says Lawless; 'depend upon it, his mother knows he's out,' and catching hold of the reins, he clambers up into his seat, shouting, 'Give 'em their heads! Stand clear! Chut! chut! 'As soon as the brutes found they were loose, instead of starting off at a jog-trot, as reasonable, well-behaved horses ought to do, what do you suppose they did? The beast they tied on in front turned short round, stared Lawless in the face, and stood up on its hind legs like a kangaroo, while the other animal would not stir a peg, but, laying down his ears, gave a sort of a screech, and kicked out behind. 'Pretty, playful things,' said Lawless, flipping the ashes off the end of his cigar. 'Put his head straight, William. Chut! chut! 'But the more he chutted the more they wouldn't go, and began tearing and rampaging about the yard till I thought they'd be over me, so I scrambled up a little low wall to get out of their way, missed my footing, and tumbled over backwards on to a dung-heap, and before I got up again they were off; but if that young jackanapes don't break his neck some of those days, I'm a Dutchman! Umph! umph!"

"Lawless is a capital whip," replied I, "and the chestnuts, though fiery, are not really vicious. I don't think there is much danger."

"Ah young men! young men! you're all foolish alike. I don't know how you'd get on, if you hadn't a few old stagers like me to think for you and give you good advice.--And that puts me in mind that I want to have half an hour's serious conversation with you, Frank. Can you listen to me now?"

"I am quite at your service, sir," replied I, resigning myself to my fate with the best grace I could command.

"Umph! Well, you see, Frank, I've no chick nor child of my own, and I've taken a kind of a fancy to you from a boy; you were always a good boy and a clever boy, and you've gone on well at college, and distinguished yourself, and have been a credit to the man that sent you there.--By the bye, didn't you ever want to know who it was sent you there?"

"Often and often," replied I, "have I longed to know -404-- to whose disinterested kindness and generosity I was indebted for so great an advantage."

"Umph! Well, you must be told some day, I suppose, so you may as well know now as at any other time. The man that sent you to college ain't very unlike me in the face. Umph!"

"My dear, kind friend," replied I, seizing his hand and pressing it warmly, "and is it indeed you who have taken such interest in me? How can I ever thank you?"

"I want no thanks, boy; you did better than thank me when you came out fourth wrangler; why, I felt as proud that day when they were all praising you as if it had been my own son. Say no more about that; but now you've left college, what are your wishes--what do you think of doing? Umph!"

"I had thought of reading for the bar, deeming it a profession in which a man stands a fair chance of distinguishing himself by honourable exertion; I am aware it is somewhat uphill work at starting, but Mr.

Coleman has promised to introduce me to several men in his branch of the profession, and to give me all the business he can himself, so I should not be quite a briefless barrister. But if there is anything else you wish to recommend, any other career you would advise me to pursue, I am very indifferent, that is, I am not at all bigoted to my own opinion."

"Umph! I never had any over-strong affection for lawyers--gentlemen that eat the oysters themselves and leave their clients the sh.e.l.ls! However, I suppose there may be such things as honest lawyers to be met with, and it's better for every man to have a profession. Well, now, listen to me, Frank, I--umph!--your sister's going to be married, to be married to a young man for whom I've a very great respect and affection; Sir John Oaklands is a thorough specimen of a fine old English gentleman, and his son bids fair to become just such another, or even a yet higher character, for Harry's got the better headpiece of the two. However, I don't like your sister to marry into such a family without a little money of her own to buy a wedding-bonnet; so you give her this letter, and tell her to mind and get a becoming one. We may trust a woman to take care of that, though, eh, Frank? Umph!"

"Really, sir, your kindness quite overpowers me; we have no possible claim upon your liberality."

