -the same scale as a luxury?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my good friend, you are a severe -legislator; you seem to be angry with my -young spark. But now, if your system should -be adopted, the injured party would gain no redress; -whereas now the wound is healed by -heavy damages; and surely it is much better to -receive a pecuniary compensation, than merely -to have the satisfaction of knowing that the offender -is personally punished.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, sir, but you are not speaking -according to your own judgment. You must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -know that the professed end of the law is security -from injury. Substitute a pecuniary compensation -for the punishment now denounced -against murder, and whose life is safe?”</p> - -<p>“You are angry, my friend, you are angry. -You should not bear malice; I will take care -and see you righted; my cousin shall not have it -said of him that he oppresses the poor.”</p> - -<p>“Then, perhaps, sir, you will so far befriend -me as that I may not be turned out of my cottage; -for lawyer Price told me that I should be -sent off as soon as the damages were paid.”</p> - -<p>At this request of the poor man, or rather at -the occasion for the request, Mr. Martindale -was really vexed and angry. He had tolerated -many of his cousin’s vices under the name of -youthful follies; but when he found him guilty -of the meanness of so despicable a species of -revenge, he was deeply mortified, and with -great emotion replied: “The very day that -you are driven out of the cottage, Philip shall -leave the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>Having said this, he hurried home to his -guests in no enviable frame of mind. Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -Denver was accustomed to the old gentleman’s -peculiarities; but Horatio Markham, who had -never known, and who scarcely apprehended -what it was to be dependent on another’s caprices, -felt uneasy and constrained, and was -beginning to wish that he could, consistently -with common politeness, reduce his visit to a -day, instead of a week or ten days. He was -however soon relieved from his temporary -uneasiness, by the return of good humour -to the tone and countenance of his host, who -proposed that, before visiting the Abbey, they -should call at old Richard’s cottage, and inquire -into his circumstances.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Exceeding fair she was not, and yet fair,</div> -<div class="verse">In that she never studied to be fairer</div> -<div class="verse">Than nature made her.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Chapman.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In pursuance of the arrangement proposed -the preceding evening, Mr. Martindale and his -guest, immediately after an early breakfast, -went out in search of Richard Smith’s cottage. -They had some little difficulty to find the -place; for, though the old man had lived several -years at Brigland, he was of such retired -habits that he was comparatively unknown in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -the parish: some persons knew him by sight -who did not know his name, and others had -heard his name, who were unacquainted with -his person.</p> - -<p>The cottage in which he lived seemed to -have been selected for its very retired situation. -It stood in a narrow lane, which, before the -building of the great house, had served as a -thoroughfare from Brigland Common to the -meadows, which, since the erection of the Abbey, -had been included in the park. The cottage, -though apparently so secluded and almost -embowered in wood, was by no means a gloomy -abode; for through a natural vista in the wood -before it there was an extensive view of highly-cultivated -scenery, which showed between the -over-arching trees like a beautiful painting in a -rustic frame. The light which shone through -this opening, drew the eyes of Markham and -his companion to notice the beauty of the landscape.</p> - -<p>There is a peculiar and almost indescribable -effect produced on the mind by the sight of -well-known scenery taken from a new point, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -viewed with some variety or novelty of accompaniment. -The feeling thus excited, has not -all its interest from novelty alone, nor is it indebted -for its interest to association. In viewing -this scene, Mr. Martindale enjoyed this -pleasure: he had lived for many years in Brigland, -and had long been in possession of this -estate, but here was a beauty he had never -seen before.</p> - -<p>While they were both admiring the scene -before them, Horatio Markham fancied that he -could hear a distant sound of music, and stood -for a moment in a listening attitude. Presently -the sound caught the ear of Mr. Martindale; -and the two companions looked at each other in -mute astonishment, when the faint tinkling of -the unknown instrument was accompanied with -the human voice in notes of indescribable -sweetness. The voice was near enough to be -distinctly audible; and Markham, who had a -more acute sense of hearing, and a more extensive -knowledge of music than his friend Mr. -Martindale, soon perceived that neither the -words nor the melody were English. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -presently obvious that the music was in the cottage -of old Richard Smith. The two listeners -waited till the voice was silent, and then, without -the ceremony of tapping at the door, entered -the poor man’s humble dwelling.</p> - -<p>The interior of the cottage was perfectly neat -and clean, as might have been anticipated from the -style and appearance of the old man; but there -was in it more than neatness—there were symptoms -that its present tenants had seen better days. -There were several articles of furniture and -embellishment which cottagers have neither -means nor inclination to purchase. Symptoms -indeed of better days are to be continually met -with in many humble, even in many miserable -dwellings; but such symptoms consist generally -of those articles which cannot find purchasers, -or which are in daily use, or of indispensable -utility, or which have an imaginary value far -beyond their real value. And the poor people -are sometimes proud of these mementos of their -high descent. They can perhaps show, in an -old black frame, and drawn on durable vellum, -their family-arms:—they may have large unwieldy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -portraits of ancestors who were distinguished -somehow or other in former days, but -they know not when, and have perhaps forgotten -their very names:—they still retain pieces -of fine needlework, which make it manifest -that some female ancestor had received a -boarding-school education; and many a poor -old couple eat their daily scanty meal on the -remains of the fine porcelain which some of their -progenitors used and exhibited only on days of -high festivity.</p> - -<p>But the articles in Richard Smith’s cottage -were of a different character, and of much more -recent date than such as those alluded to above. -There hung upon the walls some landscapes, -which indeed a person in poverty might have -drawn, but which no poor man would keep or -would embellish with handsome modern frames. -There were also several engravings, which had -not been published more than sixteen or seventeen -years. Instead of the usual cottage clock -with clumsily painted figures and elm-case, there -stood on a bracket a neat time-piece, with the -name of a celebrated Parisian maker. Upon a set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -of hanging-shelves there lay several volumes of -fancifully and apparently foreign bound books. -These were for the most part Italian, but a -few were French.</p> - -<p>While Mr. Martindale was talking to the -old man, Horatio Markham, according to a -very common, but not very decorous practice -of young men who affect literature, was amusing -himself with taking down and opening one -after another of the books; and seeing the -character of them, and that in their selection -they gave proof of a correct and polished taste, -he could not but look more attentively at the -old man’s niece, with an endeavour to trace in -her countenance an expression of a style above -that of a simple rustic. The human countenance -is susceptible of great variety of expression, -and owes much to surrounding circumstances: -the very same set of features which -in one garb and place would savour of rusticity, -would bear a different interpretation in another -garb and with other adjuncts. In like manner, -the imagination of the spectator does much in -giving an interpretation to features, and ascertaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -physiognomical indications. So when -Horatio Markham saw the young woman in the -witness-box giving, with downcast look and -trembling accents, her testimony as to the injury -sustained by a poor old man, he could see nothing -more, for he thought nothing more was -to be seen, than a modest, simple, and tolerably -pretty face, having no remarkable or peculiar -expression. But when he saw the same person, -with the same features and the same expression -of retiring modesty, surrounded with the -productions of art, and apparently the only person -in the cottage to whom those productions -could be interesting, and by whom those books -should be read and enjoyed, he soon fancied -that he observed indications of a superior mind -and a cultivated understanding. Nay, so far -did his imagination influence him, that the impulse -which he first felt to address some inquiries -to the old man’s niece concerning the -books and drawings was absolutely repelled by -a feeling of awe. He now began to paint to -his imagination a person of superior rank, and -to be astonished that he had not before observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -that her whole style and expression was -far above her professed situation.</p> - -<p>As he was replacing on the shelf one of the -books into which he had been looking, a hard -substance fell to the ground, and he stooped -immediately to pick it up; but the young woman -was before him, and Markham saw, or -thought he saw, that the article which she had -thus hastily picked up, was neither more nor -less than an ivory crucifix. The object itself -he would not have noticed, but he was very -much struck with the eagerness with which it -was taken up and concealed. Apologising for -his awkwardness, and accepting an acknowledgment -of his apology, he turned from the books -to look more minutely at the pictures. The -drawings were, without exception, scenes in -Italy, evidently executed by a practised hand, -and bearing a date which rendered it highly -improbable that they should have been the production -of the old man’s niece.</p> - -<p>The conversation which passed between -Mr. Martindale and Richard Smith was indeed -heard, but not heeded by Horatio Markham.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -It had a reference chiefly to the nature of the -injury for which the old man had recently -sought legal redress; and the account which -Mr. Martindale received concerning the conduct -of his honourable relative, was not by any means -calculated to soothe the already irritated mind -of the old gentleman. Turning the discourse -from these unpleasant matters, he suddenly -asked:</p> - -<p>“Did not I hear music just before I came -in? Does this young woman play or sing?”</p> - -<p>This question excited the attention of Markham, -who cast his eyes round the apartment, -but all in vain, to find what musical instrument -it was which he had heard while he was standing -near the cottage. To the question thus -asked no answer was given, but the young woman -held down her head and blushed; exhibiting, -as Markham thought, much more confusion -than such an inquiry in such circumstances -seemed to demand. Mr. Martindale -did not repeat the question, but proceeded to -say:</p> - -<p>“Well, my good man, I have brought with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -me the young advocate who pleaded your cause -so effectually. I hope he will be as successful -in every cause that he undertakes, and that he -will never undertake any less honourable to -himself.”</p> - -<p>“The law is a dangerous profession, sir; but -we must not measure a man’s integrity by the -brief which he holds. The barrister professes -himself an advocate, not a judge; and if he refuses -a brief because he thinks the cause a bad -one, he acts with prejudice, seeing only one -side of the question. Besides, sir, there are -few causes which may bear altogether the name -of bad. Sometimes a cause may be bad in law, -but good in morals; sometimes an action at law -may be good so far as the moral feeling is concerned, -and bad as to the letter of some statute; -and it is possible that some persons may consider -any litigation whatever as being inconsistent -with the strict letter of Christianity. We -must also make great allowances for diversity -of temper and disposition: what may appear -just to one man appears perhaps too rigidly -strict to another. I think, sir, that the barrister’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -profession is unduly calumniated. If, indeed, -a client comes to an advocate and says, -‘I wish to take an unfair advantage of my -neighbour, and I will pay you to assist me,’ -then the barrister would act improperly to sell -his conscience to his client; but every litigant -sees, or fancies he sees, something of right in -his cause, and the barrister merely gives him -legal assistance. The law is a dangerous profession -indeed, because it may lead to a confusion -of right and wrong; but while it endangers -a man’s integrity, it also gives him abundant -and honourable opportunity of displaying an -upright mind and good principle. You will -excuse an old man,” said he, turning towards -Markham; “garrulity is the privilege of age; -but I have had experience of the world. I see -but little of it now; the time has been that I -have seen more.”</p> - -<p>Horatio Markham, though but five-and-twenty -years of age—though he had gained two -causes in the Court of King’s Bench—though -he had been successful in his first brief in his -native town—though he had at other towns on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -the circuit held an extraordinary number of -briefs for a first journey—though he held those -briefs by means of a reputation going before -him that he was a man of good talents—though -he had more than once received a marked compliment -from his seniors both at the bar and -on the bench—and though he was of humble -origin, and was rationally expecting to rise in -a profession which would place him in a higher -station than his parents or early acquaintance, -yet, with all this, he was not a coxcomb. Moralists -and divines may speak as contemptuously -as they will of negative virtues; but in defiance -of their wisdom, we will contend that, humanly -speaking, there was great merit in Horatio, -that he did not feel himself unduly elated by -all his honors. He attentively listened to the -common-place harangue of old Richard Smith, -and replied to it with the respect due to old age.</p> - -<p>“You are very candid to the profession, -sir; few will concede so much: but it would -be difficult to find any profession or employment -which is not subject to the reproaches of -those who are not engaged in it. Indeed, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -have known that even individuals in the profession -have also spoken disrespectfully of its -moral character and tendency.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” replied the old man, “they ought -to leave it. A profession cannot be indispensable -that is essentially immoral. But, sir, -I have to thank you for the manner in which -you conducted my cause. It was well done -of you that you spoke so temperately of -the defendant, or that you rather let facts -speak for themselves. I have no spiteful -feeling against the gentleman, and for my -own part could easily have borne with what -I received from him; but I have a serious -charge here,” pointing to his niece; “that poor -child looks up to me for protection, and I must -not suffer any one to approach her disrespectfully. -I love her as if she were my own. She -has, indeed, no other protector. I must be -almost fastidious and jealous in the care that -I take of her: a life dearer to me than my own -depends upon her happiness.”</p> - -<p>As the old man was speaking, his face was -suffused with a glow of strong feeling; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -young woman’s lip quivered, her eye glistened, -and she left the room where they were sitting. -As she opened the door by which she made -her retreat, Markham, whose curiosity had been -strongly excited by all the appearances in the -cottage, caught a glimpse of a second or inner -apartment, apparently fitted up with very great -neatness. Of its extent he could form no -idea, but its ornaments were of the same nature -as those in the room in which he was -sitting. Old Mr. Martindale now felt his curiosity -roused; he said:</p> - -<p>“I am quite curious to know the history of -this young woman. Is she really your niece?”</p> - -<p>“She is really my niece,” said the old man, -“so far as that her mother was my sister’s -child.”</p> - -<p>“Are these drawings done by your niece -too? You seem to have given her a very good -education.”</p> - -<p>“These drawings,” replied the old man, -“are not hers; and as for her education, such -as it is, she received it before she was placed -under my care.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Are her father and mother living?” continued -Mr. Martindale; “but I suppose not, by -her being placed, as you say, under your sole -protection.”</p> - -<p>This last part of the sentence was uttered at -an interval after the first; for no immediate -answer was returned to the interrogation concerning -her father and mother. Indeed, the -poor man did not seem very willing to enter -into any very particular explanation upon the -subject; and Mr. Martindale himself, though he -had expressed a curiosity to know the history -of the young woman, was not so very curious -as to persevere in putting a multitude of questions.</p> - -<p>There are some persons whose curiosity gains -strength by opposition, and others who will not -condescend to be at the expense of any great -number of questions. Mr. Martindale was of -this latter class. Indeed, had he received ever -so much intelligence, it would have been of -little use, for he would soon have forgotten it. -There was another person present whose curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -had been much more strongly excited. -Horatio Markham felt himself fully convinced -that the young woman was not a daughter of a -cottager: he could, as he fancied, see clearly -enough, by her manner and expression, that she -was of much superior rank. It was very ridiculous -for a young barrister, who had scarcely -seen any society at all, who had been born -and brought up in a country town, and of a -humble family, or, more properly speaking, of -no family at all, and who had spent most of his -time in study;—it was very ridiculous for him -to affect to decide what manners designated or -manifested superior breeding. It is a species -of vanity, however, in which Markham is by no -means singular.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale having given the old man -an assurance of his protection, and having now -no more questions to ask, rose and took his -leave, accompanied by his young friend.</p> - -<p>“That was a pretty young woman at the -cottage, Mr. Barrister; but you must not fall in -love with her. It will never do for professional<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -men to make love-matches. Love in a -cottage is very pretty, very poetical, very well -to talk about.”</p> - -<p>Markham protested that he had not the -slightest notion of falling in love with a person -who was a total stranger to him; but seriously, -he could not but acknowledge that there was -something very superior in the look and manner -of the young woman, and that it might not -have been impossible for him to have received -an impression, had he met with a similar person -in a suitable rank in life. He felt himself not -well pleased that Mr. Martindale should have -thought it within the verge of possibility that a -gentleman of the bar should condescend so low -as to fall in love with a young woman, the niece -of a poor cottager. He forgot, however, that -during the time he was in the cottage, he had -his eyes very much fixed upon the old man’s -niece; he forgot how very completely his attention -had been absorbed; and while he was -speculating as to the causes which operated in -bringing so much elegance and gracefulness -into so humble an abode, Mr. Martindale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -thought him occupied in admiring the young -woman’s pretty face. There was certainly a -tolerable share of that species of beauty called -prettiness in the composition of her features; -but as she rather exceeded the middle stature, -and wore a general look of thoughtfulness, the -word pretty was not comprehensive enough for -a description of her person. When she appeared -in the court as a witness, her fine glossy -black ringlets were totally concealed, and her -dark eyes were so bent towards the ground that -their life and expression were not visible. -Markham had observed her but little; thinking -probably that his behaviour could not be more -becoming than when it was totally and directly -opposed to that of the defendant’s counsel. He -was, therefore, not a little surprised when he -saw so much beauty and gracefulness in one -whom he had taken for a mere country girl; -and his curiosity was still more raised when he -observed the nature of the decorations of the -poor man’s cottage. The charm which struck -him most of all was, the total absence of all -affectation or artifice both in the old man and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -in his niece. Richard Smith, indeed, used language -superior in ordinary correctness to that -of the usual inhabitants of cottages, but did -not give himself airs, as some poor men who -fancy themselves conjurers, because they happen -to be a little better informed than their -neighbours; and the young woman appeared -quite as free from any species of affectation, -either of manner or of dress.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And, madam, if it be a lie,</div> -<div class="verse">You have the tale as cheap as I.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Swift.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Rev. Cornelius Denver, perpetual curate -of Brigland, was one of the best-tempered -creatures in the world. He would not injure -any one; he had almost every one’s good word; -he was full of smiles and courtesy; he had -nothing of the pomp or pride of priestly -manners; he did not keep his parishioners at -an awful distance, or affect to exercise any -spiritual dominion over them by virtue of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -calling; he was familiar with all, and good-humoured -to all; he had not the slightest -tincture of bigotry or party-spirit; in politics -and religion he was most truly liberal; he had, -of course, his own opinions on these subjects, -but he called them into use so seldom, that he -and his neighbours scarcely knew what they -were; he was equally obliging to all parties, -and there were many differing sects of religion -in his parish; every possible variety of sectarianism -flourished at Brigland, and they all -united in praising the curate’s liberality.</p> - -<p>There were also many members of the established -church in the parish; but though -they all praised their curate, they did not all -very frequently attend his ministrations. Old -Mr. Martindale used facetiously to say, that he -should go to church much oftener if Mr. -Denver would make longer sermons, but that -it was so tantalising to be woke before his -nap was half finished. But Mr. Denver served -two other churches beside Brigland, and one -of them was almost eight miles distant, so he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -had not much time to spare on Sunday; for -he had two services at his own parish, and -one every Sunday at the other two.</p> - -<p>Our worthy curate was a married man, but -he had no family; and that circumstance gave -him abundant opportunity to interest himself -about the affairs of all the town. Mrs. Denver -assisted him greatly in this public and universal -sympathy. Mrs. Denver was said to be a very -intelligent woman, and had enjoyed that reputation -for many years. Her maiden name -was Smith—no relation to old Richard Smith; -and she had borne that name so long, that she -was tired of it, regarding it as Archbishop -Tillotson did the Athanasian Creed, wishing -that she “was well rid of it.” Many people -thought that Mr. Denver married her from -a motive of pure good nature, because nobody -else was likely to marry her. She was -of high family “originally,” as she used to say; -being descended from the Simsons of Devonshire, -one of whom was knighted by Richard -the Third; and she was very particular in stating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -that her ancestors did not spell the name with -p, for that was an innovation, and it was a very -inferior family that was called Simpson.</p> - -<p>All the gossip of the town and neighbourhood -flowed to the parsonage as a centre, and -again flowed from it as from a perennial and -exhaustless fountain. In justice to the worthy -curate it must be stated, that so far as he was -concerned, there was nothing of censoriousness -blended with his collecting and communicating -disposition: he was happy to hear intelligence, -and pleased to spread it; but he -never pronounced an opinion as to the propriety -or impropriety of the matters of which -he heard and of which he spoke. It was not -exactly so with Mrs. Denver; her candour was -not equal to that of her husband: not that she -was at all censorious, very far from it; but she -could not help, as she said, feeling indignant -at the vices and wickednesses which abounded -in the world; and she was certainly not to be -blamed for what she could not help. Sometimes -she would even be angry with her husband -on account of the placidity of his temper;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -and she would even acknowledge that she -could have no patience with the abominations -of the age. It must be also added, that Mrs. -Denver was not quite equal to her husband -in the virtue of liberality towards sectarians. -She had been brought up as a member of the -church established by law, and she could not -see how it was possible that any other religion -should be true; and for her part, she was fully -determined not to countenance any false religion. -It was rather unfortunate for the poor -woman, that, with the exception of the Martindales, -the principal people at Brigland were -dissenters; and so there were two or three -drawing-rooms from which her orthodoxy would -have excluded her, but to which her love of -the good things of life attracted her. Mrs. -Denver was decidedly loyal: her reverence for -majesty was unbounded. She was so grateful -to Richard the Third for having knighted one -of the Simsons, that she thought she could -never say enough in favour of royalty.</p> - -<p>Now it came to pass in the progress of -events, that while Mr. Martindale and Horatio<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -Markham were in Richard Smith’s cottage, -Mrs. Price, the wife of Philip Martindale’s -attorney, had gained a piece of intelligence -which, as she received it, was imperfect and -obscure, but which she hoped and trusted that -Mr. and Mrs. Denver might be able to elucidate -and complete. She therefore made a -very early call at the parsonage, and began by -offering an apology for looking in so soon in the -day. The apology was most readily accepted: -for the good people of the parsonage knew that -Mrs. Price would not have called so early had -there not been something important to communicate. -As soon as she was seated she -began:—</p> - -<p>“I suppose you have heard, Mrs. Denver, -of the sheriffs’ officers being in possession at -the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>“Sheriffs’ officers in possession at the -Abbey! Why, Mrs. Price, what do you -mean?”</p> - -<p>“Mean, Mrs. Denver! why I mean what I -say; there are two sheriffs’ officers now at the -Abbey. They were sent in yesterday morning;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -and old Mr. Martindale saw them there, and -asked them what business they had there, and -they told him that they were in possession; and -the old gentleman asked what was the amount -of the claim, and it was such an enormous sum -that it was more than he could pay. I don’t -know all the particulars, but I heard Oliver -talking the matter over to my husband; and -Mr. Philip is gone to London in a hired chaise, -for they would not let him have his own carriage; -and he is gone to get some money of -the Jews. He intended to travel all night, that -he might get home early this morning, and -send the officers away before the old gentleman -could know any thing of the matter.”</p> - -<p>“Bless me, Mrs. Price, why you astonish -me! Who would have thought it? Well, that’s -what I always said; I knew it must come to -that. You know it was not likely that he -could ever support the expense of that great -house; and really between ourselves, I never -thought that old Mr. Martindale was so very -rich as some people said.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether the old man is very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -rich,” replied Mrs. Price; “I am sure the -young one is very poor. My husband has -advanced money to him which has been owing -a very long while; and I cannot see any probability -of his getting it again in any reasonable -time; and then he cannot even pay the -damages in which he was cast in the action of -old Smith.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, now you talk about old Smith,” interrupted -Mrs. Denver, “do you know any thing -about that man’s history? for I scarcely ever -heard of him before this action took place. -Pray where does he live?”</p> - -<p>“He lives in the lone cottage in Old Field -Lane, I understand. But there is something -very odd about that man. I thought perhaps -you might know something about him. As for -his being a poor man, I don’t believe any such -thing. Every body says he has money; and my -husband says that he is very sure that Flint -would never have undertaken that cause for a -poor superannuated labourer; and then Flint told -my husband that there was no hurry about the -damages. I very much doubt whether the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -man’s real name is Smith; for that is such a -very convenient name for any one to assume.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have never heard any thing of -him before; but now you mention it, I think -I remember to have seen him one morning -when I walked up to the spring with -Mr. Denver.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the reverend gentleman entered -the apartment where the ladies were conversing, -and he was immediately assailed with -an impetuous torrent of interrogations from -both of them, as touching the birth, parentage -and education, life, character, and behaviour of -the above-named Richard Smith. To these -inquiries he returned answers not very satisfactory; -and they all three began to blame -themselves and each other that they had suffered -the old man to settle quietly in the parish -without making due previous inquiry concerning -his history and origin. He had been, as -they all acknowledged, a very quiet, inoffensive -creature; but quietness was sometimes a symptom -of mischief: it was so with children, and -why might it not be so with old men too.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>Though Mr. Denver had it not in his power -to indulge Mrs. Price with any information, the -worthy lady was too generous to withhold from -him any information which it was in her power -to convey; and she liberally repeated the story -of the bailiff being in possession at the Abbey, -and of the Hon. Philip Martindale having -made a journey to London for the purpose of -borrowing money of such as accommodated their -particular friends on the most liberal terms and -with the strictest secrecy. Mr. Denver was as -usual astonished, amazed, thunderstruck at all -that was told him. By the way, some of the -perpetual curate’s good friends used to think -that the good man was not altogether judicious -in the use of the word “thunderstruck,” which -he always employed when he received any intelligence -from any of the ladies of Brigland.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Price went on to say, that old Mr. Martindale -had expressed his determination to disinherit -Mr. Philip; but as that was a very particular -secret, she begged that it might not be -mentioned. At hearing this request, Mrs. -Denver looked at her watch, for she thought it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -high time that she should take her morning’s -round, and endeavour to ascertain whether this -profound secret were known to any one else. -Mrs. Price took the hint, and departed.</p> - -<p>It is by no means the best method to keep a -secret to endeavour to find out how many others -are in possession of the same. Many a secret -has been thus revealed, which might otherwise -have been inviolably and safely kept. On the -subject of keeping secrets, a great deal may be -said; and the matter is surrounded with more -difficulties than superficial observers are apt to -imagine. For what is the use or benefit of -knowing any thing, if we cannot let that knowledge -be known. If a secret be confided to us, -an honour is thereby conferred; but if that secret -be not by us again talked about, directly or indirectly, -how can the world know how much we -are honoured? Who would give a fig to receive -the honour of knighthood, if he were under an -obligation to let no one know it? or who would -give fifteen pence (pounds some say it costs) -for a doctor’s degree, if he could never blazon -the honour to the world? We check ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -in the discussion with the consoling consideration -that our business is with facts not with philosophy. -Suffice it then to say, that before the -day closed, every inhabitant of Brigland who -had any care for other’s business, knew that old -Richard Smith was mysteriously wealthy, that -bailiffs were in possession at the Abbey, that the -Hon. Philip Martindale was gone to London to -borrow money, and that old Mr. Martindale -would never speak to the young gentleman -again. Then every body began to think that -the Hon. Philip Martindale was the most profligate -young man that ever lived; then all his -follies became vices, and his irregularities most -horrible enormities; then the talk was very loud -concerning his pride and his overbearing manners; -then Mrs. Dickinson, the landlady of the -Red Lion, began to fear that she should not be -paid for her chaise.</p> - -<p>The good people of Brigland were unnecessarily -alarmed for the result of Philip Martindale’s -indiscretions: it was not true that the -old gentleman knew for what purpose the -bailiffs were in the house; nor was it probable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -that, had he known it, he would therefore have -cast off his dependent relative. Power is not -willingly or readily parted with. So long as -the honourable gentleman acknowledged by -endeavours to conceal his irregularities that he -stood in awe of his opulent relative, so long -would he continue an interesting object of -patronage to the old gentleman. As, however, -it may not be easy to gather from the floating -rumours of the gossips of Brigland what was -the real truth of the matter, it may be as well -to state explicitly that the Hon. Philip Martindale -had paid certain debts of honour with that -supply which Mr. Martindale thought had been -devoted to some other purpose, and an impatient -creditor had actually put into force a -threat which he had made of sending officers -to the Abbey. The young gentleman had recourse -in this extremity to some good friends -in the city, by whose prompt assistance the -supplies were raised, and the Abbey was cleared -of those birds of ill omen. Oliver’s story, as -we have seen, had satisfied the old gentleman; -and he alone remained in ignorance of a fact in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -his relative’s conduct, which certainly would -have disturbed him greatly, but which would -not have provoked him to disinheriting.</p> - -<p>By the same conveyance which brought the -means of liberating the Abbey, old Richard -Smith received through the hands of his attorney -a satisfaction also of his claim; and as Mrs. -Price was all the day occupied in telling the -same story as she had told in the morning, it -came to pass that she told more lies at the end -of the day than she had at the beginning. In -the mean time, the day was passing rapidly -away, and Philip Martindale did not return. -Oliver was a little puzzled to account for this -delay to himself, but he could easily account -for it to the old gentleman. What a pity it is -that those ingenious gentlemen who can invent -lies for the satisfaction of others, cannot invent -any for the solution of their own difficulties. -Mr. Oliver was in some degree of alarm, lest his -stories, by some movement of his master, might -not well hang together; and had it not been -for some very natural fear that he might altogether -lose his character and his place, he probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -would have been provoked to tell the old -gentleman the truth: he considered, however, -that as he had so long played a double part, it -would be now too late to affect honesty.