THE DISOWNED

by Edward Bulwer Lytton

CHAPTER I. 

I'll tell you a story if you please to attend. G. KNIGHT: Limbo. 

It was the evening of a soft, warm day in the May of 17--. The sunhad already set, and the twilight was gathering slowly over the large, still masses of wood which lay on either side of one of those greenlanes so peculiar to England. Here and there, the outline of thetrees irregularly shrunk back from the road, leaving broad patches ofwaste land covered with fern and the yellow blossoms of the dwarffurze, and at more distant intervals thick clusters of rushes, fromwhich came the small hum of gnats, --those "evening revellers"alternately rising and sinking in the customary manner of theirunknown sports, --till, as the shadows grew darker and darker, theirthin and airy shapes were no longer distinguishable, and no solitarytoken of life or motion broke the voiceless monotony of thesurrounding woods. 

The first sound which invaded the silence came from the light, quickfootsteps of a person whose youth betrayed itself in its elastic andunmeasured tread, and in the gay, free carol which broke out by fitsand starts upon the gentle stillness of the evening. 

There was something rather indicative of poetical taste than musicalscience in the selection of this vesper hymn, which always commencedwith, --

 "'T is merry, 't is merry, in good green wood, "

and never proceeded a syllable further than the end of the secondline, --

 "when birds are about and singing;"

from the last word of which, after a brief pause, it invariablystarted forth into joyous "iteration. "

Presently a heavier, yet still more rapid, step than that of the youthwas heard behind; and, as it overtook the latter, a loud, clear, good-humoured voice gave the salutation of the evening. The tone in whichthis courtesy was returned was frank, distinct, and peculiarlyharmonious. 

"Good evening, my friend. How far is it to W----? I hope I am notout of the direct road?"

"To W----, sir?" said the man, touching his hat, as he perceived, inspite of the dusk, something in the air and voice of his newacquaintance which called for a greater degree of respect than he wasat first disposed to accord to a pedestrian traveller, --"to W----, sir? why, you will not surely go there to-night? it is more thaneight miles distant, and the roads none of the best"

"Now, a curse on all rogues!" quoth the youth, with a serious sort ofvivacity. "Why, the miller at the foot of the hill assured me Ishould be at my journey's end in less than an hour. "

"He may have said right, sir, " returned the man, "yet you will notreach W---- in twice that time. "

"How do you mean?" said the younger stranger. 

"Why, that you may for once force a miller to speak truth in spite ofhimself, and make a public-house, about three miles hence, the end ofyour day's journey. "

"Thank you for the hint, " said the youth. "Does the house you speakof lie on the road-side?"

"No, sir: the lane branches off about two miles hence, and you mustthen turn to the right; but till then our way is the same, and if youwould not prefer your own company to mine we can trudge on together. "

"With all my heart, " rejoined the younger stranger; "and not the lesswillingly from the brisk pace you walk. I thought I had few equals inpedestrianism; but it should not be for a small wager that I wouldundertake to keep up with you. "

"Perhaps, sir, " said the man, laughing, "I'll have had in the course ofmy life a better usage and a longer experience of my heels than youhave. "

Somewhat startled by a speech of so equivocal a meaning, the youth, for the first time, turned round to examine, as well as the increasingdarkness would permit, the size and appearance of his companion. Hewas not perhaps too well satisfied with his survey. His fellowpedestrian was about six feet high, and of a corresponding girth oflimb and frame, which would have made him fearful odds in anyencounter where bodily strength was the best means of conquest. Notwithstanding the mildness of the weather, he was closely buttonedin a rough great-coat, which was well calculated to give all dueeffect to the athletic proportions of the wearer. 

There was a pause of some moments. 

"This is but a wild, savage sort of scene for England, sir, in thisday of new-fashioned ploughs and farming improvements, " said the tallstranger, looking round at the ragged wastes and grim woods, which laysteeped in the shade beside and before them. 

"True, " answered the youth; "and in a few years agriculturalinnovation will scarcely leave, even in these wastes, a single furze-blossom for the bee or a tuft of green-sward for the grasshopper; but, however unpleasant the change may be for us foot-travellers, we mustnot repine at what they tell us is so sure a witness of the prosperityof the country. "

"They tell us! who tell us?" exclaimed the stranger, with greatvivacity. "Is it the puny and spiritless artisan, or the debased andcrippled slave of the counter and the till, or the sallow speculatoron morals, who would mete us out our liberty, our happiness, our veryfeelings by the yard and inch and fraction? No, no, let them followwhat the books and precepts of their own wisdom teach them; let themcultivate more highly the lands they have already parcelled out bydikes and fences, and leave, though at scanty intervals, some greenpatches of unpolluted land for the poor man's beast and the free man'sfoot. "

"You are an enthusiast on this subject, " said the younger traveller, not a little surprised at the tone and words of the last speech; "andif I were not just about to commence the world with a firm persuasionthat enthusiasm on any matter is a great obstacle to success, I couldbe as warm though not so eloquent as yourself. "

"Ah, sir, " said the stranger, sinking into a more natural and carelesstone, "I have a better right than I imagine you can claim to repine oreven to inveigh against the boundaries which are, day by day and hourby hour, encroaching upon what I have learned to look upon as my ownterritory. You were, just before I joined you, singing an old song; Ihonour you for your taste: and no offence, sir, but a sort offellowship in feeling made me take the liberty to accost you. I am novery great scholar in other things; but I owe my present circumstancesof life solely to my fondness for those old songs and quaintmadrigals. And I believe no person can better apply to himself WillShakspeare's invitation, --

 'Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither, Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. '"

Relieved from his former fear, but with increased curiosity at thisquotation, which was half said, half sung, in a tone which seemed toevince a hearty relish for the sense of the words, the youth replied, --

"Truly, I did not expect to meet among the travellers of this wildcountry with so well-stored a memory. And, indeed, I should haveimagined that the only persons to whom your verses could exactly haveapplied were those honourable vagrants from the Nile whom in vulgarlanguage we term gypsies. "

"Precisely so, sir, " answered the tall stranger, indifferently;"precisely so. It is to that ancient body that I belong. "

"The devil you do!" quoth the youth, in unsophisticated surprise; "theprogress of education is indeed astonishing!"

"Why, " answered the stranger, laughing, "to tell you the truth, sir, Iam a gypsy by inclination, not birth. The illustrious Bamfylde MooreCarew is not the only example of one of gentle blood and honourableeducation whom the fleshpots of Egypt have seduced. "

"I congratulate myself, " quoth the youth, in a tone that might havebeen in jest, "upon becoming acquainted with a character at once sorespectable and so novel; and, to return your quotation in the way ofa compliment, I cry out with the most fashionable author ofElizabeth's days, --

 'O for a bowl of fat Canary, Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry, '

in order to drink to our better acquaintance. "

"Thank you, sir, --thank you, " cried the strange gypsy, seeminglydelighted with the spirit with which his young acquaintance appearedto enter into his character, and his quotation from a class of authorsat that time much less known and appreciated than at present; "and ifyou have seen already enough of the world to take up with ale whenneither Canary, Palermo, nor Sherry are forthcoming, I will promise, at least, to pledge you in large draughts of that homely beverage. What say you to passing a night with us? our tents are yet more athand than the public-house of which I spoke to you. " The young manhesitated a moment, then replied, --

"I will answer you frankly, my friend, even though I may find cause torepent my confidence. I have a few guineas about me, which, thoughnot a large sum, are my all. Now, however ancient and honourable yourfraternity may be, they labour under a sad confusion, I fear, in theirideas of meum and tuum. "

"Faith, sir, I believe you are right; and were you some years older, Ithink you would not have favoured me with the same disclosure you havedone now; but you may be quite easy on that score. If you were madeof gold, the rascals would not filch off the corner of your garment aslong as you were under my protection. Does this assurance satisfyyou?"

"Perfectly, " said the youth; "and now how far are we from yourencampment? I assure you I am all eagerness to be among a set ofwhich I have witnessed such a specimen. "

"Nay, nay, " returned the gypsy, "you must not judge of all my brethrenby me: I confess that they are but a rough tribe. However, I lovethem dearly; and am only the more inclined to think them honest toeach other, because they are rogues to all the rest of the world. "

By this time our travellers had advanced nearly two miles since theyhad commenced companionship; and at a turn in the lane, about threehundred yards farther on, they caught a glimpse of a distant fireburning brightly through the dim trees. They quickened their pace, and striking a little out of their path into a common, soon approachedtwo tents, the Arab homes of the vagrant and singular people with whomthe gypsy claimed brotherhood and alliance. 

CHAPTER II. 

 Here we securely live and eat The cream of meat; And keep eternal fires By which we sit and do divine. HERRICK: Ode to Sir Clipseby Crew. 

Around a fire which blazed and crackled beneath the large seething-pot, that seemed an emblem of the mystery and a promise of the goodcheer which are the supposed characteristics of the gypsy race, weregrouped seven or eight persons, upon whose swarthy and strongcountenances the irregular and fitful flame cast a picturesque and notunbecoming glow. All of these, with the exception of an old crone whowas tending the pot, and a little boy who was feeding the fire withsundry fragments of stolen wood, started to their feet upon theentrance of the stranger. 

"What ho! my bob cuffins, " cried the gypsy guide, "I have brought youa gentry cove, to whom you will show all proper respect: and hark ye, my maunders, if ye dare beg, borrow, or steal a single croker, --ay, but a bawbee of him, I'll--but ye know me. " The gypsy stoppedabruptly, and turned an eye, in which menace vainly struggled withgood-humour, upon each of his brethren, as they submissively bowed tohim and his protege, and poured forth a profusion of promises, towhich their admonitor did not even condescend to listen. He threw offhis great-coat, doubled it down by the best place near the fire, andmade the youth forthwith possess himself of the seat it afforded. Hethen lifted the cover of the mysterious caldron. "Well, Mort, " criedhe to the old woman, as he bent wistfully down, "what have we here?"

"Two ducks, three chickens, and a rabbit, with some potatoes, " growledthe old hag, who claimed the usual privilege of her culinary office, to be as ill-tempered as she pleased. 

"Good!" said the gypsy; "and now, Mim, my cull, go to the other tent, and ask its inhabitants, in my name, to come here and sup; bid thembring their caldron to eke out ours: I'll find the lush. "

With these words (which Mim, a short, swarthy member of the gang, witha countenance too astute to be pleasing, instantly started forth toobey) the gypsy stretched himself at full length by the youth's side, and began reminding him, with some jocularity and at some length, ofhis promise to drink to their better acquaintance. 

Something there was in the scene, the fire, the caldron, the intentfigure and withered countenance of the old woman, the grouping of theother forms, the rude but not unpicturesque tent, the dark still woodson either side, with the deep and cloudless skies above, as the starsbroke forth one by one upon the silent air, which (to use the orthodoxphrase of the novelist) would not have been wholly unworthy the boldpencil of Salvator himself. 

The youth eyed, with that involuntary respect which personaladvantages always command, the large yet symmetrical proportions ofhis wild companion; nor was the face which belonged to that frame muchless deserving of attention. Though not handsome, it was both shrewdand prepossessing in its expression; the forehead was prominent, thebrows overhung the eyes, which were large, dark, and, unlike those ofthe tribe in general, rather calm than brilliant; the complexion, though sun-burnt, was not swarthy, and the face was carefully andcleanly shaved, so as to give all due advantage of contrast to thebrown luxuriant locks which fell rather in flakes than curls, oneither side of the healthful and manly cheeks. In age, he was aboutthirty-five, and, though his air and mien were assuredly not lofty noraristocratic, yet they were strikingly above the bearing of hisvagabond companions: those companions were in all respects of theordinary race of gypsies; the cunning and flashing eye, the ravenlocks, the dazzling teeth, the bronzed colour, and the low, slight, active form, were as strongly their distinguishing characteristics asthe tokens of all their tribe. 

But to these, the appearance of the youth presented a striking andbeautiful contrast. 

He had only just passed the stage of boyhood, perhaps he might haveseen eighteen summers, probably not so many. He had, in imitation ofhis companion, and perhaps from mistaken courtesy to his new society, doffed his hat; and the attitude which he had chosen fully developedthe noble and intellectual turn of his head and throat. His hair, asyet preserved from the disfiguring fashions of the day, was of a deepauburn, which was rapidly becoming of a more chestnut hue, and curledin short close curls from the nape of the neck to the commencement ofa forehead singularly white and high. His brows finely and lightlypencilled, and his long lashes of the darkest dye, gave a deeper andperhaps softer shade than they otherwise would have worn to eyes quickand observant in their expression and of a light hazel in theircolour. His cheek was very fair, and the red light of the fire castan artificial tint of increased glow upon a complexion that hadnaturally rather bloom than colour; while a dark riding frock set offin their full beauty the fine outline of his chest and the slendersymmetry of his frame. 

But it was neither his features nor his form, eminently handsome asthey were, which gave the principal charm to the young stranger'sappearance: it was the strikingly bold, buoyant, frank, and almostjoyous expression which presided over all. There seemed to dwell thefirst glow and life of youth, undimmed by a single fear and unbaffledin a single hope. There were the elastic spring, the inexhaustiblewealth of energies which defied in their exulting pride the heavinessof sorrow and the harassments of time. It was a face that, while itfilled you with some melancholy foreboding of the changes and chanceswhich must, in the inevitable course of fate, cloud the openness ofthe unwrinkled brow, and soberize the fire of the daring and restlesseye, instilled also within you some assurance of triumph, and someomen of success, --a vague but powerful sympathy with the adventurousand cheerful spirit which appeared literally to speak in itsexpression. It was a face you might imagine in one born under aprosperous star; and you felt, as you gazed, a confidence in thatbright countenance, which, like the shield of the British Prince, [Prince Arthur. --See "The Faerie Queene. "] seemed possessed with aspell to charm into impotence the evil spirits who menaced itspossessor. 