"Yes, you have, boy--yes, you have," replied Mr. Frampton, "the strongest claim that can be; you have -405-- saved me from falling a victim to the worst disease a man can suffer under--you have saved me from becoming a cold-hearted, soured misanthrope; you have given me something to love, some pure unselfish interest in life. And now we are on this subject, I may as well tell you all my plans and wishes in regard to you: I have no soul belonging to me, not a relation in the wide world that I am aware of, and I determined, from the time when I first sent you to college, that if you conducted yourself well and honourably, I would make you my heir.--Don't interrupt me," he continued, seeing that I was about to speak, "let me finish what I have to say, and then you shall tell me whether you approve of it. You not only came up to, but far surpa.s.sed, my most sanguine expectations, and I saw therefore no reason to alter my original intentions. But it is stupid work for a man to wait till all the best days of his life are pa.s.sed, without funds sufficient to render him independent, to feel all his energies cramped, his talents dwarfed, and his brightest aspirations checked, by a servile dependence on the will and caprice of another--waiting for dead men's shoes--umph! and so, Frank, as I feel pretty tough and hearty for sixty-five, and may live, if it please G.o.d, another ten or fifteen years to plague you, it's my wish to make you your own master at once, and I'll either a.s.sist you to enter any profession you please, or if you like to settle down into a country gentleman, and can pick up a nice wife anywhere, I can allow you one thousand pounds a year to begin with, and yet have more than I shall know how to spend during the rest of my days in the land of the living.

For my own part, this last plan would give me the greatest satisfaction, for I should like to see you comfortably married and settled before I die. Now, what do you say to it? Umph!"

What did I say?--what could I say? I got up, and having once again pressed his hands warmly between my own, began pacing the room, quite overcome by this unexpected liberality, and the conflicting nature of my own feelings. But two short days ago, and such an offer would have been--as I then fondly imagined--the only thing wanting to secure my happiness; possessed of such ample means of supporting her, I could at once have gone boldly to Mr. Vernor, and demanded Clara's hand--nor could he have found just cause for refusing my request; and now, when what once appeared the only insurmountable obstacle to our union was thus removed, the thought that, by her faithlessness and inconstancy, she had placed -406-- a barrier between us for ever, was indeed bitter.

Surprised by the excess of my emotion, for which, of course, he was totally unable to account, Mr. Frampton sat gazing at me with looks of astonishment and dismay, till at length he broke out with the following interrogatory, "Umph! eh? why, Frank--umph! anybody would think you had just heard you were going to be arrested for debt, instead of having a fortune given you--Umph!"

"My dear, kind friend," replied I, "forgive me. Your unparalleled liberality, and the generous interest you take in me, give you a father's right over me, and ent.i.tle you to my fullest confidence; such an offer as you have now made me would have rendered me, but one short week ago, the happiest of mortals; now, my only chance of regaining anything like tranquillity of mind lies in constant and active employment."

I then gave him as briefly as I could an outline of my singular acquaintance with Clara Saville, our engagement, and the events which had led to my breaking it off, to all of which he listened with the greatest interest and attention. In telling the tale I mentioned Wilford and c.u.mberland by name, as he knew the former by reputation, and had seen the latter when a boy at Dr. Mildman's; but I merely spoke of Clara as a young lady whom I had met at Mr. Coleman's, and of Mr. Vernor as her guardian. When I concluded, he remained for a moment buried in thought, and then said, "And you are quite sure she is false? Are you certain that what you heard her say (for that seems to me the strongest point) referred to you?"

"Would I could doubt it!" replied I, shaking my head mournfully.

"Umph!--Well, I dare say--she's only like all the rest of her s.e.x: it's a pity the world can't go on without any women at all,--what is her name?--a jilt!"

"Her name," replied I, shuddering as he applied the epithet of jilt to her--for, deserved as I could not but own it was, it yet appeared to me little short of profanation--"her name is Clara Saville."

"Umph! eh? Saville!" exclaimed Mr. Frampton. "What was her mother's name? Umph!"

"I never heard," replied I. "Her father, Colonel Saville, was knighted for his gallant conduct in the Peninsula. Her mother, who was an heiress, died abroad: her guardian, Mr. Vernor--"

"Umph! Vernor, eh! Vernor! Why that's the fellow who wrote to me and told me--Umph! wait a bit, I shall be back directly. I--eh!--umph! umph!

umph!"