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I joy to see you here, but should have thought</div> -<div class="verse">It likelier to have heard of you at court,</div> -<div class="verse">Pursuing there the recompenses due</div> -<div class="verse">To your great merit.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Tuke.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is now high time to introduce more -particularly to our readers the Hon. Philip -Martindale. He has been glancing and flitting -before our eyes; but he has not stayed long -enough to be fairly seen and understood. He -did not appear to great advantage at the -assizes, where he sat laughing or sneering at -the progress of his own cause; nor would he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -have made a very imposing figure, had we -opened upon him on the evening of the day -of the trial, when, on his return home, the -trusty Oliver announced to him the arrival -of two gentlemen, calling themselves sheriffs’ -officers. To delay any longer to introduce -our honorable acquaintance to our readers, -would be intruding upon their patience beyond -reason.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Philip Martindale finding that -it would not be possible to get rid of this encumbrance -by any other means than by discharging -the debt, and knowing that the debt -could not be discharged without money, and -knowing that money was not at that emergency -to be obtained but by the medium of the -people of Israel, sent his trusty Oliver to the -Red Lion to provide a chaise to carry him on -his way to London. It would be more agreeable -to us, if it were possible, to bring our -readers to an acquaintance with the honorable -gentleman lolling in his own chariot, for -that would be more befitting his rank in -society, than to see him travelling in so plebeian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -a vehicle as a hired chaise, drawn by a pair -of hack horses. But though the Hon. Philip -Martindale was a man of high rank, and somewhat -proud of the station which he held in -society, he was not altogether unable or unwilling -to condescend; and though the Denvers, -the Flints, the Prices, and all the other -gentry, thought him a very proud and haughty -man, yet there were many in Brigland, many -in Newmarket, and many in London and its -vicinity, who could bear testimony to his -condescension.</p> - -<p>To describe a journey to London in a post-chaise, -along thirty or forty miles of turnpike-road, -bounded on the right hand by hedges -and ditches, and on the left by ditches and -hedges, requires powers of description and -imagination to which we are too humble to -make pretension. As we are not presuming -to descant on the history of the journey, we -may as well say a word or two concerning the -person who took the said journey. We are -perfectly aware that it would be more artist-like -and effective, to let our characters speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -for themselves, and by their own acts or words -develope their own peculiarities; but this is not -altogether possible to be done effectually; for -the same words from different lips have a -different meaning; and there is a peculiarity -of tone and accent and look which does much -towards rendering the character intelligible. -These matters may be imitated in the drama on -the stage, but they cannot be well transfused -into plainly-written dialogue.</p> - -<p>Without farther apology, then, we proceed to -speak of the Hon. Philip Martindale somewhat -more particularly. We speak of this -person in the first place, for that was a first consideration -with himself. He was tall, but not -thin; rather clumsily formed about the shoulders; -his gait was rather swaggering than -stately; his features were not unhandsome, but -they wanted expression; his manner of speaking -was not remarkable for its beauty, for he -had a habit of drawling which seemed to -strangers a piece of affectation; his style of -dress was plain, somewhat approaching to that -of the driver of a coach, but any one might see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -in a moment that he was a man of some consequence. -As to his mind, he was by no means -a blockhead or a simpleton; nor was he to -be considered as ill-humored. He was of -an easy disposition; and had he been placed -in a situation which required the exercise -of his mental powers to gain a living, he would -have passed for a man of very good understanding.</p> - -<p>But there is one kind of capacity required to -gain a fortune, and another to spend it. Philip -Martindale possessed the former, but he wanted -the latter. Our readers are already aware -that the young gentleman had for a short time -assayed a professional life, and had given promise -of fair success; but when he found that a -title was awaiting him, and that a dependence -was offered him, he renounced his profession, -and gave up an independence for a dependence. -Now ever since he had changed his style of -life, he had changed his habits of social intercourse. -While he had chambers in the Temple, -he had for companions men of literary -acquirements and taste; and all he knew of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -the prowess and powers of the celebrated dog -Billy, or of the no less celebrated heroes of -the ring, was from the interesting and beautiful -reports which grace the columns of our newspapers: -he was then acquainted with no other -coachman than the driver of his father’s carriage, -and he was not very intimate with him: at that -time he was as ignorant of the highest as he -was of the lowest ranks; and if he occasionally -spent an evening at the Opera, he had nothing -to do but to attend to the performance.</p> - -<p>But when his circumstances changed, all -other things changed too; he renounced the -middle of society for the two extremes. It -was new for him to have expensive horses; and -it was pleasant for him to talk knowingly about -what he knew imperfectly; and coachmen, -grooms, and stable-boys, could talk best upon -a topic which was a favorite with him; and -as he had never before been so flattered by -homage and deference, he thought that coachmen, -grooms, and stable-boys, were most delightful -companions; and his acquaintance with -them extended and increased accordingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -Then it was that he began to feel the pleasures -of high rank. Nobody can enjoy the pleasures -of high station who associates only with his -equals; it is when he looks into the depths -below that he can feel his elevation. The ring -and the cockpit are most admirable contrivances -to bring men of high rank to a full -sense of their dignity. The Hon. Philip Martindale -used them abundantly, and doubtless -with great advantage. As he descended, so -also did he ascend; and from association with -black legs, he became qualified to claim acquaintance -with the highest ranks in society. -The cockpit and the betting-table are very -appropriate vestibules to Almack’s; and the -slang of the stable is a very suitable accomplishment -for a legislator. Farther particulars -concerning the Hon. Philip Martindale may be -learned from his history, as herein recorded.</p> - -<p>As soon as the honorable gentleman arrived -in London, he proceeded forthwith to his accommodating -friends in the city, from whom -he procured the means of ridding the Abbey -of its unwelcome guests; and it was his intention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -to return immediately to dismiss the disagreeable -ones in person. But so full of -accident and event is human life, that this -intention was not put into immediate effect. -Just as our young gentleman had left the door -of a banking-house in Lombard Street, close -behind him, he saw on the opposite side of the -way an old, or more properly speaking a new -acquaintance, who was as familiar as an old one. -The personage in question wore a scarlet coat, -white hat, yellow silk handkerchief, and crimson -face mottled with purple. Without bending -his body, or moving a muscle, he touched his -hat to the Hon. Philip Martindale, who most -graciously acknowledged the salute, and made -a movement to cross the way towards him; -whereupon he of the crimson face and scarlet -coat hastened to anticipate his honorable friend; -and the parties met in the middle of the street, -even as Napoleon Bonaparte and the Emperor -of Russia met in the middle of the river.</p> - -<p>When the high-contracting parties were thus -met, the Hon. Philip Martindale commenced -the discourse by inquiring of his friend, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -was in the guards, that is, was guard to a mail-coach, -and who was addressed by the name of -Stephen, if he had succeeded in the commission -with which he had been intrusted: this commission -was the purchasing of a dog for fighting. -Stephen expressed his great concern that -this important affair had not been concluded; -but he was happy to have it in his power to -say, that he had heard of a capital bull-terrier -to be disposed of at Finchley; and as price -was no object, he hoped to bring him up next -journey. In the mean time, he was very glad -to inform his honour that he had that very -morning brought up a couple of game-cocks -in very high condition; and if Mr. Martindale -would condescend to go as far as Tothill Street, -he might see them that very afternoon.</p> - -<p>This was too strong a temptation for the -legislator to resist. Having therefore made -arrangements for remitting to Brigland the -means of discharging the claims upon him -which were most urgent, he resolved to remain -in town for that night at least, and leave it to -Oliver’s ingenuity to account for his absence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -if there should be any occasion to account for -it at all. He appointed, therefore, to meet his -friend Stephen in Tothill Street at five o’clock; -and in the mean time, betook himself to a coffee-house -in the neighbourhood of Charing Cross -to fill up the interval.</p> - -<p>This interval was exceedingly tedious. There -were many newspapers in the room, but there -was nothing in them. There was a clock, -but it did not seem to go; at least so he -thought, but after looking at it for a very long -time he found it did go, but it went very slowly. -Then he looked at his watch, and that went -as slow as the clock. Then he took up the -newspapers again one after the other very -deliberately. He read the sporting intelligence -and the fashionable news. But he did -not read very attentively, as he afterwards -discovered. Then he looked at the clock again, -and was almost angry at the imperturbable -monotony of its face. Then he took out his -pocket-book to amuse himself by reading his -memorandums, but they were very few and -very unintelligible. Then he rose up from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -seat, and went to the window, and looked at the -people in the street; he thought they looked -very stupid, and wondered what they could all -find to do with themselves. He looked at the -carriages, and saw none with coronets, except -now and then a hackney-coach. Then he began -to pick his teeth, and that reminded him of -eating; and then he rang the bell, which presently -brought a waiter; and he took that -opportunity of drawling out the word “waiter” -in such lengthened tone, as if resolved to make -one word last as long as possible.</p> - -<p>While he was occupied bodily with his sandwich, -he was also mentally engaged in reflections -on days that were gone; and he could not -but think that his hours were not so heavy -when he was toiling at the study of law, as -now when his rank was higher, and when his -residence was one of the most splendid seats -in the kingdom. He thought it was very hard -that he should stand in awe of an old humorist, -and he had for a moment thoughts of emancipating -himself from trammels, and assuming -to himself the direction of his own actions;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -but then, on the other hand, he also considered -that without the assistance of the old gentleman, -he should not be able to clear off the -encumbrances with which his own hereditary -estate had been burdened by his anticipations. -His only resource was an advantageous -match; but the difficulty was how to accomplish -that object, and to preserve his dignity.</p> - -<p>In the same street in which Lord Martindale, -his father, lived, there was an heiress, but not -altogether unobjectionable. Her origin was -plebeian; her wealth was commercial; her connexions -decidedly vulgar, notwithstanding all -her pains to keep them select, and to curtail the -number of her cousins; her manners awkward, -and her taste in dress most execrable. Whenever -Philip Martindale felt impatient of controul, -he thought of Miss Celestina Sampson, -and of the many thousands which her industrious -father had accumulated by the manufacturing -of soap; and by thinking much on the -subject, he had been gradually led to consider -the match as not altogether intolerable. He -thought of many other persons of as high rank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -as himself, and even higher, who had not disdained -to gild their coronets with city gold. -There was nothing glaringly or hideously vulgar -in Miss Sampson’s manners, though she was -not the most graceful of her sex. Then her -person was rather agreeable than otherwise, -especially when she was not over-dressed; -and as for her cousins, they might be easily -cut.</p> - -<p>In truth, these meditations had so frequently -occupied the young gentleman’s mind, that -there began to be actually some talk on the -subject among the friends of the parties. These -thoughts were by some fatality passing in his -mind while he was waiting for the arrival of -the hour for which his engagement was made; -and by a very singular coincidence he was reminded -of Miss Celestina: for while he was -wishing the time to move more rapidly, there -entered into the coffee-room two young gentlemen, -who very noisily manifested their importance. -They lounged up to the table on which -the papers were lying, and each helped himself to -one; then they sat down at separate and distant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -tables, each spreading his paper before him, -and lolling with his elbows on the table, and his -feet stretched out to the widest possible extent, -as if begging to have his toes trod on; and -they ever and anon laughed aloud, and called -out the one to the other at any piece of intelligence -which excited their astonishment, or gave -occasion to witty remark. Among other announcements -which they thus communicated to -each other, was a short paragraph in the -fashionable intelligence which had altogether -escaped the notice of Philip Martindale; and -as its announcement was preceded by a very -loud laugh, his attention was especially drawn -to it, and it was as follows:</p> - -<p>“It is currently reported that the Hon. -Philip Martindale of Brigland Abbey, eldest -son of Lord Martindale, is about to lead to the -hymeneal altar the accomplished and beautiful -daughter and heiress of Sir Gilbert Sampson.”</p> - -<p>“There, Smart,” said the reader of the -above paragraph, “you have lost your chance -for ever. What a pity it is you did not make -a better use of your time. By the way, do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -know any thing of the Hon. Philip Martindale?”</p> - -<p>“I know nothing about him, except that I -have been told he is one of the proudest men -that ever lived; and I can never suppose that -he would condescend to marry the daughter of -a soap-boiler.”</p> - -<p>“There is no answering for that,” responded -the other; “necessity has no law. Brigland -Abbey cannot be kept up for a trifle; and if I -am not misinformed, this same Philip Martindale -has been rather hard run on settling-days.”</p> - -<p>At hearing this conversation, the young -gentleman was greatly annoyed; and in order -to avoid any farther intelligence concerning -himself, he took his departure, for the hour -appointed for meeting his friend Stephen was -now very near at hand. He was in very ill-humour -with what he had heard, and was quite -shocked at the liberties which common people -took with the names and affairs of persons of -rank. He had composed in his own mind, and -was uttering with his mind’s voice, a most eloquent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -philippic against the daring insolence of -plebeian animals, who presumed to canvass the -conduct of their superiors; and he was dwelling -upon the enviable privacy of more humble life, -which was not so watched and advertised in all -its movements, till it occurred to him that -this publicity was one of the distinctions of high -life, and that even calumnious reports concerning -the great were but a manifestation of the -interest which the world took in their movements. -It also came into his mind that many -of those actions which seem otherwise unaccountable -and ridiculous, owe their being to a -love of notoriety; and he thought it not unlikely -that some of the great might play fools’ tricks -for the sake of being talked of by the little. -So his anger abated, and he more than forgave -the impertinent one who had made free with -his name in a newspaper.</p> - -<p>It has been said that we live in a strange -world. We deny this position altogether. -Nothing is less strange than this world and its -contents. But if we will voluntarily and wilfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -keep our eyes closed, and form an imaginary -world of our own, and only occasionally -awake and take a transient glance of reality, -and then go back to our dreamings, the world -may well enough be strange to us.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“How durst you come into this room and company without leave?”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Killegrew.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Philip Martindale proceeded, as we -have stated, from the coffee-house towards -Tothill Street, with a view of keeping his -engagement with his friend of the scarlet coat -and crimson countenance. He had entered -into his memorandum-book the number of the -house to which he had been directed, but he -omitted as useful a notice, namely, to take down -the division or apartment in which the gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -of the pit had his residence. For the fact -is, that the ingenious bird-feeder and fancier -resided in an upper apartment, nearer to the -sky by one flight of stairs than the Hon. -Philip Martindale imagined. The house was -a miserable contrast to the splendid mansion -which he had left. Whether it had ever been -cleansed either by paint or water, since the day -it was built, seemed a matter of doubt. The -windows had been broken, and had been mended -partially but not with glass. The very window-frames -seemed to be in such a state of dilapidation -that a breeze might blow them from their -position.</p> - -<p>When the door was opened by a middle -aged female, whose miserable and dirty attire -made her look twenty years older than she was, -the olfactory nerves of the young gentleman -were assailed by a grievous combination of -various odours, among which onions, tobacco, -and gin, were the predominant. Asking of the -miserable being who opened the door whether -Clarke was within, he was told to walk up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -stairs. Very slowly and very cautiously did -he mount the creaking staircase, setting his -foot gently and inquiringly upon each successive -stair to ascertain whether it would bear his -weight: of one or two he had so much distrust -as to step completely over them.</p> - -<p>When arrived at the first landing-place, he -heard a multitude of voices, which he naturally -supposed to proceed from some gentlemen of -the fancy. Without knocking at the door, he -immediately let himself in, and found to his -great astonishment that he had mistaken the -apartment. He found himself surrounded by -a group of dark-complexioned, sallow-looking, -unshorn beings; some of whom were sitting on -the floor, others on crazy boxes and broken chairs, -and all of whom were smoking cigars. The -dingy dress which they wore, and the faded -decorations which were suspended on their left -breast, immediately proclaimed them to be -emigrants. As soon as he entered the room, -their voices were stilled, and they turned their -inquiring and sickened looks towards him as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -to a harbinger of some intelligence of good. -The moment that he felt where and with whom -he was thus accidentally placed, his spirit sunk -within him; and he did feel a deep compassion -for the miserable objects which surrounded -him.</p> - -<p>One of the party, by the freshness of his dress -and the cleanliness of his person, appeared to -have arrived but recently among them. He -was a man of middle age, wearing a very respectable -military dress; and though of thoughtful -look, he did not appear dejected or heartbroken. -To him Mr. Martindale addressed -himself in the Italian language, apologising for -his accidental and unintentional intrusion. The -stranger replied in English, spoken with a -foreign accent, but with tolerable fluency, stating -that he had just arrived in England, and being -directed to where he could find some of his -fellow-countrymen, he had but recently entered -the house, and was grieved to see them so -situated. He also said that he himself was -not much better provided for, but that his wife -and child were in England, though he could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -at present discover in what part of the country. -He said that he had received letters from them, -but that those letters were lost, with part of his -own luggage. But he trusted, he continued, -that he should find out, by inquiry, where his -family was; and he concluded a long harangue -by asking Philip Martindale, with great simplicity, -if he knew where Mr. Smith lived.</p> - -<p>This is a question which wiser men than the -Hon. Philip Martindale would be puzzled to -answer; and it is a question which weaker -men than he would have smiled at. He was -not a man without feeling, though he was a -man of the world; and it excited in his mind -other thoughts and feelings than those of a -ridiculous nature, when he saw a foreigner in -England, whose discovery of his wife and child -depended on the finding out of the residence of -a person of so common a name as Smith. Forgetting, -therefore, his engagement with Stephen -the guard, he set himself seriously and closely to -interrogate the poor man, in order to find some -better and more definite clue to the discovery -of his family than the name of Smith. Thereupon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -the countenance of the foreigner brightened up, -his eyes sparkled, and the tear was on his -cheek, when he said:</p> - -<p>“Oh! sare, you are good. I thank you -much for your great trouble: you are all so -good in England to the poor estranger when he -is in misery. It is sad to leave my own land; -but what am I without my poor child?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my good friend,” replied Philip, “I -hope and trust you will find your child. But -surely you must have some other knowledge of -the person with whom your family is residing -than merely the name of Smith. You have -had letters from them, you say; can you not -recollect from what place those letters were -dated?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I could not recollect it once: it -was no name in the geography; it was in the -province.”</p> - -<p>“Then, of course, it was not London;” replied -Mr. Martindale.</p> - -<p>“No, no, no, it was not London; it was in -the province: it was far away from London -thirty or forty mile.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But did not you sometimes send letters to -your family, and can you not tell how you addressed -your letters to them? Perhaps if you -were to consider a little while, you might be -able to call to mind something that might assist -in discovering the place of their abode. If you -had letters, most likely some account was given -of the place where they lived: or if it were a -small village, they may have mentioned the -name of the nearest post-town.”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, it was very pretty place. It was -thirty or forty mile from London. It was very -beautiful place. There was large, very fine -palace called Abbey. There was very fine -lake.”</p> - -<p>This description reminded Philip Martindale -of the place of his own residence, and he therefore -asked if the name of the place was at all -like Brigland. The foreigner looked thoughtful, -and attempted to repeat the word, saying: -“Breeklan! Breeklan!” Then, after a pause of -a few seconds, his features underwent a complete -change, and with a kind of hysteric laugh -or screech of exultation, he cried out:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, that was it! that was it! Oh, good -sare, it was Breeklan—oh, tell me where is -Breeklan, and I will see my child and my dear -wife—oh, I will see them once again—oh, you -have save me from great misery.”</p> - -<p>Then he seized Philip Martindale’s hand -and pressed it with great emotion, repeating -his solicitations; and the tears rolled down his -cheeks, and he smiled with such an expression -of delight, that the young gentleman was -moved; and after he had given some charitable -donations to the rest of the unhappy ones in the -miserable apartment, he proceeded to conduct -the newly-arrived stranger where he might -find a conveyance to take him to Brigland.</p> - -<p>Philip Martindale then returned to the house -where the game-cocks were to be seen, and -there he met his friend Stephen the guard, and -some other friends of the fancy, by the fascinations -of whose sweet society he was detained -in the metropolis somewhat longer than he designed, -and by whose winning ways he found -himself poorer than was quite convenient. The -opinion he expressed concerning the fighting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -birds—the particulars of the exhibition with -which he was afterwards favoured at the Westminster-pit—the -brilliant conversation in which -he there engaged—the bets which there he laid -and lost—the flattering homage which he there -received—the satisfaction which resulted from -it—all these and many other matters of a like -nature we pass over unrecorded; trusting that, -where one reader blames the omission, fifty will -commend it.</p> - -<p>But though we describe not these scenes, it -does not follow that we should pass them over -without reflection. One very natural reflection -is, that gentlemen of high birth and estate -are much to be envied for the pleasure which -they enjoy in those scenes. There must be a -peculiar delight in such pursuits, or the superfine -part of our species could not possibly condescend, -for the sake of them, to associate on -most familiar terms with persons whose birth is -most miserably low, whose understandings are -most grievously defective, whose manners are -abominably coarse. Take from the side of one -of these honorables the jockey, the boxer, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -feeder, or the coachman, with whom he is all -courtesy and good humor and familiarity, and -place there a man of middle rank in society, -respectable in every point of view, with what -cool contempt would the dignity of high birth -regard him. One other reflection is, that -such pursuits ought to be calculated to raise -these said gentle and noble ones very high in -their own esteem, inasmuch as they are not -thereby raised in the esteem of others. Their -disinterested generosity is also much to be applauded, -seeing that by thus lavishing their -wealth on those whose only support is the -gambling propensity of men of wealth, they -take away from the public a large number of -such as might otherwise have exercised their -wits in picking pockets or breaking into houses. -They who would suppress gambling deserve the -thanks of the ninnies who would be thus preserved -from being plundered in an honorable -and gentlemanly manner; but what would become -of the rogues and sharpers who live upon -the folly of right honorable and high-born -simpletons? Politic morality is perhaps one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -the greatest difficulties which legislators have -to contend with. Begging pardon for these -reflections, we proceed with our story.</p> - -<p>We have stated that the Hon. Philip Martindale -suffered in his purse from his visit to -the Westminster-pit. The following morning -he meditated much upon the subject; and he -also applied the powers of his mind to the ring, -and recollected that he had there oftentimes -suffered as much in his purse as some of the -pummeled heroes had in their persons. Then -while he was in the humor for thinking, he -endeavoured to calculate how much these -amusements had cost him; and in the course of -that calculation it most unaccountably came -into his mind that many of the frequenters of -these exhibitions had no ostensible means of -living, and that they yet lived well, and that -of course they must have lived upon him and -others of high rank and birth. Following that -train of thought, and finding that several of the -superfine ones who had formerly patronised these -sports had for some reason or other gradually -fallen off from them, he began to think that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -he would also abstain from them, and confine -himself to the more respectable and gentleman-like -avocations of the race-course and the -hazard-table: for there he should meet with -a more numerous assemblage of persons of his -own rank; and as he had three horses entered -to run at Newmarket, and as one of these -was an especial favorite, he had some expectation -of retrieving his losses, at least in part. -He fully determined that he would no longer -associate with the vulgar ones of the ring and -the pit. Oh, what an excellent homily is an -empty purse!</p> - -<p>Now it happened very fortunately for the -trusty Oliver, and for his master too, that when -the latter had finished his meditations, and was -entering the shop of his gunsmith, he should -meet there his worthy friend Sir Andrew Featherstone. -The greeting was cordial; for the -meeting was agreeable on both sides. Sir -Andrew Featherstone was a baronet of very -ancient family:—that rendered him acceptable -to the Hon. Philip Martindale. But he had -other recommendations—he was the best-tempered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -man in the world. There are myriads of -this description. He kept a most excellent table, -had a capital pack of hounds, and two very -beautiful daughters, whom we shall have great -pleasure in introducing to our readers in due -course of time. The families of the Featherstones -and the Martindales had been intimate -time out of mind; and it was the wish of Sir -Andrew to marry one of his daughters to the -Hon. Philip Martindale. But the young gentleman -himself had never given the subject a -single thought. By one of those remarkable -coincidences which are happening every day, -Sir Andrew mentioned the archery-meeting, -and expressed a wish that Philip would honor -it with his presence. The young gentleman -found this reality as great a relief to his mind, -as his trusty Oliver had found the invention a -relief to his mind; and he immediately dispatched -a note to his venerable relative, stating -his engagement, and fixing the day of his return -to Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“A was an archer, and shot at a frog.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Anon.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The residence of Sir Andrew Featherstone -was called Hovenden Lodge; why it was called -a lodge we cannot say. It was a large plain -house, situated in a small level park. The hand -of improvement had been very busy with it, but -the genius of propriety had not presided over -the improvements. Several different styles of -architecture had been introduced, and to very -ill effect; for the very square broad-sided form<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -of the building rendered it unsusceptible of decoration. -But Sir Andrew cared nothing about -it—he left all those matters to the ladies, who -gave directions according to their own taste or -lack of taste; and all the return which he made -for their architectural diligence and their skilful -improvements was to laugh at what he called -their absurdities. The usual order was quite -reversed at Hovenden Lodge; for while Lady -Featherstone and her two daughters, Lucy and -Isabella, were drawing plans, or marching about -the park, and pointing out to the architect the -improvements which they thought desirable, -Sir Andrew was standing by the kitchen fire -and lecturing the cook, or translating aloud -recipes from his favorite French cookery-book, -which was the only book that he had ever -purchased; and very highly did he value it, -fancying that few persons in this kingdom were -aware of its existence. He often however had, -or we should more properly say, might have -had, the mortification of finding that he had -been translating from French into English that -which had been previously translated from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -English into French; for whenever his knowing -lady reminded him that any recipe was already -in the English cookery-books, he would always -contend for or discover some delicate variation -which gave the French the advantage. He -thought, too, that there was a peculiar piquancy -in the French terms, and that there was a particular -relish in foreign names, which he always -took care to utter, but which his obstinately -English organs of speech rendered mightily -amusing in their utterance.</p> - -<p>The greatest evil of the archery-meeting in -Sir Andrew’s opinion was, that it must be attended -only with a cold collation, and that -must be in a marquee. It had been discussed -repeatedly, but as frequently decided against -him, that it was absolutely impossible to have a -hot dinner. He did not like it, but he bore it -very good-temperedly; and was brimful of jokes, -ready to let fly with every arrow.</p> - -<p>Lady Featherstone, who was never so happy -as when she was patronising, was delighted -with the thought of the long table under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -marquee, and her own self smiling, nodding, -and bowing most gracefully to every body: she -could undergo a cold dinner every day of her -life, for the happiness of thinking that every -body said, “What a charming woman is Lady -Featherstone!”</p> - -<p>The young ladies were in proud and confident -expectation of winning the prize; but in -still more proud and more confident expectation -of exhibiting their elegant selves to an admiring -multitude. This, indeed, is the great -beauty of archery; it is an <em>elegant</em> exercise, or -in other words, it gives an opportunity to young -ladies to exhibit themselves in elegant or attractive -attitudes; and many a young woman -who would have scarcely any chance of a display, -hereby acquires a right to be stared at -most perseveringly and inveterately. She may -be as long as she pleases taking her aim; and if -she fears that she shall not hit the target, she -may take an aim elsewhere.</p> - -<p>And it is a very pretty thing too for young -gentlemen in the last year of being at school,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -or in the first of their undergraduateship. -Dressed in the archery uniform, they look so -very much like Robin Hood: they go back to -old times in almost more than imagination; but -more especially, they have an opportunity of -playing off the <em>polites</em>. At all events, it is a -very innocent amusement; and if properly managed -by the lady-patroness, it may rise into -something of a matter of importance. If any -of the party be in possession of the powers of -eloquence, they may draw up a very pretty -report of the meeting; and the editors of country -papers will feel much honored by inserting -the said report; and there will be a very pretty -sprinkling of very pretty compliments to the -very pretty young ladies, who may be compared -to Diana’s nymphs; and there may be quotations -from the old songs about Robin Hood -and Maid Marian; and very pretty talk about -the greenwood shade and the merry horn. -Then the editor of the newspaper sells an extra -number of papers, which are sent in different -directions to distant friends.</p> - -<p>The display of beauty and fashion which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -exhibited in Hovenden Park on the above-named -occasion, bids defiance by its brilliancy -to our powers of description. Sir Andrew -himself, though his occupation was gone for -that day at least, endured with a very good -grace his absence from the kitchen; and was -prepared to hear and say all that was polite, -together with a little that was satirical. Before -the business of the day began, he said in the -hearing of the exhibitors: “Where shall I -stand to be most out of the way; I think I had -better take my station in front of the target.”