So saying, I rose and quitted the room, leaving Mr. Vernor, in a state of ill-suppressed rage, to the enjoyment of his own reflections.

On entering the hall, I found old Peter Barnett awaiting me. As I appeared, his stiff features lighted up with a most sagacious grin of intelligence, and approaching me, he whispered:--

"Did ye give it him strong?" (indicating the person he referred to by an expressive jerk of his thumb towards the library door). "I heard ye blowing of him up--but did ye give it him reg'lar strong?"

"I certainly told Mr. Vernor my opinion with tolerable plainness,"

replied I, smiling at the intense delight which was visible in every line of the strange old face beside me.

"No! Did ye?--did ye? That was right," was the rejoinder. "Lor! how I wish I'd a been there to see; but I heard ye though--I heard ye a giving it to him," and again he relapsed into a paroxysm of delight.

"Peter," said I, "I want to have a little private conversation with you--how is that to be managed? Is there any place near where you could meet me?" -304-- "You come here from Hillingford, didn't ye, sir?" I nodded a.s.sent. He continued:--"Did you notice a hand-post which stands where four roads meet, about a mile and a half from here?"

"I saw it," returned I, "and even tried to read what was painted on it, but of course, after the manner of all country direction posts, it was totally illegible."

"Well, when you get there, take the road to the left, and ride on till ye see an ale-house on the right-hand side, and stay there till I come to ye."

"I will," replied I, "but don't keep me waiting longer than you can help--there's a good man."

An understanding grin was his only answer; and mounting my unpleasant horse (who seemed much more willing to proceed quietly when his head was turned in a homeward direction), I rode slowly through the park, my state of mind affording a practical ill.u.s.tration, that Quintus Horatius Flaccus was about right in his conjecture that Care sometimes indulged herself with a little equestrian exercise on a pillion.{1}

1 "Post equitem sedet atra cura."

CHAPTER x.x.xIX -- THE COUNCIL OF WAR

"Oh! good old man: how well in thee, appears The constant service of the antique world!"

--_As You Like It_.

"Now will I deliver his letter; for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding."

--_Twelfth Night_.

"Farewell! be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.

Farewell! commend me to thy mistress."

--_Romeo and Juliet_.

THE place of meeting appointed by Peter Barnett was easily discovered, and having tied up my horse under a shed, which served the double purpose of stable and coach-house, I took possession of a small room with a sanded floor, and throwing myself back in a most uneasy easy-chair, began to think over my late interview, and endeavour to devise some practicable plan for the future. The first thing was to establish some means of free communication with Clara, and this I hoped to accomplish by the a.s.sistance of Peter Barnett. I should thus learn Mr. Vernor's proceedings, and be able to regulate my -305-- conduct accordingly. If, as I dreaded, he should attempt to force on the marriage immediately, would Clara, alone and una.s.sisted, have sufficient courage and strength of purpose to resist him? I feared not; and how was I effectually to aid her? The question was more easily asked than answered. It was clear that her fortune was the thing aimed at, for I could not believe either Mr. Vernor or his nephew likely to be actuated by disinterested motives;--and it was to their avarice, then, that Clara was to be sacrificed--had she been portionless she would have been free to marry whom she pleased. Of all sources of evil and misery, money appears to be the most prolific; in the present case its action was twofold--Clara was rendered wretched in consequence of possessing it, while the want of it incapacitated me from boldly claiming her hand at once, which appeared to be the only effectual method of a.s.sisting her.

My meditations were at this point interrupted by the arrival of my future privy counsellor, Peter Barnett, who marched solemnly into the room, drew himself up to his full height, which very nearly equalled that of the ceiling, brought his hand to his forehead in a military salute, and then, closing the door cautiously, and with an air of mystery, stood at ease, evidently intending me to open the conversation.

"Well, Peter," began I, by way of something to say, for I felt the greatest difficulty in entering on the subject which then occupied my thoughts before such an auditor. "Well, Peter, you have not kept me waiting long; I scarcely expected to see you so soon: do you imagine that Mr. Vernor will remark your absence?"

"He knows it already," was the reply. "Why, bless ye, sir, he ordered me to go out hisself." "Indeed! how was that?"

"Why, as soon as you was gone, sir, he pulled the bell like mad. 'Send Mr. Richard here,' says he. 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'certingly; only he's not at home, sir.' When he heard this he grumbled out an oath, or sumthin' of that nature, and I was going to take myself off, for I see he wasn't altogether safe, when he roars out 'Stop!' ('You'd a said "halt," if you'd a been a officer or a gentleman, which you ain't neither,' thinks I.) 'What do you mean by letting people in when I have given orders to the contrairy?' says he. 'Who was it as blowed me up for sending away a gent as said he wanted to see you on partiklar business, only yesterday?' says I. That bothered him nicely, and he didn't know how to be down upon me; -306-- but at last he thought he'd serve me one of his old tricks. So he says, 'Peter, what are you doing to-day'?' I see what he was at, and I thought I'd ketch him in his own trap. 'Very busy a cleaning plate, sir,' says I. This was enough for him: if I was a cleaning plate, in course I shouldn't like to be sent out; so says he, 'Go down to Barnsley, and see whether Mr. c.u.mberland is there'. 'But the plate, sir?' 'Never mind the plate.' 'It won't never look as it ought to do, if I am sent about in this way,' says I. 'Do as you're ordered, and leave the room instantly,' says he, grinding his teeth reg'lar savage-like. So I took him at his word, and come away to see you as hard as I could pelt; but you've put him into a sweet temper, Mr. Fairlegh."