-407-- And so saying, Mr. Frampton rushed out of the room in a perfect paroxysm of grunting. It was now my turn to be astonished, and I was so most thoroughly. What could possibly have caused Mr. Frampton to be so strangely affected at the mention of Clara's name and that of her guardian? Had he known Mr. Vernor in former days? Had he been acquainted with Clara's father or mother? Could he have been attached to her as I had been to Clara, and like me, too, have become the dupe of a heartless jilt? A jilt--how I hated the word! how the blood boiled within me when that old man applied it to her! And yet it was the truth. But oh! the heart-spasm that darts through our breast when we hear some careless tongue proclaim, in plain intelligible language, the fault of one we love--a fault which, even at the moment when we may be suffering from it most deeply, we have striven sedulously to hide from others, and scarcely acknowledged definitely to ourselves. In vague musings, such as these, did I pa.s.s away the time till Mr. Frampton returned. As he approached, the traces of strong emotion were visible on his countenance; and when he spoke his voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and broken.

"The ways of G.o.d are indeed inscrutable," he said. "Information, which for years I have vainly sought, and would gladly have given half my wealth to obtain, has come to me when I least expected it; and, in place of joy, has brought me deepest sorrow. Frank, my poor boy! she who has thus wrung thy true heart by her cruel falsehood is my niece, the orphan child of my sister!"

In reply to my exclamations of surprise, he proceeded to inform me that his father, a man of considerable property in one of the midland counties, had had three children: himself, an elder brother, and a sister some years his junior, whose birth deprived him of a mother's love. His brother tyrannised over him; and on the occasion of his father's second marriage, he was sent to school, where he was again unfortunate enough to meet with harsh treatment, against which his high spirit rebelled; and having no better counsellors than his own inexperience and impetuosity, he determined to run away and go to sea.

A succession of accidents conspired to prevent his return to his native country, until, being taken as clerk in a merchant's counting-house at Calcutta, he was eventually admitted into partnership, and acquired a large fortune. As he advanced beyond middle life, he felt a strong wish to return to England, seek out his family, and revisit the scenes of his boyhood; but on carrying -408-- his project into execution, he learned that his father and brother had both paid the debt of nature, while his sister, the only one of his relatives towards whom he had ever entertained much affection, had married a Colonel Saville; and having accompanied her husband to Spain, had died there without leaving any offspring. The last piece of information he had acquired from a Mr. Vernor, to whom he had been recommended to apply. His surprise, therefore, when he heard of the existence of Clara, may easily be imagined. A long conversation ensued between us, with the consequences of which the reader will be better acquainted when he shall have read the following chapter.

CHAPTER L -- A RAY OF SUNSHINE

"When you shall please to play the thief for a wife, I'll watch as long for _you_."

--_Shakspeare_.

"Hold! give me a pen and ink! Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?

--_t.i.tus Andronicus_.

THE result of my conversation with Mr. Frampton was, that I agreed to ride over on the following day to the little inn at Barstone, see old Peter Barnett, hear his report, and learn from him further particulars concerning Clara Saville's parentage, in order to establish beyond the possibility of doubt the fact of her relationship to Mr. Frampton, who, in the event of his expectations proving well-founded, was determined to a.s.sert his claim, supersede Mr.Vernor in his office of guardian, and endeavour, by every means in his power, to prevent his niece's marriage either with Wilford or c.u.mberland. The only stipulation I made was, that when I had obtained the requisite information, he should take the affair entirely into his own hands, and, above all, promise me never to attempt, directly or indirectly, to bring about a reconciliation between Clara and myself. Not that I bore her any ill-will for the misery she had caused me. On the contrary, my feeling towards her had been from the very first one of grief rather than of anger. But a girl who could possibly have acted as Clara had done, was not one whom I ever should wish to make my wife. I could not marry a woman I despised.

After Mr. Frampton had left me, I sat pondering on the singular train of circ.u.mstances (chances, as we unwisely, if not sinfully, term them) which occur in a -409-- man's life--how events which change the whole current of our existence appear to hang upon the merest trifles--the strange, mysterious influence we exercise over the destinies of each other--how by a word, a look, we may heal an aching heart or--break it.

It is, I think, in a poem of Faber's that the following lines occur--(I quote from memory, and therefore, perhaps, incorrectly):--

"Perchance our very souls Are in each other's hands."

Life is, indeed, a fearful and wonderful thing--doubly fearful when we reflect, that every moment we expend for good or evil is a seed sown to blossom in eternity. As I thought on these things, something which Mr.