</p> - -<p>With many such sayings he entertained the -young people; and some of the young ladies -laughed so heartily at his attempts at humor, -that they could hardly direct the arrows; and -then, when any one shot very wide of the mark, -he smilingly said, “Well done, my good girl, -that’s right, take care you don’t spoil the target.” -And notwithstanding all the frowns and rebukes -of Lady Featherstone, the facetious baronet continued -his interruptions much to the amusement -and a little to the annoyance of the party.</p> - -<p>We should not have mentioned this crotchet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -of Sir Andrew’s, but that we think it may be -not amiss to take this opportunity of observing -that persevering witticisms, forced out in rapid -succession on all occasions, and a series of smart -sayings, good, bad, and indifferent, uttered -without abatement, may often excite the outward -and visible sign of merriment long after -they have ceased to be agreeable. For laughter -is not always the sign of satisfaction, any more -than tears are always a token of sorrow. There -is no man, however stupid, who cannot occasionally -say a good thing; and very few, if any, can -utter real wit in every sentence; and miserable -is the annoyance of everlasting efforts at facetiousness. -It is only tolerable in those who are -very young or very weak.</p> - -<p>But as one great object of archery-meetings -is display, we should be guilty of injustice in -omitting to notice a young lady of the party, -who came with the full intention of eclipsing -every one there;—and she succeeded. We -refer to Miss Celestina Sampson. She came -accompanied by her father, Sir Gilbert Sampson; -who, though a new man, was very well received<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -by Sir Andrew. Miss Sampson was not a -beauty, but was good-looking and rather pretty; -of middle stature, light complexion, and fine -natural colour; good-humored and cheerful; -ambitious of elegance, but not well-informed as -to the means; critical as to the externals of -behaviour, and much exposed herself to the -same kind of criticism; sadly afraid of vulgarity, -though often sinning through mere ignorance. -Her appearance and dress attracted, as she -designed, universal attention; but not, as she -hoped, universal admiration. She had studied -costume with more zeal than taste; and vibrating -between the costume of Diana and Maid -Marian, she at last appeared, if like any thing -at all, a tawdry imitation of Fatima, in the play -of Blue-beard.</p> - -<p>As Sir Gilbert Sampson was also present, we -may say a word or two of him. He had been a -soap-boiler. True; but what of that?—he had -retired from business, and had washed his hands -of soap. He had been a soap-boiler. True; but -whose fault was that? Not his own: he had no innate, -natural, violent, irresistible, unextinguishable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -propensity for boiling soap; for if he had, -he would never have relinquished the pursuit. -The fault was his father’s; for had the father -of Sir Gilbert been a duke, Sir Gilbert would -never have been a soap-boiler. As to the rest, -Sir Gilbert Sampson was a man of good understanding, -of extensive knowledge, possessing -strong natural powers of mind, and altogether -free from every species of affectation.</p> - -<p>Lady Sampson had, while she lived, governed -by permission of her lord and master. She had -dictated concerning the petty details of life; and -after her death, her daughter reigned in her -stead. Sir Gilbert never troubled himself -about trifles; but Miss Sampson took all that -care entirely off her father’s hands. The pleasure -of his life was the company of a few old -acquaintances; but he tolerated parties when -Miss Sampson could manage to assemble them.</p> - -<p>And this was not a difficulty, even though Sir -Gilbert had been a soap-boiler; for his cook -was not a soap-boiler, and his fishmonger was -not a soap-boiler, and his wine merchant was -not a soap-boiler. Sir Gilbert’s dinners were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -very excellent; and those who partook of them -praised them much, and did not say a word -about soap while they were at dinner; and -that was very kind, and exceedingly condescending: -for it is a piece of great presumption -in a man who has acquired a property by -honest industry to give sumptuous entertainments -to those who are spending or who have -spent what their ancestors earned for them.</p> - -<p>Enough for the present of Sir Gilbert Sampson. -Be it however observed by the way, that -our good and facetious friend, Sir Andrew -Featherstone, regarded Sir Gilbert without any -feeling of aristocratic pride, and so did many -others of his acquaintance; and that even -the Hon. Philip Martindale behaved very politely -to him, inasmuch as he was occasionally -under apprehension that it might be desirable -for him to disencumber and improve the -Martindale estate by the means of Sir Gilbert’s -wealth. At this meeting, owing to previous -matters already recorded, the idea of the possibility -of Miss Sampson becoming Mrs., and, in -process of time, Lady Martindale, took very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -strong hold of the young gentleman’s imagination. -He therefore, without being aware of -any difference in his manner, paid very extraordinary -attention to Sir Gilbert; and as the -young lady observed this, and was rather ambitious -of the honor of so high an alliance, and -as she thought that the best way to make a conquest, -or to secure one already made, was to make -herself agreeable; and as she thought that the -best way to make herself agreeable was to put -herself very much in the way of the person to -whom she wished to be agreeable, and to talk -to him and listen to his talk, and smile at what -he said if he seemed to think it witty, and to -manifest that her attention was more taken up -with him than with any one else: Miss Sampson -acted upon this principle, but in the over-officiousness -of her zeal carried her system so far as -to make it almost a persecution.</p> - -<p>As to the effect thereby produced upon the -Hon. Philip Martindale, very little if any progress -was made in his affections. He was accustomed -to homage and attention, and took it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -as a matter of course; he had experienced -quite as much attention from the friends of -ladies of higher rank than Miss Sampson; and -the charms of the young lady’s person or conversation -were nothing to him in his matrimonial -speculations. If Mr. John Martindale had -been a man of infirm health, and likely soon to -decide the question as to who should possess -his large property, Philip Martindale would -not have had any thought whatever of an -alliance so much beneath the dignity of his -rank and the purity of his blood; or were the -old gentleman a little less capricious, or had -the young gentleman been a little more prudent -in the management of his affairs, then -Miss Sampson might have had the beauty of a -Venus, the wisdom of a Minerva, or the wealth -of Crœsus, and these qualities would have -made no impression. On the other hand, under -the then present circumstances, Miss Sampson -needed not to take any pains to render herself -agreeable; for had her person been deformed, -and her mind that of an idiot, yet her father,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -by the accumulation of a large fortune, had -done quite enough to make her perfectly -agreeable.</p> - -<p>And yet, notwithstanding all this confession -which we have made for Mr. Philip, we would -not have our readers to imagine that the young -gentleman was devoid of good qualities or good -feelings altogether; he might not have been so -candid in his confession for himself as we have -been for him, but he was not altogether aware -of the influence of circumstances upon his -mind. He was placed in a certain rank in -society, and must keep up the dignity of that -rank; and it was his misfortune if necessity put -him upon using means for that purpose not -quite in unison with his better judgment. -Royalty itself has not free choice in matters of -the heart; and nobility, as it approaches royalty -in its splendour, is sometimes assimilated to it -in its restraints and perplexities. Still, however, -making every concession which candour -and human kindness prompt us to make in behalf -of Philip Martindale; and admitting all -the extenuations which a merciful advocate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -could suggest, we cannot help thinking, and it -is our duty to say it, that if he had abstained -from the foolish and low pursuits of gaming in -all its varieties, and if he had cherished and -preserved that spirit of independence which his -excellent mother, Lady Martindale, had endeavoured -to instil into his mind, he might have -upheld the dignity of his rank, if he had sacrificed -a little of its splendour. But to our history.</p> - -<p>We have mentioned as the patroness of the -archery-meeting, Lady Featherstone; and we -have said that this lady had two daughters, -Lucy and Isabella. It has also been observed -that Sir Andrew Featherstone felt a wish to -unite one of these young ladies in marriage -with Philip Martindale. This was a very -natural ambition. The two families had been -intimate for several generations. The Martindales -had, by various circumstances, gradually -advanced in wealth; but the reverse had been -the lot of the Featherstones, though they were -quite as old and good a family as the Martindales. -Singular indeed it was that the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -person in the Martindale family who showed -any symptoms of alienation from the Featherstones -was old John Martindale: the singularity, -however, consisted in this, that he had not shown -any coolness, or behaved with any reserve, on -the increase of his own property; but he had -carried himself proudly towards them only since -his cousin had acquired a title of nobility and -had become a peer. Yet the old gentleman -professed to laugh at titles; but nobody thought -that old John Martindale was a fool.</p> - -<p>Sir Andrew Featherstone, being a good-humoured -man, took little notice of countless -insults, affronts, slights, and disrespectfulnesses, -whereby myriads of the human species are most -grievously tormented. He did not, therefore, -heed or observe the coldness of old Mr. Martindale; -nor was he at all angry with Philip that -he gave much of his attention to Sir Gilbert -Sampson, and that he tolerated the attentions of -Miss Sampson. Lady Featherstone, however, -was more observant; and notwithstanding the -incessant and manifold attention which she paid -to all the party, could not help noticing how -very gracious Philip Martindale was with Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -Gilbert. Various were the stratagems by which -her ladyship endeavoured and contrived to place -Philip in juxtaposition with her daughters when -they adjourned to the collation; and very -agreeable was her surprise when, after the -strictest observation, she did not discern any -wandering of the eyes of the young gentleman -towards that part of the table where Miss -Sampson was seated. Her fears were still farther -diminished, when she found that Miss -Sampson was deeply, and to all appearance -most agreeably, engaged in conversation with -a very elegant young gentleman, who seemed -almost as much pleased with Miss Sampson as -he was with himself. We owe it to our readers -to introduce this young gentleman.</p> - -<p>Henry Augustus Tippetson was a gentleman -of good family, but being a younger brother, -and very indolent, was not likely to make any -great figure in the world. He was of middle -stature; very slender, very fair, very near-sighted -when he happened to think of it; having -flaxen hair and blue eyes; suspected, but unjustly, -of using rouge; very expensive in his -dress, and one of Delcroix’s best customers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -He was not one of the archers, though he had -once attempted to use a bow. He found that -the exertion was too much for him, and he -feared it might harden his hands. He expressed -to Miss Sampson the same fears for -her; but the young lady heeded not the apprehension.</p> - -<p>Lady Featherstone was very happy to see -Miss Sampson so employed; but when her -ladyship turned her attention to her own daughters -and the gentleman whom she had seated -by them, not all her powers of penetration -could discover to which of the young ladies -Philip Martindale was paying the greatest attention; -and most of all was her mind disturbed -by observing, that when he addressed himself -either to one or the other, though it was with -perfect politeness, it was with perfect indifference.</p> - -<p>The sports of the day were concluded by a -ball, which resembled in every point every -ball of the same character. There was the -usual allowance of dancing, negus, nonsense, -tossing of heads, sneering, quizzing, showing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -off, blundering, and all the rest of that kind -of amusement. It enters not into our plan to -dwell any longer on this festival. We must -return to Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“For fame, (whose journies are through ways unknown,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Traceless and swift and changeful as the wind,)</div> -<div class="verse">The morn and Hurgonil had much outgone,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">While Truth mov’d patiently within behind.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Davenant.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From Hovenden Lodge, Philip Martindale -returned home; and after finding every thing -as it should be at the Abbey, and arranging -with the trusty Oliver concerning uniformity -of narrative, he called upon the old gentleman -at the cottage. There he underwent a long -harangue on the folly of archery, and the silliness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -of Sir Andrew Featherstone, together with -a desultory dissertation on the frivolity of the -age in general. From which dissertation, it -was to be inferred that old John Martindale -was the only man living who had the least idea -of propriety and wisdom of conduct.</p> - -<p>With becoming deference and submission, -the young gentleman gave his assent to whatsoever -the senior was pleased to assert. This -is one of the greatest pains of a state of dependence, -that it robs a man of the pleasure -of contradicting; and it is also one of the -greatest evils of holding intercourse with dependants, -that a man is thereby deprived of -the pleasure of being contradicted. These were -evils which the old and the young gentleman -both felt, but the old gentleman felt it most -deeply. Contradiction was so much his element, -that he could hardly live without it; and rather -than not enjoy the pleasure of it, he would -contradict himself. That must have been a -man of uncommon and high powers of mind, -who could so have managed the old gentleman -as to stimulate without offending him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -Hon. Philip Martindale was not equal to it, -either from want of capacity or from lack of -attention and diligence.</p> - -<p>When the old gentleman had finished a -tolerably long harangue on fools and follies of -all descriptions, it almost occurred to him that -if so great was the number of follies, and so -long was the list of fools, there could be little -else than folly in all human pursuits; and that -he himself, in his own singularity of wisdom, -was something of a fool for being so outrageously -wise, when there was nobody left to keep -him in countenance. Paradoxical as it may -sound, it is not far from truth that excess of -wisdom is excess of folly. The old gentleman -thought so when he said to his cousin:</p> - -<p>“I dare say now that you think me an old -fool for my pains, if you would be honest enough -to speak your mind.”</p> - -<p>Not waiting for a reply to this very wise, -though not very original remark, Mr. Martindale -continued his talk: “I am sorry, Master -Philip, you thought fit to take yourself off just -at the very moment that you were wanted. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -have had a very pleasant and intelligent companion -at the cottage for the last two days, -I particularly wished to introduce him to you; -I mean the young barrister, who pleaded old -Richard Smith’s cause so temperately and so -successfully. I should have thought that the -company of an intelligent young man would -be far more agreeable than a set of idle gabbling -chits, and an old simpleton of a baronet, -who has not an idea in the world beyond a -cookery-book. But every man to his taste.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, sir,” replied Philip, “that I -was not aware of your friend’s being at Brigland. -It would have given me great pleasure -to be introduced to him. He certainly conducted -his cause with great propriety, and did -not take, as some persons might have done, an -opportunity of insulting me.”</p> - -<p>“He did not conduct himself as your advocate -did, Master Philip; he did not attempt -to convert a court of justice into a bear-garden, -or degrade the dignity of his profession by -playing the buffoon to make boobies laugh. -Mr. Markham is a man of good sense, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -think his conversation would have been of -service to you: though he is a young man, he is -very extensively informed.”</p> - -<p>“I have not the least doubt of it,” replied -Philip; “I am only sorry that I was so unfortunate -as to be out of the way when he was -here. I shall be more fortunate I hope another -time.”</p> - -<p>That was a lie; but dependants must lie if -they would not lose their places. The Hon. -Philip Martindale recollected the time when he -was under no necessity of saying the thing which -was not, when he was independent but of his profession; -but then he was not called the honourable, -then he had no rank to support or dignity -to keep up. It was really mortifying and distressing -to him that those very circumstances -to which he had looked with hope and pleasure, -and from which he had anticipated an accession -to his happiness through the gratification of his -pride, should become the means of annoying -him so keenly where he was most susceptible. -The dilemma in which he was placed was -grievously perplexing. Turn which way he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -would, mortifications awaited him. There was -the daughter of a retired soap-boiler on one -side; there was the son of a country shopkeeper -pestering him on the other. To go back to his -profession was quite out of the question. To -marry rank and fortune too was not in the compass -of probability. Oh, how perplexing and -troublesome it is that such perpetual encroachments -should be made upon persons of rank; -so that notwithstanding all the care and pains -which they take to avoid it, they are perpetually -brought into contact with the commercial -cast. Most deeply did Philip Martindale feel -this inconvenience, but he could find no remedy -for it. He had however one consolation, in the -thought that he was not alone in his sorrows. -He was acquainted with others who carried -their heads much higher than himself, who yet -suffered the convenient degradation of commercial -affinities.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, “I am -sorry that Mr. Markham is gone; and I fear -we shall not see him again very soon.”</p> - -<p>This was no subject of regret with the Hon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -Philip Martindale; he was glad to hear that he -was not likely to be soon annoyed by an introduction -to a man of such equivocal rank as Horatio -Markham. But seeing that his opulent relative -was very much pleased with this stranger, -he thought it might be agreeable if he made -farther inquiries; he therefore asked, how it -happened that Mr. Markham had made so short -a visit. To his inquiries he received for answer, -that an express had arrived calling the -young barrister to London, and offering to his -acceptance a highly respectable legal situation -in one of the colonies. For this information -Philip was thankful; and finding that there was -no danger of being compelled to realise his profession, -he began to speak very highly of the -young barrister’s moral and intellectual qualities, -and to express in still stronger terms the -sorrow he felt at not being able to have the pleasure -of his acquaintance. Cunning as old Mr. -Martindale in general was, he was so far deceived -by these protestations, that he was put by them -into high good humour, both with himself and -his relative; and then he went on to talk about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -Richard Smith and his niece. This, however, -was a topic not altogether agreeable to Philip; -but the young gentleman so far succeeded in -explaining that affair, that Mr. Martindale was -ready to accept the explanation. He then -told Philip that Mr. Markham and he had -visited the cottage; and so communicative and -good-humoured was the elder Martindale, that -he even repeated, as far as he could recollect, -what took place at that visit, and how he had cautioned -the young barrister not to lose his heart.</p> - -<p>While this discourse was going on in the -cottage, the town of Brigland was agitated to -its very centre by a tragical event which had -occurred at old Richard Smith’s cottage. Multitudes -of idle people were running from place -to place, full of dreadful news of a murder that -had been committed in the course of the preceding -night. Almost every one had a different -story to tell; and the affair lost nothing of -its horror and mystery by being transmitted -from one to another. Mr. Denver, as in duty -or in habit bound, brought the tidings to Mr. -Martindale at the cottage. The story, as related<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -by the good-humoured perpetual curate, -spoke of poor old Richard Smith as having -been murdered by the gipsies, and of his niece -being carried away nobody knew where. Upon -cross-examination, however, it was elicited that -Mr. Denver had acquired his information by a -very circuitous route; for he had heard Mrs. -Price and Mrs. Flint both at once telling a -different version of the same story to Mrs. -Denver, who, while those two ladies were -speaking narratively, noisily, and contradictorily, -was herself also talking exclamatively and -interrogatively. The ladies who communicated -the event to Mrs. Denver had received their -information also from compound sources, but -both were satisfied that they had received their -intelligence from the best authority; and in -order to prove that they were both rightly informed, -they both of them talked very loudly -and very rapidly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver must have been a very clever -man under such circumstances to have made out -any story at all; and he was a very clever man -in such matters, and very much experienced in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -carrying and collecting intelligence: indeed, -the mode above stated was that in which he -usually acquired his knowledge. Practice gives -great facility. But it must be acknowledged, -notwithstanding all Mr. Denver’s accuracy and -dexterity, that there were in his narrative some -errors. It was not true that Richard Smith -had been murdered; and it was not true that -his niece had been carried away by violence or -otherwise. These were the only two errors in -the whole account. Much more however was -reported, which Mr. Denver did not relate; and -that which he did not relate was the part to -which was most especially applicable that pathos -of look and exclamation with which he introduced -his narrative. This part of the story -unfortunately was not true; we say unfortunately, -because it is really mortifying to the -multitude when investigation and inquiry deprive -them of the richest part of a most horrible -story. It was not likely that Mr. Denver -should mention this part of the report when -he saw Mr. Philip; for it was to that gentleman -that it referred.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>The report was, that Richard Smith had -been murdered by some ruffians who had been -employed by the Hon. Philip Martindale to -carry off the niece of the poor old man. There -was mention made of a fierce-looking military -man, who was to all appearance a foreigner, -who had been seen lurking about Brigland -Common, and conversing with the gipsies that -had but recently made their appearance there; -and one person actually saw this foreigner enter -the lane where old Smith’s cottage stood. All -this part of the tale was very properly and very -considerately omitted by Mr. Denver, who was a -very candid man; and who thought that if it -were true, it would in proper time transpire; -and that if Mr. Philip had employed ruffians to -carry off the young woman, he might have his -own reasons for it.</p> - -<p>At the hearing of this very serious story, the -two Martindales expressed their horror and astonishment; -and Philip immediately asked Mr. -Denver why he had not gone to the old man’s -cottage, in order to make some inquiry about -the matter: to which interrogation Mr. Denver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -gave no answer. The retailers of intelligence -would indeed lose many a choice and delightful -story, if they were to take great pains to investigate -the matter before they talked about it.</p> - -<p>Philip Martindale requested Mr. Denver immediately -to accompany him to the spot, that -they might be assured whether or not any -violence had been used, and whether there was -any necessity for the interference of a magistrate. -In their way they called on the constable, who -was frightened out of his wits at the thought -of going into a house where a man lay murdered. -But the presence of Philip Martindale -inspired him with an extraordinary share of -courage. As they proceeded, they saw groups -of people standing here and there, discussing -with great gravity, the mysterious affair of the -old man’s cottage. They looked with great earnestness -on Mr. Martindale and his companions; -and their murmurings and whisperings grew -thicker and deeper.</p> - -<p>When at length they arrived at the cottage, -they found it surrounded by a crowd of women -and children, and idle girls and boys. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -women were all talking, and the girls and boys -were clambering up to the cottage-windows, or -were mounted on trees that were near, as if to -catch a glimpse of something within the cottage. -At the approach of Philip Martindale -and his party, the boys and girls slunk down -from the windows; the women stayed their -loud talking; the whole multitude buzzed with -low whisperings; and the faces of all were -turned towards the magistrate, who was hastily -dragging the clergyman by his arm, and was -followed at a very respectful distance by the -constable.</p> - -<p>Not staying to make any inquiries, Philip -Martindale hastily opened the door of the -cottage, and leading in Mr. Denver, he turned -round and urged the constable to make haste in. -When he entered the apartment, he saw presently -that one part of the clergyman’s narrative -was incorrect, namely, that which referred to -the murder of old Richard Smith; for there sat -the old man in life and health, but apparently -in a state of great agitation, unable to answer -a word to the impatient and numerous interrogatories<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -of Philip Martindale and Mr. Denver. -A very short interval elapsed, before -there appeared from an inner-room a person -who was likely to be able to give some rational -account of the mystery. This person was a -surgeon. As soon as he heard Mr. Martindale’s -voice, he came forward to explain the affair.</p> - -<p>“Pray, Mr. Davis,” exclaimed the magistrate, -“what is the cause of all this bustle -and confusion? Mr. Denver has been informed -that this poor man was murdered. What has -given rise to such a rumour?”</p> - -<p>“I am happy to say, sir,” replied Mr. Davis, -“that there has been no life lost, though there -was great danger of it; and I fear that this -poor man will suffer seriously from the agitation -which he has undergone. If you will give me -leave, sir, I will tell you all the particulars. -A little better than an hour ago, just as I was -preparing to go my rounds, a boy came running -almost breathless into my surgery, imploring -me to make all the haste I could up to -old Richard Smith’s cottage, for there was a -man there who was so dreadfully wounded that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -he was almost killed. Of course I made the -best of my way here; and when I arrived, I -found the poor man sitting, as he is now, quite -speechless; and while I was endeavouring to -learn from him what was the matter, there -came into the room a gentleman, who spoke -like a foreigner, and asked if I was a surgeon, -and begged me to step into the back room; there -I found upon the bed one of the gipsies that -have been here for some days, just at the edge -of the common. They are gone now, all but -this man. I found, sir, that this man had been -severely wounded with a pistol-ball, and that -he had suffered much from loss of blood. I -immediately dressed the wound, which is by -no means dangerous, and then inquired of the -foreign gentleman what was the cause of the -accident; for I could not get a single word -from the man himself. It appeared, sir, from -the account which the stranger gave me, that -the gipsey had broke into the cottage in -the night, or rather early in the morning, and -that he was threatening to murder this poor -old man if he would not tell where his money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -was. The stranger hearing a noise in the apartment -where Richard Smith slept, listened, and -soon ascertained the cause of it; fearing that -the robber might have fire-arms in his possession, -he seized a pistol, and without farther -thought entered the room, and discharged it -at the robber. The gentleman also informed me -that he heard the voices of persons outside the -cottage, but that after he had discharged the -pistol, they retreated. He tells me that Richard -Smith, in consequence of the fright, has not -been able to speak since.”</p> - -<p>On hearing this account, Philip Martindale -expressed a wish to see the foreigner, of whom -Mr. Davis had made mention; and upon his -introduction, he immediately recognised the -Italian whom he had met in London a day or -two ago. The poor foreigner looked full of -concern for the hasty manner in which he had -acted, and seemed to fear that he had violated -the law. He made many apologies to Philip -Martindale, whom he presently recognised as -a person of some importance; but his mind -was soon set at ease, when he was informed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -that what he had done was perfectly legal. -He then repeated with great energy the obligations -under which he lay to his very good -friend, who had so kindly assisted him in finding -his wife and child.</p> - -<p>The next step was the committal of the -wounded man for burglary; and upon the assurance -of Mr. Davis that he might be safely -moved, the commitment was accordingly made -out; and the stranger, who gave his name as -Giulio Rivolta, was bound over to give evidence -at the trial.</p> - -<p>Matters being thus arranged, Philip and the -clergyman returned to give the old gentleman -a more accurate version of the story than he -had before heard. Mr. Denver underwent, as -was usual, a lecture from the old gentleman, on -the folly of telling stories just as he heard them, -without taking any trouble, to ascertain as he -easily might in most cases, whether those said -stories were true or false. And when the truth -of the matter came to be generally known in -Brigland, every body laughed at every body -for circulating, inventing, and believing improbable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -tales; and all the idle, gossiping -people in the town, went about from house to -house, complaining, bewailing, and lamenting, -that Brigland was the most idle, gossiping, -censorious place in the world. But still it was -insinuated that there was something very mysterious -in the business, which was not yet -brought to light. There was more talk than -ever concerning Richard Smith; and nobody -could recollect when or how he first came to -take up his abode at Brigland.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,</div> -<div class="verse">And to do that well craves a kind of wit;</div> -<div class="verse">He must observe their mood on whom he jests,</div> -<div class="verse">The quality of persons and the time.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The time was now arrived for Brigland -Abbey to become the scene of festivity and -hospitality. Under the direction and with the permission -of old Mr. Martindale, the young tenant-at-will -assembled at his splendid residence a set -of people called his friends; but why they were -called his friends is difficult to say, unless they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -were so designated for want of some other -comprehensive name. Two of the party certainly -were his friends; and well would it have -been for him, had he availed himself more of their -friendship, and been ruled by their advice. We -allude to his father and mother, Lord and Lady -Martindale.</p> - -<p>It is with great pleasure that we introduce -to our readers a pair so truly respectable and -honorable in every point of view. High rank -certainly displays to great advantage those -qualities which it is unable to give. Common-place -minds do very well in common-place -situations. It is sad indeed if they whose time -is fully occupied by the duties of their station, -and whose employments are marked out for -them, should widely or grossly deviate from -propriety: they have, comparatively speaking, -but little room or time for folly. But they -who have the direction of all their time, the -choice of all their pursuits, need great steadiness -of mind, and a strong sense of propriety -to avoid follies and extravagance. They who -have nothing to do have much to think of, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -they need to be vigilant; and when their conduct -is indeed proper and good, then high rank -and the leisure which wealth bestows appear -to great advantage.</p> - -<p>Thus honorable and reputable was the conduct -of Lord and Lady Martindale. His lordship’s -estate was not very large for his rank, -yet quite large enough for him to make a fool -of himself had he been so inclined:—he was -wealthy enough to be his own coachman had he -been so disposed, or to benefit the country by -playing at cards and dice at Newmarket in -order to improve the breed of horses:—he -might have immortalized himself on the canisters -of a snuff-shop, or by the cut of a coat:—he -might have run away with his neighbour’s -wife, or have insulted and neglected his own:—he -might have spent more money upon his -dogs than upon his children:—he might have -sought for distinction through the medium of -cookery, and have become so excessively refined -as to ask if Captain Cook had not in one of his -voyages seen a nation of cannibals who ate roast -beef and drank port wine: and by many other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -fooleries, equally reputable, he might have -tempted the multitude to ask what lords were -made for.</p> - -<p>In like manner her ladyship might have done -her part towards the dilapidation of their property. -She might have spent a year’s income -in a single entertainment:—she might have sent -her jewels to the pawnbroker’s to pay her gambling-debts:—she -might have forgotten the -names and number of her children:—she might -have been so superbly ignorant as not to know -whether the kitchen was at the top of the -house or at the bottom:—she might have played -as many mad pranks as others in high life have -done; but she coveted not that species of notoriety -which arises from violating the principles -of decorum and common sense.</p> - -<p>The life of this truly respectable couple was -not however indebted for its respectability -merely to the absence of vice and folly. They -cultivated positive as well as negative virtues. -When they went into the country, it was for -some better purpose than to be stared at; and -when they resided in town, they did not convert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -their house into a place of public amusement. -The tenants in the country knew of -their landlord’s presence there because they saw -him not only in the field, but in their houses; -and he saw that his steward neither oppressed -the tenants, nor defrauded his master; and the -poor people in the cottages saw him, and the labourers -too could tell him their grievances, if -they had any. Lady Martindale was also actively -benevolent,—not merely giving away a -periodical lot of advertised blankets, or a few -bushels of coals to such as would take the trouble -to fetch them; but she knew to whom her -benevolence was directed, and considered rather -what the poor had need to receive than what -might best suit her to bestow. There was the -same activity of benevolence when they were in -town; and it was regulated there also by the -same principle of propriety, not of convenience -or fashion.