"Well, sir, " said his friend, the gypsy, who had in his turn beensurveying with admiration the sinewy and agile frame of his youngguest, "well, sir, how fares your appetite? Old Dame Bingo will bemortally offended if you do not do ample justice to her good cheer. "

"If so, " answered our traveller, who, young as he was, had learntalready the grand secret of making in every situation a female friend, "if so, I shall be likely to offend her still more. "

"And how, my pretty master?" said the old crone with an iron smile. 

"Why, I shall be bold enough to reconcile matters with a kiss, Mrs. Bingo, " answered the youth. 

"Ha! Ha!" shouted the tall gypsy; "it is many a long day since my oldMort slapped a gallant's face for such an affront. But here come ourmessmates. Good evening, my mumpers; make your bows to this gentlemanwho has come to bowse with us to-night. 'Gad, we'll show him that oldale's none the worse for keeping company with the moon's darlings. Come, sit down, sit down. Where's the cloth, ye ill-mannered loons, and the knives and platters? Have we no holiday customs forstrangers, think ye? Mim, my cove, off to my caravan; bring out theknives, and all other rattletraps; and harkye, my cuffin, this smallkey opens the inner hole, where you will find two barrels; bring oneof them. I'll warrant it of the best, for the brewer himself dranksome of the same sort but two hours before I nimm'd them. Come, stump, my cull, make yourself wings. Ho, Dame Bingo, is not that potof thine seething yet? Ah, my young gentleman, you commence betimes;so much the better; if love's a summer's day, we all know how early asummer morning begins, " added the jovial Egyptian in a lower voice(feeling perhaps that he was only understood by himself), as he gazedcomplacently on the youth, who, with that happy facility of makinghimself everywhere at home so uncommon to his countrymen, was alreadypaying compliments suited to their understanding to two fair daughtersof the tribe who had entered with the new-comers. Yet had he too muchcraft or delicacy, call it which you will, to continue his addressesto that limit where ridicule or jealousy from the male part of theassemblage might commence; on the contrary, he soon turned to the men, and addressed them with a familiarity so frank and so suited to theirtaste that he grew no less rapidly in their favour than he had alreadydone in that of the women, and when the contents of the two caldronswere at length set upon the coarse but clean cloth which in honour ofhis arrival covered the sod, it was in the midst of a loud anduniversal peal of laughter which some broad witticism of the youngstranger had produced that the party sat down to their repast. 

Bright were the eyes and sleek the tresses of the damsel who placedherself by the side of the stranger, and many were the alluringglances and insinuated compliments which replied to his openadmiration and profuse flattery; but still there was nothing exclusivein his attentions; perhaps an ignorance of the customs of hisentertainers, and a consequent discreet fear of offending them, restrained him; or perhaps he found ample food for occupation in theplentiful dainties which his host heaped before him. 

"Now tell me, " said the gypsy chief (for chief he appeared to be), "ifwe lead not a merrier life than you dreamt of? or would you have uschange our coarse fare and our simple tents, our vigorous limbs andfree hearts, for the meagre board, the monotonous chamber, thediseased frame, and the toiling, careful, and withered spirit of somemiserable mechanic?"

"Change!" cried the youth, with an earnestness which, if affected, wasan exquisite counterfeit, "by Heaven, I would change with you myself. "

"Bravo, my fine cove!" cried the host, and all the gang echoed theirsympathy with his applause. 

The youth continued: "Meat, and that plentiful; ale, and that strong;women, and those pretty ones: what can man desire more?"

"Ay, " cried the host, "and all for nothing, --no, not even a tax; whoelse in this kingdom can say that? Come, Mim, push round the ale. "

And the ale was pushed round, and if coarse the merriment, loud atleast was the laugh that rang ever and anon from the old tent; andthough, at moments, something in the guest's eye and lip might haveseemed, to a very shrewd observer, a little wandering and absent, yet, upon the whole, he was almost as much at ease as the rest, and if hewas not quite as talkative he was to the full as noisy. 

By degrees, as the hour grew later and the barrel less heavy, theconversation changed into one universal clatter. Some told theirfeats in beggary; others, their achievements in theft; not a viandthey had fed on but had its appropriate legend; even the old rabbit, which had been as tough as old rabbit can well be, had not beenhonestly taken from his burrow; no less a person than Mim himself hadpurloined it from a widow's footman who was carrying it to an old maidfrom her nephew the Squire. 

"Silence, " cried the host, who loved talking as well as the rest, andwho for the last ten minutes had been vainly endeavouring to obtainattention. "Silence! my maunders, it's late, and we shall have thequeer cuffins [magistrates] upon us if we keep it up much longer. What, ho, Mim, are you still gabbling at the foot of the table whenyour betters are talking? As sure as my name's King Cole, I'll chokeyou with your own rabbit skin, if you don't hush your prating cheat, --nay, never look so abashed: if you will make a noise, come forward, and sing us a gypsy song. You see, my young sir, " turning to hisguest, "that we are not without our pretensions to the fine arts. "

At this order, Mim started forth, and taking his station at the righthand of the soi-disant King Cole, began the following song, the chorusof which was chanted in full diapason by the whole group, with theadditional force of emphasis that knives, feet, and fists couldbestow:--

 THE GYPSY'S SONG. 

 The king to his hall, and the steed to his stall, And the cit to his bilking board; But we are not bound to an acre of ground, For our home is the houseless sward. We sow not, nor toil; yet we glean from the soil As much as its reapers do; And wherever we rove, we feed on the cove Who gibes at the mumping crew. CHORUS. --So the king to his hall, etc. 

 We care not a straw for the limbs of the law, Nor a fig for the cuffin queer; While Hodge and his neighbour shall lavish and labour, Our tent is as sure of its cheer. CHORUS. --So the king to his hall, etc. 

 The worst have an awe of the harman's [constable] claw, And the best will avoid the trap; [bailiff] But our wealth is as free of the bailiff's see As our necks of the twisting crap. [gallows] CHORUS. --So the king to his hall, etc. 

 They say it is sweet to win the meat For the which one has sorely wrought; But I never could find that we lacked the mind For the food that has cost us nought! CHRUS. --So the king to his hall, etc. 

 And when we have ceased from our fearless feast Why, our jigger [door] will need no bars; Our sentry shall be on the owlet's tree, And our lamps the glorious stars. 

 CHORUS. So the king to his hall, and the steed to his stall, And the cit to his bilking board; But we are not bound to an acre of ground, For our home is the houseless sward. 

Rude as was this lawless stave, the spirit with which it was sungatoned to the young stranger for its obscurity and quaintness; as forhis host, that curious personage took a lusty and prominent part inthe chorus; nor did the old woods refuse their share of the burden, but sent back a merry echo to the chief's deep voice and the harshernotes of his jovial brethren. 

When the glee had ceased, King Cole rose, the whole band followed hisexample, the cloth was cleared in a trice, the barrel--oh! what afalling off was there!--was rolled into a corner of the tent, and thecrew to whom the awning belonged began to settle themselves to rest;while those who owned the other encampment marched forth, with KingCole at their head. Leaning with no light weight upon his guest'sarm, the lover of ancient minstrelsy poured into the youth's ear astrain of eulogy, rather eloquent than coherent, upon the scene theyhad just witnessed. 

"What, " cried his majesty in an enthusiastic tone, "what can be sotruly regal as our state? Can any man control us? Are we not aboveall laws? Are we not the most despotic of kings? Nay, more than thekings of earth, are we not the kings of Fairyland itself? Do we notrealize the golden dreams of the old rhymers, luxurious dogs that theywere? Who would not cry out, --

 'Blest silent groves! Oh, may ye be Forever Mirth's best nursery! May pure Contents Forever pitch their tents Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains. '"

Uttering this notable extract from the thrice-honoured Sir HenryWotton, King Cole turned abruptly from the common, entered the woodwhich skirted it, and, only attended by his guest and his ministerMim, came suddenly, by an unexpected and picturesque opening in thetrees, upon one of those itinerant vehicles termed caravans, heascended the few steps which led to the entrance, opened the door, andwas instantly in the arms of a pretty and young woman. On seeing ourhero (for such we fear the youth is likely to become), she drew backwith a blush not often found upon regal cheeks. 

"Pooh, " said King Cole, half tauntingly, half fondly, "pooh, Lucy, blushes are garden flowers, and ought never to be found wild in thewoods:" then changing his tone, he said, "come, put some fresh strawin the corner, this stranger honours our palace to-night; Mim, unloadthyself of our royal treasures; watch without and vanish from within!"

Depositing on his majesty's floor the appurtenances of the regalsupper-table, Mim made his respectful adieus and disappeared;meanwhile the queen scattered some fresh straw over a mattress in thenarrow chamber, and, laying over all a sheet of singularly snowy hue, made her guest some apology for the badness of his lodging; this KingCole interrupted by a most elaborately noisy yawn and a declaration ofextreme sleepiness. "Now, Lucy, let us leave the gentleman to what hewill like better than soft words even from a queen. Good night, sir, we shall be stirring at daybreak;" and with this farewell King Coletook the lady's arm, and retired with her into an inner compartment ofthe caravan. 

Left to himself, our hero looked round with surprise at the exceedingneatness which reigned over the whole apartment. But what chieflyengrossed the attention of one to whose early habits books had alwaysbeen treasures were several volumes, ranged in comely shelves, fencedwith wirework, on either side of the fireplace. "Courage, " thoughthe, as he stretched himself on his humble couch, "my adventures havecommenced well: a gypsy tent, to be sure, is nothing very new; but agypsy who quotes poetry, and enjoys a modest wife, speaks better thanbooks do for the improvement of the world!"

CHAPTER III. 

 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp?--As You Like It. 

The sun broke cheerfully through the small lattice of the caravan, asthe youth opened his eyes and saw the good-humoured countenance of hisgypsy host bending over him complacently. 

"You slept so soundly, sir, that I did not like to disturb you; but mygood wife only waits your rising to have all ready for breakfast. "

"It were a thousand pities, " cried the guest, leaping from his bed, "that so pretty a face should look cross on my account, so I will notkeep her waiting an instant. "

The gypsy smiled, as he answered, "I require no professional help fromthe devil, sir, to foretell your fortune. "

"No!--and what is it?"

"Honour, reputation, success: all that are ever won by a soft tongue, if it be backed by a bold heart. "

Bright and keen was the flash which shot over the countenance of theone for whom this prediction was made, as he listened to it with afondness for which his reason rebuked him. 

He turned aside with a sigh, which did not escape the gypsy, andbathed his face in the water which the provident hand of the goodwoman had set out for his lavations. 

"Well, " said his host, when the youth had finished his brief toilet, "suppose we breathe the fresh air, while Lucy smooths your bed andprepares the breakfast?"

"With all my heart, " replied the youth, and they descended the stepswhich led into the wood. It was a beautiful, fresh morning; the airwas like a draught from a Spirit's fountain, and filled the heart withnew youth and the blood with a rapturous delight; the leaves--thegreen, green leaves of spring--were quivering on the trees, amongwhich the happy birds fluttered and breathed the gladness of theirsouls in song. While the dewdrops that--

 "strewed A baptism o'er the flowers"--

gave back in their million mirrors the reflected smiles of thecloudless and rejoicing sun. 

"Nature, " said the gypsy, "has bestowed on her children a gorgeouspresent in such a morning. "

"True, " said the youth; "and you, of us two, perhaps only deserve it;as for me, when I think of the long road of dust, heat, and toil, thatlies before me, I could almost wish to stop here and ask an admissioninto the gypsy's tents. "

"You could not do a wiser thing!" said the gypsy, gravely. 

"But fate leaves me no choice, " continued the youth, as seriously asif he were in earnest; "and I must quit you immediately after I have asecond time tasted of your hospitable fare. "

"If it must be so, " answered the gypsy, "I will see you, at least, amile or two on your road. " The youth thanked him for a promise whichhis curiosity made acceptable, and they turned once more to thecaravan. 

The meal, however obtained, met with as much honour as it couldpossibly have received from the farmer from whom its materials wereborrowed. 

It was not without complacency that the worthy pair beheld the noticetheir guest lavished upon a fair, curly-headed boy of about threeyears old, the sole child and idol of the gypsy potentates. But theydid not perceive, when the youth rose to depart, that he slipped intothe folds of the child's dress a ring of some value, the only one hepossessed. 

"And now, " said he, after having thanked his entertainers for theirhospitality, "I must say good-by to your flock, and set out upon myday's journey. "

Lucy, despite her bashfulness, shook hands with her handsome guest;and the latter, accompanied by the gypsy chief, strolled down to theencampments. 

Open and free was his parting farewell to the inmates of the twotents, and liberal was the hand which showered upon all--especially onthe damsel who had been his Thais of the evening feast--the silvercoins which made no inconsiderable portion of his present property. 

It was amidst the oracular wishes and favourable predictions of thewhole crew that he recommenced his journey with the gypsy chief. 

When the tents were fairly out of sight, and not till then, King Colebroke the silence which had as yet subsisted between them. 

"I suppose, my young gentleman, that you expect to meet some of yourfriends or relations at W----? I know not what they will say whenthey hear where you have spent the night. "

"Indeed!" said the youth; "whoever hears my adventures, relation ornot, will be delighted with my description; but in sober earnest, Iexpect to find no one at W---- more my friend than a surly innkeeper, unless it be his dog. "

"Why, they surely do not suffer a stripling of your youth and evidentquality to wander alone!" cried King Cole, in undisguised surprise. 

The young traveller made no prompt answer, but bent down as if topluck a wild-flower which grew by the road-side: after a pause, hesaid, --

"Nay, Master Cole, you must not set me the example of playing theinquisitor, or you cannot guess how troublesome I shall be. To tellyou the truth, I am dying with curiosity to know something more aboutyou than you may be disposed to tell me: you have already confessedthat, however boon companions your gypsies may be, it is not amonggypsies that you were born and bred. "

King Cole laughed: perhaps he was not ill pleased by the curiosity ofhis guest, nor by the opportunity it afforded him of being his ownhero. 

