"All right," (very m.u.f.fled in tone).

"No, dear, it isn't all right if you ask her such a thing. It looks as if you meant that you wanted to get rid of her again."

"So I do," (this time so smothered that it was audible only to self).

"Good-night, dear."

"Goonight."

"What a nice, comfortable, pleasant-feeling, long-napped carpet, George.

I do like a Turkey carpet above all things; it is so warm and aristocratic-looking, and then, too, so durable. Now, I'm sure, my dear, I am right in saying that you picked it up a bargain at a sale."

"Yes, that he did, mamma dear," said Mrs Scribe; "but he won't tell me what he gave for it. Do tease him till he tells you."

"Now, how much was it, sir?"

"Another slice of turkey, Mrs Cubus?"

"Well, really, my dear, I don't think--er--er--well, it really is a delicious turkey. Oh! half that, George. And why don't you say mamma?

Yes, just the least bit of stuffing, and--er--a chestnut or two. That's quite enough gravy, thank you. Now, what did you give for the carpet?"

"Oh," I said, "it's Christmas-time, so I shall make a riddle of it.

Guess."

"Well, let me see," said Mrs S's Mamma. "You gave--what shall I say?

About eighteen feet square, isn't it?"

"Very good--that's it exact."

"Well, then, my dear, as you bought it a bargain, I should say you gave five pounds for it--or say guineas--but, no, I'll say pounds."

"Capital!" I said, with the most amiable smile I ever had upon my countenance; "I did give five pounds for it."

"_Plus seventeen_," I whispered into my waistcoat.

"What, dear?"

"Merry Christmas to you," I said, bowing over my gla.s.s of sherry.

And that was my last bargain-hunt.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE ICE-BREAKING.

Down by the woods in the rocky valley, Where the babbling waves of the river sally, Where the pure source gushes And the wild fount rushes, There's the sound of the roar That is heard on the sh.o.r.e, Where the tumbling billows the chalk cliffs bore; For down from each hill With resistless will, The floods are fast pouring their waters so chill, And the West has risen with a cry and a shout, Dash'd at the North to the Ice-king's rout; Then off and away, For the livelong day Has rush'd through the woodlands--no longer gay, Splitting the branches; While avalanches Of melting snow Bend the pine-boughs low, And the earth with the spoil of the warfare strow.

And now once again Comes the pitiless rain, Pouring its torrents from black clouds amain; Till the river is swollen and bursting its bounds, And its muttering wrath sweeps in ominous sounds On the wintry breeze, Louder and louder by rising degrees.

The Ice-king is routed--his reign is past, And the frost-bound river is rending fast; And the West wind sweeps with a mournful sough, And the flood tears through with the force of a plough.

Splitting and rending, The ice unbending, As with mighty burrow, It carves out a furrow Of churning wreck; While, as if at its beck, The foam-capped streams Loose the Ice-king's beams, And each crystal fragment, with wild weird gleams, Now sinks--now rises, As each stream still prises, Till the loosen'd river in fury rolls Away through the valley; while icy scrolls Are swept from the bank, where the snow lay heavy, And snow-drift and ice joins the West's rude levy; Which at barrier scouts, At each rock mound shouts; Sweeping along towards the land of the plain, Tingeing the waters with many a stain; Foaming along in an eddying sweep, And gliding in speed where the flood ploughs deep, Rooting the reeds from their hold on the bank, And widening its track where the marsh lies dank.

Away tears the river With an earthquake's speed, Over the snow-cover'd lowland mead, Laughing aloud at each reckless deed, As the stricken farmers the ruin heed, Whirling along on its bosom the reed And the sharp, jagg'd ice and the harmless bead, With the unchained course of a wild-born steed, Till the hills where it pa.s.ses quiver.

Away and away, and still onward away, And there's ruin and havoc in lowland this day; For the waters brown In their rage tear down, Menacing shipping and threatening the town; They've beat down the weir, And dash'd at each pier, And swept o'er the bank to the widespread mere, Whose icy sheet, As though torn by heat, Has fallen in fragments where torrents meet; While now for the bridge, There's an icy ridge On the river's breast, Swept along by the West, Whose might shall the strong beams and deep piles wrest, Till the bridge goes down, By the flooded town, Where the lowing kine and the penn'd flocks drown.

But the damm'd stream rages, For naught a.s.suages Its thirst for ruin; And again undoing The toil of years, It hurries along till the rocks it wears.

And now there's a crash and a mighty rattle As a stalwart mound gives the river battle; And soon engaging, The waves leap raging, Where the mound is gash'd, By the churn'd ice dash'd, While from out of the dam, With the force of a ram, Comes each huge, strong beam, On the breast of the stream, With the speed of an arrow, Where the banks are narrow; But the rocky face Stays the furied race, As round it the waters in madness enlace; Lashing and tearing With rage unsparing, To beat down the stay In the deadly fray; And then, for more ruin, to hurry away; But the hill stouthearted The water has parted, And away in a sever'd stream they tear Like famish'd lions fresh from their lair, Devouring, destroying, and bearing away Each barrier, bank, or each timber'd stay; Till they slacken their race by the sandy verge Of the parent sea, whose wild, restless surge Lashes the sh.o.r.e.

Towards her breast leap the rivers in eager guise, Lost in the billows that hurrying rise To welcome the treasures they pour.