</p> - -<p>There was, however, in Lord Martindale one -fault, and that in his son was almost a virtue, -in consequence of its accompaniments—he had -a great share of pride. He never spoke to or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -conversed with any of his inferiors, but that his -style always proclaimed him a man of rank and -consequence. We much doubt if, in the days -when angels visited the sons of men, these heavenly -visitants behaved with much more stately -reserve than did Lord Martindale in his walks -and visits of benevolence; or whether they -showed so great a sense of their superior nature -as he did of his superior rank. In this respect -Lady Martindale had the advantage of -his lordship. Nobody could help noticing her -very graceful and dignified deportment; but the -most humble never felt humiliation in her presence.</p> - -<p>It was a pity that so excellent a couple were -not more fortunate in their eldest son; but it -was happy for them that they were not quite so -much aware of the contrast as some of their -neighbours were. It is not for us to propound -theories of education, nor do we know of any -one system which has been infallible in its application -and universal in its success. We can -only state the fact that Lord and Lady Martindale -did not neglect the moral education of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -their children, nor did they carry discipline so -far as to render re-action a necessary consequence. -They were not low in their tastes, or -headstrong in will; but their eldest son followed -a line of action almost diametrically opposite to -theirs. We do not represent, or at least we have -not designed to represent, the character of -Philip Martindale as being inveterately and -unexceptionably vicious: we do not regard him -as a monster of iniquity, but, according to the -candid interpretation of Mr. Denver, he was -rather a gay young man; and being unfortunately -acquainted with some irregular companions, -he had been occasionally led into follies. -But, to proceed in the candid strain, he had not -a decidedly bad heart; for he was not gratuitously -vicious, and he was not altogether insensible -to the emotions and feelings of humanity. -Yet notwithstanding all our disposition -to candour, we must acknowledge that the -temper, tastes, and conduct of the Hon. Philip -Martindale did occasionally lead him into mortifications -and sorrows.</p> - -<p>We are not expected to enter so minutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -and copiously into the description of the characters -of the other guests at Brigland Abbey, -as we have into the characters of Lord and Lady -Martindale. Of Sir Andrew Featherstone and -his lady and daughters we have already spoken. -Our readers too are not altogether unacquainted -with Sir Gilbert Sampson and his daughter -Celestina. Sir Gilbert and Lord Martindale -were very good friends; and Sir Gilbert was -astonished that Lord Martindale should not be -more sensible of his son’s follies, and Lord Martindale -could hardly think it possible that a man -of Sir Gilbert’s good understanding could tolerate -such ridiculous affectations in his daughter.</p> - -<p>In addition to these guests at the Abbey, -there were also present the Dowager Lady -Woodstock and her four daughters, Anne, Sarah, -Jane, and Mary. Lady Woodstock was the -widow of a baronet, whose services in the navy -the country had repaid with little more than a -title; but we would not say a word in censure of -such economical remunerations, nor, on the other -hand, would be very censorious, if the recompense -had assumed the more solid form of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -noble pension. We have read, and have in our -political feelings profited by reading, the fable -of the old man, his son, and his ass, and we -know how difficult it is to please every body. -We know that if the government does not reward -its servants liberally, they will be very -angry; and we know that if it does reward them -liberally, others will be very angry. But let -that pass. It is, however, a fact, that Lady -Woodstock and her four daughters lived at -Hollywick Priory in very good style, considering -the limited means which they possessed. -They were also very highly respected, and very -much talked about as being persons of very superior -minds and most amiable dispositions. -They had cultivated their understandings; and -indeed the pursuit and enjoyment of literature -was the only occupation in which they could -engage. They had no house in town, nor had -they the means of splendid hospitality in the -country. But what is most to our present purpose, -they were one and all great favorites -with old John Martindale. Lady Woodstock -was a woman of great delicacy of feeling, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -was most scrupulously adverse to any thing like -exhibiting her daughters, or as it were carrying -them to market. It was only in consequence of -the very earnest and almost angry importunity -of the old gentleman that she would consent to -share the festivities of Brigland Abbey. And -when that paragraph appeared in a morning -paper, announcing the approaching nuptials of -the Hon. Philip Martindale and Miss Sampson; -and when she knew that Sir Gilbert and his -daughter were to be of the party, her reluctance -abated. For though Lady Woodstock would -have despised the use, and dreaded the repute, -of stratagem to dispose of her daughters, she -would not have been sorry to have them or any -of them well settled.</p> - -<p>As to the report that old Mr. Martindale -himself had any design of offering his hand to -the widow, the lady herself had not the slightest -suspicion of the existence of such design, or -even of the circulation of any such report. Lady -Woodstock was a person of good sense and extensive -information; but, happily, free from -every species of pedantry; totally unpretending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -and unartificial. She had pursued knowledge -as the means of an agreeable occupation, and -not as a medium of display or exhibition. She -had read much, and had reflected more; so -that her conversation was not the idle echo of -others’ thoughts, but the result of her own -mind’s movements and observation. Under -such direction and tuition, her daughters had -grown up to womanhood.</p> - -<p>The young ladies were not distinguished for -any great share of personal beauty, nor were -they remarkable for any deficiency in that respect. -They were not romantic, nor were they -deficient in sensibility. They could talk well, -but did not utter oracles or speak essays. -They were not merely acquainted with books -but with what books taught. They were also -well aware that the knowledge which they -possessed was in all probability possessed -by others; and that many with whom they -might converse were far better informed than -themselves. They did not set up for literary -ladies on the strength of having read Locke’s -Essay, or being acquainted with a few Italian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -poets. In fact, they had read to good purpose, -and had thought to good purpose too. The -worst of the matter was, there were four of -them; and they were so nearly alike in moral -and mental qualities, and so much together, and -in such perfect confidence with each other, that -there was not opportunity and distinctness enough -for any one of the four to make an impression, and -preserve or strengthen it. For if, by chance, -any susceptible youth, who might be desirous of -choosing a wife for her moral and mental qualities, -should be seated next to or opposite to -Miss Woodstock, and should by hearing very -sensible and unaffected language fall from her -lips, or by observing in her smiles or more -serious looks an indication of excellent moral -feeling, find that his heart was almost captivated; -probably on the following morning chance -might place him near another sister with whose -taste he might be fascinated, and whose most -agreeable manners would make him almost regret -that he had already lost so much of his -heart; and while he might be balancing in his -mind on which of the two his affection should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -rest, a farther acquaintance with the family -would still farther unsettle and embarrass his -judgment; and he would at length conclude -that, as it was impossible to be in love with four, -he could not really be in love with any; and -the result would be general commendation and -respect; and the four young ladies would be -left to enjoy their reputation of being the most -agreeable, unaffected young women living.</p> - -<p>Visiting in the country is what must be done; -but there is some difficulty in managing it well, -and making it perfectly agreeable. The entertainer -must be entertaining, or the entertained -will not be entertained; and the entertained must -endeavour to entertain themselves, or their entertainer -cannot entertain them. The Hon. -Philip Martindale was not the most dexterous -hand at this kind of employment. In fact, he -felt himself not altogether master of his own -house; and the good people who were there -seemed rather to be visiting the house than its -occupier. They did very well at dinner-time. -Then there was amusement for all, adapted to -the meanest capacities. There was also in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -mornings for the gentlemen the pleasure of shooting; -or, more properly and accurately speaking, -the pleasure of looking for something to shoot -at: for as Philip Martindale was not very popular -at Brigland, the poachers made a merit of -plundering him with peculiar diligence. It also -happened that the gentlemen who were at the -Abbey were none of them very keen sportsmen. -Sir Gilbert Sampson carried a gun, and occasionally -discharged it; sometimes successfully, and -sometimes unsuccessfully; and, in the latter -case, Sir Andrew Featherstone laughed at him, -and said it was a sad waste of shot, for powder -alone would make noise enough to frighten the -birds: and then he would ask Philip Martindale -if small shot were not very useful to clean -bottles withal.</p> - -<p>As for old John Martindale, he was so perverse -and obstinate that he would scarcely ever -join the party at the Abbey till dinner-time; -and then he would complain of late hours, and -sit till midnight or later grumbling at the -foolish fashion of turning night into day. Several -mornings were wet, very wet: there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -no getting out of doors, and the Abbey was -very ill-furnished with playthings. The young -ladies could draw. The Miss Featherstones -were adepts especially in architectural drawing. -They sketched the interior of the principal -apartments in the Abbey; and talked very -learnedly of Palladio and Vitruvius, and Sir -Christopher Wren and Mr. Nash, and others. -They thought that Waterloo Place was not -equal to the Parthenon, and St. Paul’s Cathedral -was not equal to St. Peter’s. They -talked about the building in which they were -then sitting, demonstrated that it was the most -beautiful and best proportioned building in the -world, and then proceeded to show how much -more beautiful it might be made. As the -party had nothing else to do, they were very -happy in listening to the architectural lectures -of the Miss Featherstones.</p> - -<p>There were more wet mornings than one; -and as the Miss Featherstones had succeeded -so well once in lecturing on architecture, -they repeated the experiment. It was rather -wearying, but it was better than nothing. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -the morning of which we speak, old John -Martindale was present. Contrary to his usual -practice, the old gentleman made his appearance -soon after breakfast, to congratulate them, -as he said, on a fine wet morning. It appeared -as if his object was to see what the party would -do to amuse themselves and one another. The -Miss Featherstones had recourse to their portfolio -of plans and drawings, and sections, and -elevations; and these they spread out on the -table, in order to excite admiration, and to -prompt discussion. Old Mr. Martindale was -so perverse that he would not take any notice -of the display; and the rest of the company -had already, on a previous occasion, said all -that they had to say. Isabella, the youngest -of the Miss Featherstones, prided herself on -her very superior wisdom, and therefore was -very much disconcerted that any one should -slightingly regard her favorite study; and especially -was she disturbed that Mr. Martindale, -who clearly had so great a taste or fancy for -that pursuit, should behold unmoved, and without -the least affectation of interest, a splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -display of architectural drawings, and give no -heed to the very philosophical remarks which, -in her wisdom, she was making on the various -styles of building. Determining, therefore, to -compel the attention which she could not -attract, she addressed herself directly to the -old gentleman, asking his opinion of a design -which she had drawn for the improvement of -Hovenden Lodge. The answer which the -old gentleman gave was so very uncourteous, -that we almost blush to repeat it. Looking -very sarcastically at the inquirer, he said:</p> - -<p>“Hovenden Lodge, madam, is not yet quite -spoiled by the improvements; but if you take a -little more pains, I think you may make it one -of the most ridiculous buildings in the kingdom.”</p> - -<p>In justice to Mr. Martindale, we are bound -to state that he would not have made such an -observation to every one; but he knew Miss -Isabella, and was sure that no very serious effects -would follow from any severity of remark -which he might make. And the result was as -he had anticipated: for the young lady was not -a whit abashed, but the rather encouraged to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -proceed, and to reply according to the spirit of -the old gentleman’s remark.</p> - -<p>“I think I shall endeavour to persuade papa -to build a gothic front to Hovenden Lodge, in -imitation of Brigland Abbey; and then, Mr. -Martindale, I suppose you will acknowledge that -it is really improved.”</p> - -<p>“And then, Miss Isabella, I will pull down -the front of Brigland Abbey, and supply its -place by an exact imitation of the present front -of Hovenden Lodge; and then it will be a difficult -matter to decide which is the greatest -blockhead, Sir Andrew Featherstone or old -John Martindale.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Mr. Martindale, you are -very polite,” replied Isabella, almost angry at -being outdone in the way of banter.</p> - -<p>“No such thing, madam, I am not polite. I -am not fond of nonsense;” and then, in order to -soften in some degree the apparent ruggedness -of his manner, he added: “But if you have a -taste for architecture, I shall be very happy to -show you some engravings and drawings which -I brought with me from Italy. You shall come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -down to my cottage to-morrow morning, and -you will find some pictures worth looking at.”</p> - -<p>“When were you in Italy, sir? I never -heard of it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not. I was there twenty years -before you were born.” Mr. Martindale then -turned away from the table, and looking out -at window, declared that there was no occasion -for any one to stay within on account of -the weather; and, by way of setting an example -to the rest of the party, he directly walked -out alone. Isabella was pleased at the promise -of poring over some architectural drawings, and -most especially delighted with an opportunity -which seemed to be promised of talking about -Italy. It was a place which she had never -visited, but she was proud of an acquaintance -with its poetry and topography.</p> - -<p>Since the peace of 1815, such myriads of -people have visited France, that Paris has become -as vulgar as Margate. It is most earnestly -to be desired that the plebeian part of the -community will not pollute with their presence, -or profane with their prate, the classic plains,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -groves, temples, and cities of Italy. The establishment -of steam-packets threatens the encroachment; -and then the resource of the fashionable -must be Constantinople; from whence, -perhaps, they ultimately may be driven onwards -to Ispahan and Delhi. The East India Company -will not let them go to Canton.</p> - -<p>The rest of the party gradually dispersed, -most industriously and diligently bent on seeking -some amusement wherewith to while away -the weary hours which must be got rid of by -some means or other before dinner. Let not -the reader lightly regard this fact; for it is one -of the greatest difficulties in the life of some -persons at some periods of the year. There are -to be found in this world not a few who are -abundantly able and willing to reward with -great liberality the genius who should be fortunate -enough to discover or invent an infallible -method of rendering it pleasant or tolerable -to wait for dinner in the country.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,</div> -<div class="verse">And time to speak it in; you rub the sore</div> -<div class="verse">When you should find the plaster.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wandering in various directions, and engaged -in divers pursuits, the visitors at Brigland -Abbey were dispersed, to fill up the -dreary morning hours. To follow them all is -impossible; and to follow most of them would -be uninteresting and uninstructive. Leaving, -therefore, unobserved, all but Lady Woodstock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -and her eldest daughter, who reluctantly suffered -themselves to be accompanied in their -walk by Sir Andrew Featherstone, we will -attend these three in their morning’s ramble.</p> - -<p>With the scenery of the Abbey itself, and -its park, our readers are partly acquainted. -They know that the house stood on an open and -gracefully sloping lawn; and that behind it -rose a dense plantation, or rather wood. This -wood was in one direction very extensive; but -its breadth rendered it little more than a belt, -which divided a tract of uncultivated land from -one which was most highly embellished by art -as well as by nature. In front of the Abbey, -as far as the eye could reach, the land was -highly cultivated, and thickly studded with -trees and human dwellings. At the back of -the wood the land was open and unenclosed; -for the soil, if soil it might be called, was but a -very thin stratum of light earth; through which, -at short intervals, appeared the bare or moss-covered -rock, which was the basis of the whole -district. One part of this open space bore the -name of the Common; and it was partly surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -by a few miserable cottages: beyond -that it bore the name of Brigland Heath. There -was one advantage, however, in this barren -scene; that the ground, being very high, -afforded extensive prospects, keen air, and dry -footing. There had been formerly a passage -through the wood from the park to the common; -but since the erection of the Abbey, that -path was no longer used: there remained, however, -a serpentine-road towards the heath; and -at the end of this road stood one of the park-lodges, -on the borders of the heath; and as the -lodge was built to correspond with the style of -the Abbey, it formed a very beautiful object in -that otherwise dreary situation.</p> - -<p>To this open and extensive heath the three -above-named betook themselves for the sake of -enjoying the fine air and wide scenery. Sir -Andrew Featherstone, who was very ready -with his quaint remarks when any thing was -said or done at all susceptible of ridiculous -construction or comment, was mute as fish, and -awkward as a fish out of water, when his company -was decidedly serious. Though the facetious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -baronet very promptly offered, or rather -urged his services to accompany Lady Woodstock -to the heath, yet before the party had -made much progress, Sir Andrew felt himself -almost weary of his charge. He had made -several attempts at talk, and had failed; and to -the few remarks uttered by the ladies, as he -was not prepared with a lively or witty reply, -he returned none at all, or such a one as did -not by any means promise to be productive of -further colloquy or discussion. Happy to avail -himself of any thing which afforded a prospect -of a subject for discourse, as soon as they had -passed the lodge, the worthy baronet most fortunately -descried at a little distance a great -concourse of people issuing from that part of -the wood which bordered on the common, and -apparently surrounding a funeral procession. -The multitude took the direction towards the -town; and the curiosity of Sir Andrew and his -party being excited by the unusual number of -people who surrounded the procession, took the -same direction, and arrived at the church-yard -almost as soon as the funeral. Curiosity is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -contagious; few can resist the impulse to gaze -upon a spectacle surrounded by many spectators. -The party from the Abbey were curious -to know who and what it was which excited so -very general an interest. They approached as -near as they could, without forming part of the -crowd. They waited till the coffin was deposited -in the earth; and as many of the crowd -stayed to gaze into the grave where the body -was laid, the mourners in returning from the -church-yard were less encumbered by the -curious multitude, so that they were distinctly -visible. The procession of the mourners was -but short, yet several of them were real -mourners. There is something very touching -in the struggle which real sorrow makes to -calm its agitation, and to suppress its tears; -and there sometimes is a strong and deep -feeling which tears or loud laments might -relieve, but which, from a sense of its own -intensity, dares not indulge in those expressions -over which it might have no controul, or in -yielding to which it might be betrayed into -extravagance. This was a feeling which manifestly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -had possession of more than one of the -mourners, who had attracted the curiosity -of Sir Andrew Featherstone and the ladies -that were with him. The keenness of their -sorrow prevented Lady Woodstock and her -daughter from gazing upon them with an eye -of too curious inquiry. To gaze upon the -afflicted without a look of sympathy is very -cruel; and to look with compassion upon the -eye that is full of tears, which it would fain -suppress, does but still more unnerve the sorrowing -heart. Lady Woodstock observed that -the principal mourners were two females, who -appeared, by their resemblance to each other, -to be mother and daughter; and the scene -brought to her recollection the time when she -herself, accompanied by the daughter who was -then leaning on her arm, did, in violation of -the practice of the world, follow to the grave -the remains of her beloved husband: nor were -the recollections of her sorrows painful when -thus brought back to her mind, but the rather -was there a pure and holy pleasure in the tear -which rose to her eye at the thought of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -past, so that she felt more than satisfied at -having in that instance dared to be singular. -Fashion forms pleasant leading-strings for those -minds which are too weak to walk alone. The -mind of Lady Woodstock was not of that -description.</p> - -<p>Sir Andrew Featherstone inquired of one of -the spectators what was the name and character -of the deceased, who seemed to have occupied -so large a share in the interest and sympathy -of the people of Brigland. He was informed -that the name of the departed was Richard -Smith; that he was a poor man whom nobody -knew much about; but that lately a report was -spread abroad that he was a rich man and a -miser, and that, instigated probably by that report, -one of the gipsies that had lately been in -that neighbourhood, had broken into his cottage -with the intent of robbing him; but there happened -to be in the house with him at the time -a foreign officer whose wife was related to -Richard Smith, and this stranger wounded the -gipsey so severely, that he was not able to effect -his escape, and he was therefore sent off to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -county jail; and that the old man was so dreadfully -alarmed, that he soon after died in consequence -of the fright. It appeared also from -the informant, that the unusual number of persons -congregated to witness the funeral was -owing to the singularity of the circumstances -of the old man’s death, and also to the desire -felt to see the foreigner and his family; for the -two females were, one of them the wife, and the -other the daughter of the foreigner. The -youngest of the two was the young woman of -whom mention has before been made, as being -the niece of old Richard Smith. This narrative -happened to be somewhat more correct than -many narratives which are thus picked up by -an accidental inquiry. The account, however, -of the motive which prompted the attendance of -so many spectators of the funeral, in some degree -disappointed the expectation of Lady -Woodstock and her daughter; for they had -promised themselves the pleasure of hearing an -account of some specimen of humble virtue -and extensive benevolent influence in a comparatively -low sphere of life. They could not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -therefore, but painfully smile at the thought -that accident and unessential circumstance -should excite an interest so strong and extensive.</p> - -<p>At all events, serious feelings had been excited -in the minds of the ladies; and even Sir -Andrew himself partook of them, and no longer -tasked his imagination for something remarkably -witty or singular wherewith to amuse his -companions, but very suitably and decently -joined his companions in that species of talk -which minds of their description would naturally -have recourse to on such an occasion. -And really, Sir Andrew could talk very well -and very rationally when he was once set in the -right key; but generally he seemed to think it -necessary, in order to make himself agreeable, -to be always uttering some quaint saying that -should make his hearers laugh. He too often -forgot that that which is very well as seasoning, -is very unpalatable as food. This is a simile -drawn from Sir Andrew’s favorite pursuit, -which was the art of cookery, as we have above -named.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the party was assembled at dinner, it -so happened that the old gentleman, Mr. John -Martindale, took his seat at the side of Lady -Woodstock, or to speak more definitely, caused -Lady Woodstock to take a seat at his side. -Some elderly unmarried gentlemen are remarkable -for their love of monotony and exactness, -always choosing the same seat, and ever going -through the same daily routine. It was quite the -reverse with John Martindale. In his own residence -there was nothing of uniformity, and in -his own habits there was nothing like regularity. -He would sometimes rise at four or five, and -sometimes not till eleven or twelve; and more -than once he has been known to breakfast one -day at the very same hour, at which he had -dined the preceding day. He had the same -crotchet in other houses where he could take -the liberty, and in fact would rarely enter any -house in which he was not so indulged. When -he was at the Abbey, it was his very frequent -practice to take a seat at table before any of the -rest of the party, and to call some one by name -to sit by him; and on these occasions he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -generally very talkative; but if he were silently -inclined, he would go creeping to the lower end -of the table like a humble tolerated guest, and -never speak but when spoken to; and that -was not frequently when amongst those who -were acquainted with his habits. The present -was not the first time that he had so distinguished -Lady Woodstock; indeed, so frequently -on other occasions, and at other tables, had he -singled out this lady, that it is not to be wondered -at that a rumour should have gone abroad of -an intention on the old gentleman’s part to -make her ladyship an offer of his hand. To say -the truth, even Philip himself began to have -some apprehensions, and rather to increase in -his polite attentions to Miss Sampson.</p> - -<p>“Now pray, madam,” said Mr. Martindale, -in a very loud voice, “how have you been -amusing yourself this morning? I suppose you -would have stayed within all the morning studying -architecture, if I had not mercifully driven -you out to breathe a little wholesome air. You -have not such fine air at Hollywick as we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -on the heath. You have been walking that -way I presume.”</p> - -<p>Lady Woodstock gently replied: “Sir Andrew -Featherstone was so polite as to accompany -me and one of my daughters in a ramble -on the heath.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Andrew was very polite, indeed,” replied -Mr. Martindale; “and I have no doubt -you had a most delightful walk. Sir Andrew -made himself very agreeable, I hope; he is a -witty man. But how is it, my good lady, that -you look so unusually grave? Have you been -laughing so heartily at Sir Andrew’s wit, that -you have no more smiles left for us?”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship then explained, and said that -she really did feel rather more serious than -usual. She then related what she had seen -and heard that morning. Mr. Martindale listened -with great attention to her narration, and -as soon as it was concluded, he abruptly turned -round and addressing himself to his relative -exclaimed: “Philip, do you hear that? The -poor old man who brought the action against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -you the other day is dead and buried. Lady -Woodstock has been at his funeral this morning; -and I think you should have been there -too, if you had a spark of grace about you, young -man.”</p> - -<p>“You astonish me, sir,” replied Philip; “I -had not heard that the poor man was ill.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, but you ought to have known it. Did -not you tell me the other day that he was so -terrified at the gipsey breaking into his dwelling -and threatening his life, that he was quite -speechless. You ought to have made inquiries -about him. If the poor man did bring an action -against you, you ought not to bear malice.”</p> - -<p>The Hon. Philip Martindale was most deeply -mortified at being thus lectured at his own -table, and schooled in the presence and hearing -of his guests. To be dependent is bad enough; -but to be thus publicly exposed as it were, is -one of the severest parts of dependence. He -had never felt any thing so mortifying while -he was in chambers in the Temple; and he could -not help thinking that those former acquaintances -towards whom he had carried himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -with proud and haughty reserve, would now -look down on him with a much better grace -than he could ever have looked contemptuously -on them. The feeling of littleness is a very -painful feeling, especially to one who has sacrificed -his independence for the sake of the semblance -of greatness. This was the case with -Philip Martindale, whose dependent condition -was entirely on his part wilful and voluntary. -He had been cautioned by his most -excellent mother, but he gave no heed to her -admonitions. Lord and Lady Martindale felt -on this occasion almost as much mortified as -the young gentleman himself: indeed, there -was at the table a general feeling of awkwardness -and constraint. Philip himself was so far -moved, that though he trusted not himself to -the language of resentment, he could not altogether -suppress a look of indignation at being -thus accused of bearing malice against a poor -old man. After a little interval of embarrassment, -he ventured to say something in vindication -of himself; but the very language and -manner which he used, sufficiently manifested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -that he was fearful of offending the old gentleman, -and left a very unpleasant impression -on the mind of Lady Martindale.</p> - -<p>In the evening of that day, Lady Martindale -took occasion to converse with her son on the -subject of his dependent situation, and to urge -upon him the propriety of renouncing a patronage -of such a mortifying nature. Her reasoning -was very good, and her arguments for the -most part unanswerable. It was very true that -no confidence could be placed in the whims -and caprices of a wealthy old humorist. He -might, notwithstanding his advanced years, -take it into his mind to marry. He might -find out some new favourite on whom he might -bestow the greatest part of his property. He -would in all human probability live many years; -and his capriciousness might, and most likely -would, rather increase than diminish. Lady -Martindale also reminded her son, that the allowance -which he received from the old gentleman -was barely sufficient to meet the increased expenses -of so large an establishment; so that -although he had the honor of living in a splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -mansion, he was rather poorer than richer -by the change. To all this not a word of objection -could be made; but there was an argument -unnamed which had more weight with -the young gentleman than all those which Lady -Martindale had used. He was aware that he -had so far anticipated that he must be indebted -to other means than his own hereditary property, -or the result of his own professional diligence, -to get rid of the encumbrance. It was a -truth, though a painful one, that he could -never keep up his dignity but by continuing his -dependence. His answers, therefore, to Lady -Martindale’s persuasions, were such as gave -her no hopes of success. As for returning to -his profession, his own pride forbade that, and -his “dread of shame among the spirits beneath.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent2">“——Whilst I remember</div> -<div class="verse">Her and her virtues, I cannot forget</div> -<div class="verse">My blemishes in them.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In pursuance of the promise made by old -Mr. Martindale, Miss Isabella Featherstone, and -others of the party who had no other amusement -in view, went the following morning to -the cottage to look over the prints and drawings. -The old gentleman had no light task to -find and set in order his dispersed treasures: -for his pictures were, as his books, in every -part of the house, not even excepting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -kitchen. He had risen early in order to find -them; and it had been to him a task not without -labour, though accompanied also with some -powerful and interesting feelings. He had -been looking back to past times and to years -long gone by. He had been conversing with -his former self, and had revived the forms of -old acquaintances long since dead. He saw -them again, and heard them again: their faces -gleamed upon him through the lines of many -an old engraving. He saw again, after dust -had long covered, and darkness had long concealed -them, drawings of many a palace in -Rome, in Naples, in Venice, from the contemplation -of which he had imbibed his love -of architecture; and he began, as he looked -back into the past, to entertain some feelings of -regret. Almost every body looks back to the -past with regret, especially old bachelors. By -this employment the feelings of the old gentleman -were greatly excited, and he began to -be almost sentimental; so that when his visitors -arrived at his cottage, he received them, not -as usual with the odd manners of a humorist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -but with a most courteous and old-fashioned -politeness.</p> - -<p>Isabella Featherstone observed his altered -manner, and supposed that he was endeavouring -to make amends for his abrupt and uncourteous -manner of the preceding day. All the party, -indeed, thought that a remarkable change had -taken place in Mr. Martindale, but no one -thought of attributing the change to any thing -else than a little caprice. Isabella took great -pains to show how ready she was to accept the -practical apology, which she conceived was -thus offered by the old gentleman. She talked -therefore with more than her usual fluency, and -exclaimed with more than usual rapture at -every thing which could at all vindicate or allow -of rapturous exclamation. The remains of antiquity, -the works of modern art, the heathen -temple or Christian church, were in their turns -all complimented to the utmost of the young -lady’s power of eloquence. Unmeaning compliments -are inexhaustible; and well it is that -they are so, or the great abundance and almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -infinite variety which was drawn forth from -Mr. Martindale’s portfolios would have puzzled -and perplexed the flatterer. To all this -commendatory language the old gentleman was -silent; and the party, who could not but notice -the fluency of Isabella’s compliments, began to -tremble for her, thinking that the old gentleman -was silently meditating some keen satirical -retort; the usual coin in which such geniuses -as he repay the volubility of superabundant -compliment. But their fears and apprehensions -were unfounded. The young lady continued -unexhausted and unreproved.