"My story, sir, " said he, "would be soon told, if you thought it worththe hearing, nor does it contain anything which should prevent mytelling it. "

"If so, " quoth the youth, "I shall conceive your satisfying my requesta still greater favour than those you have already bestowed upon me. "

The gypsy relaxed his pace into an indolent saunter, as he commenced:--

"The first scene that I remember was similar to that which youwitnessed last night. The savage tent, and the green moor; the fagotblaze; the eternal pot, with its hissing note of preparation; the olddame who tended it, and the ragged urchins who learned from itscontents the first reward of theft and the earliest temptation to it, --all these are blended into agreeable confusion as the primalimpressions of my childhood. The woman who nurtured me as my motherwas rather capricious than kind, and my infancy passed away, like thatof more favoured scions of fortune, in alternate chastisement andcaresses. In good truth, Kinching Meg had the shrillest voice and theheaviest hand of the whole crew; and I cannot complain of injustice, since she treated me no worse than the rest. Notwithstanding theirregularity of my education, I grew up strong and healthy, and myreputed mother had taught me so much fear for herself that she left menone for anything else; accordingly, I became bold, reckless, andadventurous, and at the age of thirteen was as thorough a reprobate asthe tribe could desire. At that time a singular change befell me: we(that is, my mother and myself) were begging not many miles hence atthe door of a rich man's house in which the mistress lay on her death-bed. That mistress was my real mother, from whom Meg had stolen me inthe first year of existence. Whether it was through the fear ofconscience or the hope of reward, no sooner had Meg learnt thedangerous state of my poor mother, the constant grief, which they saidhad been the sole though slow cause of her disease, and the large sumswhich had been repeatedly offered for my recovery; no sooner, I say, did Meg ascertain all these particulars than she fought her way up tothe sick-chamber, fell on her knees before the bed, owned her crime, and produced myself. Various little proofs of time, place, circumstance; the clothing I had worn when stolen, and which was stillpreserved, joined to the striking likeness I bore to both my parents, especially to my father, silenced all doubt and incredulity: I waswelcomed home with a joy which it is in vain to describe. My returnseemed to recall my mother from the grave; she lingered on for manymonths longer than her physicians thought it possible, and when shedied her last words commended me to my father's protection. "

"My surviving parent needed no such request. He lavished upon me allthat superfluity of fondness and food of which those good people whoare resolved to spoil their children are so prodigal. He could notbear the idea of sending me to school; accordingly he took a tutor forme, --a simple-hearted, gentle, kind man, who possessed a vast store oflearning rather curious than useful. He was a tolerable, and at leastan enthusiastic antiquarian, a more than tolerable poetaster; and hehad a prodigious budget full of old ballads and songs, which he lovedbetter to teach and I to learn, than all the 'Latin, Greek, geography, astronomy, and the use of the globes, ' which my poor father had sosedulously bargained for. "

"Accordingly, I became exceedingly well-informed in all the 'preciousconceits' and 'golden garlands' of our British ancients, and continuedexceedingly ignorant of everything else, save and except a few of themost fashionable novels of the day, and the contents of six lyingvolumes of voyages and travels, which flattered both my appetite forthe wonderful and my love of the adventurous. My studies, such asthey were, were not by any means suited to curb or direct the vagranttastes my childhood had acquired: on the contrary, the old poets, withtheir luxurious description of the 'green wood' and the forest life;the fashionable novelists, with their spirited accounts of thewanderings of some fortunate rogue, and the ingenious travellers, withtheir wild fables, so dear to the imagination of every boy, onlyfomented within me a strong though secret regret at my change of life, and a restless disgust to the tame home and bounded roamings to whichI was condemned. When I was about seventeen, my father sold hisproperty (which he had become possessed of in right of my mother), andtransferred the purchase money to the security of the Funds. Shortlyafterwards he died; the bulk of his fortune became mine; the remainderwas settled upon a sister, many years older than myself, whom, inconsequence of her marriage and residence in a remote part of Wales, Ihad never yet seen. "

"Now, then, I was perfectly free and unfettered; my guardian lived inScotland, and left me entirely to the guidance of my tutor, who wasboth too simple and too indolent to resist my inclinations. I went toLondon, became acquainted with a set of most royal scamps, frequentedthe theatres and the taverns, the various resorts which constitute thegayeties of a blood just above the middle class, and was one of thenoisiest and wildest 'blades' that ever heard the 'chimes by midnight'and the magistrate's lecture for matins. I was a sort of leader amongthe jolly dogs I consorted with. "

"My earlier education gave a raciness and nature to my delineations of'life' which delighted them. But somehow or other I grew wearied ofthis sort of existence. About a year after I was of age my fortunewas more than three parts spent; I fell ill with drinking and grewdull with remorse: need I add that my comrades left me to myself? Afit of the spleen, especially if accompanied with duns, makes onewofully misanthropic; so, when I recovered from my illness, I set outon a tour through Great Britain and France, --alone, and principally onfoot. Oh, the rapture of shaking off the half friends and coldformalities of society and finding oneself all unfettered, with nocompanion but Nature, no guide but youth, and no flatterer but hope!"

"Well, my young friend, I travelled for two years, and saw even inthat short time enough of this busy world to weary and disgust me withits ordinary customs. I was not made to be polite, still less to beambitious. I sighed after the coarse comrades and the free tents ofmy first associates; and a thousand remembrances of the gypsywanderings, steeped in all the green and exhilarating colours ofchildhood, perpetually haunted my mind. On my return from mywanderings I found a letter from my sister, who, having become awidow, had left Wales, and had now fixed her residence in a wellvisited watering-place in the west of England. I had never yet seenher, and her letter was a fine-ladylike sort of epistle, with a greatdeal of romance and a very little sense, written in an extremelypretty hand, and ending with a quotation from Pope (I never couldendure Pope, nor indeed any of the poets of the days of Anne and hersuccessors). It was a beautiful season of the year: I had been inuredto pedestrian excursions; so I set off on foot to see my nearestsurviving relative. On the way, I fell in (though on a very differentspot) with the very encampment you saw last night. By heavens, thatwas a merry meeting to me! I joined, and journeyed with them forseveral days: never do I remember a happier time. Then, after manyyears of bondage and stiffness, and accordance with the world, I foundmyself at ease, like a released bird; with what zest did I join in therude jokes and the knavish tricks, the stolen feasts and the rooflessnights of those careless vagabonds!"

"I left my fellow-travellers at the entrance of the town where mysister lived. Now came the contrast. Somewhat hot, rather coarselyclad, and covered with the dust of a long summer's day, I was usheredinto a little drawing-room, eighteen feet by twelve, as I wasafterwards somewhat pompously informed. A flaunting carpet, green, red, and yellow, covered the floor. A full-length picture of a thinwoman, looking most agreeably ill-tempered, stared down at me from thechimney-piece; three stuffed birds--how emblematic of domestic life!--stood stiff and imprisoned, even after death, in a glass cage. Afire-screen and a bright fireplace; chairs covered with holland, topreserve them from the atmosphere; and long mirrors, wrapped as to theframe-work in yellow muslin, to keep off the flies, --finish thepanorama of this watering-place mansion. The door opened, silksrustled, a voice shrieked 'My Brother!' and a figure, a thin figure, the original of the picture over the chimney-piece, rushed in. "

"I can well fancy her joy, " said the youth. 

"You can do no such thing, begging your pardon, sir, " resumed KingCole. "She had no joy at all: she was exceedingly surprised anddisappointed. In spite of my early adventures, I had nothingpicturesque or romantic about me at all. I was very thirsty, and Icalled for beer; I was very tired, and I lay down on the sofa; I worethick shoes and small buckles; and my clothes were made God knowswhere, and were certainly put on God knows how. My sister wasmiserably ashamed of me: she had not even the manners to disguise it. In a higher rank of life than that which she held she would havesuffered far less mortification; for I fancy great people pay butlittle real attention to externals. Even if a man of rank is vulgar, it makes no difference in the orbit in which he moves: but your'genteel gentlewomen' are so terribly dependent upon what Mrs. Tomkinswill say; so very uneasy about their relations and the opinion theyare held in; and, above all, so made up of appearances and clothes; soundone if they do not eat, drink, and talk a la mode, --that I canfancy no shame like that of my poor sister at having found, and beingfound with, a vulgar brother. "

"I saw how unwelcome I was and I did not punish myself by a longvisit. I left her house and returned towards London. On my road, Iagain met with my gypsy friends: the warmth of their welcome enchantedme; you may guess the rest. I stayed with them so long that I couldnot bear to leave them; I re-entered their crew: I am one among them. Not that I have become altogether and solely of the tribe: I stillleave them whenever the whim seizes me, and repair to the great citiesand thoroughfares of man. There I am soon driven back again to myfavourite and fresh fields, as a reed upon a wild stream is dashedback upon the green rushes from which it has been torn. You perceivethat I have many comforts and distinctions above the rest; for, alas, sir, there is no society, however free and democratic, where wealthwill not create an aristocracy; the remnant of my fortune provides mewith my unostentatious equipage and the few luxuries it contains; itrepays secretly to the poor what my fellow-vagrants occasionally filchfrom them; it allows me to curb among the crew all the grosser andheavier offences against the law to which want might otherwise compelthem; and it serves to keep up that sway and ascendency which mysuperior education and fluent spirits enabled me at first to attain. Though not legally their king, I assume that title over the fewencampments with which I am accustomed to travel; and you perceivethat I have given my simple name both to the jocular and kinglydignity of which the old song will often remind you. My story isdone. "

"Not quite, " said his companion: "your wife? How came you by thatblessing?"

"Ah! thereby hangs a pretty and a love-sick tale, which would notstand ill in an ancient ballad; but I will content myself with brieflysketching it. Lucy is the daughter of a gentleman farmer: about fouryears ago I fell in love with her. I wooed her clandestinely, and atlast I owned I was a gypsy: I did not add my birth nor fortune; no, Iwas full of the romance of the Nut-brown Maid's lover, and attempted atrial of woman's affection, which even in these days was notdisappointed. Still her father would not consent to our marriage, till very luckily things went bad with him; corn, crops, cattle, --thedeuce was in them all; an execution was in his house, and a writ outagainst his person. I settled these matters for him, and in returnreceived a father-in-law's blessing, and we are now the best friendsin the world. Poor Lucy is perfectly reconciled to her caravan andher wandering husband, and has never, I believe, once repented the dayon which she became the gypsy's wife!"

"I thank you heartily for your history, " said the youth, who hadlistened very attentively to this detail; "and though my happiness andpursuits are centred in that world which you despise, yet I confessthat I feel a sensation very like envy at your singular choice; and Iwould not dare to ask of my heart whether that choice is not happier, as it is certainly more philosophical, than mine. "

They had now reached a part of the road where the country assumed atotally different character; the woods and moors were no longervisible, but a broad and somewhat bleak extent of country lay beforethem. Here and there only a few solitary trees broke the uniformityof the wide fields and scanty hedgerows, and at distant intervals thethin spires of the scattered churches rose, like the prayers of whichthey were the symbols, to mingle themselves with heaven. 

The gypsy paused: "I will accompany you, " said he, "no farther; yourway lies straight onwards, and you will reach W---- before noon;farewell, and may God watch over you!"

"Farewell!" said the youth, warmly pressing the hand which wasextended to him. "If we ever meet again, it will probably solve acurious riddle; namely, whether you are not disgusted with the caravanand I with the world!"

"The latter is more likely than the former, " said the gypsy, for onestands a much greater chance of being disgusted with others than withone's self; so changing a little the old lines, I will wish you adieuafter my own fashion, namely, in verse, --

 'Go, set thy heart on winged wealth, Or unto honour's towers aspire; But give me freedom and my health, And there's the sum of my desire!'"

CHAPTER IV. 

 The letter, madam; have you none for me?--The Rendezvous. Provide surgeons. --Lover's Progress. 

Our solitary traveller pursued his way with the light step and gayspirits of youth and health. 

"Turn gypsy, indeed!" he said, talking to himself; "there is somethingbetter in store for me than that. Ay, I have all the world before mewhere to choose--not my place of rest. No, many a long year will passaway ere any place of rest will be my choice! I wonder whether Ishall find the letter at W----; the letter, the last letter I shallever have from home but it is no home to me now; and I--I, insulted, reviled, trampled upon, without even a name--well, well, I will earn astill fairer one than that of my forefathers. They shall be proud toown me yet. " And with these words the speaker broke off abruptly, with a swelling chest and a flashing eye; and as, an unknown andfriendless adventurer, he gazed on the expanded and silent countryaround him, he felt like Castruccio Castrucani that he could stretchhis hands to the east and to the west and exclaim, "Oh, that my powerkept pace with my spirit, then should it grasp the corners of theearth!"

The road wound at last from the champaign country, through which ithad for some miles extended itself, into a narrow lane, girded oneither side by a dead fence. As the youth entered this lane, he wassomewhat startled by the abrupt appearance of a horseman, whose steedleaped the hedge so close to our hero as almost to endanger hissafety. The rider, a gentleman of about five-and-twenty, pulled up, and in a tone of great courtesy apologized for his inadvertency; theapology was readily admitted, and the horseman rode onwards in thedirection of W----. 

Trifling as this incident was, the air and mien of the stranger weresufficient to arrest irresistibly the thoughts of the young traveller;and before they had flowed into a fresh channel he found himself inthe town and at the door of the inn to which his expedition was bound. He entered the bar; a buxom landlady and a still more buxom daughterwere presiding over the spirits of the place. 

"You have some boxes and a letter for me, I believe, " said the younggentleman to the comely hostess. 

"To you, sir!--the name, if you please?"

"To--to--to C---- L----, " said the youth; "the initials C. L. , to beleft till called for. "

"Yes, sir, we have some luggage; came last night by the van; and aletter besides, sir, to C. L. Also. "

The daughter lifted her large dark eyes at the handsome stranger, andfelt a wonderful curiosity to know what the letter to C. L. Couldpossibly be about; meanwhile mine hostess, raising her hand to a shelfon which stood an Indian slop-basin, the great ornament of the bar atthe Golden Fleece, brought from its cavity a well-folded and well-sealed epistle. 