"Why, that I'm afraid was scarcely to be avoided," replied I, "as my business was to inform him that I considered his nephew an unfit person to marry his ward."

"Oh! did you tho'?--did you tell him that?" cried my companion, with a chuckle of delight; "that was right: I wonder how he liked that!"

"As he did not exactly agree with me in this opinion, but, on the contrary, plainly declared his intention of proceeding with the match in spite of me, it is necessary for me to consider what means I can best use to prevent him from accomplishing his object; it is in this that 1 shall require your a.s.sistance."

"And what does Miss Clara say about it, young gentleman?" inquired the old man, fixing his eyes on me with a scrutinising glance.

"Miss Saville dislikes Richard c.u.mberland, and dreads the idea of being forced to marry him above everything." "Ah! I know she does, poor lamb; and well she may, for there ain't a more dissipateder young scoundrel to be found nowhere than Mr. Wernor's precious 'nephew,' as he calls him, tho' it's my belief he might call him 'son' without telling a lie."

"Indeed! I was not aware that Mr. Vernor had ever been married."

"No; I never heard that he was reg'lar downright married; but he may be his son, for all that. Howsurn-ever, p'raps it is so, or p'raps it ain't; I'm only a tellin' you what I fancies, sir," was the reply. "But what I wanted to know," he continued, again fixing his eyes on my face, "is, what does Miss Clara say to you? eh!"

"You put home questions, my friend," replied I, colouring slightly; "however, as Miss Saville tells me you are faithful and trustworthy, and as half-confidences are never -307-- of any use, I suppose you must hear all about it." I then told him as concisely as possible of my love for Clara, and my hopes of one day calling her my own; pointing out to him the difficulties that stood in the way, and explaining to him that the only one which appeared to me insurmountable was the probability of Mr. Vernor's attempting to force Clara into an immediate marriage with c.u.mberland. Having thus given him an insight into the true state of affairs, I showed him the necessity of establishing some means of communication between Clara and myself, as it was essential that I should receive the earliest possible information in regard to Mr.

Vernor's proceedings.

"I understand, sir," interrupted Peter, "you want to be able to write to each other without the old 'un getting hold of your letters: well, that's very easily managed; only you direct to Mr. Barnett, to be left at the Pig and Pony, at Barstone; and anything you send for Miss Clara, I'll take care and give her when n.o.body won't be none the wiser for it; and any letters she writes I'll put into the post myself. I'd do anything rather than let that young villain c.u.mberland have her, and make her miserable, which his wife is safe to be, if ever he gets one; and if you likes her and she likes you, as seems wery probable, considering you saved her from being burnt to death, as they tell me, and is wery good-looking into the bargain--which goes a great way with young ladies, if you'll excuse the liberty I takes in mentioning of it--why, the best thing as you can do, is to get married as soon as you can."

"Very pleasant advice, friend Peter," returned I, "but not so easily acted upon; people cannot marry nowadays without something to live upon."

"Well, ain't Miss Clara got Barstone Priory, and plenty of money to keep it up with? Won't that do to live upon?"

"And do you imagine I could ever feel content to be the creature of my wife's bounty? prove myself a needy fortune-hunter, as that old man dared to term me?" exclaimed I, forgetting the character of my auditor.

"Barstone Priory to live in, and more money than you know what to do with, ain't to be sneezed at neither," was the answer; "though I likes your independent spirit too, sir: but how do you mean to manage, then?"

"Why, Mr. Vernor hinted that if his ward married without his consent, her fortune was to be forfeited."

"Ah! I believe there was something of that nature in the will: my poor master was so wrapped up in old Wernor that he wrote just wot he told him; if he'd only -308-- a lived to see how he was going to use Miss Clara, he'd a ordered me to kick him out of the house instead."