</p> - -<p>To examine a very large collection of prints -and drawings, especially when an interest is -felt or affected, occupies no inconsiderable portion -of time. So the morning was rapidly -passing away, and might have been entirely -consumed by this amusement, had it not been -for an interruption which put a stop to their -employment.</p> - -<p>A servant announced that the Rev. Mr. -Denver and another gentleman wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -speak with Mr. Martindale on particular business. -The old gentleman was not best pleased -with the interruption. Impatiently asking the -servant into which room he had introduced the -gentlemen, he immediately followed the man -out of the apartment; and such was his haste, -that he never thought to put out of his hand -an engraving which he was just about to show -to his party, but carried the print with him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver introduced to Mr. Martindale -with great parade Colonel Rivolta, whom he -described as having recently made his escape -from the continent, where he was exposed to -persecution, if not to death, on account of his -political opinions. The reverend gentleman -then proceeded to state, that the Colonel had -previously to his own arrival in England sent -over his wife and daughter, whom he had -committed to the care of Richard Smith; that -with them he had also transmitted some property, -which old Richard had invested for their -use and benefit; that unfortunately the very -first night of the Colonel’s arrival at Brigland, -the cottage in which Richard Smith dwelt had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -been entered by the gipsey, of whom mention -has been already made; that in consequence of -that event the poor old man had been so -seriously alarmed, that he had been totally -unable to attend to any thing, and that he had -died, leaving this poor foreigner in a strange -land, not knowing how to proceed as to the -recovery of his little property. Under these -circumstances, Mr. Denver had taken the -liberty of introducing the poor man to Mr. -Martindale; knowing from the general benevolence -of his disposition, and from his acquaintance -with practical affairs, that he would -be best able to counsel and assist the foreigner -in his present difficulties.</p> - -<p>This appeal to the vanity and virtues of the -old gentleman compensated for the interruption -which had taken him from his company. And, -indeed, we must do Mr. Martindale the justice -to acknowledge that there really was a considerable -share of benevolent feeling in the constitution -of his mind, though that benevolence -was attended, as it not unfrequently happens, -by a very competent share of conceit. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -indeed very happy in performing acts of kindness, -and also very happy in enjoying the reputation -of those acts. This is a failing which -moralists ought to treat with much gentleness -and consideration; for it does a great deal for -those countless and useful institutions which -are supported by voluntary contributions. Forgetting -then the company which he had left, -the old gentleman began to enter very freely -and fully into the concerns of the foreigner, and -to offer his best services to assist him in his difficulties. -He soon found, however, upon inquiry, -that there was not really so much difficulty -as Mr. Denver had imagined or represented; -and he was not altogether displeased -at the opportunity thus afforded to him of ridiculing -the clergyman for his ignorance of matters -of business. It is indeed a sad fact, that -so many of this order are quite ignorant of the -affairs of common life in those points where -they might often be of essential service to their -parishioners. One should imagine that some -little knowledge of this kind might be advantageously -acquired even by the sacrifice, were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -it necessary, of some of that energy and time -devoted to dactyls and spondees, or to hares -and partridges. But we must take the world as -we find it, and be thankful that it is no worse.</p> - -<p>The information and direction which the -stranger sought were soon communicated to -him, and most thankfully received by him. He -then was rising to take leave and repeat his -grateful acknowledgments, when his eye was -arrested by the print which Mr. Martindale -held in his hand, and which he had unrolled -while he was talking. As soon as the Colonel -saw the picture, he recognised the scene which -it represented, and uttered an ejaculation, indicative -of surprise and pleasure. Mr. Martindale -then, for the first time, observed the print, -and noticed its subject: he also looked upon it -with surprise, but not with pleasure; and then -he asked the stranger if that scene were familiar -to him. With very great emotion the -Colonel replied:</p> - -<p>“That scene brings to my recollection the -happiest day of my life.”</p> - -<p>For a few seconds the party were totally silent;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -for the clergyman and the foreigner were -struck dumb with astonishment at the altered -looks of the old gentleman, and were surprised -to see him crushing the picture in both his -hands. He then, as if with an effort of great -resolution, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“And it brings to my recollection the most -miserable day of my life.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver was not used to emotions; he -was quite perplexed what to do, whether he -should sympathise or retire. He very wisely -and very calmly begged Mr. Martindale not to -be agitated. That was a very rational request; -but, unfortunately, when persons are in a state -of agitation, they are not in a condition to attend -to rational requests. Colonel Rivolta was more -accustomed to the sight and expression of strong -emotions, and he did not make any rational request; -but turning towards the old gentleman, -with a look of kindness and sympathy, he said:</p> - -<p>“Ah, sir! I am sorry, very sorry, that I have -caused you to think again of your miseries. -But your lot is now in prosperity. Ah, sir! we -are all liable to calamity: it is sad to think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -the many pains of life; but your sorrow, sir, is -no doubt without reproach to yourself.”</p> - -<p>The agitation of the old gentleman abated, -and he replied: “I thank you for your kindness, -sir, but my sorrow arises from self-reproach. -I have inflicted injuries which can -never be redressed.”</p> - -<p>He hesitated, as if wishing, but dreading to -say more. Then changing the tone of his -voice, as if he were about to speak on some -totally different subject, he continued addressing -himself to Colonel Rivolta:</p> - -<p>“I presume, sir, you are a native of Genoa, -or you are very familiar with that city.”</p> - -<p>“I was born,” replied the foreigner, “at -Naples; but very early in life I was removed to -Genoa, that I might be engaged in merchandise; -for my patrimony was very small, and my relations -would have despised me, had I endeavoured -by any occupation to gain a livelihood in my -native city.”</p> - -<p>“Then you were not originally destined for -the army.”</p> - -<p>“I was not; but after I had been some few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -years in Genoa, I began to grow weary of the -pursuits of merchandise, and indeed to feel -some of that pride of which I had accused my -relations, and I thought that I should be satisfied -with very little if I might be free from the occupation -of the merchant; and while I was so -thinking, I met by chance an old acquaintance -who persuaded me to undertake the profession -of arms, to which I was indeed not reluctant. -And so I left my merchandise, and -did not see Genoa again for nearly two years. -It was then that I was so much interested in -that scene which the picture portrays; for in a -very small house which is in the same street, -and directly opposite to that palace, there lived -an old woman, whose name was.…”</p> - -<p>The attention of the old gentleman had been -powerfully arrested by the commencement of the -Italian’s narrative; and he listened very calmly -till the narrator arrived at the point when he -was about to mention the name of the old -woman who lived opposite to the palace in question: -then was Mr. Martindale again excited,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -and without waiting for the conclusion of the -sentence, interrupted it by exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Ah! what! do you know that old woman? -Is she living? Where is she?—Stop—no—let -me see—impossible!—Why I must be nearly -seventy—yes—Are you sure? Is not her name -Bianchi?”</p> - -<p>To this hurried and confused mass of interrogation, -the Colonel replied that her name was -Bianchi; but that she had died nearly twenty -years ago, at a very advanced age, being at the -time of her death nearly ninety years of age. -Hearing this, the old gentleman assumed a great -calmness and composure of manner, though he -trembled as if in an ague; and turning to the -astonished clergyman, who was pleasing himself -with the anticipation of some catastrophe or -anecdote which might form a fine subject for -town-talk, he very deliberately said:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Denver, I beg I may not intrude any -longer on your valuable time. This gentleman, -I find, can give me some account of an old acquaintance -of mine. The inquiries may not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -interesting to you. Make my best compliments -to Mrs. Denver.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Denver was so much in the habit of -being dismissed at short notice from his audiences -with Mr. Martindale, that he did not -think any thing of this kind of language; but -he was sadly disappointed at being sent away -just at the moment that some important discovery -seemed about to be made; for it was -very obvious from the manner in which Mr. -Martindale had interrogated the foreigner, and -from the very great emotion which he had manifested, -that the old gentleman had something -more to inquire about than merely an old acquaintance. -Mr. Denver, indeed, had little -doubt, whatever might be the object of the -disclosure about to be made, that he should -ultimately come into possession of a knowledge -of the fact; but it was painful to be put -off to a future period, it was a suffering to have -his curiosity strongly excited and not immediately -gratified. In order, however, to insure -as early a relief as possible, he had no sooner -taken his leave of Mr. Martindale, than he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -dropped a hint to Colonel Rivolta, that he -should be happy to see him again at the parsonage -as soon as possible.</p> - -<p>When this good man was withdrawn, Mr. -Martindale requested the stranger to be seated; -and unmindful of the guests whom he had -left to amuse themselves and each other, he -commenced very deliberately to examine the -foreigner concerning those matters which had -so strongly excited his feelings.</p> - -<p>“You tell me,” said Mr. Martindale, “that -the old woman Bianchi has been dead nearly -twenty years. Now, my good friend, can you -inform me how long you were acquainted with -this old woman before her death.”</p> - -<p>“I knew her,” replied the Colonel, “only -for about four years before she died.”</p> - -<p>“And had you much intimacy with her, so -as to hear her talk about former days.”</p> - -<p>“Very often, indeed,” replied the foreigner, -“did she talk about the past; for as her age -was very great, and her memory was very good, -it was great interest to hear her tell of ancient -things; and she was a woman of most excellent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -understanding, and very benevolent in her disposition. -Indeed, I can say that I loved the -old woman much, very much indeed. I was -sorry at her death.”</p> - -<p>“But tell me,” said Mr. Martindale impatiently, -“did you ever hear her say any thing -of an infant—an orphan that was committed to -her care nearly forty years ago?”</p> - -<p>At this question, the eyes of the stranger -brightened, and his face was overspread with a -smile of delight, when he replied: “Oh yes, -much indeed, much indeed! that orphan is my -wife.”</p> - -<p>This rapidity of explanation was almost too -much for the old gentleman’s feelings. His -limbs had been trembling with the agitation -arising from thus reverting to days and events -long passed; and he had entertained some hope -from the language of the foreigner, that he -might gain some intelligence concerning one -that had been forgotten, but whose image was -again revived in his memory. He had thought -but lightly in the days of his youth of that -which he then called folly, but more seriously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -in the days of his age of that same conduct -which then he called vice. It would have been -happiness to his soul, could an opportunity have -been afforded him of making something like -amends to the representatives of the injured, -even though the injured had been long asleep -in the grave. When all at once, therefore, the -intelligence burst upon him, that one was living -in whom he possessed an interest, and over -whose destiny he should have watched, but -whom he had neglected and forgotten, he felt -his soul melt within him; and well it was for -him that he found relief in tears. Surprised -beyond measure was Colonel Rivolta, when -he observed the effect produced on Mr. Martindale, -and heard the old gentleman say with -trembling voice:</p> - -<p>“And that orphan, sir, is my daughter.” He -paused for a minute or two, and his companion -was too much astonished and interested to interrupt -him: recovering himself, he continued: -“For many years after that child was born, I -had not the means of making any other provision -for it than placing it under the care of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -the old woman of whom we have been speaking. -I gave her such compensation as my circumstances -then allowed; and as the mother of the -child died soon after the birth of the infant, I -thought myself freed from all farther responsibility -when I had made provision for the infant. -I endeavoured, indeed, to forget the event altogether; -and as I wished to form a respectable -connexion in marriage, I took especial care to -conceal this transgression. However, various -circumstances prevented me from time to time -from entering into the married state; and having -within the last twelve years come into the possession -of larger property than I had ever anticipated, -it occurred to me that there should -be living at Genoa a child of mine, then indeed -long past childhood. I wrote to Genoa, -and had no answer; I went to Genoa, and could -find no trace either of my child or of the old -woman to whose care I had entrusted her; and -I was grieved not so much for the loss of my -child, as for the lack of an opportunity of -making some amends for my crime. I am delighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -to hear that she lives. To-morrow I -will see her.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Rivolta scarcely believed his senses. -He was indeed very sure that the person whom -he had married was described as an orphan of -English parents, and he had no reason to imagine -that Mr. Martindale was attempting to -deceive him. It was, indeed, a great discovery -to him that he had married the daughter of -an English gentleman of great fortune; and -perhaps under all circumstances the foreigner -was most delighted of the two at the discovery: -for thereby he had insured to himself a -friend and protector when he most needed one; -and he was happy at the thought that his own -child would thus have a powerful friend, and be -preserved from the dangers and snares with which -he might think that she would be otherwise surrounded; -and with whatever sentiments Mr. -Martindale might regard the discovery of his -daughter, it may be easily imagined that Colonel -Rivolta’s child, over whom he had constantly -watched with the utmost care and anxiety, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -far more affectionately interesting to him than -was the daughter of Mr. Martindale to her -parent, who had never seen her since her infancy, -and who had never paid her any attention, but -had almost endeavoured to forget her. It appeared -indeed very singular to the Colonel, that -Mr. Martindale should so patiently wait till the -following day before he would see his newly-discovered -daughter. But the old gentleman -was a great oddity, and a most unaccountable -being; and so any one would have thought who -had seen him after this interview with the -foreigner calmly return to his company, and -amuse himself with looking over his portfolios -of pictures. So however he did; and when this -agitation was over, he was more cheerful than -before, and quite as full as ever of whims and -humours.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“——reason, my son,</div> -<div class="verse">Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,</div> -<div class="verse">The father (all whose joy is nothing else</div> -<div class="verse">But fair posterity) should hold some counsel</div> -<div class="verse">In such business.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The interview between Mr. Martindale and -his newly-discovered daughter took place according -to his own arrangement on the following -day. Inquiries were abundantly made, and -explanations entered into, by which the identity -of the parties was ascertained. There was, -however, little or nothing of that outrageous -and passionate exhibition which is so frequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -represented as attending such discoveries. Mr -Martindale himself had given way to strong -emotions on the preceding day, the ground of -which emotions was rather remorse than affection: -not that he was incapable of affection, or -insensible to its claims; but age makes a difference -in the mode of expressing affection; and -the old gentleman had never been in the way of -that habitual intercourse which gives to sentiments -of love their strength and feeling. Mothers -who have watched over the dawnings of -an infant mind, and assisted in the development -of the growing powers and expanding affections -of their offspring, can and do remember through -a long long life, and after a very long separation -and absence, the endearing and delightful -thoughts and feelings which occupied their souls -when attending their infant charge, and they -cannot see without strong emotion those features -ripened into maturity in which they had -taken delight in infancy; and even fathers who -have watched a mother’s care, and participated -in a mother’s interests, do, after many years, -ay, even through life, retain the sentiments of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -love and deep affection which an infant interest -has excited; but that pure pleasure belongs not -to him who has never taken a pure paternal interest -in his own offspring. Let this or any -other theory which the reader’s better judgment -may suggest, account for the fact that the meeting -between Mr. Martindale and his daughter -was not productive of any thing like a scene. -This, however, is true, that the old gentleman -was very much pleased, both with his daughter -and grand-daughter. With the latter, our readers -are already acquainted.</p> - -<p>As we have introduced Signora Rivolta to her -father, it may not be amiss to introduce her also -to our readers.</p> - -<p>Comparatively little interest can be felt in the -personal description of a lady who has passed -the season of youth; but there are some women -who have ceased to be young, without ceasing -to be personally interesting. Of this number -was Signora Rivolta. Her style and manner -was such as to inspire respect. There was -about her a certain graceful and becoming -stateliness which only one of her cast of features<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -and mould of figure could with propriety -assume. Her hair and eyes were dark; her -face oval; her eyebrows finely arched; her look -rather downcast. To speak classically, or heathenishly, -there was in her more of Minerva -than of Venus; and more of Juno than of -either. Her voice was exquisitely sweet; its -tones were full, and its modulation graceful. -Hers was the voice which Horatio Markham -heard when he stood with old Mr. Martindale -near the door of old Richard Smith’s cottage; -and it was her hand which touched the lute -that accompanied her voice; and hers was the -ivory crucifix which the young barrister carelessly -threw down, and which the young woman -so hastily picked up.</p> - -<p>At the discovery of his daughter, and her -interesting appearance, Mr. Martindale was -much pleased; and though no dramatic raptures -marked their first interview, the old gentleman -was relieved from a painful mental burden -which weighed heavily on his spirits, and which, -while it sometimes rendered him morose, sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -goaded him also to the opposite extreme -of false levity and an artificial humour. It -was this circumstance, to which might be -attributed those eccentricities of manner, which -led some observers to imagine that the old -gentleman was not sound in his intellects. Still, -however, the essential oddity of his character -was not to be removed by any changes; and a -very curious manifestation of that oddity he -gave at this interview with his daughter and -grand-daughter, when he abruptly asked the -former if she had been brought up in the -religion of the Roman Catholic church; to -this question, she replied in the affirmative. -Thereupon the old gentleman was disturbed, -and he said:</p> - -<p>“And is your daughter also educated in the -same persuasion?”</p> - -<p>“She is,” replied Signora Rivolta; “for in -what other religion could or ought she to be -educated? From the professors of that religion -I received my first impulses to devotion, and -from their kindness I experienced protection,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -and from their good counsel I had guidance. -I love that religion.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” observed Mr. Martindale, -“that is all very natural, to be sure—I can say -nothing against that; but it is a pity that, now -you are likely to remain in England, you should -not become a Protestant. I have no objection -to your religion, only there is so much bigotry -about it.”</p> - -<p>“We think it important truth, and we cannot -be indifferent to it; and we are desirous of -bringing all to the knowledge of the truth, that -all may be saved.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, that is my objection to your religion; -you think that nobody can be saved but -those who adopt your opinions—now I call that -bigotry.”</p> - -<p>“Then, sir, I fear that your church lies under -the same reproach, for many of its formularies -seem to indicate the same view of salvation.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, there may be some such language -in the prayer-book and articles, but they were -drawn up in times when men were not so -enlightened as they are now; and it does not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -follow that all Protestants should exactly -follow every minute shade of opinion or doctrine -there laid down.”</p> - -<p>Some men have been so ungallant as to say -that they would never condescend to reason -with a woman: if Mr. Martindale had made -the same determination, it would have saved -him some trouble; for in this conversation, -which was extended to a much greater length -than we are desirous of pursuing it, Mr. Martindale -had much the worst of the argument, -though not the worst side of the question. His -misfortune was, that he was totally ignorant of -the nature of the Roman Catholic religion, and -very little better informed concerning that -faith which he himself professed. It is a -practice too common to be greatly reprobated, -for persons to argue with great earnestness and -fluency on those subjects of which they are -almost totally ignorant. But, on the other -hand, if persons would never begin or pertinaciously -continue an argument till they had -made themselves fully acquainted with the -subject, then there would be a great lack of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -discussion, and the publication of controversial -treatises would greatly fall off; and there would -perhaps be a mighty deficiency in the article -of zeal. But it is needless to anticipate ills -which may never befall us; and we may venture -to bid defiance to the genius of pantology, -however loudly it may threaten to illuminate -every mind.</p> - -<p>Having stated that Mr. Martindale had the -happiness of discovering his daughter, it will be -superfluous to say that he forthwith made preparation -for her establishment in the possession -of such means as might place her in a style of -life more suitable to her condition than a little -lone cottage. But there was a change very -naturally, though very quietly, taking place in -the old gentleman’s mind and in his feelings towards -the Hon. Philip Martindale. He could -not now think of making this gentleman his -heir. In Signora Rivolta there was evidently -a prior claim. As yet, however, the young -gentleman at the Abbey was ignorant of the new -discovery; and what is more, he was not even -aware of the existence of any such person as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -Signora Rivolta; nor did he suspect that any -such discovery was within the compass of probability.</p> - -<p>By what the Rev. Mr. Denver had heard, -and by what the wife of that said gentleman -had told to Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint, and by -what Mrs. Denver and Mrs. Price and Mrs. -Flint had told to every body within the reach of -their knowledge, the whole town of Brigland -was full of confused rumours and reports of some -great calamity having befallen Mr. John Martindale. -Some said that he had lost all his property; -some said that he had only lost half; some -had it that old Richard Smith, who had lately -died, had been discovered to be Mr. Martindale’s -elder brother, and that all his immense -property must descend to the young woman -his niece. The reports at last found their way -to the housekeeper’s room at the Abbey; and the -trusty Oliver trembled when he was very credibly -and circumstantially informed that, in consequence -of the death of old Richard Smith, some -papers or parchments, or some something, had -been discovered, by which it appeared that old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -Mr. Martindale had no right to the large property -which he had so long possessed. It is the -peculiar privilege of rogues always to fear the -worst in doubtful matters. This privilege Oliver -now abundantly enjoyed. Not wishing to -keep all his news to himself, he took the first -opportunity of speaking to his master; and in -order to break the matter gently to him, and -not all at once to overwhelm him with the fatal -intelligence, he began by asking:</p> - -<p>“Have you heard any bad news lately, -sir?”</p> - -<p>“Bad news,” hastily asked Mr. Philip, -“no; what do you mean?—what kind of bad -news? Do you allude to the report that the old -gentleman is going to be married to Lady -Woodstock?”</p> - -<p>“Oh dear no, sir; it is a great deal worse -than that: but I hope it is not true; yet I am -sure I had it from very good authority, and it -is not likely such a thing should be invented.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, don’t stand prating and prosing, -but tell me at once what it is.”</p> - -<p>The trusty Oliver shook his head and sighed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -“It is nothing more nor less, sir, than that -some deeds have been discovered at old -Richard Smith’s cottage since the poor man’s -death, by which it appears that Mr. Martindale -has no right to the property he now -possesses.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” replied the Hon. Philip Martindale, -“who told you that fool’s tale? Do you -think that I should not have heard of it, if such -had been the fact?”</p> - -<p>“Why, sir, I heard it from a gentleman who -had it from Mrs. Denver; and Mr. Denver himself -was present when the discovery was made. -It was only yesterday that the matter came out; -and Mr. Denver went down to the cottage to -Mr. Martindale to tell him all about it. The -gentleman who claims the property went with -him; and Mr. Martindale has been at Richard -Smith’s this morning. The real owner of the -property comes from Italy.”</p> - -<p>At this part of the information communicated -by Oliver, the young gentleman began to be in -doubt whether there might not be something -serious in the report; for he recollected some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -talk of old Martindale’s visit to Genoa, and of -his anxiety to discover if some one was living -there or not. He also called to mind much that -had been said to him by Lady Martindale, dissuading -him from taking up his abode at the -Abbey, and placing himself in a state of dependence. -He remembered distinctly and vividly -the tone and expression with which his anxious -mother had said to him, “Now, my dear Philip, -before you decide on this step, think seriously -how you shall be able to bear a reverse, if by any -change the wealth of your cousin Martindale -should take a different direction, either by his -own caprice, or by changes over which he has no -controul.” He recollected that this caution was -uttered more than once or twice. He considered -it therefore as in some measure prophetic. He -also recollected that the old gentleman had been -very silent and absent at dinner the day before; -and from what Miss Isabella Featherstone had -said, it seemed very manifest that some serious -interruption had occurred when the party were -looking over the pictures at the cottage. There -was also to be added to this, his own knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -of the fact that Mr. Martindale had that very -morning paid a very long visit to the cottage of -the late Richard Smith. All these circumstances -put together did, to say the least of it, -greatly perplex and puzzle the mind of the -young gentleman. He dismissed the trusty -Oliver from his presence; and when alone, he -began to meditate, plan, arrange, and conjecture, -till he found himself in a complete wilderness -of perplexities, and a labyrinth of contending -thoughts.</p> - -<p>His meditations, however, availed him not. -There was not the least glimmering of light in -any direction; and the longer he thought, the -more he was perplexed. The only bearable conclusion -at which he could arrive was one of very -equivocal consolation; namely, it was possible -that things might not be quite so bad as they -had been represented.</p> - -<p>Not long had he been alone, before his solitude -was invaded by Lord Martindale. -“Philip,” said his lordship, “you look grave -this morning. Has any thing occurred to disturb -you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<p>Philip made an abortive attempt to put on a -look of cheerfulness, as he replied to his question: -“You would not wish, sir, that I should -never look grave. Perhaps, sir, I may have -lost my heart.”</p> - -<p>His lordship looked grave in his turn, and -very solemnly said: “Ah! you are not serious! -To whom, I beg to know, have you lost your -heart? This is an affair on which I should -have been consulted.”</p> - -<p>“I do not say positively that I have lost my -heart,” replied Philip, “I was speaking hypothetically.”</p> - -<p>“Hypothetically?” echoed his lordship; -“well then let me know who it is, or may be, -that has had such power over your mind, or -that may be supposed capable of making so -great a conquest.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose it should be Isabella Featherstone,” -replied Philip; but in such a manner -as abundantly proved that the supposition was -perfectly gratuitous.</p> - -<p>His lordship shook his head; and then, with -very great earnestness of manner, said to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -son: “Philip, let me speak to you seriously -and as a friend. I would not have you rely -too confidently on the expectation of inheriting -your cousin’s estate. I have my reasons -for what I say, and it is for your welfare that -I speak. The Featherstones are a very respectable -and an old family, but you must look for -something more than mere family; you cannot -keep up the dignity of your rank without an -accession, and a very considerable accession of -fortune, which you cannot have from the Featherstones. -I wish I could persuade you to -apply yourself to public business; I am sure -you might make a good figure in the house, -and provide for yourself far better and more -honorably than by living in a state of dependence.”</p> - -<p>Philip, for the first time in his life, heard -patiently this exhortation; and greatly to the -surprise and satisfaction of his lordship, went -so far as to say, that he would take the matter -into serious consideration. So pleased was -Lord Martindale even with this faint promise, -that he hasted immediately to communicate the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -same to Lady Martindale. The first dinner-bell -was ringing as Lord Martindale left his -son’s apartment; and at nearly the same -instant, Mr. John Martindale entered it.</p> - -<p>There appeared to be a cloud on the old -man’s brow; and there was a manifest coolness -in his manner as he entered the apartment, -and said to the young gentleman:</p> - -<p>“Now, young man, I am going to pay you -greater attention than you paid to me the other -day. I am going to London; and I come to -let you know. I have made some discoveries, -of which you shall know more hereafter. At -present, all I can say is, I am going to London; -and I must request that you will make some -apology to our guests for my sudden departure.”</p> - -<p>“You are not going to-day, sir; it is near -dinner-time,” replied Mr. Philip.</p> - -<p>“I can’t help that,” replied the old gentleman; -“then you must dine without me; and -if any excuse is needed for my absence, you -must invent one; or if you are at a loss for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -lie, peradventure Oliver can help you to one. -I have no time for any more prate, so farewell.”</p> - -<p>Thus speaking, the queer old gentleman left -the room; and poor Mr. Philip found himself -in a very sad and sorrowful perplexity at his -departure; especially, coupled as it was with -such reports abroad, and such language from -the old gentleman himself. The last sentence -of all, in which allusion was made to Oliver’s -inventive faculty, most closely touched the -honorable tenant of Brigland Abbey; though -the fact is, that Mr. John Martindale did not -thereby design any particular or express allusion -to any one individual part of Oliver’s -conduct, yet in this light the young gentleman -regarded it; and it therefore grieved him, -and gave him an additional impulse towards -thoughts and efforts of independence. But -there were obstacles and impediments in the way -which he could not mention to Lord Martindale; -and if they had been known, his lordship -would not have found it an easy task to remove<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -them. The considerations dwelt heavily on the -mind of the young gentleman, and made him -regret that he had been so long acting the part -of a simpleton.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title-leaf,</div> -<div class="verse">Foretels the nature of a tragic volume.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is not to be supposed that Oliver should -keep the secret which he had heard without the -assistance of some of his fellow-servants; and if -the servants of the house had kept the secret -from the servants of the visitors, they would -have been guilty of a gross breach of hospitality; -and when a gentleman is in a stable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -or a lady in a dressing-room, the distance between -them and their respective servants is not -so great but that the parties are within hearing -of each other.</p> - -<p>When, therefore, the party assembled at dinner, -Mr. Philip found himself under no necessity -of tasking either his own or Oliver’s inventive -powers to account for the absence of Mr. -John Martindale. Not one made any inquiry. -This universal silence was very ominous to -Philip; he very naturally supposed that the -secret, whatever it was, had been divulged. -He laboured hard to seem at ease; but that -was no easy task. The party at table felt themselves -also under some kind of restraint, so that -their talk was very abrupt and unconnected. -Could any one think it possible? but it really -is a fact, that the guests were almost dying -for an opportunity of talking one to another -concerning the strange news which they had -heard; and they were prepared with some notable -aphorism on pride and extravagance ready -to be shot forth as soon as the person should by -his absence give them leave to speak.