"That is it, " cried the youth; "show me a private room instantly. "

"What can he want a private room for?" thought the landlady'sdaughter. 

"Show the gentleman to the Griffin, No. 4, John Merrylack, " said thelandlady herself. 

With an impatient step the owner of the letter followed a slipshod andmarvellously unwashed waiter into No. 4, --a small square asylum fortown travellers, country yeomen, and "single gentlemen;" presenting, on the one side, an admirable engraving of the Marquis of Granby, andon the other an equally delightful view of the stable-yard. 

Mr. C. L. Flung himself on a chair (there were only four chairs in No. 4), watched the waiter out of the room, seized his letter, broke openthe seal, and read--yea, reader, you shall read it too--as follows:--

"Enclosed is the sum to which you are entitled; remember, that it isall which you can ever claim at my hands; remember also that you havemade the choice which now nothing can persuade me to alter. Be thename you have so long iniquitously borne henceforth and alwaysforgotten; upon that condition you may yet hope from my generosity thefuture assistance which you must want, but which you could not askfrom my affection. Equally by my heart and my reason you are foreverDISOWNED. "

The letter fell from the reader's hands. He took up the inclosure: itwas an order payable in London for 1, 000 pounds; to him it seemed likethe rental of the Indies. 

"Be it so!" he said aloud, and slowly; "be it so! With this will Icarve my way: many a name in history was built upon a worsefoundation!"

With these words he carefully put up the money, re-read the brief notewhich enclosed it, tore the latter into pieces, and then, goingtowards the aforesaid view of the stable-yard, threw open the windowand leaned out, apparently in earnest admiration of two pigs whichmarched gruntingly towards him, one goat regaling himself upon acabbage, and a broken-winded, emaciated horse, which having just beenwhat the hostler called "rubbed down, " was just going to be what thehostler called "fed. "

While engaged in this interesting survey, the clatter of hoofs wassuddenly heard upon the rough pavement, a bell rang, a dog barked, thepigs grunted, the hostler ran out, and the stranger, whom our hero hadbefore met on the road, trotted into the yard. 

It was evident from the obsequiousness of the attendants that thehorseman was a personage of no mean importance; and indeed there wassomething singularly distinguished and highbred in his air andcarriage. 

"Who can that be?" said the youth, as the horseman, having dismounted, turned towards the door of the inn: the question was readily answered, "There goes pride and poverty!" said the hostler, "Here comes SquireMordaunt!" said the landlady. 

At the farther end of the stable-yard, through a narrow gate, theyouth caught a glimpse of the green sward and the springing flowers ofa small garden. Wearied with the sameness of No. 4 rather than withhis journey, he sauntered towards the said gate, and, seating himselfin a small arbour within the garden, surrendered himself toreflection. 

The result of this self-conference was a determination to leave theGolden Fleece by the earliest conveyance which went to that greatobject and emporium of all his plans and thoughts, London. As, fullof this resolution and buried in the dream which it conjured up, hewas returning with downcast eyes and unheeding steps through thestable-yard, to the delights of No. 4, he was suddenly accosted by aloud and alarmed voice, --

"For God's sake, sir, look out, or--"

The sentence was broken off, the intended warning came too late, ourhero staggered back a few steps, and fell, stunned and motionless, against the stable door. Unconsciously he had passed just behind theheels of the stranger's horse, which being by no means in good humourwith the clumsy manoeuvres of his shampooer, the hostler, had takenadvantage of the opportunity presented to him of working off hisirritability, and had consequently inflicted a severe kick upon theright shoulder of Mr. C. L. 

The stranger, honoured by the landlady with the name and title ofSquire Mordaunt, was in the yard at the moment. He hastened towardsthe sufferer, who as yet was scarcely sensible, and led him into thehouse. The surgeon of the village was sent for and appeared. Thisdisciple of Galen, commonly known by the name of Jeremiah Bossolton, was a gentleman considerably more inclined to breadth than length. Hewas exactly five feet one inch in height, but thick and solid as amilestone; a wig of modern cut, carefully curled and powdered, gavesomewhat of a modish and therefore unseemly grace to a solemn eye; amouth drawn down at the corners; a nose that had something in itexceedingly consequential; eyebrows sage and shaggy; ears large andfiery; and a chin that would have done honour to a mandarin. Now Mr. Jeremiah Bossolton had a certain peculiarity of speech to which Ishall find it difficult to do justice. Nature had impressed upon hismind a prodigious love of the grandiloquent; Mr. Bossolton, therefore, disdained the exact language of the vulgar, and built unto himself alofty fabric of words in which his sense managed very frequently tolose itself. Moreover, upon beginning a sentence of peculiar dignity, Mr. Bossolton was, it must be confessed, sometimes at a loss toconclude it in a period worthy of the commencement; and this capriceof nature which had endowed him with more words than thoughts(necessity is, indeed, the mother of invention) drove him into a veryingenious method of remedying the deficiency; this was simply the planof repeating the sense by inverting the sentence. 

"How long a period of time, " said Mr. Bossolton, "has elapsed sincethis deeply-to-be-regretted and seriously-to-be-investigated accidentoccurred?"

"Not many minutes, " said Mordaunt; "make no further delay, I beseechyou, but examine the arm; it is not broken, I trust?"

"In this world, Mr. Mordaunt, " said the practitioner, bowing very low, for the person he addressed was of the most ancient lineage in thecounty, "in this world, Mr. Mordaunt, even at the earliest period ofcivilization, delay in matters of judgment has ever been considered ofsuch vital importance, and--and such important vitality, that we findit inculcated in the proverbs of the Greeks and the sayings of theChaldeans as a principle of the most expedient utility, and--and--themost useful expediency!"

"Mr. Bossolton, " said Mordaunt, in a tone of remarkable and evenartificial softness and civility, "have the kindness immediately toexamine this gentleman's bruises. "

Mr. Bossolton looked up to the calm but haughty face of the speaker, and without a moment's hesitation proceeded to handle the arm, whichwas already stripped for his survey. 

"It frequently occurs, " said Mr. Bossolton, "in the course of myprofession, that the forcible, sudden, and vehement application of anyhard substance, like the hoof of a quadruped, to the soft, tender, andcarniferous parts of the human frame, such as the arm, occasions apain--a pang, I should rather say--of the intensest acuteness, and--and of the acutest intensity. "

"Pray, Mr. Bossolton, is the bone broken?" asked Mordaunt. 

By this time the patient, who had been hitherto in that languor whichextreme pain always produces at first, especially on young frames, wassufficiently recovered to mark and reply to the kind solicitude of thelast speaker: "I thank you, sir, " said he with a smile, "for youranxiety, but I feel that the bone is not broken; the muscles are alittle hurt, that is all. "

"Young gentleman, " said Mr. Bossolton, "you must permit me to say thatthey who have all their lives been employed in the pursuit, and theinvestigation, and the analysis of certain studies are in generalbetter acquainted with those studies than they who have neither giventhem any importance of consideration--nor--nor any consideration ofimportance. Establishing this as my hypothesis, I shall now proceedto--"

"Apply immediate remedies, if you please, Mr. Bossolton, " interruptedMr. Mordaunt, in that sweet and honeyed tone which somehow or otheralways silenced even the garrulous practitioner. 

Driven into taciturnity, Mr. Bossolton again inspected the arm, andproceeded to urge the application of liniments and bandages, which hepromised to prepare with the most solicitudinous despatch and the mostdespatchful solicitude. 

CHAPTER V. 

 Your name, Sir! Ha! my name, you say--my name? 'T is well--my name--is--nay, I must consider. --Pedrillo. 

This accident occasioned a delay of some days in the plans of theyoung gentleman, for whom we trust very soon, both for our ownconvenience and that of our reader, to find a fitting appellation. 

Mr. Mordaunt, after seeing every attention paid to him both surgicaland hospitable, took his departure with a promise to call the nextday; leaving behind him a strong impression of curiosity and interestto serve our hero as some mental occupation until his return. Thebonny landlady came up in a new cap, with blue ribbons, in the courseof the evening, to pay a visit of inquiry to the handsome patient, whowas removed from the Griffin, No. 4, to the Dragon, No. 8, --a roomwhose merits were exactly in proportion to its number, namely, twiceas great as those of No. 4. 

"Well, sir, " said Mrs. Taptape, with a courtesy, "I trust you findyourself better. "

"At this moment I do, " said the gallant youth, with a significant air. 

"Hem, " quoth the landlady. 

A pause ensued. In spite of the compliment, a certain suspicionsuddenly darted across the mind of the hostess. Strong as are theprepossessions of the sex, those of the profession are much stronger. 

"Honest folk, " thought the landlady, "don't travel with their initialsonly; the last 'Whitehall Evening' was full of shocking accounts ofswindlers and cheats; and I gave nine pounds odd shillings for thesilver teapot John has brought him up, --as if the delft one was notgood enough for a foot traveller!"

Pursuing these ideas, Mrs. Taptape, looking bashfully down, said, --

"By the by, sir; Mr. Bossolton asked me what name he should put downin his book for the medicines; what would you please me to say, sir?"

"Mr. Who?" said the youth, elevating his eyebrows. 

"Mr. Bossolton, sir, the apothecary. "

"Oh! Bossolton! very odd name that, --not near so pretty as--dear me, what a beautiful cap that is of yours!" said the young gentleman. 

"Lord, sir, do you think so? The ribbon is pretty enough; but--but, as I was saying, what name shall I tell Mr. Bossolton to put in hisbook?" "This, " thought Mrs. Taptape, "is coming to the point. "

"Well!" said the youth, slowly, and as if in a profound reverie, "well, Bossolton is certainly the most singular name I ever heard; hedoes right to put it in a book: it is quite a curiosity! is heclever?"

"Very, sir, " said the landlady, somewhat sharply; "but it is yourname, not his, that he wishes to put into his book. "

"Mine?" said the youth, who appeared to have been seeking to gain timein order to answer a query which most men find requires very littledeliberation, "mine, you say; my name is Linden--Clarence Linden--youunderstand?"

"What a pretty name!" thought the landlady's daughter, who waslistening at the keyhole; "but how could he admire that odious cap ofMa's!"

"And, now, landlady, I wish you would send up my boxes; and get me anewspaper, if you please. "

"Yes, sir, " said the landlady, and she rose to retire. 

"I do not think, " said the youth to himself, "that I could have hit ona prettier name, and so novel a one too!--Clarence Linden, --why, if Iwere that pretty girl at the bar I could fall in love with the verywords. Shakspeare was quite wrong when he said, --

 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. '"

"A rose by any name would not smell as sweet; if a rose's name wasJeremiah Bossolton, for instance, it would not, to my nerves at least, smell of anything but an apothecary's shop!"

When Mordaunt called the next morning, he found Clarence much better, and carelessly turning over various books, part of the contents of theluggage superscribed C. L. A book of whatever description was amongthe few companions for whom Mordaunt had neither fastidiousness norreserve; and the sympathy of taste between him and the sufferer gaverise to a conversation less cold and commonplace than it mightotherwise have been. And when Mordaunt, after a stay of some length, rose to depart, he pressed Linden to return his visit before he leftthat part of the country; his place, he added, was only about fivemiles distant from W----. Linden, greatly interested in his visitor, was not slow in accepting the invitation, and, perhaps for the firsttime in his life, Mordaunt was shaking hands with a stranger he hadonly known two days. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 While yet a child, and long before his time, He had perceived the presence and the power Of greatness. . . . . . But eagerly he read, and read again. . . . . . Yet still uppermost Nature was at his heart, as if he felt, Though yet he knew not how, a wasting power In all things that from her sweet influence Might seek to wean him. Therefore with her hues, Her forms, and with the spirit of her forms, He clothed the nakedness of austere truth. WORDSWORTH. 

Algernon Mordaunt was the last son of an old and honourable race, which had centuries back numbered princes in its line. His parentshad had many children, but all (save Algernon, the youngest) died intheir infancy. His mother perished in giving him birth. Constitutional infirmity and the care of mercenary nurses contributedto render Algernon a weakly and delicate child: hence came a taste forloneliness and a passion for study; and from these sprung, on the onehand, the fastidiousness and reserve which render us apparentlyunamiable, and, on the other, the loftiness of spirit and the kindnessof heart which are the best and earliest gifts of literature, and morethan counterbalance our deficiencies in the "minor morals" due tosociety by their tendency to increase our attention to the greaterones belonging to mankind. Mr. Mordaunt was a man of luxurious habitsand gambling propensities: wedded to London, he left the house of hisancestors to moulder into desertion and decay; but to this homeAlgernon was constantly consigned during his vacations from school;and its solitude and cheerlessness gave to a disposition naturallymelancholy and thoughtful those colours which subsequent events werecalculated to deepen, not efface. 

Truth obliges us to state, despite our partiality to Mordaunt, that, when he left his school after a residence of six years, it was withthe bitter distinction of having been the most unpopular boy in it. Why, nobody could exactly explain, for his severest enemies could notaccuse him of ill-nature, cowardice, or avarice, and these make thethree capital offences of a school-boy; but Algernon Mordaunt hadalready acquired the knowledge of himself, and could explain thecause, though with a bitter and swelling heart. His ill health, hislong residence at home, his unfriended and almost orphan situation, his early habits of solitude and reserve, all these, so calculated tomake the spirit shrink within itself, made him, on his entrance atschool, if not unsocial, appear so: this was the primary reason of hisunpopularity; the second was that he perceived, for he was sensitive(and consequently acute) to the extreme, the misfortune of his manner, and in his wish to rectify it, it became doubly unprepossessing; toreserve, it now added embarrassment, to coldness, gloom; and the painhe felt in addressing or being addressed by another was naturally andnecessarily reciprocal, for the effects of sympathy are nowhere sowonderful, yet so invisible, as in the manners. 

