Frank Fairlegh Part 59

-388-- "Umph! if those are your ideas about matrimony, sir," growled Mr. Frampton, "I think you are quite right to leave it alone--puppy-dogs have no business with wives." "Now don't be grumpy, governor," returned Lawless, "when you've had your own way about the toast and all. Take another gla.s.s of that old port, that's the stuff that makes your hair curl and look so pretty" [Mr. Framp-ton's _chevelure_ was to be likened only to a grey scrubbing-brush], "we'll send for the new dog-cart to-morrow, and you shall be the first man to ride behind the chestnuts."

"Thank ye kindly, I'll take your advice at all events," replied Mr.

Frampton, helping himself to a gla.s.s of port; "and as to your offer, why I'll transfer that to him (indicating Coleman), 'funny boy,' as I used to call him, when he _was_ a boy, and he doesn't seem much altered in that particular now. Umph!"

This, as was intended, elicited a repartee from Coleman, and the evening pa.s.sed away merrily, although I could perceive, in spite of his attempts to seem gay, that poor Lawless felt the destruction of his hopes deeply.

On my return to the cottage, the servant informed me that a man had been there, who wished very particularly to see me; that she had offered to send for me, but that he had professed himself unable to wait.

"What kind of looking person was he?" inquired I. "He was an oldish man, sir; very tall and thin, with grey hair, and he rode a little rough pony." "Did he leave no note or message?" "He left this note, sir."

Hastily seizing it, I locked myself into my own room, and tearing open the paper, read as follows:--

"Honoured Sir,--In case I should not see you, has my time will be short, I takes the liburty of writin' a line, and ham 'appy to hinform you, as things seem to me awl a-goin' wrong, leastways I think you'll say so when you 'ears my tail. Muster Richard's been back above a week, and he and the Old Un is up to their same tricks again; but that ain't awl--there's a black-haired pale chap c.u.m with a heye like a nork, as seems to me the baddest of the lot, and that ain't sayin' a little.

But there's worse news yet, for I'm afraid we ain't only get to contend hagainst the henemy, but there's a traytur in the camp, _and that in a quarter where you cares most_. Meet me tomorrow mornin' at the old place at seven o'clock, when you shall 'ear more from, Your umbel servant, to command,

"Peter Barnett, "late Sergeant in the --th Dragoons."

-389-- Reader, do you wish me a good-night?--many thanks for your kindness, but if you have any hope that your wish will be realised, you must be of a very sanguine temperament, or you have never been in love.

CHAPTER XLVIII -- PAYING OFF OLD SCORES

"'Oh most delicate fiend!

Who is't can read a woman?

Is there more?'

'More, sir, and worse.'"

--_Cymbeline_.

"The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and st.u.r.dily said he-- 'Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this rede from me, That woman's faith's a brittle trust. Seven twelve- months didst thou say? I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh day.'"

--_Ballad of the n.o.ble Moringer_

IT is a weary thing to lie tossing restlessly from side to side, sleepless, through the silent watches of the night, spirit and matter warring against each other--the sword gnawing and corroding its sheath. A weary and hara.s.sing thing it is even where the body is the aggressor--when the fevered blood, darting like liquid fire through the veins, mounts to the throbbing brow, and, pressing like molten lead upon the brain, crushes out thought and feeling, leaving but a dull consciousness of the racking agony which renders each limb a separate instrument of torture. If, on the other hand, it be the mind that is pestilence-stricken, the disease becomes well-nigh unbearable, as it is incurable; and thus it was with me on the night in question. The suspense and anxiety I had undergone during the preceding day had indisposed me for sustaining any fresh annoyance with equanimity, and now, in confirmation of my worst fears, that hateful sentence in old Peter's note, warning me of treachery in the quarter where I was most deeply interested, rose up before me like some messenger of evil, torturing me to the verge of distraction with vague doubts and suspicions--fiends which the bright spirits of Love and Faith were powerless to banish. The old man's meaning was obvious; he imagined Clara inconstant, and was anxious to warn me against some supposed rival; this in itself was not agreeable; but I should have reckoned at once that he must be labouring under -390-- some delusion, and disregarded his suspicions as unworthy of a moment's notice, had it not been for Clara's strange and unaccountable silence. I had written to her above a week before--in fact, as soon as I became at all uneasy at not having heard from her, urging her to relieve my anxiety, if but by half a dozen lines. Up to this time I had accounted for not having received any answer, by the supposition that Mr. Vernor had, by some accident, detected our correspondence, and taken measures to interrupt it. But this hypothesis was evidently untrue, or Peter Barnett would have mentioned in his note such an easy solution of the difficulty. Yet, to believe Clara false was treason against constancy. Oh! the thing was impossible; to doubt her sincerity would be to lose my confidence in the existence of goodness and truth on this side the grave! The recollection of her simple, child-like confession of affection--the happiness my love appeared to afford her--the tender glance of those honest, trustful eyes--who could think of these things and suspect her for one moment?