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> - -<p>As for the Hon. Philip Martindale himself, a -variety of thoughts, hopes, fears, and conjectures, -were passing through his mind; but none -of them remained long enough there to be -soberly and seriously considered, or to produce -any composure or settled plan. There was, indeed, -one thought which was most frequently -springing up amidst the general agitation, and -that was the thought of Miss Sampson; and so -little command had he over the movements of -his own mind, that he found himself paying a -more than ordinary degree of attention to that -young lady. Lord and Lady Martindale could -not fail to notice this; and to the former it was -not quite so unpleasant as might have been -supposed, from the well-known high and lofty -notions which his lordship entertained on the -subject of the dignity of high rank. For though -Lord Martindale venerated nobility and high -birth, he knew that there also needed some -other appurtenances to render greatness really -and permanently imposing. He also knew that -the estate which was destined to keep up the -honour of the title was scarcely competent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -that great task. He also knew that there was -not quite so much destined for his successor as -his successor imagined; and he was well aware -of the sad necessity which had frequently compelled -persons of higher rank than himself to -condescend to ennoble plebeian blood “for a -consideration.” As to the present posture of affairs, -his lordship was not much surprised at -the rumors which he had heard; he knew that -the property in question had descended rather -unexpectedly on its present possessor, and he -was also prepared for any disappointment which -his own son might experience from the caprice -of his relative. His fears, indeed, of disappointment -to his son arose from an expectation -that Mr. John Martindale might marry, and -thus find a new set of connexions that would -have a powerful influence on his decisions and -arrangements concerning his property. Having -then heard that another claimant had started -for that property, and observing that the old -gentleman had been more than usually attentive -to Lady Woodstock, he thought it was time -that his son should make some provision for himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -With as good a grace as might be, he -therefore resigned himself to the thought that -Miss Sampson might be allowed the honor of -becoming the Hon. Mrs. P. Martindale.</p> - -<p>We are not, indeed, prepared to say that all -this was effected in his lordship’s mind without -a considerable effort and a powerful conflict. -Necessity, it is said, has no law. It would be -more correct to say, that necessity is the most -arbitrary and powerful lawgiver. Lord Martindale -was very much to be pitied, and so was -Mr. Philip. But calamities of this kind will -sometimes overtake nobility: by a variety of -circumstances, which need not be enumerated, -there will be often occurring a painful necessity -of repairing dilapidated fortunes by intermarriages -with plebeians. It does not occur to us -at present how this dreadful calamity can be -avoided. There are certainly public stations -with high salaries and easy duties; these help a -little, but comparatively very little; and there -are some of those offices which really require -men of understanding and application to fill -them; and we fear that such is the seditious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -and discontented spirit of the times, that the -people would grumble at any very great multiplication -of places of no use but to those who -fill them. Yet, upon second thoughts, there -are certain laws, such for instance as the game-laws, -which are made expressly and obviously -for the amusement of the higher classes; might -not some legislative arrangement be contrived, -which should, on the same exclusive principle, -prevent the nobility from intermarrying with -plebeians in order to repair the broken fortunes? -Seeing that the nobility, and its peculiar privileges, -and its high and mighty purity, is one of -the great blessings of our constitution, forming -a grand reservoir of political wisdom, surely -the people would not be very reluctant to contribute -liberally towards an arrangement which -should be the means of preventing the said nobility -from receiving contamination from intermarriages -with plebeians. We only suggest -that some contrivance might be made; but what -contrivance we must leave to the sagacity of -wiser heads than our own, and to those who are -more interested in it than we are.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is enough for our present purpose that -this arrangement is not yet made; and that in -consequence of the want of a suitable supply, -poor Philip Martindale was placed under the -disagreeable necessity of paying great attention -to Miss Sampson; and poor Lord Martindale -was also under the same necessity of submitting -to see and approve it.</p> - -<p>We have already spoken of Miss Sampson, -and have said or intimated that she was not a -fool. We have also spoken of Sir Gilbert -Sampson, and we have acknowledged that he -was a man of good understanding. Miss -Sampson had been an indulged child; some -called her a spoiled child, but we do not admit -that indulgence always spoils children. There -is a great deal depending on the manner in -which indulgence is administered. Indulgence -or strictness in the hands of a simpleton may be -made equally injurious. Miss Sampson certainly -had not been snubbed, lectured, scolded -at, talked to, and dragged about all her life in -leading-strings; and Miss Sampson was certainly -a thoughtless, good-tempered creature,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -not overburdened with taste, and not always so -very attentive to minuter observances as many -others of her own station; but whether she -would have been any more thoughtful and -reserved by a continued course of sloppy, -sleepy, prosy, common-place lecturing, is very -doubtful. Miss Sampson and her father were -by no means proud, resentful, or suspicious. -For though they both had heard the rumor -touching the probable evanescence of Mr. John -Martindale’s property; and though they both -might have had reason to suppose that only -property could induce Mr. Philip to make -advances of a serious nature, and though he -had once before paid, and afterwards discontinued -his attentions, yet Sir Gilbert Sampson, -who was a sensible man, and Miss Sampson, -who was not a fool, were pleased with the very -particular notice taken of the latter under present -circumstances. The parties were therefore -quits; for if it was manifest to Miss -Sampson that Philip Martindale’s affection for -her was only founded on her property, it was -as manifest to Philip Martindale that Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -Sampson’s regard for him could only be on -account of his title.</p> - -<p>When the following day dawned upon the -Abbey of Brigland, and the guests there visiting -had an opportunity, unconstrained by the -presence of the tenant of the great house, to -discuss and discourse upon the interesting topic -of the discovery of the preceding day, various -and wise were the observations which they -made; but one of the wisest of all was, that it -would be desirable for them to hasten their -departure; for it occurred to them that Mr. -Philip might prefer being alone, now he had so -much to occupy his thoughts. Sir Andrew -Featherstone and his family recollected that it -was absolutely necessary that they should be at -home in a day or two, for they were expecting -company. The Misses Woodstock also thought -that it was very rude of Mr. John Martindale -to take his departure so suddenly, and leave -them without an apology; and Lady Woodstock -thought that, though visiting at the -Abbey, her visit was rather to Mr. John Martindale -than to Mr. Philip; and even Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -Gilbert and Miss Sampson thought that they -should be better able to ascertain Mr. Philip’s -intentions by taking their departure than by -prolonging their visit; and as the time was -nearly arrived that they should have taken -their leave in the ordinary course of things, the -making a movement a day or two sooner might -not be a matter of such great moment. In -fact, there was among the whole party an -unpleasant and awkward kind of restraint, -which they could only get rid of by separation; -and they certainly had a right to be offended at -Mr. John Martindale for his rudeness in leaving -so abruptly, and not giving any explanation, or -even saying when he should return. Lady -Featherstone was the first of the party who -started the subject of departure; and when it -was mentioned, or rather hinted, to Mr. Philip, -he did not receive the intelligence with any -affectation of concern; and thus the matter -was easily managed by the rest of the party, -who soon took leave, excepting, of course, Lord -and Lady Martindale. The worthy persons -who took their departure rather hastily, made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -up their minds to forgive old Mr. Martindale -for his rudeness, provided that it should turn -out that he had not lost any very considerable -part of his fortune.</p> - -<p>Being now left to his own meditations, and -the good counsel of his father and mother, the -Hon. Philip Martindale began to employ himself -in deliberating on what steps it would be -prudent for him to take in the present conjuncture -of affairs. As yet, he knew nothing -for certainty. It was still possible that the -story circulating in Brigland, and brought to -his ears by the trusty and honest Oliver, might -not be altogether correct, and he might yet be -able to keep himself pure from the degradation -of marrying below his rank, provided he took -care not to give offence to the old gentleman; -and yet when he thought of the very cool and -abrupt manner in which his cousin had announced -his design of going hastily to London, -and of his allusion to the capacity of Oliver for -invention, he feared that some of his own proceedings -were not unknown to his relative, and -that they had effected an alienation of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -regards. He knew well enough the eagerness -with which all idle reports are received and -circulated, without any regard to their truth -or even probability, and therefore he considered -that it would be a fruitless toil to interrogate -Mr. Denver, or any of the people in the town -upon the subject; and indeed, he did not think -such proceeding very consistent with his dignity.</p> - -<p>It occurred to his mind, however, that it -might not be very unsuitable just to look in -at the cottage where old Richard Smith used -to live; for Mr. John Martindale had rebuked -his relative for neglect in this matter. He -took, therefore, an early opportunity of walking -round by the heath, to avoid passing through -the town; and he called at the cottage. The -door was fastened, and he was under the necessity -of making a long loud knocking before -he could obtain admittance; at length, the door -was opened from within by a little old woman -who was as deaf as a post, or who affected to -be so. Very little information indeed could he -extract from her. He learned, however, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -his cousin had not gone alone, but that there -were three persons with him from the cottage; -and that of these three, one was the young -woman who was called the niece of Richard -Smith, and the other two were the father and -mother of the young woman. He also ascertained -that the cottage was no longer to be -occupied by these persons, and that it was not -expected that any one of them should return to -Brigland. Whether in this party was the -claimant to the old gentleman’s property was -not to be ascertained; and indeed that question -was not directly asked, and the old woman did -not seem at all inclined to answer any questions -which were not loudly, decidedly, and frequently -repeated. Philip amused himself with looking -at the drawings which decorated the cottage-walls, -and he was surprised to see such decorations -in such a place; but he soon found an -interpretation of that difficulty when he observed -the scenes which they represented, and -when he recollected the Italian officer whom -he had met in London. Now, though he had, -as we have observed above, some faint recollection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -of having heard something of old Mr. -Martindale’s voyage to Genoa in search of -some individual or other, who, for aught he -knew to the contrary, might be a claimant, -but he could not see how property in England -should be claimed by a native Italian, as Colonel -Rivolta clearly was. Very little information, -therefore, did he acquire, and no satisfaction -could he gain by this visit to the cottage.</p> - -<p>In spite, however, of all his feeling of dignity -and propriety, he felt an irresistible propensity -to call on Mr. Denver, who, as a public intelligencer, -was certainly one of the most able men -in the town of Brigland. The very polite and -exquisitely courteous manner in which the reverend -perpetual curate received the tenant of -the Abbey, was not at all indicative of falling -fortunes or painful change of circumstance. -Low as usual did he bow, graciously as ever -did he smile. Courtesy and politeness, however, -were essential and component parts of -Mr. Denver’s constitution. We cannot say -quite so much of the Hon. Philip Martindale; -for his style of address was abrupt, and his manners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -very unceremonious; and so far was he from -endeavouring to correct this habit, that he was -in a measure absolutely proud of it. Receiving -Mr. Denver’s homage as due to his own exalted -rank and dignified character, he began his inquiries -by lamenting the death of poor Richard -Smith, and expressing a hope that the poor -man had had proper medical assistance in his -illness. To all this a satisfactory answer was -given, accompanied, as was very suitable and -regular, with a compliment to Mr. Philip’s -very great kindness and condescension. The -inquirer then proceeded to throw out an intimation, -that it would be very agreeable to him -to be informed as to who and what the stranger -was, who had recently taken up his abode at -the old man’s cottage. As far as Mr. Denver -knew, he informed Mr. Philip; telling him also -the particulars of the interview at Mr. John -Martindale’s residence, as we have already narrated -it. For we will do Mr. Denver the justice -to say of him, that although he was now -and then unconsciously guilty of circulating an -incorrect narrative, he was never deliberately and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -wilfully guilty of fabricating one. Whatever -he himself had seen and heard, he told, according -to the best of his ability, as he saw and heard -it. But if, as it sometimes happened, he heard -Mrs. Denver, Mrs. Price, and Mrs. Flint, all -talking together, and telling in one voice him -and one another the same story, but with diversified -embellishment and frequent mutual contradiction, -many interruptions, and various repetitions -and emendations; then, poor man, he -was certainly to be forgiven, if his second-hand -repetition of such story should not be altogether -coherent in its parts, lucid in its arrangement, -or exquisitely veracious in every particular. -Nor should we severely condemn him, if, with -a laudable eagerness to administer early intelligence, -he should now and then run away with -an ill-understood tale only heard by halves. -Thus it often happens, that those newspapers -which are proud of their early intelligence, are -occasionally exposed to the temptation of inserting -that which needs contradiction.</p> - -<p>When Philip Martindale had thus fairly -committed himself as an inquirer, he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -into the subject very fully; and from all that -he could learn from Mr. Denver, there did not -appear to be any very powerful evidence of the -existence of any claimant of the Martindale -property; but it was at the same time very -clear that Mr. John Martindale was gone to -London, and that these three people had gone -with him, and that they had all gone in his own -carriage. Now it was not likely that the old -gentleman should carry the oddity of his humor -so far as to accommodate a claimant of his -property with the use of his own carriage. -There was a mystery in all this not to be solved. -Philip’s inquiries were fruitless, therefore, at -Mr. Denver’s; and all that he had ascertained -was, that nobody knew what was the cause of -the extraordinary movements of his extraordinary -relative.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent1">“Such is the weakness of all mortal hope,</div> -<div class="verse">So fickle is the state of earthly things,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That ere they come into their aimed scope,</div> -<div class="verse">They fall so short of our fraile reckonings,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Spenser.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When any extraordinary event occurs in -which one is deeply interested, the person concerned -need not take much pains in his endeavours -to find it out—it will soon reveal itself. -So did it happen to Philip Martindale. But -the information did not come upon him all at -once—it was gradually developed like the catastrophe -of a well-told tale.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<p>One of the first indications that all was not -right towards him in the matter of the Martindale -property was, that a few days after the -departure of the old gentleman, some letters -arrived, which required an answer not convenient -for him to give. These letters came all -together by a very remarkable coincidence; -and indeed it was very remarkable that so -many of the Hon. Philip Martindale’s creditors -should be all at once most unaccountably -pressed for money to make up a heavy payment. -But there is no accounting for coincidences. -By this unpleasant indication of unpleasant -news, the young gentleman was mightily -disturbed. We do not however mean to -insinuate that it was not in Mr. Philip’s -power to stop the importunities of the above-named -creditors by satisfying their claims; but -as the October meeting at Newmarket was so -very near at hand, and as he had horses to run -at that meeting, it was absolutely and indispensably -necessary for him to make a reserve -to meet the exigences of that important concern. -Still, however, it was disagreeable to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -feelings to have the annoyance of such applications, -and it occurred to him that he would once -more have recourse to the children of Israel -previously to the meeting at Newmarket; and -with this intention he again visited the metropolis. -On this excursion he could very -conscientiously set out without informing his -cousin, as the old gentleman was in London himself. -Mr. Philip, indeed, had no wish to meet -his worthy relative in town, and he had not -much fear of such an accident.</p> - -<p>He lost no time when he arrived in town, but -made the best of his way to his well-known resort, -and found his kind accommodating friend -at home, but wearing an altered countenance. -Heavy complaints were heard, and gloomy -looks were seen, and it was altogether impossible -just at that unfortunate crisis to afford any -accommodation.—“That was the unkindest -cut of all.”</p> - -<p>Very properly resenting this insult, he speedily -left the house; and being guided by his own -knowledge as well as by the reports of others, -he hastened to bestow his patronage on another -of the same profession. But the Hon. Philip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -Martindale of Brigland Abbey was not, it appeared, -at that time a name in high repute with -that class of gentry who observe the strictest -honor and secrecy in their transactions; and -he had the mortification to find that his journey -to London had been of no avail, and was not -likely to be productive of any thing beneficial. -Some people would, under these circumstances, -have been disgusted with the world, and have -retired to a hermitage, thinking that all their -fellow-creatures were so worthless and unprincipled -as not to be worth noticing or fit to live -with. But happily in this instance for the Hon. -Philip Martindale, he was not so easily disgusted -with the world; he was under great -obligations to it, and hoped to be under more. -It is certainly a very pleasant thing to have -a good opinion of oneself, but it is pleasanter -to have that opinion positively than comparatively; -and to quarrel with all the world at once -is no great proof either of wisdom or virtue. -Besides, Mr. Philip knew that half a dozen -tradesmen, and half as many money-lenders, -were not all the world.</p> - -<p>The old proverb concerning misfortunes not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -coming singly, seemed to be about to be verified -in the case of Philip Martindale; for as he was -thoughtfully pacing the streets of the great city, -and thinking of the various ills of life, and wondering -how it should come to pass that a gentleman -called the honorable, and residing in a -magnificent mansion, and being heir-apparent -to a title, and being nearly related to and a -great favorite of a person of enormous wealth, -should not be comfortable and satisfied in his -own feelings as one residing in an inn of court, -and giving much of his days to the dry study of -the law. As he was thus meditating with himself, -and communing with his own thoughts, he -was roused from his reverie by the sound of the -well-known voice of old John Martindale; for -the old gentleman had just left the Bank at the -moment that his cousin was passing it. With -no very pleasant feeling did Philip return the -old gentleman’s greeting.</p> - -<p>“So you have come to town to look after -me, Master Philip. But who would have -thought of meeting you in this part of the -world? What, have you any sly money transactions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -or are you come to look after some rich -citizen’s daughter. Or, perhaps, you have been -at my hotel, and you were directed here to find -me. But is your company all gone? Is it not -rather rude to leave them? Well, but I hope -you will not stay long in town; for there are -sad doings at the Abbey when you are out. -The other day, when you went to the archery -nonsense at Hovenden, I actually found a -couple of fellows smoking their filthy pipes in -the great hall at the Abbey, and I had much -ado to send them out of the house. Oliver told -me they were drunk. They had the impudence -to call themselves sheriffs’ officers. Now, I do -not like this.”</p> - -<p>The old gentleman had talked himself almost -out of breath, and it was well for the young -gentleman that the old one did not like the -sound of any one’s voice so well as that of his -own. Philip was one of those conscientious -people who endeavour as much as possible to -avoid all unnecessary lies; and when he wished -to deceive, he preferred the circuitous shuffling -mode of equivocation to a plain downright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -honest lie. In some cases he found a difficulty -in escaping by this contrivance; and this difficulty -he would have found in the instance in -question, had not old Mr. Martindale been too -much taken up with other thoughts and other -interests than those of Philip Martindale and -Brigland Abbey. But in truth he had been so -much delighted with his newly-discovered -daughter, that he took no very lively interest in -any thing else. At their first meeting there -were, as we said, no very extraordinary raptures -or dramatic exhibition; but as they grew -better acquainted, the old gentleman was -charmed with the mild good sense and amiable -manners of Signora Rivolta, and was greatly -pleased with the intelligence and meekness of -his grand-daughter Clara. Even Colonel Rivolta, -though he had commenced life in a mercantile -line, and had spent his best days in the -army, yet was not destitute of information and -literary taste. But the Hon. Philip Martindale, -though born a gentleman, educated at an -English university, and destined for the legal -profession, was, notwithstanding all these advantages,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -by no means attached to literature, or -endowed with any great share of taste. The -old gentleman therefore had not been much -delighted with his society, inasmuch as his conversation -was either grievously common-place, -or concerning those sports in which Mr. John -Martindale took no interest. Serious rivals -therefore had started up to engross the notice -of the opulent relative. This fact was known -very quickly to those whom it concerned; viz. -the gentlemen of the strictest honor and -secrecy. Theirs, indeed, would be but a bad -business, if they could not now and then get -possession of early intelligence and important -secrets.</p> - -<p>Very briefly did Mr. John Martindale inform -his cousin of the discovery which he had recently -made; and requesting, or rather commanding -the young gentleman to enter the carriage, -they proceeded westward, towards Mr. Martindale’s -hotel. In the middle of the day the -streets of the city of London, though very -unfavorable for conversation, so far as foot-passengers -are concerned, afford peculiar advantages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -and opportunities for this purpose to -those who ride in carriages; for the multitude -of vehicles, and their frequent misarrangement, -very conveniently retards progress. Philip -Martindale wished himself at home in Brigland -Abbey, or quietly perusing briefs in his chambers -at the Temple, or any where rather than -where he was. But there was no escape for -him.</p> - -<p>“Now, Philip,” said the old gentleman, “I -am going to introduce you to your new relations, -or at least to mine, for I suppose you -will hardly condescend to acknowledge them.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be very happy, sir, to see, and very -proud to own, any relations of yours.” So said -the Hon. Philip Martindale; but his heart and -lips were sadly at variance. He was not very -well pleased that such relations existed; and it -would not be very agreeable to him to be on -terms of acquaintance, as he certainly must if -his cousin commanded him, with persons of low -and vulgar minds as he supposed these new -relatives must be. The old gentleman suspecting -that his high-minded relative was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -fancying that the persons in question were of -low caste, in consequence of their having been -discovered in a cottage with a poor man, -replied:</p> - -<p>“And I will tell you what, young man, -they are not persons of whom you need to be -ashamed. Colonel Rivolta held a very respectable -station in the army, though he did fight for -that fellow Bonaparte; and his wife, who is my -daughter, is as well informed and well behaved -a woman as ever I saw in my life. The young -woman, I believe, you have seen before.”</p> - -<p>Philip did not like the tone in which the -latter part of this sentence was uttered, and -perhaps there was not a possibility of uttering -it in any tone that should be agreeable. Many -other topics of conversation were introduced, -none of which were very agreeable; and even -that which the old gentleman uttered with great -glee, as being a matter of great interest and good -tidings to his cousin, was by no means agreeable -to the young gentleman. After having talked -some little time on the subject of his discovered -daughter, and as if fearing that his honorable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -cousin might apprehend from this discovery -some ill fortune to himself, with the kind purpose -of banishing such fear, he observed:</p> - -<p>“But you need not be jealous, Philip; I shall -not forget you: so make your mind easy.”</p> - -<p>There is a wonderful difference, thought -Philip, between making a man his heir and not -forgetting him. Now, this not forgetting appeared -to him more cruel and tormenting than -entirely discarding him. It is very true that -Mr. John Martindale had made no absolute -promise that Philip should be his heir; and -even if he had made the promise, and had -violated it, there was no such thing as prosecuting -him for breach of promise. He had -merely given strong indications that such was -his intention. Persons who are very rich, and -have no legal heirs, may entertain themselves -very much at the expense of hungry expectants -and lean legacy-hunters. Who has -not seen a poor dog standing on his hind legs, -and bobbing up and down after a bone scarcely -worth picking, with which some mischief-loving -varlet has tantalised the poor animal till all its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -limbs have ached? That poor dog shadows out -the legacy-hunter or possible heir. Every -body has a right to do as he pleases with his -own property, so far as concerns the disposition -of unentailed estates; and every body has a -right to do a great number of actions which -may render his fellow-creatures miserable and -uncomfortable. Very few of the annoyances -to which man is exposed from his fellow-men -have a remedy from law. To be sure, it may -be said that the legacy-hunter is a simpleton -for giving another power over him; but, alas! -how could a young man, situated as the Hon. -Philip Martindale, help himself. As he himself -observed to his mother, “if I refuse the offer -of the Abbey, I may so far offend the old -gentleman, as to induce him to leave his property -elsewhere.” But the young gentleman -forgot that accepting the offer might, and very -naturally would, lead him into many difficulties, -and fix him as a dependent. He afterwards -discovered this, when it was too late to find a -remedy for the evil. But to proceed with our -narrative.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - -<p>After Mr. Martindale the elder had addressed -what he thought an encouraging speech -to his cousin, he called out to the coachman to -stop when they were near to Temple Bar. The -old gentleman then alighted, saying, he would -return in a few minutes; and in a very few -minutes did he return, bringing with him a -gentleman whom Philip had seen before. This -was no other than Horatio Markham. Now -here was another mortification. Thus the poor -man was annoyed with one trouble after another; -and thus his mortifications increased upon -him, and all because he must support the dignity -of his rank. He could not be uncivil to -Markham, nor indeed did he wish to be so. -He had said, and that very sincerely, that there -was nothing at all objectionable in Markham’s -speech at the trial. He had been rather -pleased with it than otherwise; he thought it -far better than that of his own counsellor; and -he had observed to several persons that there -were some spouting prigs at the bar, that in a -cause like that would have represented the defendant -as a demon of incomparable malignity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -and would have smothered him with a countless -accumulation of awkward metaphors. He had -said that Markham had shown much good sense -in stating his case clearly and strongly, and -without any of that school-boy slang, and those -theme-like declamations by which some ill-judging -ranters seem rather to seek the applauses -of a tasteless mob than to apply themselves -to that which may benefit a client. All -this he had said, and all this he had really and -truly thought; but he had no wish for all that -to be brought into immediately close contact -and intimacy with the person of whom he had -said it. He respected Markham as a young -man of good understanding and sound judgment; -but he had no particular desire to be acquainted -with all young men of good understanding -and sound judgment. Still, however, -he behaved civilly to Markham; and recollecting -what his cousin had told him, that the young -barrister was about to carry his legal talents to -another part of the world, he on this account -behaved to him with the less reserve, because -there was not much danger of soon meeting him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -again, or being much troubled with his acquaintance. -On the other hand, Horatio -Markham, knowing or shrewdly suspecting the -character and disposition of the gentleman to -whom he was introduced, did not give himself -any pedantic or professional airs, but with a -very becoming and gentleman-like distance -quietly entered into common-place talk, directing -himself more to the elder of the two with whom -he had been previously acquainted, than with -the younger to whom he had been but recently -introduced. Philip Martindale, therefore, began -actually to like his new acquaintance, who -was agreeable because he did not take any especial -pains to make himself so, and who appeared -to be well-informed because he did not -studiously make a display of his knowledge. -Now Philip, who could not tolerate any pedantry -but the pedantry of rank, and that pedantry -only in himself, was pleased with Markham for -the absence of pedantry and affectation.</p> - -<p>After a long and tedious rumbling, the carriage -deposited the party at a hotel in the -neighbourhood of St. James’s Square. Most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -agreeably disappointed was Philip when he was -introduced to Signora Rivolta. There was no -appearance of vulgarity or plebeianism about her. -There was nothing in her style which indicated a -disposition or tendency to impertinent encroachment; -but, on the contrary, her most excellent -and graceful carriage seemed as that of one -conferring, not receiving a patronage. In Clara -Rivolta, the daughter, he recognised that sweet -prettiness which had first attracted his disrespectful -attention; but there was added to this, a kind -of mild dignity, a steady and calm self-possession, -which appeared much more obviously and -impressively under change of circumstances. -In Signora Rivolta there was much more stateliness -than in Clara; but there was a charm in -the general expression of the features, gait, and -manner of the latter, not easily described. -There was nothing of pertness in her self-possession, -and there was not the slightest -appearance of or the remotest approach towards -artificialness in any one part of her carriage and -demeanour. Philip was not much in the habit of -falling in love, nor was he frequently thrown into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -raptures by intellectual and moral charms; yet -in the present instance he was very much struck -both with the mother and daughter. Irresistibly -was he led to behave to both with most respectful -deference, and he for a moment forgot that these -charming women would in all probability deprive -him of the inheritance which otherwise seemed -destined for him. Why could he not make an -offer of his hand to Clara? What obstacle could -there be to interfere with his success? Would -his cousin object to it? Not likely. It would -be a very convenient match, so far as pecuniary -arrangements were concerned, and might save -the old gentleman some trouble in disposing of -his property. As for Miss Sampson, there -might be a disappointment to her in such a -step; but her fortune would not suffer her to -wear the willow long.</p> - -<p>Thoughts of this kind occupied the mind of -the heir of Lord Martindale, and this seemed -the most agreeable plan which he could possibly -adopt to get rid of his difficulties. Before -the day closed, he had made up his mind it -should be so. In contemplating this new arrangement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -he forgot to take one thing into -consideration, that is, the probable consent of -the young lady; and he also forgot or neglected -to observe one thing, that is, the very particular -attention paid to the young lady by Horatio -Markham. It is pleasant to be deceived, and -so we sometimes deceive ourselves, if nobody -else will take the pains to do it for us. Very -completely did Mr. Philip deceive himself in -the idea that scarcely any thing was wanting to -effect an union between Clara Rivolta and himself, -save his own consent. He considered not -that a young woman under twenty years of age, -of secluded habits and of reflecting turn of mind, -of calm good sense and of a feeling and sensible -soul, unused to the fashions and flurries -and formalities and flatteries of the great world, -would entertain a very different idea of love -from that entertained by a young gentleman -between twenty and thirty, whose expectations -were mortgaged to money-lenders—whose pleasures -were the turf and the ring—whose spirit -was agitated with gambling—whose motive for -marrying was the means to keep up the dignity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -of his rank. He might have thought it possible -that Clara Rivolta could not love the Hon. -Philip Martindale, and he might also have -thought it as possible that she would not marry -him if she did not love him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Oh, for a horse with wings!”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“We must find</div> -<div class="verse">An evident calamity, though we had</div> -<div class="verse">Our wish, which side should win.