By degrees he shunned the intercourse which had for him nothing butdistress, and his volatile acquaintances were perhaps the first to sethim the example. Often in his solitary walks he stopped afar off togaze upon the sports which none ever solicited him to share; and asthe shout of laughter and of happy hearts came, peal after peal, uponhis ear, he turned enviously, yet not malignantly away, with tears, which not all his pride could curb, and muttered to himself, "Andthese, these hate me!"

There are two feelings common to all high or affectionate natures, --that of extreme susceptibility to opinion and that of extremebitterness at its injustice. These feelings were Mordaunt's: but thekeen edge which one blow injures, the repetition blunts; and by littleand little, Algernon became not only accustomed, but, as he persuadedhimself, indifferent, to his want of popularity; his step grew morelofty, and his address more collected, and that which was oncediffidence gradually hardened into pride. 

His residence at the University was neither without honour nor profit. A college life was then, as now, either the most retired or the mostsocial of all others; we need scarcely say which it was to Mordaunt, but his was the age when solitude is desirable, and when the closetforms the mind better than the world. Driven upon itself, hisintellect became inquiring and its resources profound; admitted totheir inmost recesses, he revelled among the treasures of ancientlore, and in his dreams of the Nymph and Naiad, or his researchesafter truth in the deep wells of the Stagyrite or the golden fountainsof Plato, he forgot the loneliness of his lot and exhausted thehoarded enthusiasm of his soul. 

But his mind, rather thoughtful than imaginative, found no idol like"Divine Philosophy. " It delighted to plunge itself into the mazes ofmetaphysical investigation; to trace the springs of the intellect; toconnect the arcana of the universe; to descend into the darkestcaverns, or to wind through the minutest mysteries of Nature, andrise, step by step, to that arduous elevation on which Thought standsdizzy and confused, looking beneath upon a clouded earth, and aboveupon an unfathomable heaven. 

Rarely wandering from his chamber, known personally to few andintimately by none, Algernon yet left behind him at the University themost remarkable reputation of his day. He had obtained some of thehighest of academical honours, and by that proverbial process ofvulgar minds which ever frames the magnificent from the unknown, theseclusion in which he lived and the recondite nature of his favouritepursuits attached to his name a still greater celebrity and interestthan all the orthodox and regular dignities he had acquired. Thereare few men who do not console themselves for not being generallyloved, if they can reasonably hope that they are generally esteemed. Mordaunt had now grown reconciled to himself and to his kind. He hadopened to his interest a world in his own breast, and it consoled himfor his mortification in the world without. But, better than this, his habits as well as studies had strengthened the principles andconfirmed the nobility of his mind. He was not, it is true, morekind, more benevolent, more upright than before; but those virtues nowemanated from principle, not emotion: and principle to the mind iswhat a free constitution is to a people; without that principle orthat free constitution, the one may be for the moment as good, theother as happy; but we cannot tell how long the goodness and thehappiness will continue. 

On leaving the University, his father sent for him to London. Hestayed there a short time, and mingled partially in its festivities;but the pleasures of English dissipation have for a century been thesame, heartless without gayety, and dull without refinement. Norcould Mordaunt, the most fastidious, yet warm-hearted of human beings, reconcile either his tastes or his affections to the cold insipiditiesof patrician society. His father's habits and evident distressesdeepened his disgust to his situation; for the habits were incurableand the distresses increasing; and nothing but a circumstance whichMordaunt did not then understand prevented the final sale of an estatealready little better than a pompons incumbrance. 

It was therefore with the half painful, half pleasurable sensationwith which we avoid contemplating a ruin we cannot prevent thatMordaunt set out upon that Continental tour deemed then so necessary apart of education. His father, on taking leave of him, seemed deeplyaffected. "Go, my son, " said he, "may God bless you, and not punishme too severely. I have wronged you deeply, and I cannot bear to lookupon your face. "

To these words Algernon attached a general, but they cloaked apeculiar, meaning: in three years, he returned to England; his fatherhad been dead some months, and the signification of his partingaddress was already deciphered, --but of this hereafter. 

In his travels Mordaunt encountered an Englishman whose name I willnot yet mention: a person of great reputed wealth; a merchant, yet aman of pleasure; a voluptuary in life, yet a saint in reputation; or, to abstain from the antithetical analysis of a character which willnot be corporeally presented to the reader till our tale isconsiderably advanced, one who drew from nature a singular combinationof shrewd but false conclusions, and a peculiar philosophy, destinedhereafter to contrast the colours and prove the practical utility ofthat which was espoused by Mordaunt. 

There can be no education in which the lessons of the world do notform a share. Experience, in expanding Algernon's powers, had ripenedhis virtues. Nor had the years which had converted knowledge intowisdom failed in imparting polish to refinement. His person hadacquired a greater grace, and his manners an easier dignity thanbefore. His noble and generous mind had worked its impress upon hisfeatures and his mien; and those who could overcome the first coldnessand shrinking hauteur of his address found it required no minuteexamination to discover the real expression of the eloquent eye andthe kindling lip. 

He had not been long returned before he found two enemies to histranquillity, --the one was love, the other appeared in the moreformidable guise of a claimant to his estate. Before Algernon wasaware of the nature of the latter he went to consult with his lawyer. 

"If the claim be just, I shall not, of course, proceed to law, " saidMordaunt. 

"But without the estate, sir, you have nothing!"

"True, " said Algernon, calmly. 

But the claim was not just, and to law he went. 

In this lawsuit, however, he had one assistant in an old relation, whohad seen, indeed, but very little of him, but who compassionated hiscircumstances, and above all hated his opponent. This relation wasrich and childless; and there were not wanting those who predictedthat his money would ultimately discharge the mortgages and repair thehouse of the young representative of the Mordaunt honours. But theold kinsman was obstinate, self-willed, and under the absolutedominion of patrician pride; and it was by no means improbable thatthe independence of Mordaunt's character would soon create a disunionbetween them, by clashing against the peculiarities of his relation'stemper. 

It was a clear and sunny morning when Linden, tolerably recovered ofhis hurt, set out upon a sober and aged pony, which after some naturalpangs of shame he had hired of his landlord, to Mordaunt Court. 

Mordaunt's house was situated in the midst of a wild and extensivepark, surrounded with woods, and interspersed with trees of thestateliest growth, now scattered into irregular groups, now marshalledinto sweeping avenues; while, ever and anon, Linden caught glimpses ofa rapid and brawling rivulet, which in many a slight but soundingwaterfall gave a music strange and spirit-like to the thick copses andforest glades through which it went exulting on its way. The deer layhalf concealed by the fern among which they couched, turning theirstately crests towards the stranger, but not stirring from their rest;while from the summit of beeches which would have shamed the pavilionof Tityrus the rooks--those monks of the feathered people--were loudin their confused but not displeasing confabulations. 

As Linden approached the house, he was struck with the melancholy airof desolation which spread over and around it: fragments of stone, above which clomb the rank weed, insolently proclaiming the triumph ofNature's meanest offspring over the wrecks of art; a moat dried up; arailing once of massive gilding, intended to fence a lofty terrace onthe right from the incursions of the deer, but which, shattered anddecayed, now seemed to ask with the satirist, --

 "To what end did our lavish ancestors Erect of old these stately piles of ours?"

--a chapel on the left, perfectly in ruins, --all appeared strikinglyto denote that time had outstripped fortune, and that the years, whichalike hallow and destroy, had broken the consequence, in deepening theantiquity, of the House of Mordaunt. 

The building itself agreed but too well with the tokens of decayaround it; most of the windows were shut up, and the shutters of darkoak, richly gilt, contrasted forcibly with the shattered panes andmouldered framing of the glass. It was a house of irregulararchitecture. Originally built in the fifteenth century, it hadreceived its last improvement, with the most lavish expense, duringthe reign of Anne; and it united the Gallic magnificence of the latterperiod with the strength and grandeur of the former; it was in a greatpart overgrown with ivy, and, where that insidious ornament had notreached, the signs of decay, and even ruin, were fully visible. Thesun itself, bright and cheering as it shone over Nature, making thegreen sod glow like emeralds, and the rivulet flash in its beam, likeone of those streams of real light, imagined by Swedenborg in hisvisions of heaven, and clothing tree and fell, brake and hillock, withthe lavish hues of infant summer, --the sun itself only made moredesolate, because more conspicuous, the venerable fabric, which theyouthful traveller frequently paused more accurately to survey, andits laughing and sportive beams playing over chink and crevice, seemedalmost as insolent and untimeous as the mirth of the young mocking thesilent grief of some gray-headed and solitary mourner. 

Clarence had now reached the porch, and the sound of the shrill bellhe touched rang with a strange note through the general stillness ofthe place. A single servant appeared, and ushered Clarence through ascreen hall, hung round with relics of armour, and ornamented on theside opposite the music gallery with a solitary picture of giganticsize, and exhibiting the full length of the gaunt person and sablesteed of that Sir Piers de Mordaunt who had so signalized himself inthe field in which Henry of Richmond changed his coronet for a crown. Through this hall Clarence was led to a small chamber clothed withuncouth and tattered arras, in which, seemingly immersed in papers, hefound the owner of the domain. 

"Your studies, " said Linden, after the salutations of the day, "seemto harmonize with the venerable antiquity of your home;" and hepointed to the crabbed characters and faded ink of the papers on thetable. 

"So they ought, " answered Mordaunt, with a faint smile; "for they arecalled from their quiet archives in order to support my struggle forthat home. But I fear the struggle is in vain, and that the quibblesof law will transfer into other hands a possession I am foolish enoughto value the more from my inability to maintain it"

Something of this Clarence had before learned from the communicativegossip of his landlady; and less desirous to satisfy his curiositythan to lead the conversation from a topic which he felt must be sounwelcome to Mordaunt, he expressed a wish to see the state apartmentsof the house. With something of shame at the neglect they hadnecessarily experienced, and something of pride at the splendour whichno neglect could efface, Mordaunt yielded to the request, and led theway up a staircase of black oak, the walls and ceiling of which werecovered with frescoes of Italian art, to a suite of apartments inwhich time and dust seemed the only tenants. Lingeringly did Clarencegaze upon the rich velvet, the costly mirrors, the motley paintings ofa hundred ancestors, and the antique cabinets, containing, among themost hoarded relics of the Mordaunt race, curiosities which thehereditary enthusiasm of a line of cavaliers had treasured as the mostsacred of heirlooms, and which, even to the philosophical mind ofMordaunt, possessed a value he did not seek too minutely to analyze. Here was the goblet from which the first prince of Tudor had drunkafter the field of Bosworth. Here the ring with which the chivalrousFrancis the First had rewarded a signal feat of that famous Robert deMordaunt, who, as a poor but adventurous cadet of the house, hadbrought to the "first gentleman of France" the assistance of hissword. Here was the glove which Sir Walter had received from theroyal hand of Elizabeth, and worn in the lists upon a crest which thelance of no antagonist in that knightly court could abase. And here, more sacred than all, because connected with the memory of misfortune, was a small box of silver which the last king of a fated line hadplaced in the hands of the gray-headed descendant of that Sir Walterafter the battle of the Boyne, saying, "Keep this, Sir EverardMordaunt, for the sake of one who has purchased the luxury ofgratitude at the price of a throne!"

As Clarence glanced from these relics to the figure of Mordaunt, whostood at a little distance leaning against the window, with armsfolded on his breast and with eyes abstractedly wandering over thenoble woods and extended park, which spread below, he could not butfeel that if birth had indeed the power of setting its seal upon theform, it was never more conspicuous than in the broad front and loftyair of the last descendant of the race by whose memorials he wassurrounded. Touched by the fallen fortunes of Mordaunt, andinterested by the uncertainty which the chances of law threw over hisfuture fate, Clarence could not resist exclaiming, with some warmthand abruptness, --

"And by what subterfuge or cavil does the present claimant of theseestates hope to dislodge their rightful possessor?"

"Why, " answered Mordaunt, "it is a long story in detail, but brieflytold in epitome. My father was a man whose habits greatly exceededhis fortune, and a few months after his death, Mr. Vavasour, a distantrelation, produced a paper, by which it appeared that my father had, for a certain sum of ready money, disposed of his estates to this Mr. Vavasour, upon condition that they should not be claimed nor thetreaty divulged till after his death; the reason for this provisoseems to have been the shame my father felt for his exchange, and hisfear of the censures of that world to which he was always devoted. "

"But how unjust to you!" said Clarence. 

"Not so much so as it seems, " said Mordaunt, deprecatingly; "for I wasthen but a sickly boy, and according to the physicians, and Isincerely believe according also to my poor father's belief, almostcertain of a premature death. In that case Vavasour would have beenthe nearest heir; and this expectancy, by the by, joined to themortgages on the property, made the sum given ridiculouslydisproportioned to the value of the estate. I must confess that thenews came upon me like a thunderbolt. I should have yielded uppossession immediately, but was informed by my lawyers that my fatherhad no legal right to dispose of the property; the discussion of thatright forms the ground of the present lawsuit. But, " continuedMordaunt, proudly, yet mournfully, "I am prepared for the worst; if, indeed, I should call that the worst which can affect neitherintellect nor health nor character nor conscience. "

Clarence was silent, and Mordaunt after a brief pause once moreresumed his guidance. Their tour ended in a large library filled withbooks, and this Mordaunt informed his guest was his chosen sitting-room. 

An old carved table was covered with works which for the most partpossessed for the young mind of Clarence, more accustomed to imaginethan reflect, but a very feeble attraction; on looking over them, he, however, found, half hid by a huge folio of Hobbes, and another ofLocke, a volume of Milton's poems; this paved the way to aconversation in which both had an equal interest, for both wereenthusiastic in the character and genius of that wonderful man, forwhom "the divine and solemn countenance of Freedom" was dearer thanthe light of day, and whose solitary spell, accomplishing what thewhole family of earth once vainly began upon the plain of Shinar, hasbuilt of materials more imperishable than "slime and brick" "a cityand a tower whose summit has reached to heaven. "

It was with mutual satisfaction that Mordaunt and his guest continuedtheir commune till the hour of dinner was announced to them by a bell, which, formerly intended as an alarum, now served the peaceful purposeof a more agreeable summons. 

