The Last of the Foresters Part 91

Miss Lavinia colors to the temples--the Squire nearly bursts with pent-up laughter.

"What has he done? A villain did you say?" he asks.

"Yes, sir!--a wretch!"

"Possible?"

"Yes--it is possible: and if you knew as much of human nature as I do, you would never feel surprised at any man's turning out a villain and a wretch! I am a wretch myself, sir!"

And scowling at the Squire, Mr. Rushton goes on with his breakfast.

The Squire utters various inarticulate sounds which seem to indicate the stoppage of a bone in his throat. Nevertheless he soon recovers his powers of speech, and says:

"But how is Roundjacket so bad?"

"He has taken to writing poetry."

"That's an old charge."

"No, sir--he has grown far worse, lately. He is writing an epic--an epic!"

And the lawyer looked inexpressibly disgusted.

"I should think a gentleman might compose an epic poem without rendering himself amenable to insult, sir," says Miss Lavinia, with freezing hauteur.

"You are mistaken," says Mr. Rushton; "your s.e.x, madam, know nothing of business. The lawyer who takes to writing poetry, must necessarily neglect the legal business entrusted to him, and for which he is paid.

Now, madam," added Mr. Rushton, triumphantly, "I defy you, or any other man--individual, I mean--to say that the person who takes money without giving an equivalent, is not a villain and a wretch!"

Miss Lavinia colors, and mutters inarticulately.

"Such a man," said Mr. Rushton, with dreadful solemnity, "is already on his way to the gallows; he has already commenced the downward course of crime. From this, he proceeds to breach of promise--I mean any promise, not of marriage only, madam--then to forging, then to larceny, and finally to burglary and murder. There, madam, that is what I mean--I defy you to deny the truth of what I say!"

The Squire could endure the pressure upon his larynx no longer, and exploded like a bomb-sh.e.l.l; or if not in so terrible a manner, at least nearly as loudly.

No one can tell what the awful sentiments of Mr. Rushton, on the subject of Roundjacket would have led to, had not the Squire come to the rescue.

"Well, well," he said, still laughing, "it is plain, my dear Rushton, that for once in your life you are not well posted up on the 'facts of your case,' and you are getting worse and worse in your argument, to say nothing of the prejudice of the jury. Come, let us dismiss the subject. I don't think Mr. Roundjacket, however, will turn out a murderer, which would be a horrible blow to me, as I knew his worthy father well, and often visited him at 'Flowery Lane,' over yonder. But the discussion is unprofitable--hey! what do you think, Verty, and you, Miss Redbud?"

Verty raises his head and smiles.

"I am very fond of Mr. Roundjacket," he says.

"Fond of him?"

"Yes, sir: he likes me too, I think," Verty says.

"How does he show it, my boy?"

"He gives me advice, sir."

"What! and you like him for that?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Well, perhaps the nature of the advice may modify my surprise at your grat.i.tude, Verty."

"_Anan_, sir?"

"What advice does he give you?"

Verty laughs.

"Must I tell, sir? I don't know if--"

And Verty blushes slightly, looking at Miss Lavinia and Redbud.

"Come, speak out!" laughs the Squire. "He advises you--"

"Not to get married."

And Verty blushes.

We need not say that the wicked old Squire greets this reply of Verty with a laugh sufficient to shake the windows.

"Not to get married!" he cries.

"Yes, sir," Verty replies, blushing ingenuously.

"And you like Mr. Roundjacket, you say, because he advises you not to get--"

"No, oh! no, sir!" interrupts Verty, with sudden energy, "oh! no, sir, I did not mean that!"

And the young man, embarra.s.sed by his own vehemence, and the eyes directed toward his face, hangs his head and blushes. Yes, the bold, simple, honest Verty, blushes, and looks ashamed, and feels as if he is guilty of some dreadful crime. Do. not the best of us, under the same circ.u.mstances?--that is to say, if we have the good fortune to be young and innocent.

The Squire looks at Verty and laughs; then at Miss Lavinia.

"So, it seems," he says, "that Mr. Roundjacket counsels a bachelor life, eh? Good! he is a worthy professor, but an indifferent pract.i.tioner. The rascal! Did you ever hear of such a thing, Lavinia?

I declare, if I were a lady, I should decline to recognize, among my acquaintances, the upholder of such doctrines--especially when he poisons the ears of boys like Verty with them!"

And the Squire continues to laugh.

"Perhaps," says Miss Lavinia, with stately dignity, and glancing at Verty as she speaks,--"perhaps the--hem--circ.u.mstances which induced Mr. Roundjacket to give the advice, might have been--been--peculiar."

And Miss Lavinia smooths down her black silk with dignity.

"Peculiar?"

"Yes," says the lady, glancing this time at Redbud.