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Philip Martindale was very glad that -his cousin had not asked any importunate questions -concerning the motive of his journey to -London, but he was very sorry that the journey -had been fruitless. He was desirous of returning -as soon as possible to Brigland, that he -might there discuss with Lord and Lady Martindale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -whom he had left at the Abbey, the -important matter which had occupied his -thoughts, as described at the close of the last -chapter. For as yet they knew nothing of the -discovery of Mr. John Martindale’s daughter; -and their impression concerning the young -gentleman’s journey to town was, that he had -been there with a view of endeavouring to -ascertain the real meaning and origin of the -rumours which were afloat as touching their -opulent relative. Philip, on his return to -Brigland, explained the whole affair.</p> - -<p>Thereupon serious looks were assumed by -Lord and Lady Martindale, and those serious -looks reflected by their honorable son. They -were all three greatly perplexed—they all three -uttered many wise sayings—they all three talked -the matter over with great deliberation—they all -three resolved and concluded that something -must be done; but they were all three at a loss -to know what must be done. Looking at one -another was not the best way to get over their -perplexities, and yet it is what people often do -in perplexities; nor was there any progress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -made by the simultaneous and harmonious expression -of wishing that matters had been -otherwise. The past will not return, and that -which is done cannot be undone. There is no -great wisdom in this discovery; the merit is in -applying it to practical purposes. A great -deal of time is lost, and a great deal of trouble -and pains incurred, for want of the wisdom -which the above truism would teach. Lady -Martindale repeated what she had said before, -as to the impolicy of Philip’s accepting the old -gentleman’s offer of the Abbey. Philip repeated -what he had said before, namely, that -he might have offended and alienated the old -gentleman by a refusal. Lord Martindale repeated, -that there was some truth and propriety -in what they both said. Still they were -no nearer to a conclusion promising any satisfaction.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this perplexity, Philip -thought it would be a good time to propose -his own scheme for getting rid of all the difficulty -by offering his hand to Clara Rivolta. -He was not, however, without his fears that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -proposal would not be acceptable to Lord and -Lady Martindale: he therefore approached -the subject cautiously and circuitously. After -a little pause, and with a change of tone and -altered look, as if the question of what must be -done had been adjourned and a new topic called, -he began to talk of the meeting with these newly-discovered -relatives in such a manner as to lead -Lady Martindale to ask particularly as to their -appearance and manner. To this inquiry he -gave such an answer as impressed her ladyship -with a higher opinion of them all three than he -had actually expressed in his description of them. -He uttered his compliments in the tone and -with the air of concession, and his language -was circuitous, so that it did not appear purposely -directed to the object of exciting a high -opinion of the party. When he spoke of Signora -Rivolta, he did not say that her style was truly -noble and commanding, but he said that her -style and address reminded him of the Hon. -Mrs. B——, or of Lady Charlotte D——. Then -he added some little qualification of the comparison; -but the qualification was rather in favor -of the daughter of John Martindale, so far as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -the taste of Lady Martindale was concerned; -for it is a notorious fact that all sensible people -think differently from the rest of the world. -Therefore, if there be in any character or individual -a little more or a little less than what -the world in general is supposed to consider the -medium of excellence, sensible people rather -admire such excess or defect. Sensible people, -for instance, may admire that eccentricity -which is not according to the popular standard. -Some may admire rather more than the -standard allowance of pride, or prefer a little -deficiency in the article of meekness. Philip -was well acquainted with his mother’s taste in -all these matters, and therefore he extolled the -ladies to his mother’s mind, though he did not -loudly praise them to her ear; for he spoke of -the daughter after the same manner as he had -spoken of the mother.</p> - -<p>Another pause following this part of the conversation, -gave an opportunity to Lord Martindale -to suggest that it might perhaps be advisable -for Philip to marry the young foreigner, -and thus to have a double hold on Mr. John -Martindale’s affections. This proposal was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -artfully insinuated into his lordship’s mind by -the manner in which Philip had spoken of the -high esteem in which Mr. John Martindale appeared -to hold his new family. When his lordship -had spoken, Philip did not reply, waiting -for Lady Martindale’s opinion, which was generally -of more weight in the family than that -of his lordship. No answer being given, the -question was repeated.</p> - -<p>Philip then replied, that what his lordship -had said was perfectly true; the property of -Mr. John Martindale would be clearly secured -by this arrangement, and so far as the young lady -was concerned, there could be no objection on -the ground of style and manner, or of education.</p> - -<p>This was said hesitatingly, so that his lordship -was under the necessity of asking what -other objection there could be; to which Mr. -Philip ventured to mention the circumstance of -her mother’s birth. Now this on Philip’s part -was a very affected refinement; but it was said -for Lady Martindale’s ear, who then replied, -that such objection was fastidious indeed, if the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -ladies were such as they had been described. -The greatest objection to such a step was, in -her opinion, that it was not quite so sure of -answering the purpose in point of property as -they imagined. There was no answering for -caprice; and it was possible that the property -might be so left, as that Philip might have no -power over it.</p> - -<p>This objection staggered the young gentleman’s -resolution, and rendered his scheme not -so totally unexceptionable as he had imagined -it to be. He looked thoughtful; and Lady -Martindale continued, saying, that after all this -plan would but increase and perpetuate her -son’s dependence: that so long as he was unmarried, -an opportunity might occur for him to -marry a fortune, and place himself out of the -power of Mr. John Martindale’s caprice. But -again Philip replied, that if he should marry a -fortune, and not please his cousin by his marriage, -he should then lose all expectation from -him, and that there were very few fortunes accessible -that would compensate for the loss of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -Mr. John Martindale’s friendship. The whole -deliberation at last concluded without coming -to any definite conclusion.</p> - -<p>Lady Martindale repeated, and Lord Martindale -coincided with her in the opinion, that the -wisest scheme of all would be, that Philip -should give himself to public business, and that -then he might be independent without forfeiting -the friendship of his cousin. But Philip could -not get the Jews out of his head, and the Jews -could not get Philip out of their books.</p> - -<p>In this unpleasant state of mind the honorable -gentleman continued for several days; during -which time Mr. John Martindale remained still -in London, highly delighted with his Italian -relatives, and exhibiting them wherever he -could, though at that time of year there was -comparatively little opportunity of displaying -them. Philip made inquiries at his cousin’s -cottage every morning, but no intelligence concerning -the old gentleman could be procured. -Lord and Lady Martindale took their leave of -the Abbey, and Philip promised to join them in -London before the end of January, by which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -time, perhaps, something might occur which -would decide him as to what steps he should -take.</p> - -<p>The day at length arrived for the Newmarket -meeting. Much business was expected to be -transacted, and some very fine races were anticipated. -The town was delightfully full, and -Philip was in all his glory. He thought not of -the Jews, or any of his other creditors. The -charms of Clara Rivolta were forgotten; and -the lively Celestina would have been forgotten -too, but she was present on the ground.</p> - -<p>The barouche of Sir Gilbert Sampson was -most conveniently placed; and on the box -thereof sat Celestina Sampson at her father’s -side, and within were two other young ladies -attended by the fragrant Henry Augustus Tippetson. -The morning was fine, and the ground -was brilliant. Rank, beauty, and fashion were -there; the cream of English nobility; the stars -of English beauty; souls of the first order; the -pride of that nation which is the pride of the -world. Glorious was the object for which they -were assembled, and deep was the feeling with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -which their minds were animated. Who could -look without emotion, or think without interest, -on a scene like this? Where should our hereditary -legislators, our modern Solons and Lycurguses, -so well learn the science of government -as in converse with black-legs and stable-boys? -What occupation so befitting the most -noble, the right honorable of the land—the -superfine part of the species—the arbiters of -the world’s destiny—the brightest lights of the -collective wisdom of the nation—as the spending -of princely fortunes to see how much faster -one horse can run than another? And when -the horses start, and while they are straining all -their sinews, and while one rogue or another -is trying how much he can make of the simpletons -there, how intense is the interest! Every -eye is strained, every neck is stretched, -breathing is almost suspended, and the heart is -almost afraid to beat; and when the great event -is decided, then how many purses change hands, -and how many blockheads go home again repenting -their folly. But let that pass. It is -enough for us here to state that the Hon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -Philip Martindale was the winner, and that to -a very considerable amount. He received the -congratulations of his friends. Sir Gilbert and -Miss Sampson congratulated him. Henry Augustus -Tippetson congratulated him. Philip, -however, had many accounts to settle; some on -one side, and some on the other. There was -not one to whom he lost a bet who found -any inconvenience in receiving it—there were -a few of whom he won who found it inconvenient -to pay. Some of those to whom he -paid were so very desirous that he should win -again what he had lost, that they politely and -considerately invited him to the hazard-table; -and when he left the hazard-table, he was not -so much an object of congratulation as he had -been at the conclusion of the race. He was -very much fatigued; quite worn out by the -day’s toil and the night’s play. Legislation -must be quite rest and refreshment to the -honorable, right honorable, and most noble -frequenters of the race-course and the hazard-table.</p> - -<p>The honorable dependent on the bounty of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -John Martindale retired to his lodgings, and -looked over his betting-book and into his pocket-book, -and considering that he was a winner at -the race, he found himself much poorer than he -expected. He felt no inclination to lay violent -hands on himself; he did not clench his fists and -strike his knuckles upon the table, nor did he -beat his own forehead, nor did he think of -hanging himself when he took off his garters, or -entertain the slightest idea of cutting his throat -when he looked at his razors. From what we -have seen in plays and read in story-books about -gambling, one should imagine that pistol-making -and rope-twisting would be the best trades -going at Newmarket; we are not sure that it -may not be so, but we have never heard that it -is. At all events, we do know that when Philip -Martindale found that he was a considerable -loser in the long run, though he had been -a winner on the turf, he was very deeply mortified, -and looked very foolish. He wished -himself back in his chambers at the Temple; -but he did not use any violent gesticulations, or -groan aloud so as to alarm the people of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -house. We think it especially necessary to -mention these facts, in order to let our readers -know what a very curious character Philip -Martindale was. His conduct deserves to be -particularly mentioned in the present case, -because it seems to be the general practice, -judging from books, for all gamblers when they -lose their money to look very pale, to get very -drunk, to clench their fists, and to stamp so as to -split the very boards of the floor, and finally to -hang, drown, poison, or shoot themselves. The -last is the most common. Such is the usual -description, and real life no doubt has exhibited -some such cases; but powerfully as these may -have been painted, we much question if that -extreme delineation has been serviceable to the -cause of morals. Nor are we afraid that, -because we have here stated a very ordinary -case of a silly young gentleman losing his -money, and not going distracted and blowing -out his brains, we shall therefore give encouragement -to others to throw away their time -and money in the same foolish way.</p> - -<p>The poor young man however found it very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -difficult to sleep after his losses; for though he -was not distracted, he was grievously troubled -in spirit, and much bewildered in his thoughts. -He wished, over and over again, that he had -not sat down to hazard; but his wishing did not -bring back what he had lost. He almost wished -that he had not been born an hereditary legislator, -for then he might have applied himself to -some useful pursuit, and not have been under -the necessity of going to Newmarket and losing -his money in a right honorable way to keep up -his dignity. But it is very hard if a man of -rank and fortune cannot have his amusements, -and what else can a man of rank and fortune do -with his time and property than waste them -among sharpers?</p> - -<p>It became now more and more imperative -upon the young gentleman that he should seriously -set himself to repair his broken fortunes, -and his various meditations on the plans which -suggested themselves for that purpose very -naturally prevented him from sleeping. His -habits had not much accustomed him to that -application which business might require, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -his recent patrician contempt of study had put -him into possession of so large a stock of ignorance -as to be rather in the way of his promotion. -It is not indeed much to be wondered -at that, considering how widely and deeply -education has lately been diffused, the higher -sort of people should now and then court the -singularity of not knowing, and preserve their -separation from the inferior orders by an ignorance -of that which every body knows; for it -is very clear that whatever becomes universal, -must of necessity cease to be fashionable: therefore -the education bestowed upon the multitude -must compel the higher ranks in their -own defence to cultivate ignorance, unless they -would give themselves the trouble of toiling -more laboriously in pursuit of knowledge than -the lower orders. That is not very likely.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Good shepherd, tell this youth, what ’tis to love.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is now necessary for us to revert to old -Mr. Martindale and his new pets. So delighted -was he with the general character of the minds -of this family, that he was reluctant to make -any arrangement which should remove them -from continual intercourse with himself. Very -soon did they become essential to him; for they -seemed to open his mind to a new consciousness -of being. The discovery of their existence was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -the means of removing a burden from his soul; -and not only was there a negative satisfaction -derived from having thus providentially met -with them, but the very lively and unexpected -interest which he took in their being and well -being, gave to his own existence a positive -satisfaction, and a feeling hitherto unknown; -so that in the intervals of reflection and thought, -he was under a frequent necessity of saying to -himself, “But I must not forget Philip.”</p> - -<p>There was also another, though an unintentional -and unconscious rival of Philip Martindale, -in the person of Horatio Markham. But -we will do Philip the justice to say, that he -entertained no mean jealousy of this gentleman; -inasmuch as he did not apprehend the probability -of Markham’s occupying a very important -station in the old gentleman’s last will and -testament. Markham, indeed, did not seem to -be acting the part of a legacy-hunter; and -Philip felt very well satisfied with the thought, -that many rich old men had in their life-time -had many friends for whom they appeared to -have a greater regard than for their own family,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -but to whom they have seldom made -bequests of a nature so serious as deeply to -injure their own relatives. There was, however, -a danger in Markham’s intimacy with the -old gentleman under present circumstances, of -which danger Mr. Philip was not sufficiently -aware. Our allusion is to the growing acquaintance -between the young barrister and -Clara Rivolta. The young lady had a grateful -recollection of the considerate and respectful -manner in which Markham had conducted himself -at the trial, contrasted especially as that -manner was with the boisterous and vulgar -rudeness of the defendant’s counsel. So completely -indeed was the young lady disgusted -with the rudeness and coarseness manifested -by the latter, that though she was tolerably well -acquainted with English customs, so far as -books could inform her, she could with difficulty -be brought to believe that barristers were -uniformly gentlemen of education; she could -not help thinking that they must be of no -higher rank or more polished manners than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -bailiffs and constables. What ludicrous mistakes -foreigners do sometimes fall into; and if -the English were not a very polite nation, they -would laugh at these blunders.</p> - -<p>We have noticed already that Markham was -very much struck with the personal appearance -of Clara Rivolta when he saw her in the cottage -of poor old Richard Smith; he was not -less pleased with her when he saw her in those -circumstances which he had in the first instance -thought most appropriate to her. When he -became more acquainted with her, and by conversation -had traced the existence of as much -mind and of as good feelings as her features -and their expression had already intimated to -his imagination, it is no wonder that he should -be more interested in her than ever. When -also he learned, as he did from the sociable -communicativeness of old Mr. Martindale, how -nearly she was related to a wealthy man; and -when he saw how much of a favorite she was -with the old gentleman, it was not likely that -his regard for her should be diminished. Markham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -was by no means a selfish man, nor was he -insensible to the desirableness of a fair fortune. -He was not quite so romantic as to despise -wealth; and if he had been originally addicted -to that propensity, the frequent receiving of -fees would have had no small tendency to cure -it. However, it should be said that the motive -for his attachment to the young lady had not, -in the first instance, any thing to do with pecuniary -expectations. Mr. Martindale himself -contributed to cherish the attachment, for he -was constantly soliciting the young man to -favor them with his company; for as the -old gentleman lived almost entirely at Brigland, -he knew comparatively nothing about London, -and the season of the year was not that at -which any of his friends were in town.</p> - -<p>The time now was very near when Markham -should take his departure from his native land, -and enter upon his professional duties in -another region. Pleasant as preferment may -be, there is always a degree of pain felt at -parting from familiar faces and familiar scenes. -This unpleasant feeling was by anticipation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -coming upon the young barrister. He thought -that he should very much miss the society to -which he had been accustomed; he thought -there was a peculiar, indescribable charm in -the very streets of London and Westminster; -he thought, with a shudder of repugnance, of a -long, tedious, and as it were solitary voyage; -he thought that nobody would think about him -when he was gone; he thought that Clara -Rivolta would be married before he came -back. He wondered whether she knew that he -was going abroad; he wondered whether she -would care where or when he might go; he -wondered whether she had ever been in love. -These thoughts and these wonderings grew -thicker and stronger as the time moved on, -and he said to himself that Clara was a most -interesting creature, but that he was not decidedly -in love with her, as was very manifest -by his being perfectly at ease when he was -absent from her. He did not take into consideration, -as perhaps he should have done, -that the absence which he bore with so much -fortitude was an absence likely to be soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -succeeded by the pleasure of seeing her again. -There was also another thought which he overlooked, -and that was, why did he take pains to -persuade himself that he was not in love? Who -said he was?</p> - -<p>It is not fair, however, to lay open to our -readers the heart of one of the parties, and -totally to veil that of the other. Clara Rivolta -had scarcely had any other society than that of -her father and mother; and indeed, for the -last four years, a very important part of her -life, her mother and old Richard Smith had -been her only companions. The very little -which she had seen of English people had not -made a favorable impression of their character -upon her mind. While residing with her -mother at Brigland, she had seen but few of -the inhabitants of that place, and those not of -the better sort. The only individual of the -better sort, so called, that she had seen, was -the Hon. Philip Martindale; and him she -thought the worst sort of man she had ever -seen. She at first mistook him for a gamekeeper; -then she thought that he must be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -coachman or groom to the great man at the -Abbey; and nothing could exceed her astonishment -when old Richard Smith informed her -that it was the great man himself; then, like -all young people, hastily formed and readily -expressed her opinion, that the highest class of -people in England were the lowest people in -the world. She was very wrong, but she had -not much knowledge of the subject. The -English people have so much originality and -individuality, that it is not easy to find an individual -who is a complete specimen of any -class. To satirise or to compliment any class -as a class, is absurd. It may do very well for -a particular purpose, at a tavern-dinner, or in a -dedication, to use highly complimentary language, -which may be uttered with all the -plausibility of truth and sincerity. It may -also tell well in a farce or a comedy to satirise -a whole class or profession; but to use such -language in sad or sober earnest, is grievously -unphilosophical and inaccurate. There are -minds of every variety, intellects of every -rank, hearts of every complexion in all classes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -The virtues and the vices show differently under -different circumstances. It was however pardonable -in a young woman who knew scarcely -any thing of human society, to form a wrong -judgment; but, by degrees, her mind was enlarged -and judgment corrected. Had she -taken her notion of barristers solely from the -clever, witty advocate of the Hon. Philip -Martindale, she would have thought no better -of barristers than she did of the sons of nobility. -But Horatio Markham tended to correct her -judgment in this particular. He was not a -coxcomb; he was not a rude, blustering, self-sufficient -and pert blockhead, fancying himself -the depositary of all wisdom and the oracle of -all ages; he did not aim at a display of his own -wisdom, by insinuations that all the rest of -mankind were simpletons. It must however be -confessed that he was rather pedantic; he -talked a little too professionally; and he had, -in his ordinary mode of speaking and conversing, -too much of the peculiar manner of the -bar; he told many anecdotes, and they were -mostly of the luminaries of his own profession;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -his conversation was much about books; he -spoke of books critically, and as he had a good -memory, he repeated many passages, especially -of some of the more modern poets; and in -reading or quoting, he had a very peculiar and -prosy mode of utterance. In his expressions of -admiration he was very enthusiastic; but his -only censure was silence. Being, as it should -seem, much pleased with his own peculiar eloquence -of encomium, he was most pleased with -praising; and so ingenious was his praise, that -he not unfrequently found in his favorite -writers beauties which the authors themselves -were not aware of. Many others have been -accused of doing the same; but we will vindicate -them and him by observing, that it is -quite as possible for an author to strike out -beauties of which himself is unconscious and -undesigning, as it is for an artist, by an accidental -touch of his pencil, to “snatch a grace -beyond the reach of art.” The mind is not -always conscious of the gracefulness of its -transient and unstudied attitudes.</p> - -<p>We could say much more of Markham, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -we must postpone it. Our present concern is -with the mind of Clara Rivolta, and her sentiments -of and towards this young man. He was -to all intents the most agreeable man she had -seen since her arrival in England; and his slight -tincture of pedantry, and his love of quotation -and recitation, tedious and stupid as they might -have been to many others, were to her peculiarly -agreeable. Men’s hearts are stolen -through the eye—women’s through the ear. -Clara was pleased with Markham’s voice because -she liked poetry; and as the poetry first rendered -his company delightful, and his voice -to her ear musical, so in process of time his -company and his voice rendered the poetical -extracts more pleasing. Markham also understood -Italian; but to a native of Italy he -would not read or recite her own poetry; but -he often brought to her Italian poetry, and her -bright eyes sparkled at the sight, and she began -to like the English people better, because they -had paid reverence to the poets of her native -land by printing their works beautifully. -Markham wished to hear the poetry of Italy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -read by a native; Clara could not refuse him, -because he had been so obliging as to read much -English poetry to her; but she was almost -afraid to read to him, because she could not -read so well as he could. That is a pretty and -pardonable piece of vanity. But the fact is, -Markham did not read so remarkably well: he -had a singing kind of a tone; he read in a kind -of recitative; some used to say he read very ill. -We should wish these people to be sentenced to -hear reading without a tone. At all events, -Markham’s reading was very pleasant to Clara; -and to Markham’s ear there was no music so -sweet as Clara’s voice. She had read to him -two or three of the sonnets of Petrarch; and -Markham thought that he should recollect the -melody of that voice when he should be afar off -sailing on the mighty deep. How sweetly can -the closed eye, by its own internal light, call up -bright scenes which time and space have put -far from us! and as sweetly in night’s silence -and its wakeful repose rings in our ear again the -voice of the absent and the beloved. When -Clara read to Markham, there was a tremulousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -in her voice, and there was a tear in -her eye; the tear was hardly visible, and not -large enough to fall; but she felt it there, and -her tremulousness increased. Scenes of this -nature frequently occurred, and they produced -their very natural effect. Clara felt herself -very happy in Markham’s company, always -asked his opinion on matters of taste and literature, -was continually finding out new poetical -beauties in Markham’s favorite authors, and -perpetually discovering some philological difficulties -in the English language, of which no -one but Markham could give her a solution. -It was not till she knew him that her mind was -powerfully impressed with the absolute necessity -of learning with very strict and minute -attention the niceties of the English language.</p> - -<p>There was another circumstance which contributed -to increase Clara’s partiality to Horatio -Markham; namely, his affectionate attention to -his parents, and his respectful deference to their -wishes. This she had no opportunity of observing, -but she had heard Mr. John Martindale -speak of it in highly complimentary terms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -She was very well pleased to hear Markham -praised. She did not say to herself that she -was not in love, nor indeed did she know or -suspect that she was. But she was very much -pleased with Horatio Markham, and never -spoke of him to any one, though she listened -with great pleasure to any one who spoke of -him favorably. This was certainly symptomatic, -but the young woman was not aware of -the nature of the symptoms, or of what they -portended. When she learned the vocabulary, -she did not find that admiration meant love; -she did not find that gratitude meant love; -she did not find that habit meant love; she did -not find that approbation meant love; but in -process of time she began to suspect that all these -put together produced a feeling very much like -love.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;</div> -<div class="verse">If not, why then this parting was well made.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A week is soon gone. This is not mentioned -to our readers by way of information, as -if any of them should be ignorant of the fact; -but by way of directing their minds to a sympathy -with Horatio Markham, who found that -the last days of his remaining in England -were shorter in their duration than any which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -had preceded them. In spite of all he had -said to himself concerning his not being in love, -he could not but experience a very painful feeling -at the thought that he must soon leave the -pleasant party with whom he was so agreeably -spending so many of his hours. He could not -persuade himself that he was not in love; and -the more he said so, the less he believed it. He -had taken his leave of his parents and his early -friends. He thought it becoming to take a -formal leave also of his new friend, Mr. John -Martindale; he hesitated whether he should -also make a business of taking leave of Colonel -Rivolta and his family. He bethought himself -that he had in his possession a book belonging -to Clara, and that he ought to return it. He -might send it, or he might leave it with Mr. -Martindale, requesting him to present a message -of thanks; and that plan would obviate the -inconvenience of personally returning it, in -doing which he feared that he might betray -some emotion which he would fain conceal. -For the truth is, he was of opinion that it would -not be a prudent step to declare an attachment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -at a moment when he was just about to leave -England. That would be to involve himself -and Clara too in a painful perplexity. -There were many changes to be feared during -the time of his absence from England. There -was a considerate thought that it would be -scarcely advisable that he should form an engagement -so long before it could be fulfilled; -and amidst other ideas which occupied his -mind on the subject, was the consideration of -theological differences between the parties.</p> - -<p>All these things had their weight; but it -does not follow that because a young man considers, -that he is therefore considerate. Powerful -as consideration may be, feeling is much more -powerful; and it has also an efficacy in overruling -and influencing the decisions of the understanding, -and cheating the judgment by a speciousness -of reasoning. Thus it was that Markham, with -all his sagacity, allowed himself to be imposed -on. He reasoned thus:—Perhaps, if I leave -England without announcing it to Clara, it -may occur to her that I had some very powerful -reason for such neglect of common politeness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -and there may arise in her mind a suspicion -of that which really exists, and then there -may be in her mind a corresponding sentiment, -which, if not cherished, may die away and be -forgotten; and it would not be right for me to -arouse such sentiments at such a time. It will -be best then if I personally return the book, -and very coolly and politely take my leave; -yet, upon second thoughts, why should or need -there be any thing of coolness in my manner. -It will be most suitable to be perfectly uniform, -and to take my leave in a friendly, cordial manner, -as I have hitherto behaved towards her.</p> - -<p>With this resolution he made his last visit, -with a view of taking leave of Colonel and -Signora Rivolta and of Clara, and of returning -with thanks a book which he had borrowed -from the latter. Books are very convenient for -lovers; they are a species of Cupid’s go-cart; -they are the gentle and gradual introduction of -sentiment; they speak without blushing; they -are fluent in the utterance, and they can tell -many a tender tale by a doubled leaf, or a pencil -mark; or a rose-leaf may mark an interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -page. When Markham talked to himself -about a cool and quiet leave-taking and a -friendly farewell, he did not recollect or deeply -think of books interchanged, and of beautiful -passages marked for their sentiment and pathos, -and most peculiarly applicable to peculiar circumstances: -he forgot how many striking passages -and elegant extracts he had read aloud, -and how much force and energy he gave, or -attempted to give, to these expressive and select -beauties: he forgot how many associations -were connected with books. There was -also another circumstance which of course did -not occur to him. Clara Rivolta was not situated -as any young woman of English family -and extensive acquaintance; she had not seen -much of society; Markham was the only young -gentleman with whom she was at all acquainted; -and those few other persons whom -she had seen did not make any favourable impression -on her mind. By comparison therefore -with them, Markham was highly agreeable -to her, and positively also was he not unacceptable, -inasmuch as Clara herself had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -slight tincture of what may be called pedantry. -Confined intercourse with human society produces, -almost of necessity, some degree of -pedantry, which is nothing more than an undue -estimate of the importance of some one object -of human interest or pursuit. Clara had lived secluded, -had been much alone, was of a poetical -and almost romantic temperament, had contemplated -humanity and its interests through the -medium of imagination and poetry; she had lived -in a world of her own, and the world of reality -was to her thought harsh, rough, and ungracious. -When therefore she met with Markham, -who had also an imagination somewhat -poetical, and a decided taste for the lighter and -more graceful productions of genius; and when -she saw this young gentleman brought into -immediate contrast with an uncourteous and -rude coxcomb, as he was at the trial, her -opinion of him was flattering; and when, after -farther acquaintance, she observed that his -mind was well-cultivated, his manners gentle, -his deportment essentially and decidedly courteous, -and when he had taken great pains to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -render her well pleased with scenes about her, -and to communicate information to her on such -topics as she felt interested in, she became -more and more pleased with his society, always -happy to see him, always happy to hear him, -disposed to acquiesce in his judgment, and to be -guided by his opinion; and above all, as there -was not in her heart any previous attachment, -very naturally her affections rested more tenderly -on Markham than she was well aware.