The same servant who had admitted Clarence ushered them through thegreat hall into the dining-room, and was their solitary attendantduring their repast. 

The temper of Mordaunt was essentially grave and earnest, and hisconversation almost invariably took the tone of his mind; this madetheir conference turn upon less minute and commonplace topics than onebetween such new acquaintances, especially of different ages, usuallydoes. 

"You will positively go to London to-morrow, then?" said Mordaunt, asthe servant, removing the appurtenances of dinner, left them alone. 

"Positively, " answered Clarence. "I go there to carve my ownfortunes, and, to say truth, I am impatient to begin. " Mordauntlooked earnestly at the frank face of the speaker, and wondered thatone so young, so well-educated, and, from his air and manner, evidently of gentle blood, should appear so utterly thrown upon hisown resources. 

"I wish you success, " said he, after a pause; "and it is a noble partof the organization of this world that, by increasing those richeswhich are beyond fortune, we do in general take the surest method ofobtaining those which are in its reach. "

Clarence looked inquiringly at Mordaunt, who, perceiving it, continued, "I see that I should explain myself further. I will do soby using the thoughts of a mind not the least beautiful andaccomplished which this country has produced. 'Of all which belongsto us, ' said Bolingbroke, 'the least valuable parts can alone fallunder the will of others. Whatever is best is safest; lies out of thereach of human power; can neither be given nor taken away. Such isthis great and beautiful work of Nature, the world. Such is the mindof man, which contemplates and admires the world whereof it makes thenoblest part. These are inseparably ours, and as long as we remain inone we shall enjoy the other. '"

"Beautiful, indeed!" exclaimed Clarence, with the enthusiasm of ayoung and pure heart, to which every loftier sentiment is alwaysbeautiful. 

"And true as beautiful!" said Mordaunt. "Nor is this all, for themind can even dispense with that world 'of which it forms a part' ifwe can create within it a world still more inaccessible to chance. But (and I now return to and explain my former observation) the meansby which we can effect this peculiar world can be rendered equallysubservient to our advancement and prosperity in that which we sharein common with our race; for the riches which by the aid of wisdom weheap up in the storehouses of the mind are, though not the only, themost customary coin by which external prosperity is bought. So thatthe philosophy which can alone give independence to ourselves becomes;under the name of honesty, the best policy in commerce with our kind. "

In conversation of this nature, which the sincerity and loftyenthusiasm of Mordaunt rendered interesting to Clarence, despite thedistaste to the serious so ordinary to youth, the hours passed on, till the increasing evening warned Linden to depart. 

"Adieu!" said he to Mordaunt. "I know not when we shall meet again, but if we ever do, I will make it my boast, whether in prosperity ormisfortune, not to have forgotten the pleasure I have this dayenjoyed!"

Returning his guest's farewell with a warmth unusual to his manner, Mordaunt followed him to the door and saw him depart. 

Fate ordained that they should pursue in very different paths theirseveral destinies; nor did it afford them an opportunity of meetingagain, till years and events had severely tried the virtue of one andmaterially altered the prospects of the other. 

The next morning Clarence Linden was on his road to London. 

CHAPTER VII. 

"Upon my word, " cries Jones, "thou art a very odd fellow, and I likethy humour extremely. "--FIELDING. 

The rumbling and jolting vehicle which conveyed Clarence to themetropolis stopped at the door of a tavern in Holborn. Linden wasushered into a close coffee-room and presented with a bill of fare. While he was deliberating between the respective merits of muttonchops and beefsteaks, a man with a brown coat, brown breeches, and abrown wig, walked into the room; he cast a curious glance at Clarenceand then turned to the waiter. 

"A pair of slippers!"

"Yes, sir, " and the waiter disappeared. 

"I suppose, " said the brown gentleman to Clarence, "I suppose, sir, you are the gentleman just come to town?"

"You are right, sir, " said Clarence. 

"Very well, very well indeed, " resumed the stranger, musingly. "Itook the liberty of looking at your boxes in the passage; I knew alady, sir, a relation of yours, I think. "

"Sir!" exclaimed Linden, colouring violently. 

"At least I suppose, for her name was just the same as yours, only, atleast, one letter difference between them: yours is Linden I see, sir;hers was Minden. Am I right in my conjecture that you are related toher?"

"Sir, " answered Clarence, gravely, "notwithstanding the similarity ofour names, we are not related. "

"Very extraordinary, " replied the stranger. 

"Very, " repeated Linden. 

"I had the honour, sir, " said the brown gentleman, "to make Mrs. Minden many presents of value, and I should have been very happy tohave obliged you in the same manner, had you been in any way connectedwith that worthy gentlewoman. "

"You are very kind, " said Linden, "you are very kind; and since suchwere your intentions, I believe I must have been connected with Mrs. Minden. At all events, as you justly observe, there is only thedifference of a letter between our names, a discrepancy too slight, Iam sure, to alter your benevolent intentions. "

Here the waiter returned with the slippers. 

The stranger slowly unbuttoned his gaiters. "Sir, " said he to Linden, "we will renew our conversation presently. "

No sooner had the generous friend of Mrs. Minden deposited his feet intheir easy tenements than he quitted the room. "Pray, " said Linden tothe waiter, when he had ordered his simple repast, "who is thatgentleman in brown?"

"Mr. Brown, " replied the waiter. 

"And who or what is Mr. Brown?" asked our hero. 

Before the waiter could reply, Mr. Brown returned, with a largebandbox, carefully enveloped in a blue handkerchief. "You come from----, sir?" said Mr. Brown, quietly seating himself at the same tableas Linden. 

"No, sir, I do not. "

"From ----, then?"

"No, sir, --from W----. "

"W----?--ay--well. I knew a lady with a name very like W---- (thelate Lady Waddilove) extremely well. I made her some valuablepresents: her ladyship was very sensible of it. "

"I don't doubt it, sir, " replied Clarence; "such instances of generalbeneficence rarely occur!"

"I have some magnificent relics of her ladyship in this box, " returnedMr. Brown. 

"Really! then she was no less generous than yourself, I presume?"

"Yes, her ladyship was remarkably generous. About a week before shedied (the late Lady Waddilove was quite sensible of her danger), shecalled me to her, --'Brown, ' said she, 'you are a good creature; I havehad my most valuable things from you. I am not ungrateful: I willleave you--my maid! She is as clever as you are and as good. ' I tookthe hint, sir, and married. It was an excellent bargain. My wife isa charming woman; she entirely fitted up Mrs. Minden's wardrobe and Ifurnished the house. Mrs. Minden was greatly indebted to us. "

"Heaven help me!" thought Clarence, "the man is certainly mad. "

The waiter entered with the dinner; and Mr. Brown, who seemed to havea delicate aversion to any conversation in the presence of theGanymede of the Holborn tavern, immediately ceased his communications;meanwhile, Clarence took the opportunity to survey him more minutelythan he had hitherto done. 

His new acquaintance was in age about forty-eight; in stature, ratherunder the middle height; and thin, dried, withered, yet muscularwithal, like a man who, in stinting his stomach for the sake ofeconomy, does not the less enjoy the power of undergoing any fatigueor exertion that an object of adequate importance may demand. We havesaid already that he was attired, like twilight, "in a suit of soberbrown;" and there was a formality, a precision, and a cat-like sort ofcleanliness in his garb, which savoured strongly of the respectablecoxcombry of the counting-house. His face was lean, it is true, butnot emaciated; and his complexion, sallow and adust, harmonized wellwith the colours of his clothing. An eye of the darkest hazel, sharp, shrewd, and flashing at times, especially at the mention of theeuphonious name of Lady Waddilove, --a name frequently upon the lips ofthe inheritor of her abigail, --with a fire that might be calledbrilliant, was of that modest species which can seldom encounter thestraightforward glance of another; on the contrary, it seemedrestlessly uneasy in any settled place, and wandered from ceiling tofloor, and corner to corner, with an inquisitive though apparentlycareless glance, as if seeking for something to admire or haply toappropriate; it also seemed to be the especial care of Mr. Brown toveil, as far as he was able, the vivacity of his looks beneath anexpression of open and unheeding good-nature, an expression strangelyenough contrasting with the closeness and sagacity which Nature hadindelibly stamped upon features pointed, aquiline, and impressed witha strong mixture of the Judaical physiognomy. The manner and bearingof this gentleman partook of the same undecided character as hiscountenance: they seemed to be struggling between civility andimportance; a real eagerness to make the acquaintance of the person headdressed, and an assumed recklessness of the advantages which thatacquaintance could bestow;--it was like the behaviour of a man who isdesirous of having the best possible motives imputed to him, but isfearful lest that desire should not be utterly fulfilled. At thefirst glance you would have pledged yourself for his respectability;at the second, you would have half suspected him to be a rogue; and, after you had been half an hour in his company, you would confessyourself in the obscurest doubt which was the better guess, the firstor the last. 

"Waiter!" said Mr. Brown, looking enviously at the viands upon whichLinden, having satisfied his curiosity, was now with all the appetiteof youth regaling himself. "Waiter!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Bring me a sandwich--and--and, waiter, see that I have plenty of--plenty of--"

"What, sir?"

"Plenty of mustard, waiter. "

"Mustard" (and here Mr. Brown addressed himself to Clarence) "is avery wonderful assistance to the digestion. By the by, sir, if youwant any curiously fine mustard, I can procure you some pots quitecapital, --a great favour, though, --they were smuggled from France, especially for the use of the late Lady Waddilove. "

"Thank you, " said Linden, dryly; "I shall be very happy to acceptanything you may wish to offer me. "

Mr. Brown took a pocket-book from his pouch. "Six pots of mustard, sir, --shall I say six?"

"As many as you please, " replied Clarence; and Mr. Brown wrote down"Six pots of French mustard. "

"You are a very young gentleman, sir, " said Mr. Brown, "probablyintended for some profession: I don't mean to be impertinent, but if Ican be of any assistance--"

"You can, sir, " replied Linden, "and immediately--have the kindness toring the bell. "

Mr. Brown, with a grave smile, did as he was desired; the waiter re-entered, and, receiving a whispered order from Clarence, againdisappeared. 

"What profession did you say, sir?" renewed Mr. Brown, artfully. 

"None!" replied Linden. 

"Oh, very well, --very well indeed. Then as an idle, independentgentleman, you will of course be a bit of a beau; want some shirts, possibly; fine cravats, too; gentlemen wear a particular pattern now;gloves, gold, or shall I say gilt chain, watch and seals, a ring ortwo, and a snuff-box?"

"Sir, you are vastly obliging, " said Clarence, in undisguisedsurprise. 

"Not at all, I would do anything for a relation of Mrs. Minden. "

The waiter re-entered; "Sir, " said he to Linden, "your room is quiteready. "

"I am glad to hear it, " said Clarence, rising. "Mr. Brown, I have thehonour of wishing you a good evening. "

"Stay, sir--stay; you have not looked into these things belonging tothe late Lady Waddilove. "

"Another time, " said Clarence, hastily. 

"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, " muttered Mr. Brown. 

"I am exceedingly glad I have got rid of that fellow, " said Linden tohimself, as he stretched his limbs in his easy-chair, and drank offthe last glass of his pint of port. "If I have not already seen, Ihave already guessed, enough of the world, to know that you are tolook to your pockets when a man offers you a present; they who 'give, 'also 'take away. ' So here I am in London, with an order for 1000pounds in my purse, the wisdom of Dr. Latinas in my head, and thehealth of eighteen in my veins; will it not be my own fault if I donot both enjoy and make myself--"

And then, yielding to meditations of future success, partakingstrongly of the inexperienced and sanguine temperament of thesoliloquist, Clarence passed the hours till his pillow summoned him todreams no less ardent and perhaps no less unreal. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

"Oh, how I long to be employed!"--Every Man in his Humour. 

Clarence was sitting the next morning over the very unsatisfactorybreakfast which tea made out of broomsticks, and cream out of chalk(adulteration thrived even in 17--) afforded, when the waiter threwopen the door and announced Mr. Brown. 

"Just in time, sir, you perceive, " said Mr. Brown; "I am punctualityitself: exactly a quarter of a minute to ten. I have brought you thepots of French mustard, and I have some very valuable articles whichyou must want, besides. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Linden, not well knowing what to say; and Mr. Brown, untying a silk handkerchief, produced three shirts, two pots ofpomatum, a tobacco canister with a German pipe, four pair of silkstockings, two gold seals, three rings, and a stuffed parrot!

"Beautiful articles these, sir, " said Mr. Brown, with a snuffle "ofinward sweetness long drawn out, " and expressive of great admirationof his offered treasures; "beautiful articles, sir, ar'n't they?"

"Very, the parrot in particular, " said Clarence. 

"Yes, sir, " returned Mr. Brown, "the parrot is indeed quite a jewel;it belonged to the late Lady Waddilove; I offer it to you withconsiderable regret, for--"

"Oh!" interrupted Clarence, "pray do not rob yourself of such a jewel;it really is of no use to me. "

"I know that, sir, --I know that, " replied Mr. Brown; "but it will beof use to your friends; it will be inestimable to any old aunt, sir, any maiden lady living at Hackney, any curious elderly gentleman fondof a knack-knack. I knew you would know some one to send it to as apresent, even though you should not want it yourself. "

"Bless me!" thought Linden, "was there ever such generosity? Notcontent with providing for my wants, he extends his liberality even toany possible relations I may possess!"

Mr. Brown now re-tied "the beautiful articles" in his handkerchief. "Shall I leave them, sir?" said he. 