But that old man's letter! What did it--what could it mean? His allusion to some dark, hawk-eyed stranger--ha!--and as a strange, improbable idea glanced like lightning through my brain--like lightning, too, searing as it pa.s.sed--I half sprung from the bed, unable to endure the agony the thought had costume. Reason, however, telling me that the idea was utterly fanciful and without foundation, restrained me from doing--I scarcely know what--something desperately impracticable, which should involve much violent bodily action, and result in attaining some certain confirmation either of my hopes and fears, being my nearest approach to any formed scheme. Oh! that night--that weary, endless night! Would morning never, never come! About five o'clock I arose, lighted a candle, dressed myself, and then, sitting down, wrote a short note to my mother, telling her that an engagement, formed the previous evening, to meet a friend, would probably detain me the greater part of the day; and another note to Oaklands, saying that I had taken the liberty of borrowing a horse, begging him to speak of my absence as a thing of course, and promising to tell him more when I returned. I then waited till a faint grey tint in the eastern sky gave promise of the coming dawn; when letting myself noiselessly out, I took my way towards the Hall. It was beginning to get light as I reached the stables, and, arousing one of the drowsy helpers, I made him saddle a bay mare, with whose high courage, speed, -391-- and powers of endurance I was well acquainted, and started on my expedition.

As it was nearly eighteen miles to the place of meeting, I could scarcely hope to reach it by seven o'clock, the time mentioned in old Peter's note; but action was the only relief to my anxiety, and it may easily be supposed I did not lose much time on the road, so that it was but ten minutes after seven when I turned down the lane in which the little alehouse appointed as our rendezvous was situated. I found old Peter waiting to receive me, though the cloud upon his brow, speaking volumes of dark mystery, did not tend to raise my spirits.

"Late on parade, sir," was his greeting--"late on parade; we should never have driven the Mounseers out of Spain if we'd been ten minutes behind our time every morning."

"You forget, my friend, that I have had eighteen miles to ride, and that your notice was too short to allow of my giving orders about a horse over night."

"You do not seem to have lost much time by the way," he added, eyeing my reeking steed. "What a slap-up charger that mare would make! Here, you boy, take her into the shed there, and throw a sack or two over her, wash out her mouth, and give her a lock of hay to nibble; but don't go to let her drink, unless you want my cane about your shoulders--do ye hear? Now, sir, come in."

"What in the world did you mean by that note, Peter?" exclaimed I, as soon as we were alone; "it has nearly driven me distracted--I have never closed my eyes all night."

"Then it's done as I intended," was the satisfactory reply; "it's prepared you for the worst."

"Nice preparation!" muttered I, then added, "Worst! what do you refer to? Speak out, man--you are torturing me!"

"You'll hear it sooner than you like; try and take it easy, young gentleman. Do you feel yourself quite prepared?"

I am afraid my rejoinder was more energetic than correct; but it appeared to produce greater effect than my entreaties had done, for he continued:--

"Well I see you will have it out, so you must, I suppose; only if you ain't prepared proper, don't blame me. As far as I can see and hear--and I keeps my eyes and ears open pretty wide, I can tell you--I feels convinced that Miss Clara's guv you the sack, and gone and taken -392-- up with another young man." As he delivered himself of this pleasant opinion, old Peter slowly approached me, and ended by laying his hands solemnly on my shoulders, and, with an expression of fearful import stamped on his grotesque features, nodded thrice in my very face.

"Nonsense!" replied I, a.s.suming an air of indifference I was far from feeling; "such a thing is utterly impossible--you have deceived yourself in some ridiculous manner."

"I only wish as I could think so, for all our sakes, Mr. Fairlegh; but facts is like jacka.s.ses, precious stubborn things. Why are they always a-walking together, and talking so loving like, that even the old un hisself looks quite savage about it? And why ain't she never wrote to you since he c.u.m--though she's had all your letters--eh?"

"Then she _has_ received my letters?"

"Oh, yes! she's always had them the same as usual."

"And are you sure she has never written to me?"

"Not as I know on; I've never had one to send to you since she's took up with this other chap."

"And pray who or what is this other chap, as you call him, and how comes he to be staying at Barstone?"

"Well, sir, all as I can tell you about him is, that nigh upon a fortnight ago Muster Richard come home, looking precious ill and seedy; and the wery next morning he had a letter from this chap, as I take it.