</p> - -<p>If, therefore, Markham had need of management -and direction, that he might take his leave -of Clara without betraying any undue emotion, -so had the young lady also as great need to -exercise a commanding discretion on her part. -But in this matter the lady was not so well -prepared as the gentleman; for the latter was -somewhat aware of the state of his own mind, -but the former knew not aright the nature of -the interest she felt in the company of her -kind and intelligent friend. Markham had told -Mr. Martindale of the day fixed for his departure, -and the old gentleman insisted that he -should spend his last day in their company.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is very remarkable, but not less true than -strange, that though Mr. Martindale had cautioned -the young gentleman against losing his -heart when he saw Clara in old Richard -Smith’s cottage, and regarded her merely as a -country girl, yet it never occurred to the old -gentleman, now the real circumstances of the -young lady were known, and Markham was in -the daily habit of seeing and conversing with -her, that there was any danger of an attachment -springing up between them. Mr. Martindale, -if he thought at all upon the subject, -thought that all Markham’s visits and attentions -were to himself, and for his sake; and he was -pleased with the young gentleman for devoting -so much of his time to the party. Signora -Rivolta, however, thought and saw otherwise. -It was clear to her observing eye and her discerning -mind, that Markham’s visits, if not -attracted by Clara, were at least rendered -agreeable by her company. It was also very -obvious to her that the barrister’s visits were -agreeable to Clara, and that an attachment to -the young gentleman had been gradually and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -insensibly forming in her heart. It might be -supposed that the faith in which Signora -Rivolta had been educated, would have influenced -and determined her to oppose every -obstacle in her power to the growth of such an -attachment; but the truth is, that she had -understanding enough to discern that the -dangers and difficulties of opposition were as -great and as serious as the danger threatened -by this young attachment: for she knew that -such had ever been the imaginative and ardent -complexion of Clara’s mind, that if love should -ever take possession of her heart, it would have -a strong hold there, beyond the power of ordinary -arguments and every-day principles to -expel. She was not quite satisfied, for she had -never had an opportunity of ascertaining how -deeply the principles of her religion were -infixed in her mind, nor could she conjecture -what power these principles might have over -her affections. She thought it safer, therefore, -to avoid bringing these principles into danger -by any premature experiment of their strength. -There was also to be added to these considerations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -another thought; it was possible that -Markham might be brought over to the true -faith; and it may also be remarked that Signora -Rivolta herself was not so very decided, as some -persons of her faith are supposed to be, in the -conviction that there could be no salvation out -of the pale of that church to which she belonged. -That there could be many virtues out -of the pale of that church, she had learned -from the amiable and excellent character of -her maternal uncle, poor old Richard Smith; -and that a religion which she had been taught -to esteem heretical, could afford a calm and -placid support in the hour of death, had been -also manifested by her uncle’s dying-bed. These -considerations rendered Signora Rivolta less -decidedly hostile to the supposed intentions of -Markham than otherwise she might have been.</p> - -<p>The day appointed for Markham to pay his -farewell visit to his good friends, Mr. Martindale -and family, being arrived, the young gentleman -went with not quite so heavy a heart -as he had expected. He felt himself perfectly -composed, and began to fancy that his attachment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -to Clara was not so decided and powerful -as to render it at all necessary to use any -peculiar caution in his tones or language of -leave-taking. He even smiled at the idea, -that though it was the gloomy month of November, -proverbial for its power of depressing -the spirits, he was yet in a tolerably cheerful -and composed state of mind.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martindale had removed from the hotel -in which he resided for the first week of his -stay in town, and had established his daughter -and family in a ready-furnished house. Markham -was not beyond the time appointed for his -visit, but rather before it. He was shown into -the drawing-room, which at his entrance was -empty. He was glad of that; for it gave him -time to prepare himself, to study looks and -speeches. There is more ostensible than real -advantage in a circumstance of this nature. -Empty rooms, especially such as are usually -occupied by very interesting persons, always -make one shiver, let the weather in summer be -ever so warm, or the fires in winter ever so -good. The most confident and self-satisfied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -derive no benefit from such opportunity of preparation. -So Markham presently found, though -we do not say that he was a very confident man. -He experienced after the first minute or two -an indefinable sensation, as though the very air -of the room was not in the best and fittest state -for respiration. He had no power to sit still, -and but little to walk about the apartment. -The house, being a ready-furnished house, was -not replete with much that was ornamental. -There were some few pictures, but of such -very inferior value, that no one who had any -thing else to do or think of would trouble himself -to rise from his seat to look at them. There -was a table in the middle of the room, on which -lay in disorder some books, which looked as if -they were made on purpose to be scattered on -drawing-room tables. There was also a portfolio -of drawings partly open, or so carelessly -closed, that its contents were visible and ascertainable -without being moved. Markham -looked at the drawings as they lay; then he -ventured to draw them out one after another: -they were the same that he had seen before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -repeatedly, and he thought that he should see -them no more. Then his spirits began to sink and -his cheerfulness abated, and he felt very November-like. -Arranging the drawings as nearly as -possible in the same disorder as he had found -them, he perceived under the portfolio an open -atlas. The map of that country which was -destined to be his residence for some few years -to come lay open before him. He was looking -at it with the pleasing thought that some of his -friends had been thinking of him, when the -drawing-room door opened, and Clara entered -alone.</p> - -<p>It is very provoking after taking an infinity -of trouble to prepare for a meeting, and after -composing the countenance, and arranging the -very words and tone of greeting and salutation, -to be suddenly taken by surprise, just at that -very moment when all this composure has been -disarranged and unsettled. So was Markham -taken. He very abruptly and awkwardly drew -from his pocket the book which he had borrowed -from the young lady, and was commencing -a set speech, being about to say that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -must soon leave his native land and change the -aspect of his being, when Mr. Martindale most -unfortunately entered the room and abruptly -dispersed his eloquence. The book was laid -upon the table; Markham muttered polite acknowledgments -for the use of it; and Mr. -Martindale very unceremoniously hurried the -young lady out of the room, urging her to -make all possible haste to dress for dinner. -Now it was very clear that there could be no -farther opportunity for Markham to see Clara -alone, or to ascertain the state of her feelings -towards him; and had there been any sincerity -in the many wise and prudent remarks he had -made to himself on that subject, he would not -have been sorry for the interruption, but would -have consoled himself with the reflection that -there had been a happy avoidance of that which -might have produced a painful and perplexing -explanation. The plain truth however was, that -notwithstanding all his considerate thoughts, he -was so far in love, that he would have been -most happy in the assurance that the feeling -was mutual, and that he might, when away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -England, live cheerfully on the bright hopes of -the happiness awaiting his return. Being disappointed -in his expectations of approaching an -explanation, and feeling the manifest impropriety -and indelicacy of making a regular and -formal proposal on the very eve of his departure, -he felt almost angry; he was decidedly -low-spirited and out of humour.</p> - -<p>At dinner the conversation turned almost -solely on Markham’s departure. Mr. Martindale -congratulated him on his peculiar good -fortune in meeting with such valuable patronage, -and expressed very cordially his confident -hopes that so auspicious a commencement -would be followed by corresponding success -through life. The old gentleman then administered -a very copious supply of most valuable -advice, to all of which Markham listened with -very respectful attention. The old gentleman -had indeed all the talk to himself. Colonel -Rivolta was a very brave man and a very good -patriot, but ordinarily he was not much addicted -to talking. Signora Rivolta could talk -if she would, and could be silent if she would.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -This seems no great praise, but it is a compliment -which cannot fairly be paid to great multitudes -of either sex. Many are the simpletons -that have not wit enough to talk, or not wisdom -enough to hold their peace. The mother of -Clara had reason to suppose it not improbable -that Horatio Markham might one day make an -offer of his hand to her daughter, and under this -impression was especially desirous to understand -and rightly apprehend the young man’s -character; she was also desirous of knowing -what Mr. Martindale also thought of him; and -by paying attention to the topics on which the -old gentleman thought it necessary to dwell in -giving advice, inferences might be drawn as to -the opinion which he entertained of the young -man’s moral and intellectual character. That -Clara was silent is not to be wondered at. -Young people should always be silent when old -people are giving advice. For supposing that -the young people like good advice, they can -the better hear it if they be silent; and supposing -that they do not like it, it will be the -sooner over if they do not interrupt it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> - -<p>It requires not a very lively imagination to -picture to itself how much and how deeply -Markham was disappointed at being compelled -to undergo at his farewell visit a long story of -good advice, instead of enjoying the luxury of -a pathetic parting. And as if from the pure -desire to prevent any display of the pathetic, -the old gentleman, soon after the ladies had -retired from the dining-room, desired to have -coffee sent in; and when it arrived, he most -provokingly said to the young gentleman:</p> - -<p>“Now, young man, it is growing late, and -so I will not detain you. You must be stirring -early to-morrow morning. I will make your -apology to the ladies. I shall be very happy to -hear from you, when you arrive at your station; -and if I live till you come back, I shall be glad -to see you.”</p> - -<p>There was in Mr. Martindale’s manner of -speaking an indescribable kind of positiveness -and decision, which prevented all reply or contradiction. -Poor Horatio was under an absolute -necessity of complying, and after delaying -as long as he decently could, he rose to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -his leave, and to make a long speech in good set -terms, thanking his kind friend for the notice -which he had taken of a young and obscure -stranger. But the old gentleman did not like -long speeches that were not made by himself. -Nature designs the aged to be talkers, not -listeners; as the faculty of hearing perishes -before that of speaking. Markham was compelled -to condense his farewell acknowledgments -into very few words: there was certainly -great sincerity in his repetition of the great -regret which he felt in leaving such agreeable -friends. Dismal is a November night in London; -and especially dismal was it to Markham -to walk through a drizzling rain, by the mockery -of lamp-light, all the way from Piccadilly to the -Inner Temple, and there to find his little luggage -all carefully packed up ready to start; -and to find a gloomy looking fire that seemed -to grudge the little warmth and cheerfulness -that it communicated to the apartment, and to -see his book-cases empty, and to see two candles -dimly burning on the table; but to see no human -face, no look of home, of family, of friends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -True, he was a successful man, was in the road -to preferment, had made himself many and -good friends, but he was very dull, very low-spirited. -He had been grievously disappointed, -nay, worse than disappointed; for had he found -an opportunity to speak or even look a thought -of love to Clara, and had it been met by the -coldness of distaste, he would have had then -only to divert his thoughts, and to fill his mind -with other subjects. He then would have -known what it was that he had to trust to. But -now, poor man, all was uncertainty, perplexity, -and suspense. He knew not whether Clara -was totally indifferent or not, and he had no -means left to ascertain the fact. It was clearly -his own fault that he had not sooner made up -his own mind, and ascertained his own feelings; -for that he reproached himself, but his reproaches -availed nothing.</p> - -<p>Still farther meditating on the perplexing -affair, he came to the unpleasant conclusion, -that, if there had been on the part of Clara any -feeling of regard and attachment towards him, -she must now necessarily conclude that he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -no especial regard for her, or he would not -have left England without declaring himself, or -at least without giving some intimation of the -state of his mind. But no sooner had he arrived -at this conclusion, which ought at once to -have put him out of suspense, than he flew back -from it again; and instead of sorrowing only -for himself, he began to feel great compassion -for Clara, on the gratuitous supposition that -her heart was partly if not entirely lost to him, -and lost in vain; and, thereupon, he reproached -himself for having behaved unkindly towards -her.</p> - -<p>Thus ingeniously did the young gentleman -torment himself till past midnight, till his fire -was extinct for want of stirring, and his candles -were like torches for want of snuffing. Cold -and cheerless he retired to rest, and there remains -on record no memorial of his dreams.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And if thou ever happen that same way</div> -<div class="verse">To traveill, go to see that dreadful place.”</div> -<div class="attribution"><span class="smcap">Spenser.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following day dawned brighter. Though -it was November, the sun had strength to -struggle through the clouds; and much of the -heavy weight that lay on Markham’s mind the -preceding day was alleviated by brighter hopes -and better thoughts. There was a pleasant -re-action in his spirits, and he wondered how -it was that he had been so depressed on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -previous evening. He was cheerful and light-hearted -in giving his orders concerning the -removal of his luggage, and when he went -aboard the vessel which was destined to convey -him from England, he met with so flattering -and complimentary a reception from the captain, -that all the world seemed bright about him, and -he trusted that he should not lack friends in a -distant land. His thoughts rushed impetuously -forward to the new scene which was about to -open upon him, and he was pleased to think -how many valuable introductory letters he possessed, -and he hoped that acquaintances would, -many of them, become valuable friends and -agreeable companions. But we have no intention -of accompanying our young friend on -his voyage. Suffice it to say, that he sailed in -good spirits, that the wind blew variously as it -often does on a long voyage, and that he reached -his port in safety.</p> - -<p>We must return now to old Mr. Martindale -and his family. His attachment to his family -was continually increasing. He was more than -pleased with his daughter, he was absolutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -proud of her. He always spoke of her emphatically -as <em>my daughter</em>. He consulted her -wishes in every thing, and was always guided -by her opinion, the least intimation of which -was law to him. With all his oddities, and he -had not a few, he had discernment enough to -see that Signora Rivolta was really a person of -solid understanding and of clear judgment. -He only wondered how it was that a woman -of such good sense should adopt the Roman -Catholic religion; but on this subject he seldom -touched, for he found that he could make no -impression. With the Colonel, however, he -would occasionally enter into an argument, -and not unfrequently did he fancy that in these -discussions he had the advantage. Colonel -Rivolta was not a very zealous believer in the -infallibility of His Holiness. He had never -paid much attention to theology as a matter of -argument or reflection; he did not know enough -of his native religion to be converted to any -other, though the side which he had taken in -politics rendered him not very bigoted to the -religion established in Italy. In religion he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -was a liberal, not a sceptic or an unbeliever; -he had no doubts, for he scarcely ever thought -of the subject. He had no wish to make converts, -he was willing to let every one enjoy his -own opinions; and he would never have taken -the trouble to defend the Catholic religion -against Mr. Martindale, but that he thought the -old gentleman was fond of an argument, and he -liked to indulge him. As for the religion of -Clara, which is of the most importance to our -purpose, it is rather difficult to define or describe -it. Her education had been miscellaneous; -she had been in early life initiated into -the religion of Italy, but in after-years the conversation -of Richard Smith, her great uncle, had -somewhat disturbed and unsettled her mind as -to the exclusive safety of the Catholic religion. -Her strongest ground of attachment to that -faith was, that it was the religion of her mother. -There was, however, in her mind that degree of -imaginativeness, that needed not so much external -and visible aid to devotion as that religion -presented her with, therefore she did not -feel herself dependent on its forms. Truth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -compels us to add, which we do with a considerable -degree of reluctance, that Clara Rivolta, -during her residence at Brigland, had -more than once said to her great uncle, that her -principal objection to the Protestant religion -was the indifference of its priests. This remark -had reference, we ought to say, almost solely to -Mr. Denver, the perpetual curate of Brigland; -and every allowance ought to be made for him. -It is no easy matter to serve three churches -with a very lively and ardent feeling, especially -when to the fatigue of the duty there is also -added the toil of riding several miles on a tall, -old, raw-boned, shuffling, stumbling, jumbling, -broken-winded, and ill-saddled, iron-grey mare. -Clara had never seen any other clergyman, except -one or two who had occasionally been -visiting the Hon. Philip Martindale during -the shooting season. Of these gentlemen she -knew nothing, except that whenever they met -her, they stared very rudely at her. She formed -her judgment of the English clergy from a very -few and very so-so samples. Blending a respectable -share of discrimination and reflection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -with an imaginative soul and a feeling heart, -her religion was in the most comprehensive -sense of the word purely Catholic. Outwardly -her conformity was to the religion of her birth-place; -and perhaps had she never been acquainted -with any other mode, her devotion to -that in which she had been educated would have -been much stronger. But when she was instructed -that religion was the medium by which -virtue was impressed on the mind, and man -made acceptable to his Maker, and when she -was told that there was no salvation out of the -pale of the Roman Catholic Church, and when -she saw what real excellences and what solid virtues -adorned the character of her maternal great -uncle, then she thought it absolutely impossible -that the religion of such a man could be otherwise -than acceptable to his Maker; and thereupon, -without the elaborateness of argument or -the undetectable wiliness of sophistry, there -entered irresistibly into her mind a spirit of liberality -and pure Catholicism.</p> - -<p>It may then be easily supposed that Mr. Martindale -was not much disturbed or annoyed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -the difference between his own faith and that -of his family. Whatever disturbance the subject -gave him was entirely of his own making, -and arose purely from his own fidgetty disposition. -Such however was the very high -estimation in which he held his daughter, that -notwithstanding his zeal for Protestantism, he -would occasionally attend the worship of her -church, and occasionally the compliment was -returned. This compliance on the part of the -old gentleman, together with the satisfaction -that he expressed at the occasional conformity -of his newly-found family, gave pretty strong -indication to Philip Martindale that his wealthy -cousin destined a larger share of his fortune for -Signora Rivolta than ordinarily falls to the lot -of a natural daughter. His difficulties and -perplexities therefore increased, and his choice -vibrated with great rapidity between Clara -Rivolta and Celestina Sampson. He exercised -much caution and deliberation in considerations -of various eligibilities and ineligibilities. Had -he used as much thought before he gave his honorable -countenance to the ring, the course, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -the cockpit, before he laid bets on rat-catchers’ -dogs, and borrowed money of the Jews to pay -those bets withal, he would not have needed -now to have recourse to the meanness of attempting -a heartless marriage to mend his -broken fortunes. Sadly and seriously did he -lay to heart his past follies; and he grieved -the more because he grieved in vain. He -knew very well that there was no remedy for -the past, and that it would require some ingenuity -to prevent affairs from becoming worse. -He grew quite dejected, and even demure; -and he occasionally would lecture some of -his honorable and right honorable friends on -the folly and absurdity of gaming. But his -repentance, though he was not aware of the -fact, consisted rather of uneasiness under the -consequences of transgression, than of any feeling -of regret for the transgression as considered -in itself.</p> - -<p>There was in his mind also another thought -which was very natural under present circumstances, -and that was, that it would be desirable -that he should leave the Abbey, and thankfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -resign it to his worthy relative, who on -the unexpected discovery of a new family might -be willing to increase his establishment, though -he might feel some little delicacy and hesitation -about the removal of his relative. With -this idea Philip went again to London, where -the old gentleman continued to reside with his -family; for by taking this step, the young gentleman -hoped that he should be able to ascertain -what were the intentions of his relative -towards him.</p> - -<p>Philip was very cordially received by Mr. -John Martindale, who did not interrogate him -as usual on the object of his visit to London. -This omission was a symptom of indifference; -but a still stronger symptom was manifested -when Philip announced to his relative the business -on which he had come to town. As soon -as he had done speaking, the old gentleman in -his usual abrupt manner replied: “Well, do -as you like. I think a smaller house may be -better for you. But as for my going to reside -there, I should not think of such a thing. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -shall sell the Abbey, if I can have a price for -it.”</p> - -<p>“Sell it, sir!” replied Philip in the utmost -astonishment; “you surely are not serious.”</p> - -<p>“But I am decidedly serious,” said the old -gentleman; “I have had the amusement of -building the house, and so far it has answered -my purpose. It is of no farther use to me. -Will you buy it?”</p> - -<p>Philip smiled at the question; but the smile -cost him a great effort. He saw that he was -destined to be the sport of circumstances, and -he inwardly groaned at his very unfortunate lot; -that the line which he had pursued in hopes of -coming into possession of a valuable inheritance, -had brought him into painful and mortifying -perplexities. He thought within himself how -foolish he should look at being compelled to -leave his splendid mansion; but he had never -thought before how much more foolish he -looked, when he was only nominal master of a -mansion which was far too large for him, and -too magnificent for his actual or possible means.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -It was, indeed, by the more knowing ones -shrewdly suspected that Mr. John Martindale -had, in building so splendid a concern, seriously -transgressed the limits of prudence, and that he -had not the ability, supposing him to have the -inclination, suitably and consistently to occupy -so large and splendid a building. There had -need be very great pleasure in building, for -there are often very great pains and mortifications -resulting from efforts at architectural magnificence. -Blessings, however, rest on the heads -of those ingenious architects who let us have -splendour so cheap, and who convert plaister into -stone, and splinters into timber!</p> - -<p>To return to our subject. The old gentleman -seriously and coolly persisted in his determination -to sell the house, and as coolly did he accept -Philip’s resignation of his possession. Mr. -Martindale the elder merely said:</p> - -<p>“But where do you intend to reside? At -home with his lordship? Or, suppose you look -out for a place in the country. What say you -to living among your constituents? There is a -very good house at Trimmerstone; it has not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -been occupied lately, but the last who resided -there was a man of rank. If you like to reside -there, I will put it in order for you. But it is -high time you should think of marrying.”</p> - -<p>The house at Trimmerstone had indeed been -occupied by a man of rank, or, more properly -speaking, by the housekeeper and a few old servants -of a man of rank. Many summers had -passed over its roof, and many storms had -spent their fury on its weather-beaten sides, -since any thing had been done to it in the way -of repair. At the time that Mr. Martindale -was speaking of it as a suitable residence for -his honorable cousin, it was almost in a state -of dilapidation. Philip had seen the house, and -had some recollection of it; and our readers -may easily judge of the young gentleman’s -state of mind when the proposal was made to -settle him there, and to exchange a splendid -modern mansion for an out-of-the-way, ill-contrived, -lumbering old mansion-house.</p> - -<p>Trimmerstone Hall was a long and almost -indescribable building, which seemed as if it -had stood till it half sunk into the earth. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -was approached by a long, superannuated, -everlasting avenue of trees, which had stood -growing, no mortal could tell how long. There -was such a density of foliage, that the middle -part of the building was almost in total darkness; -and whether the path between the trees -was gravel, grass, or withered vegetation, it -was not easy to ascertain. Two broad, dislocated -stone steps sinking downwards between -two stunted black brick walls, and surmounted by -a grotesque wooden portico, admitted those who -could stoop low enough to avoid hitting their -heads, into a wide, broad, cold hall paved with -marble, which nature had made black and -white, but which time and other accidents had -converted into brown and yellow. Immediately -opposite to the front door, and not many yards -from it, opened the back door, which in architectural -beauty and convenience of arrangement -was a fac-simile of its opposite neighbour. -There were windows also in the entrance-hall, -one on each side the two doors; and the windows -were constructed upon that ingenious -principle which admits any thing but light. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -one side of this hall was a mighty fire-place, -which looked as if it had never had a fire in it; -and on the other was a broad staircase, with -banisters strong enough to build a dozen -Regent Street houses withal. There were -rooms of divers dimensions and various degrees -of deformity. To describe their arrangement is -impossible, inasmuch as they had no arrangement.</p> - -<p>The state-apartments were hung with -damask or with tapestry. Time had played -sad tricks with these decorations, as it had also -with the old oak floors, which had lost their -shape and colour. No four-legged article of -furniture could by any arguments be induced to -stand steady on its legitimate supporters; and -if a four-post bedstead had been placed on the -higher side of a room, it must inevitably have -rolled on its castors to the opposite side. The -windows throughout the mansion were villainous; -and the whole building seemed fit for -nothing but to make a pencil-drawing, or an -etching from it.</p> - -<p>Though the great mass of the house appeared -to have sunk into the ground, the fine old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -chimneys looked as if they had grown taller, or -left the house to sink without them. They -almost rivalled in altitude the old trees of the -avenue. They were visible from a great distance, -but the house was not, for it stood in a -hollow; and the ground about was finely -watered by divers rivulets, which did not -seem at all particular as to the course they -took, but with a noble and liberal impartiality -spontaneously or promiscuously irrigated, that -is to say, sopped the meadows, grounds, and -gardens, which surrounded the house.</p> - -<p>Such was the habitation which the wealthy -cousin of the Hon. Philip Martindale proposed -for the residence of a young gentleman born to -be legislator, and proud of the antiquity of his -family and the dignity of his high rank. Philip -knew the house, and what is more, he knew -that his cousin knew it.</p> - -<p>It was a keen and bitter mortification to have -such a proposal made; but though he fully determined -not to stoop so low as to accept it, -he was too dependent to reject it point-blank. -He merely said:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I am inclined to think, sir, from what I -recollect of Trimmerstone Hall, that it will require -more to put it into good repair than the -present building is worth; and the situation -being so very low and swampy, I am afraid that -I should not enjoy my health there. But, sir, -there is no absolute necessity for my having a -distinct residence at present, while I remain -single. I can reside with my family; and as I -think of paying a closer attention to my parliamentary -duties, I shall of course spend more of -my time in London.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, so you will; right, I forgot that. -Yes, yes, you ought clearly to be more attentive -to your parliamentary duties. Well, I am -not sorry you think of leaving the Abbey. I -shall certainly dispose of it. It was very amusing -to build the house; and so the proverb will -be verified—Fools build houses, and wise men -live in them.”</p> - -<p>When a man calls himself a fool in the hearing -of another, that other is in duty bound to -contradict him: for it is not in the nature of -things that any man really thinking himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -fool should avow that conviction. To speak -paradoxically, if a man sincerely avows himself -a fool, he thinks himself a wise man in having -found out that he is a fool, and requires a -compliment as a matter of course. It is the -expected duty of every one therefore, hearing -another call himself a fool, to contradict him. -To do that well is difficult, and requires great -address. It must not be contradicted point-blank -and flatly, but it must be circuitously -done. Every man who calls himself a fool is -offended if he fancies that he is believed, is -offended if he be not contradicted, and is also -offended if he be contradicted, so as to give -proof that he is suspected of expecting contradiction.</p> - -<p>Now, though Philip Martindale was a gentleman -of very fashionable manners, and perfectly -informed and well instructed as to all the -forms and modes of fashionable address, yet his -knowledge was simply that of forms and modes; -he had no natural intuition; no native and -unbought perception of abstract propriety and -unchangeable good manners. Of mind and its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -movements he was totally ignorant; he knew -what was fashionable as well as any man; even -at the cockpit or the ring, though dressed like -a groom, he was known to be a gentleman. -Thus it is that those who belong to a certain -class are always known and recognised by their -inimitable and untranscribable manners, having -only to do with externals, they are perfect in -them. The less intellect they have, the more -skilful are they in the art; even as parrots -most faithfully utter the words which they are -taught, because reflection supplies them with -none other. But such parrot-like politeness -would not answer with such a man as old John -Martindale. Any thing common-place was his -aversion and abomination. It required peculiar -tact and skill to manage him; and this skill -the Hon. Philip Martindale did not possess in -a very eminent degree. When therefore the -young gentleman began to mutter forth some -affected contradiction to what Mr. John Martindale -had been pleased to say of himself, the -latter hastily interrupted him.</p> - -<p>“Pish, nonsense; none of your foolish complimenting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -I was a fool to build the house, -and I should be a greater fool to live in it. -I shall find some simpleton with more money -than wit, who may be glad to buy it at half the -money which it cost me to build it. Well, -now you are in town, you may as well stay -with us, if you are not too proud to patronise -my relations. You will find them very sensible, -well-informed people, though they have no -title.”</p> - -<p>To this invitation Philip felt no repugnance, -and consequently made no objection: for he -was very desirous of seeing more of Clara -Rivolta, and of ingratiating himself into her -favour, should such a measure be found necessary -or desirable in a financial point of view. -As the London winter was now approaching, -he also hoped that he should have an opportunity -of observing how Mr. Martindale’s relatives -would be received in the world, determining -to be chiefly governed as to his decision -respecting Clara by the manner in which her -family should be noticed. He had sense -enough to see that Signora Rivolta was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -superior woman in mind and manners; but he -was doubtful whether the rank of his cousin -was high enough, or wealth extensive enough, -to command respect for a natural daughter. -There is a jealousy of superior minds; and -artificial nobility feels indignant at being -eclipsed by natural nobility. As for Clara, -her mild and gentle spirit would create for her -affection and patronage every where. The -sweetness of her temper, the unobtrusive soundness -of her judgment, her strong natural sense -of propriety, would command universal regard; -but there was also to be considered the reception -with which the mother might meet: for -the mother and the daughter were clearly -inseparable. The one would receive no smiles -or courtesy which should be denied to or withheld -from the other. A severe trial now -awaited the half-captived heart of Clara -Rivolta.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">END OF VOL. I.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -PRINTED BY A.J. VALPY, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rank and Talent; A Novel, Vol. I (of 3), by -William Pitt Scargill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANK AND TALENT, VOL 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 53455-h.htm or 53455-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5/53455/ - -Produced by Heather Clark and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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