"Why, really, " said Clarence, "I thought yesterday that you were injest; but you must be aware that I cannot accept presents from anygentleman so much, --so much a stranger to me as you are. "

"No, sir, I am aware of that, " replied Mr. Brown; "and in order toremove the unpleasantness of such a feeling, sir, on your part, --merely in order to do that, I assure you with no other view, sir, inthe world, --I have just noted down the articles on this piece ofpaper; but as you will perceive, at a price so low as still to makethem actually presents in everything but the name. Oh, sir, Iperfectly understand your delicacy, and would not for the worldviolate it. "

So saying, Mr. Brown put a paper into Linden's hands, the substance ofwhich a very little more experience of the world would have enabledClarence to foresee; it ran thus:--

CLARENCE LINDEN, ESQ. , DR. TO Mr. MORRIS BROWN. L. S. D. To Six Pots of French Mustard . . . . . . . . . 1 4 0To Three Superfine Holland Shirts, with Cambric Bosoms, Complete . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 1 0To Two Pots of Superior French Pomatum . . . . . . 0 10 0To a Tobacco Canister of enamelled Tin, with a finely Executed Head of the Pretender; slight flaw in the same. 0 12 6To a German Pipe, second hand, as good as new, belonging to the late Lady Waddilove . . . . . . . . . . 1 18 0To Four Pair of Black Silk Hose, ditto, belonging to her Ladyship's Husband . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 8 0To Two Superfine Embossed Gold Watch Seals, with a Classical Motto and Device to each, namely, Mouse Trap, and "Prenez Garde, " to one, and "Who the devil can this be from?" [One would not have thought these ingenious devices had been of so ancient a date as the year 17--. ] to the other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1 0To a remarkably fine Antique Ring, having the head of a Monkey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 16 6A ditto, with blue stones . . . . . . . . . . . 0 12 6A ditto, with green ditto . . . . . . . . . . . 0 12 6A Stuffed Green Parrot, a remarkable favourite of the late Lady W. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 2 0 -------- Sum Total . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 18 0 Deduction for Ready Money . . . . . . . . . . 0 13 6 -------- 15 4 6 Mr. Brown's Profits for Brokerage . . . . . . . . 1 10 0 -------- Sum Total . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 14 6

Received of Clarence Linden, Esq. , this day of 17--. 

It would have been no unamusing study to watch the expression ofClarence's face as it lengthened over each article until he hadreached the final conclusion. He then carefully folded up the paper, restored it to Mr. Brown, with a low bow, and said, "Excuse me, sir, Iwill not take advantage of your generosity; keep your parrot and othertreasures for some more worthy person. I cannot accept of what youare pleased to term your very valuable presents!"

"Oh, very well, very well, " said Mr. Brown, pocketing the paper, andseeming perfectly unconcerned at the termination of his proposals;"perhaps I can serve you in some other way?"

"In none, I thank you, " replied Linden. 

"Just consider, sir!--you will want lodgings; I can find them for youcheaper than you can yourself; or perhaps you would prefer going intoa nice, quiet, genteel family where you can have both board andlodging, and be treated in every way as the pet child of the master?"

A thought crossed Linden's mind. He was going to stay in town sometime; he was ignorant of its ways; he had neither friends norrelations, at least none whom he could visit and consult; moreover, hotels, he knew, were expensive; lodgings, though cheaper, might, iftolerably comfortable, greatly exceed the sum prudence would allow himto expend would not this plan proposed by Mr. Brown, of going into a"nice quiet genteel family, " he the most advisable one he could adopt?The generous benefactor of the late and ever-to-be-remembered LadyWaddilove perceived his advantage, and making the most of Clarence'shesitation, continued, --

"I know of a charming little abode, sir, situated in the suburbs ofLondon, quite rus in urbe, as the scholars say; you can have adelightful little back parlour, looking out upon the garden, and allto yourself, I dare say. "

"And pray, Mr. Brown, " interrupted Linden, "what price do you thinkwould be demanded for such enviable accommodation? If you offer methem as 'a present, ' I shall have nothing to say to them. "

"Oh, sir, " answered Mr. Brown, "the price will be a trifle, --a meretrifle; but I will inquire, and let you know the exact sum in thecourse of the day: all they want is a respectable gentlemanlikelodger; and I am sure so near a relation of Mrs. Minden will upon myrecommendation be received with avidity. Then you won't have any ofthese valuable articles, sir? You'll repent it, sir; take my word forit--hem!

"Since, " replied Clarence, dryly, "your word appears of so much morevalue than your articles, pardon me, if I prefer taking the formerinstead of the latter. "

Mr. Brown forced a smile, --"Well, sir, very well, very well indeed. You will not go out before two o'clock? and at that time I shall callupon you respecting the commission you have favoured me with. "

"I will await you, " said Clarence; and he bowed Mr. Brown out of theroom. 

"Now, really, " said Linden to himself, as he paced the narrow limitsof his apartment, "I do not see what better plan I can pursue; but letme well consider what is my ultimate object. A high step in theworld's ladder! how is this to be obtained? First, by the regularmethod of professions; but what profession should I adopt? The Churchis incompatible with my object, the army and navy with my means. Nextcome the irregular methods of adventure and enterprise, such asmarriage with a fortune, "--here he paused and looked at the glass, --"the speculation of a political pamphlet, or an ode to the minister;attendance on some dying miser of my own name, without a relation inthe world; or, in short, any other mode of making money that maydecently offer itself. Now, situated as I am, without a friend inthis great city, I might as well purchase my experience at as cheap arate and in as brief a time as possible, nor do I see any plan ofdoing so more promising than that proposed by Mr. Brown. "

These and such like reflections, joined to the inspiriting pages ofthe "Newgate Calendar" and "The Covent Garden Magazine, " two workswhich Clarence dragged from their concealment under a black tea-tray, afforded him ample occupation till the hour of two, punctual to whichtime Mr. Morris Brown returned. 

"Well, sir, " said Clarence, "what is your report?"

The friend of the late Lady W. Wiped his brow and gave three longsighs before he replied: "A long walk, sir--a very long walk I havehad; but I have succeeded. No thanks, sir, --no thanks, --the lady, amost charming, delightful, amiable woman, will receive you withpleasure; you will have the use of a back parlour (as I said) all themorning, and a beautiful little bedroom entirely to yourself; think ofthat, sir. You will have an egg for breakfast, and you will dine withthe family at three o'clock: quite fashionable hours you see, sir. "

"And the terms?" said Linden, impatiently. 

"Why, sir, " replied Mr. Brown, "the lady was too genteel to talk to meabout them; you had better walk with me to her house and see if youcannot yourself agree with her. "

"I will, " said Clarence. "Will you wait here till I have dressed?"

Mr. Brown bowed his assent. 

"I might as well, " thought Clarence, as he ascended to his bedroom, "inquire into the character of this gentleman to whose good offices Iam so rashly intrusting myself. " He rang his bell; the chambermaidappeared, and was dismissed for the waiter. The character was soonasked, and soon given. For our reader's sake we will somewhat enlargeupon it. 

Mr. Morris Brown originally came into the world with the simpleappellation of Moses, a name which his father--honest man--had, as theMinories can still testify, honourably borne before him. Scarcely, however, had the little Moses attained the age of five, when hisfather, for causes best known to himself, became a Christian. Somehowor other there is a most potent connection between the purse and theconscience, and accordingly the blessings of Heaven descended ingolden showers upon the proselyte. "I shall die worth a plum, " saidMoses the elder (who had taken unto himself the Christian cognomen ofBrown); "I shall die worth a plum, " repeated he, as he went one finemorning to speculate at the Exchange. A change of news, sharp andunexpected as a change of wind, lowered the stocks and blighted theplum. Mr. Brown was in the "Gazette" that week, and his wife in weedsfor him the next. He left behind him, besides the said wife, severaldebts and his son Moses. Beggared by the former, our widow took asmall shop in Wardour Street to support the latter. Patient, butenterprising--cautious of risking pounds, indefatigable in raisingpence--the little Moses inherited the propensities of his Hebrewancestors; and though not so capable as his immediate progenitor ofmaking a fortune, he was at least far less likely to lose one. Inspite, however, of all the industry both of mother and son, the gainsof the shop were but scanty; to increase them capital was required, and all Mr. Moses Brown's capital lay in his brain. "It is a badfoundation, " said the mother, with a sigh. "Not at all!" said theson, and leaving the shop, he turned broker. Now a broker is a manwho makes an income out of other people's funds, --a gleaner of strayextravagances; and by doing the public the honour of living upon themmay fairly be termed a little sort of state minister in his way. Whatwith haunting sales, hawking china, selling the curiosities of one oldlady and purchasing the same for another, Mr. Brown managed to enjoy avery comfortable existence. Great pains and small gains will at lastinvert their antithesis, and make little trouble and great profit; sothat by the time Mr. Brown had attained his fortieth year, the pettyshop had become a large warehouse; and, if the worthy Moses, nowchristianized into Morris, was not so sanguine as his father in thegathering of plums, he had been at least as fortunate in thecollecting of windfalls. To say truth, the abigail of the defunctLady Waddilove had been no unprofitable helpmate to our broker. Asingenious as benevolent, she was the owner of certain rooms of greatresort in the neighbourhood of St. James's, --rooms where caps andappointments were made better than anywhere else, and where credit wasgiven and character lost upon terms equally advantageous to theaccommodating Mrs. Brown. 

Meanwhile her husband, continuing through liking what he had begunthrough necessity, slackened not his industry in augmenting hisfortune; on the contrary, small profits were but a keener incentive tolarge ones, --as the glutton only sharpened by luncheon his appetitefor dinner. Still was Mr. Brown the very Alcibiades of brokers, theuniversal genius, suiting every man to his humour. Business ofwhatever description, from the purchase of a borough to that of abrooch, was alike the object of Mr. Brown's most zealous pursuit:taverns, where country cousins put up; rustic habitations, whereancient maidens resided; auction or barter; city or hamlet, --all werethe same to that enterprising spirit, which made out of everyacquaintance--a commission! Sagacious and acute, Mr. Brown perceivedthe value of eccentricity in covering design, and found by experiencethat whatever can be laughed at as odd will be gravely considered asharmless. Several of the broker's peculiarities were, therefore, moreartificial than natural; and many were the sly bargains which hesmuggled into effect under the comfortable cloak of singularity. Nowonder, then, that the crafty Morris grew gradually in repute as aperson of infinite utility and excellent qualifications; or that thepenetrating friends of his deceased sire bowed to the thrivingitinerant, with a respect which they denied to many in loftierprofessions and more general esteem. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Trust me you have an exceeding fine lodging here, --very neat andprivate. --BEN JONSON. 

It was a tolerably long walk to the abode of which the worthy brokerspoke in such high terms of commendation. At length, at the suburbstowards Paddington, Mr. Brown stopped at a very small house; it stoodrather retired from its surrounding neighbours, which were of aloftier and more pretending aspect than itself, and, in its awkwardshape and pitiful bashfulness, looked exceedingly like a school-boyfinding himself for the first time in a grown up party, and shrinkingwith all possible expedition into the obscurest corner he candiscover. Passing through a sort of garden, in which a spot of grasslay in the embraces of a stripe of gravel, Mr. Brown knocked upon avery bright knocker at a very new door. The latter was opened, and afoot-boy appeared. 

"Is Mrs. Copperas within?" asked the broker. 

"Yees, sir, " said the boy. 

"Show this gentleman and myself up stairs, " resumed Brown. 

"Yees, " reiterated the lackey. 

Up a singularly narrow staircase, into a singularly diminutivedrawing-room, Clarence and his guide were ushered. There, seated on alittle chair by a little work-table, with one foot on a little stooland one hand on a little book, was a little--very little lady. 

"This is the young gentleman, " said Mr. Brown; and Clarence bowed low, in token of the introduction. 

The lady returned the salutation with an affected bend, and said, in amincing and grotesquely subdued tone, "You are desirous, sir, ofentering into the bosom of my family. We possess accommodations of amost elegant description; accustomed to the genteelest circles, enjoying the pure breezes of the Highgate hills, and presenting to anyguest we may receive the attractions of a home rather than of alodging, you will find our retreat no less eligible than unique. Youare, I presume, sir, in some profession, some city avocation--or--ortrade?"

"I have the misfortune, " said he, smiling, "to belong to noprofession. "

The lady looked hard at the speaker, and then at the broker. Withcertain people to belong to no profession is to be of norespectability. 

"The most unexceptionable references will be given-and required, "resumed Mrs. Copperas. 

"Certainly, " said Mr. Brown, "certainly, the gentleman is a relationof Mrs. Minden, a very old customer of mine. "

"In that case, " said Mrs. Copperas, "the affair is settled;" and, rising, she rang the bell, and ordered the foot-boy, whom sheaddressed by the grandiloquent name of "De Warens" to show thegentleman the apartments. While Clarence was occupied in surveyingthe luxuries of a box at the top of the house, called a bed-chamber, which seemed just large and just hot enough for a chrysalis, and acorresponding box below, termed the back parlour, which wouldcertainly not have been large enough for the said chrysalis whenturned into a butterfly, Mr. Morris Brown, after duly, expatiating onthe merits of Clarence, proceeded to speak of the terms; these weresoon settled, for Clarence was yielding and the lady not above threetimes as extortionate as she ought to have been. 

Before Linden left the house, the bargain was concluded. That nighthis trunks were removed to his new abode, and having with incredibledifficulty been squeezed into the bedroom, Clarence surveyed them withthe same astonishment with which the virtuoso beheld the flies inamber, --

 "Not that the things were either rich or rare, He wondered how the devil they got there!"

CHAPTER X. 

 Such scenes had tempered with a pensive grace The maiden lustre of that faultless face; Had hung a sad and dreamlike spell upon The gliding music of her silver tone, And shaded the soft soul which loved to lie In the deep pathos of that volumed eye. --O'Neill; or, The Rebel. 

The love thus kindled between them was of no common or calculatingnature: it was vigorous and delicious, and at times so suddenlyintense as to appear to their young hearts for a moment or so withalmost an awful character. --Inesilla. 