Frampton had said, and which at the time I let pa.s.s without reflection, recurred to my mind. He had asked me whether I was certain that the words I heard Clara address to Wilford referred to me. Up to this moment I had felt perfectly sure they did; but after all, was it so certain?

might they not equally well apply to c.u.mberland? was there a chance, was it even possible, that I had misunderstood her? Oh, that I dare hope it!

gladly would I seek her pardon for the injustice I had done her--gladly would I undergo any probation she might appoint, to atone for my want of faith in her constancy, even if it entailed years of banishment from her presence, the most severe punishment my imagination could devise; but then the facts, the stubborn, immovable facts, my letters received and unanswered--the confidential footing she was on with Wilford--the--But why madden myself by recapitulating the hateful catalogue? I had learned the worst, and would not suffer myself to be again beguiled by the mere phantom of a hope. And yet, so thoroughly inconsistent are we, that my heart felt lightened of half its burden; and when the pleasure-seekers returned from their expedition, I was congratulated by the whole party upon the beneficial effects produced on my headache by perfect rest and quiet. Lawless and Coleman made their appearance some half-hour after the others, and just as Mr. Frampton had promulgated the cheering opinion that they would be brought home on shutters, minus their brains, if they ever possessed any. It seemed the chestnuts having at starting relieved their minds by the little _ballet d'action_ which had excited Mr. Frampton's terrors, did their work in so fascinating a manner, that Lawless, not being satisfied with Shrimp's declaration that "they -410-- was the stunnin'est 'orses as hever he'd sot hyes on," determined (wishing to display their perfections to a higher audience) that one of the party should accompany him on his return; whereupon Freddy Coleman had been by common consent selected, much against his will. However, "the victim," as he termed himself, escaped without anything very tremendous happening to him, the chestnuts (with the slight exception of running away across a common, rushing through a flock of geese, thereby bringing a premature Michaelmas on certain unfortunate individuals of the party in a very reckless and unceremonious manner, and dashing within a few inches of a gravel-pit, in a way which was more exciting than agreeable) having conducted themselves (or more properly speaking, allowed themselves to be conducted) as well-bred horses ought to do.

When the party separated to prepare for dinner, I called f.a.n.n.y on one side, and gave her Sir. Frampton's letter: on opening it a banker's order for three thousand pounds dropped out of it--a new instance of my kind friend's liberality, which really distressed more than it gratified me.

During the course of the evening Harry Oaklands expressed so much anxiety about my ill looks, appearing almost hurt at my reserve, that I could hold out no longer, but was forced to take him into my confidence.

"My poor Frank!" exclaimed he, wringing my hand warmly, as I finished the recital, "to think that you should have been suffering all this sorrow and anxiety, while I, selfishly engrossed by my own feelings, had not an idea of it; but you ought to have told me sooner."

"Perhaps I should; but it has been, from the very beginning, such a strange, melancholy affair, so unlikely ever to turn out happily, that I have felt a strong repugnance to speak of it to any one; and even now I must beg you not to mention it to f.a.n.n.y, at all events till my last act in the business is performed, and Mr. Frampton takes the matter into his own hands."

"After all," rejoined Oaklands, "I feel there must be some mistake; she never can be false to you--never love that villain Wilford. Oh, Frank!

how can you bear to doubt her?"

"It is indeed misery to do so," replied I, sighing deeply; "and yet, when one's reason is convinced, it is weakness to give way to the suggestions of feeling."

"If f.a.n.n.y were to prove false to me, I should lie down and die,"

exclaimed Oaklands vehemently.

"You might wish to do so," replied I; "but grief does -411-- not always kill; if it did, in many cases it would lose half its bitterness."

A look was his only answer, and we parted for the night.

Daylight the next morning found me again in the saddle, and I reached the little inn by eight o'clock. On my arrival, I despatched a messenger to old Peter Barnett, telling him I wished to see him, and then, determining that I would not allow myself to hope, only again to be disappointed, I rang for breakfast, and set resolutely to work to demolish it; in which I succeeded very respectably, merely stopping to walk round the room and look out of the window between every second mouthful. At length my envoy returned, with a message to the effect that Mr. Barnett would come down in the course of the morning, but that I was by no means to go away without seeing him, and that he hoped I would be careful not to show myself, as the enemy were out in great force, and all the sentries had been doubled.