"Perhaps that pleasure may be yet in store for you, Peter," replied I, laughing at the zest with which he uttered the last few words, and an involuntary motion of the foot by which they were accompanied; "but this power, which it seems Mr. Vernor really possesses, of depriving Miss Saville of her fortune, removes my greatest difficulty; for in that case, if he should attempt to urge on this match, I can at least make her the offer of sharing my poverty: there is my mother's roof to shelter her, and, if her guardian refuses his consent to our marriage, why, we must contrive to do without it, that is all. So now, Peter, if you will wait a few minutes, I will give you a note for your young mistress, and then get to horse without further loss of time;" and calling for pen, ink, and paper, I hastily scribbled a few lines to Clara, informing her of the events of the morning, and of my unalterable determination to save her from a union with c.u.mberland; begging her, at the same time, to continue firm in her opposition, to acquaint me with everything that might occur, and to rely upon me for protection in the event of anything like force being resorted to. I then entrusted my note to old Peter, begged him to watch Master Richard c.u.mberland closely, told him that upon his care and vigilance depended in great measure the happiness of his young mistress's life; tipped him handsomely, though I had some trouble in making him take the money; and, mounting my ill-disposed horse, rode back to Hillingford, on the whole tolerably well satisfied with my morning's work.

I found two letters awaiting my return: one from my mother, to say that she should be at Heathfield Cottage on the following day, and begging me to meet her; the other from Ellis, telling me that at length he hoped Oaklands was in a fair way to recover, it having been ascertained that a piece of the wadding of the pistol had remained behind when the ball was extracted; this had now come away, and the wound was healing rapidly. As his strength returned, Harry was growing extremely impatient to get back to Heathfield; and Ellis concluded by saying that they might be expected any day, and begging me at the same time to remember that from the first he had always declared, in regard to his patient, that it would have killed any other man, but that it could not kill him.

Days glided by, the absentees returned, and matters fell so completely into their old train again that the occurrences -309-- of the last eight months seemed like the unreal creations of some fevered dream, and there were times when I could scarcely bring myself to believe them true.

Harry Oaklands had recovered sufficiently to resume his usual habits; and, except that he was strictly forbidden to over-exert or fatigue himself (an injunction he appeared only too willing to obey), he was nearly emanc.i.p.ated from medical control. f.a.n.n.y had in great measure regained her good looks again; a slight delicacy of appearance, however, still remained, giving a tone of spirituality to the expression of her features, which was not before observable, and which to my mind rendered her prettier than ever: the listlessness of manner which had made me uneasy about her in the autumn had vanished, and her spirits seemed good; still, she was in a degree altered, and one felt in talking to her that she was a child no longer. Like Undine, that graceful creation of La Motte Fouque's genius, she appeared to have changed from a "tricksy sprite" into a thinking and feeling woman.

One morning Oaklands and Ellis came to the cottage together, the latter in a great state of joy and excitement, produced by a most kind and judicious exercise of liberality on the part of Sir John. About a month before, the grave and pompous Dr. Probehurt had been seized with an illness, from which in all probability he would have recovered had he not steadily refused to allow a rival pract.i.tioner to be called in, in order that he might test a favourite theory of his own, embodying a totally novel mode of treatment for the complaint with which he was attacked. Unfortunately, the experiment failed, and the doctor died. Sir John, who had been long anxious to evince his grat.i.tude to Ellis for the skill and attention he had bestowed upon his patient, the moment he heard of the event determined to purchase the business: he had that morning completed the negotiation, and offered the practice to Ellis, stating that he should consider his accepting it in the light of a personal favour, as in that case he would be always at hand, should Harry feel any lasting ill effects from his wound. Ellis's joy was most amusing to witness.

"I tell you what, sir," he exclaimed, seizing me by a b.u.t.ton of the coat, "I'm a made man, sir! there isn't a better practice in the county.

Why, poor Probehurt told me himself old Mrs. Croaker Crawley alone was worth a hundred pounds per annum to him:--four draughts and two pills everyday--prescription very simple--R. Pil. panis compos, ii. nocte sum.; haust. aqua vitae 1/2, aqua pura 1/2 -310-- saccar. viii. grs. pro re nata. She's a strong old girl, and on brandy-and-water draughts and French-roll pills may last for the next twenty years. n.o.ble thing of Sir John, very; 'pon my word, it has quite upset me--it's a fact, sir, that when Mr. Oaklandstold me of it I sat down and cried like a child. I'm not over tender-hearted either: when I was at Guy's I amputated the left leg of a shocking accident, and dissected the porter's mother-in-law (whom he sold us cheap for old acquaintance' sake) before breakfast one morning, without finding my appet.i.te in the slightest degree affected; but when I learned what Sir John had done, I positively cried, sir."

"I say, Ellis," interrupted Harry, "I am telling Miss Fairlegh I shall make you take her in hand; she has grown so pale and thin, I am afraid she has never recovered all the trouble and inconvenience we caused her."

"If Miss Fairlegh would allow me, I should recommend a little more air and exercise," replied Ellis: "are you fond of riding on horseback?"

"Oh, yes!" replied f.a.n.n.y, smiling, and blushing slightly at thus suddenly becoming the topic of conversation; "that is, I used to delight in riding Frank's pony in days of yore; but he has not kept a pony lately."

"That is easily remedied," returned Harry; "I am certain some of our horses will carry a lady. I shall speak to Harris about it directly, and we'll have some rides together, f.a.n.n.y; it was only this morning that I obtained my tyrant's permission to cross a horse once more," he added, shaking his fist playfully at Ellis.