The reader will figure to himself a small chamber, in a remote wing ofa large and noble mansion. The walls were covered with sketches whoseextreme delicacy of outline and colouring betrayed the sex of theartist; a few shelves filled with books supported vases of flowers. Aharp stood neglected at the farther end of the room, and just abovehung the slender prison of one of those golden wanderers from theCanary Isles which hear to our colder land some of the gentlest musicof their skies and zephyrs. The window, reaching to the ground, wasopen, and looked, through the clusters of jessamine and honeysucklewhich surrounded the low veranda, beyond upon thick and frequentcopses of blossoming shrubs, redolent of spring and sparkling in thesunny tears of a May shower which had only just wept itself away. Embosomed in these little groves lay plots of flowers, girdled withturf as green as ever wooed the nightly dances of the fairies; andafar off, through one artful opening, the eye caught the glitteringwanderings of water, on whose light and smiles the universal happinessof the young year seemed reflected. 

But in that chamber, heedless of all around, and cold to the joy withwhich everything else, equally youthful, beautiful, and innocent, seemed breathing and inspired, sat a very young and lovely female. Her cheek leaned upon her hand, and large tears flowed fast andburningly over the small and delicate fingers. The comb that hadconfined her tresses lay at her feet, and the high dress whichconcealed her swelling breast had been loosened, to give vent to thesuffocating and indignant throbbings which had rebelled against itscincture; all appeared to announce that bitterness of grief when themind, as it were, wreaks its scorn upon the body in its contempt forexternal seemings, and to proclaim that the present more subdued andsoftened sorrow had only succeeded to a burst far less quiet anduncontrolled. Woe to those who eat the bread of dependence theirtears are wrung from the inmost sources of the heart. 

Isabel St. Leger was the only child of a captain in the army who diedin her infancy; her mother had survived him but a few months; and tothe reluctant care and cold affections of a distant and wealthyrelation of the same name the warm-hearted and penniless orphan wasconsigned. Major-General Cornelius St. Leger, whose riches had beenpurchased in India at the price of his constitution, was of a temperas hot as his curries, and he wreaked it the more unsparingly on hisward, because the superior ill-temper of his maiden sister hadprevented his giving vent to it upon her. That sister, Miss Diana St. Leger, was a meagre gentlewoman of about six feet high, with a loudvoice and commanding aspect. Long in awe of her brother, she rejoicedat heart to find some one whom she had such right and reason to makein awe of herself; and from the age of four to that of seventeenIsabel suffered every insult and every degradation which could beinflicted upon her by the tyranny of her two protectors. Her spirit, however, was far from being broken by the rude shocks it received; onthe contrary, her mind, gentleness itself to the kind, roseindignantly against the unjust. It was true that the sense of wrongdid not break forth audibly; for, though susceptible, Isabel was meek, and her pride was concealed by the outward softness and feminacy ofher temper: but she stole away from those who had wounded her heart ortrampled upon its feelings, and nourished with secret but passionatetears the memory of the harshness or injustice she had endured. Yetshe was not vindictive: her resentment was a noble not a debasingfeeling; once, when she was yet a child, Miss Diana was attacked witha fever of the most malignant and infectious kind; her brother lovedhimself far too well to risk his safety by attending her; the servantswere too happy to wreak their hatred under the pretence of obeyingtheir fears; they consequently followed the example of their master;and Miss Diana St. Leger might have gone down to her ancestors"unwept, unhonoured, and unsung, " if Isabel had not volunteered andenforced her attendance. Hour after hour her fairy form flittedaround the sick-chamber; or sat mute and breathless by the feverishbed; she had neither fear for contagion nor bitterness for pastoppression; everything vanished beneath the one hope of serving, theone gratification of feeling herself, in the wide waste of creation, not utterly without use, as she had been hitherto without friends. 

Miss St. Leger recovered. "For your recovery, in the first place, "said the doctor, "you will thank Heaven; in the second, you will thankyour young relation;" and for several days the convalescent didoverwhelm the happy Isabel with her praises and caresses. But thischange did not last long: the chaste Diana had been too spoiled by theprosperity of many years for the sickness of a single month to effectmuch good in her disposition. Her old habits were soon resumed; andthough it is probable that her heart was in reality softened towardsthe poor Isabel, that softening by no means extended to her temper. In truth, the brother and sister were not without affection for one sobeautiful and good, but they had been torturing slaves all theirlives, and their affection was, and could be, but that of a taskmasteror a planter. 

But Isabel was the only relation who ever appeared within their walls;and among the guests with whom the luxurious mansion was crowded, shepassed no less for the heiress than the dependant; to her, therefore, was offered the homage of many lips and hearts, and if her pride wasperpetually galled and her feelings insulted in private, her vanity(had that equalled her pride and her feelings in its susceptibility)would in no slight measure have recompensed her in public. Unhappily, however, her vanity was the least prominent quality she possessed; andthe compliments of mercenary adulation were not more rejected by herheart than despised by her understanding. 

Yet did she bear within her a deep fund of buried tenderness, and amine of girlish and enthusiastic romance, --dangerous gifts to one sosituated, which, while they gave to her secret moments of solitude apowerful but vague attraction, probably only prepared for her futureyears the snare which might betray them into error or the delusionwhich would colour them with regret. 

Among those whom the ostentatious hospitality of General St. Legerattracted to his house was one of very different character andpretensions to the rest. Formed to be unpopular with the generalityof men, the very qualities that made him so were those whichprincipally fascinate the higher description of women of ancientbirth, which rendered still more displeasing the pride and coldness ofhis mien; of talents peculiarly framed to attract interest as well asesteem; of a deep and somewhat morbid melancholy, which, while itturned from ordinary ties, inclined yearningly towards passionateaffections; of a temper where romance was only concealed from the manyto become more seductive to the few; unsocial, but benevolent;disliked, but respected; of the austerest demeanour, but of passionsthe most fervid, though the most carefully concealed, --this man unitedwithin himself all that repels the common mass of his species, and allthat irresistibly wins and fascinates the rare and romantic few. Tothese qualities were added a carriage and bearing of that high andcommanding order which men mistake for arrogance and pretension, andwomen overrate in proportion to its contrast to their own. Somethingof mystery there was in the commencement of the deep and eventful lovewhich took place between this person and Isabel, which I have neverbeen able to learn whatever it was, it seemed to expedite and heightenthe ordinary progress of love; and when in the dim twilight, beneaththe first melancholy smile of the earliest star, their hearts openedaudibly to each other, that confession had been made silently longsince and registered in the inmost recesses of the soul. 

But their passion, which began in prosperity, was soon darkened. Whether he took offence at the haughtiness of Isabel's lover, orwhether he desired to retain about him an object which he couldtorment and tyrannize over, no sooner did the General discover theattachment of his young relation than he peremptorily forbade itsindulgence, and assumed so insolent and overbearing an air towards thelover that the latter felt he could no longer repeat his visits to oreven continue his acquaintance with the nabob. 

To add to these adverse circumstances, a relation of the lover, fromwhom his expectations had been large, was so enraged, not only at theinsult his cousin had received, but at the very idea of his forming analliance with one in so dependent a situation and connected with suchnew blood as Isabel St. Leger, that, with that arrogance whichrelations, however distant, think themselves authorized to assume, heenjoined his cousin, upon pain of forfeiture of favour and fortune, torenounce all idea of so disparaging an alliance. The one thusaddressed was not of a temper patiently to submit to such threats: heanswered them with disdain; and the breach, so dangerous to hispecuniary interest, was already begun. 

So far had the history of our lover proceeded at the time in which wehave introduced Isabel to the reader, and described to him the chamberto which, in all her troubles and humiliations, she was accustomed tofly, as to a sad but still unviolated sanctuary of retreat. 

The quiet of this asylum was first broken by a slight rustling amongthe leaves; but Isabel's back was turned towards the window, and inthe engrossment of her feelings she heard it not. The thick copsethat darkened the left side of the veranda was pierced, and a manpassed within the covered space, and stood still and silent before thewindow, intently gazing upon the figure, which (though the face wasturned from him) betrayed in its proportions that beauty which in hiseyes had neither an equal nor a fault. 

The figure of the stranger, though not very tall, was above theordinary height, and gracefully rather than robustly formed. He wasdressed in the darkest colours and the simplest fashion, whichrendered yet more striking the nobleness of his mien, as well as theclear and almost delicate paleness of his complexion; his featureswere finely and accurately formed; and had not ill health, longtravel, or severe thought deepened too much the lines of thecountenance, and sharpened its contour, the classic perfection ofthose features would have rendered him undeniably and even eminentlyhandsome. As it was, the paleness and the somewhat worn character ofhis face, joined to an expression at first glance rather haughty andrepellent, made him lose in physical what he certainly gained inintellectual beauty. His eyes were large, deep, and melancholy, andhad the hat which now hung over his brow been removed, it would havedisplayed a forehead of remarkable boldness and power. 

Altogether, the face was cast in a rare and intellectual mould, and, if wanting in those more luxuriant attractions common to the age ofthe stranger, who could scarcely have attained his twenty-sixth year, it betokened, at least, that predominance of mind over body which insome eyes is the most requisite characteristic of masculine beauty. 

With a soft and noiseless step, the stranger moved from his stationwithout the window, and, entering the room, stole towards the spot onwhich Isabel was sitting. He leaned over her chair, and his eyerested upon his own picture, and a letter in his own writing, overwhich the tears of the young orphan flowed fast. 

A moment more of agitated happiness for one, of unconscious andcontinued sadness for the other, --

 "'T is past, her lover's at her feet. "

And what indeed "was to them the world beside, with all its changes oftime and tide"? Joy, hope, all blissful and bright sensations, laymingled, like meeting waters, in one sunny stream of heartfelt andunfathomable enjoyment; but this passed away, and the remembrance ofbitterness and evil succeeded. 

"Oh, Algernon!" said Isabel, in a low voice, "is this your promise?"

"Believe me, " said Mordaunt, for it was indeed he, "I have struggledlong with my feelings, but in vain; and for both our sakes, I rejoiceat the conquest they obtained. I listened only to a deceitfuldelusion when I imagined I was obeying the dictates of reason. Ah, dearest, why should we part for the sake of dubious and distant evils, when the misery of absence is the most certain, the most unceasingevil we can endure?"

"For your sake, and therefore for mine!" interrupted Isabel, struggling with her tears. "I am a beggar and an outcast. You mustnot link your fate with mine. I could bear, Heaven knows howwillingly, poverty and all its evils for you and with you; but Icannot bring them upon you. "

"Nor will you, " said Mordaunt, passionately, as he covered the hand heheld with his burning kisses. "Have I not enough for both of us? Itis my love, not poverty, that I beseech you to share. "

"No! Algernon, you cannot deceive me; your own estate will be tornfrom you by the law: if you marry me, your cousin will not assist you;I, you know too well, can command nothing; and I shall see you, forwhom in my fond and bright dreams I have presaged everything great andexalted, buried in an obscurity from which your talents can neverrise, and suffering the pangs of poverty and dependence andhumiliation like my own; and--and--I--should be the wretch who causedyou all. Never, Algernon, never!--I love you too--too well!"

But the effort which wrung forth the determination of the tone inwhich these words were uttered was too violent to endure; and, as thefull desolation of her despair crowded fast and dark upon the orphan'smind, she sank back upon her chair in very sickness of soul, norheeded, in her unconsious misery, that her hand was yet clasped by herlover and that her head drooped upon his bosom. 

"Isabel, " he said, in a low, sweet tone, which to her ear seemed theconcentration of all earthly music, --"Isabel, look up, --my own, mybeloved, --look up and hear me. Perhaps you say truly when you tell methat the possessions of my house shall melt away from me, and that myrelation will not offer to me the precarious bounty which, even if hedid offer, I would reject; but, dearest, are there not a thousandpaths open to me, --the law, the state, the army?--you are silent, Isabel, --speak!"

Isabel did not reply, but the soft eyes which rested upon his told, intheir despondency, how little her reason was satisfied by thearguments he urged. 

"Besides, " he continued, "we know not yet whether the law may notdecide in my favour: at all events years may pass before the judgmentis given; those years make the prime and verdure of our lives; let usnot waste them in mourning over blighted hopes and severed hearts; letus snatch what happiness is yet in our power, nor anticipate, whilethe heavens are still bright above us, the burden of the thunder orthe cloud. "

Isabel was one of the least selfish and most devoted of human beings, yet she must be forgiven if at that moment her resolution faltered, and the overpowering thought of being in reality his forever flashedupon her mind. It passed from her the moment it was formed; and, rising from a situation in which the touch of that dear hand and thebreath of those wooing lips endangered the virtue and weakened thestrength of her resolves, she withdrew herself from his grasp, andwhile she averted her eyes, which dared not encounter his, she said ina low but firm voice, --

"It is in vain, Algernon; it is in vain. I can be to you nothing buta blight or burden, nothing but a source of privation and anguish. Think you that I will be this?--no, I will not darken your fair hopesand impede your reasonable ambition. Go (and here her voice falteredfor a moment, but soon recovered its tone), go, Algernon, dearAlgernon; and if my foolish heart will not ask you to think of me nomore, I can at least implore you to think of me only as one who woulddie rather than cost you a moment of that poverty and debasement, thebitterness of which she has felt herself, and who for that very reasontears herself away from you forever. "

"Stay, Isabel, stay!" cried Mordaunt, as he caught hold of her robe, "give me but one word more, and you shall leave me. Say that if I cancreate for myself a new source of independence; if I can carve out aroad where the ambition you erroneously impute to me can be gratified, as well as the more moderate wishes our station has made natural to usto form, --say, that if I do this, I may permit myself to hope, --say, that when I have done it, I may claim you as my own!"

Isabel paused, and turned once more her face towards his own. Herlips moved, and though the words died within her heart, yet Mordauntread well their import in the blushing cheek and the heaving bosom, and the lips which one ray of hope and comfort was sufficient tokindle into smiles. He gazed, and all obstacles, all difficulties, disappeared; the gulf of time seemed passed, and he felt as if alreadyhe had earned and won his reward. 

He approached her yet nearer; one kiss on those lips, one pressure ofthat thrilling hand, one long, last embrace of that shrinking andtrembling form, --and then, as the door closed upon his view, he feltthat the sunshine of Nature had passed away, and that in the midst ofthe laughing and peopled earth he stood in darkness and alone.