I brought it to him just as they rung for the breakfast things to be took away, so I had a chance of stopping in the room. Direc'ly he sot eyes on the handwriting, he looked as black as night, and seemed all of a tremble like as he hopened it. As he read he seemed to get less frightened and more cross; and when he'd finished it, he 'anded it to the old un, saying, 'It's all smooth, but he's taken it into his head to come down here. What's to be done, eh? 'Mr. Vernor read it through, and then said in an under tone,' 'Of course he must come if he chooses'.

He then whispered something of which I only caught the words, 'Send her away'; to which Richard replied angrily, 'It shall not be; I'll shilly-shally no longer,--it must be done at once, I tell you, or I give the whole thing up altogether'. They then went into the library, and I heard no more; but the wery next day come this here hidentical chap--he arrived in style too--britzska and post-horses. Oh! he's a reg'lar swell, you may depend; he looks something like a Spaniard, a foreigneering style of physiography, only he ain't so swarthy."

-393-- "Don't you know his name?" inquired I.

"They call him Mr. Fleming, but I don't believe that's his right name; leastways he had a letter come directed different, but I can't remember what it was: it was either--let me see--either a hess or a W; I think it was a hess, but I can't say for certain."

"But what has all this to do with Miss Saville?" asked I impatiently.

"Fair and easy; fair and easy; I'm a-coming to her direc'ly--the world was not made in a day; you'll know sooner than you likes, I expects, now sir. Well, I didn't fancy him from the first; he looks more like Saytin himself than any Christian as ever I set eyes on, except Boneypart, which, being a Frenchman and a henemy, was not so much to be wondered at: however, he was wery quiet and civil, and purlite to Miss Clara, and said wery little to her, while Muster Richard and the old un was by, and she seemed rather to choose to talk to him, as I thought, innocent-like, to avoid the t'other one; but afore long they got quite friends together, and I soon see that he meant business, and no mistake. He's as hartful and deep as Garrick; and there ain't no means of inweigling and coming over a woman as he don't try on her: ay, and he's a clever chap, too; he don't attempt to hurry the thing; he's wery respectful and attentive, and seems to want to show her the difference between his manners and Muster Richard's--not worreting her like; and he says sharp things to make Muster Richard look like a fool before her. I can't help larfing to mysolf sometimes to hear him,--Muster d.i.c.key's met his match at last."

"And how does c.u.mberland brook such interference?"

"Why, that's what I can't make out; he don't like it, that's clear, for I have seen him turn pale with rage; but he seems afraid to quarrel with him, somehow. If ever he says a sharp word, Mr. Fleming gives him a scowling look with his wicked eyes, and Muster Richard shuts up direc'ly."

"And you fancy Miss Saville appears disposed to receive this man's advances favourably? Think well before you speak; do not accuse her lightly, for, by Heaven! if you have not good grounds for your insinuations, neither your age nor your long service shall avail to shield you from my anger! every word breathed against her is like a stab to me." As, in my grief and irritation, I threatened the old man, his brow reddened, and his eye flashed with all the fire of youth. After a moment's reflection, however, his mood changed, and, advancing towards me, he took -394-- my hand respectfully, and pressing it between his own, said:--

"Forgive me this liberty, sir, but I honours you, young gentleman, for your high spirit and generous feeling; your look and bearing, as you said them words, reminded me of my dear old master. It can't be no pleasure to me, sir, to blame _his_ daughter, that I have loved for his sake, as if she had been a child of my own--but truth is truth;" and as he uttered these words, the big drops stood in his eyes, unfailing witnesses of his sincerity. There is something in the display of real deep feeling, which for the time appears to raise and enn.o.ble those who are under its influence; and as the old man stood before me, I experienced towards him a mingled sentiment of admiration and respect, and I hastily endeavoured to atone for the injustice I had done him.

"Forgive me, Peter!" exclaimed I; "I did not mean what I said,--sorrow and annoyance made me unjust to you, but you will forgive it?"

"No need of that, sir," was the reply; "I respects you all the more for it. And now, in answer to your question, I will go on with the little that remains to tell, and you can judge for yourself. Miss Clara, then, avoids Mr. Richard more than hever, and talks kind and pleasant like with this Mr. Fleming--walks out with him, sometimes alone--rides with him--don't seem so dull and mopish like since he's been here, and has never hanswered your letters since she took up with him." As he concluded his catalogue of proofs, I threw myself into a chair, and sat with my hands pressed tightly on my brow for some minutes; my brain seemed on fire.

At length, starting up abruptly, I exclaimed: "This is utterly unbearable! I must have certainty, Peter; I must see her at once. How is that to be done?"

"You may well ask," was his reply; "better wait till I can find an opportunity, and let you know."

"Listen to me, old Peter," continued I, laying my hand on his shoulder; "there is that within me this day which can overcome all obstacles--I tell you I must see her, and I WILL!".