CHAPTER TEN.

A HORROR OF HORRORS.

"Very, very glad to see you, my boy," said my friend Broxby, as I reached his house quite late on Christmas-eve, when he introduced me to his wife, a most amiable woman of an extremely pleasing countenance; to Major and Mrs Major Carruthers, a very pimply-faced gentleman, with a languishing wife troubled with an obliquity of vision, which worried me greatly that evening from her eye seeming to be gazing upon me, while its owner wore a perpetual smile upon her lip. Mrs Major Carruthers'

brother was also there, a young man, like myself, of a poetic turn, and troubled with headaches, besides several others, ladies and gentlemen, who occupied divers relative distances in connection with my friend Broxby and his charming wife.

"Why you're as nervous and bashful as ever, my boy," said Broxby, in his rough, good-natured way, and I tried to laugh it off, particularly as it was said before so many people in the well-lit drawing-room; but even before the fearful shock my nerves received I always was of a terribly nervous temperament, a temperament which makes me extremely susceptible.

As I am now forty I have given up all hopes of ever getting the better of it, even as I have felt compelled to give up the expectation of whiskers, curling hair, and--well no, not yet, for, as the poet says, "We may be happy yet," and some fond, loving breast may yet throb for me in the future. I may add that my hair is fair, my face slightly freckled, and that I have a slight lisp, but it is so slight that you do not notice it when you get used to me.

After a long, cold ride down by train to Ancaster, and a six miles' ride in Broxby's dog-cart from the station, where I was met by his groom, the well-lit drawing-room seemed so cheering and comfortable, and as I grew a little more at home I began to be glad that I had left my chambers to their fate for the time, and come down to bask awhile in the light of so many l.u.s.trous...o...b...

I was just feeling somewhat confused from the fact of Mrs Major Carruthers having rested her eye upon me and smiled sweetly, when as a matter of course I felt bound to do either one thing or the other, look angry and suppose that she was laughing at me, or smile sympathetically in return. I did the latter, when, as I said before, I became confused to see that Major Carruthers was frowning fiercely at me, while his face looked quite currant-dumplingified from the fierce hue a.s.sumed by his pimples. But just at that moment a servant announced something to my host, who came forward, slapped me on the shoulder, and I followed him out of the room into his study, where a small table was spread expressly for my delectation.

"You see we dined two hours ago, Augustus, so I'm going to chat and have a gla.s.s of sherry with you while you freshen up. I thought it would be more snug for you here in my study, so cut away."

I must confess to having felt hungry, and I directly commenced the meal, while my friend chatted pleasantly about the party I had met in the drawing-room.

"Why, we must find you a wife, one of those fair maidens, my boy. A good, strong-minded, lovable woman would be the making of you. Good people, those Carruthers, only the Major is so fearfully jealous of his wife--simple, quiet, good-hearted soul as ever breathed. And oh, by the bye, I have to apologise to you for something really unavoidable. I would not trouble you if I could help myself, but I can't. You see the Major is a first cousin of my wife's, and we always ask them to our little gatherings, while it so happened that Mrs Major's brother was staying with them, when, as it was either bring him or stay away themselves, Laura, my wife you know, thoughtlessly said 'Bring him,'

never stopping to think that every bed in the house was engaged. What to do I could not think, nor where to put him, till at last I said to myself why Gus Littleboy will help me out of the difficulty, and therefore, my lad, for two nights only I have to go down on my inhospitable marrowbones and ask you to sleep double. We've put you in the blue room, where there's an old four-poster that is first cousin to the great bed of Ware, so that you can lie almost a quarter of a mile from each other, more or less you know, so you won't mind, will you old fellow, just to oblige us you know?"

Of course I promised not to mind, and a great deal more, but still I did mind it very much, for I omitted to say that, er--that er--I am extremely modest, and the fact of having a gentleman in the same room was most painful to my feelings.

We soon after joined the party in the drawing-room; and, feeling somewhat refreshed, I tried to make myself agreeable, as it was Christmas-time, and people are expected to come out a little. So I brought out two or three conjuring tricks that I had purchased in town, and Broxby showed them off while I tried to play one or two tricks with cards; but, somehow or another, when Mrs Major Carruthers drew a card, I had forgotten the trick, and she had to draw another card which she dropped; and, when it was on the carpet, we both stooped together to pick it up; and you've no idea how confusing it was, for we knocked our heads together, when I distinctly heard some one go "Phut" in precisely the same way as a turkey-c.o.c.k will when strutting; when, to my intense dismay, I again found that the Major was scowling at me fiercely.

"Then I should go to bed if I were you, Timothy," I heard Mrs Major say soon after; and, on looking across the room, I saw that she was talking to her brother, but her eye was upon me, and she was smiling, so that I felt perfectly horrified, and looked carefully round at the Major; but he was playing cards, and did not see me.

So Mr T Peters left the room, and Broxby did all he could to amuse his visitors, till the ladies, one and all, declared they must retire, when the gentlemen drew round the fire; and a bright little kettle having been set upon the hob and a tray of gla.s.ses placed upon the table, my friend brewed what he called a night-cap, a portion of which I left four of them discussing when Broxby rang for a candlestick, and told the maid to show me the bedroom.

"Did you have my portmanteau taken up?" I said to the maid.