"Pleasant that, eh?--ah, well, we must lay it to the cats--though if the cats in this part of the country are not unusually robust and vicious, there's not a chance of our being believed."

"Never mind," remarked I, "better luck next time. But now that you have succeeded in dragging me out of bed, what is it that you want with me?"

"Want with you, eh?" returned Lawless, mimicking the half-drowsy, half-cross tone in which I had spoken; "you're a nice young man to talk to, I don't think. Never be grumpy, man, when I've got the most glorious bit of fun in the world to tell you, too. I had my adventures yesterday as well as you. Who do you think called upon me after you set out?

You'll never guess, so I may as well tell you at once; it was--but you shall hear how it happened. I was just pulling my boots on to try a young bay thoroughbred, that Reynolds thinks might make a steeple-chaser--he's got some rare bones about him, I must say. Well, I was just in the very act of pulling on my boots, when Shrimp makes his appearance, and squeaking out, 'Here's a gent, as vonts to see you, sir, partic'lar,' ushers in no less a personage than Lucy Markham's devoted admirer, the drysalter."

-470-- "What! the gentleman whose business we settled so nicely the day before yesterday? Freddy Coleman's dreaded rival?"

"Eh? yes, the very identical, and an uncommon good little follow he is too, as men go, I can tell you. Well, you may suppose I was puzzled enough to find out what he could want with me, and was casting about for something to say to him, when he makes a sort of a bow, and begins:--

"'The Honourable George Lawless, I believe?'

"'The same, sir, at your service,' replies I, giving a stamp with my foot to get my boot on.

"'May I beg the favour of five minutes' private conversation with you?'

"'Eh? oh yes, certainly,' says I. 'Get out of this, you inquisitive little imp of darkness, and tell Reynolds to tie the colt up to the pillar-reins, and let him champ the bit till I come down; that's the way to bring him to a mouth;' and, hastening Shrimp's departure by throwing the slippers at his head, I continued, 'Now, sir, I'm your man; what's the row, eh?'

"'A-hem! yes, sir, really it is somewhat a peculiar--that is a disagreeable business. I had thought of getting a friend to call upon you.'

"'A friend, eh? oh! I see the move now--pistols for two, and coffee for four; invite a couple of friends to make arrangements for getting a bullet put into you in the most gentlemanly way possible, and call it _receiving satisfaction_,--very satisfactory, certainly. Well, sir, you shall soon have my answer: no man can call George Lawless a coward; if he did, he'd soon find his eyesight obscured, and a marked alteration in the general outline of his features; but I never have fought a duel, and I never mean to fight one. If I've smashed your panels, or done you any injury, I am willing to pay for repairs, and make as much apology as one man has any right to expect from another; or, if it will be a greater ease to your mind, we'll off coats, ring for Shrimp and Harry Oaklands'

boy to see fair play, and have it out on the spot, all snug and comfortable; but no pistoling work, thank ye.'

"Well, the little chap didn't seem to take at all kindly to the notion, though, as I fancied he wasn't much of a bruiser, I offered to tie my right hand behind me, and fight him with my left, but it was clearly no go; so I thought I'd better hold my tongue, and leave him to explain himself. After dodging about the bush for some time, he began to get the steam up a little, and when he -471-- did break cover, went away at a rattling pace,--let out at me in style, I can tell you. His affections had been set on Lucy Markham ever since he had had any, and I had been and destroyed the happiness of his whole life, and rendered him a miserable individual--a mark for the finger of scorn to poke fun at.

Shocking bad names he did call himself, to be sure, poor little beggar!

till 'pon my word, I began to get quite sorry for him. At last it came out, that the thing which chiefly aggravated him was, that Lucy should have given him up for the sake of marrying a man of rank. If it had been any one she was deeply attached to, he would not have so much minded; but it was nothing but a paltry ambition to be a peeress; she was mercenary, he knew it, and it was that which stung him to the quick.

"Well, as he said this, a bright idea flashed across me, that I could satisfy the little 'victim,' as he called himself, and get my own neck out of the collar, at one and the same time; so I went up to him, and giving him a slap on the back that set him coughing like a broken-winded hunter after a sharp burst, I said, 'Mr. Brown, I what the females call sympathise with you;--your thing-em-bobs--sentiments, eh? are perfectly correct, and do you credit. Now listen to me, young feller;--I'm willing to do my best to accommodate you in this matter, and, if you're agreeable, this is the way we'll settle it. You don't choose Lucy should marry me, and I don't choose she should marry you;--now if you'll promise to give her up, I'll do the same. That's fair, ain't it?' 'Do you mean it really?' says he. 'Really and truly,' says I. 'Will you swear?' says he. 'Like a trooper, if that will please you,' says I.

'Sir, you're a gentleman--a generous soul,' says he, quite overcome; and, grasping my hand, sobs out, 'I'll promise'. 'Done, along with you, drysalter,' says I, 'you're a trump;' and we shook hands till he got so red in the face, I began to be afraid of spontaneous combustion.

'There's nothing like striking when the iron's hot,' thinks I; so I made him sit down there and then, and we wrote a letter together to old Coleman, telling him the resolution we had come to, and saying, if he chose to bring an action for breach of promise of marriage against us, we would defend it conjointly, and pay the costs between us. What do you think of that, Master Frank? Eh?"

"That you certainly have a more wonderful knack of getting into sc.r.a.pes, and out of them again, than any man I ever met with," replied I, laughing.

-472-- Before we had finished breakfast Peter Barnett made his appearance. On his return to Barstone, he was informed that Mr. Vernor had been seized with an apoplectic fit, probably the result of the agitation of the morning. He was still in a state of stupor when Peter started to acquaint us with the fact, and the medical man who had been sent for considered him in a very precarious condition. Under these circ.u.mstances, Mr. Frampton immediately set out for Barstone, where he remained till the following morning, when he rejoined us. A slight improvement had taken place in the patient's health; he had recovered his consciousness, and requested to see Mr. Frampton. During the interview which ensued, he acknowledged Mr. Frampton's rights, and withdrew all further opposition to his wishes.

After the lapse of a few days, Mr. Vernor recovered sufficiently to remove from Barstone to a small farm which he possessed in the north, where he lingered for some months, shattered alike in health and spirits. He steadily refused to see either Clara or myself, or to accept the slightest kindness at our hands; but we have since had reason to believe, that in this he was actuated by a feeling of compunction, rather than of animosity. Nothing is so galling to a proud spirit, as to receive favours from those it has injured. In less than a year from the time he quitted Barstone Priory, a second attack terminated his existence. On examining his papers after his decease, Peter Barnett's suspicions that Richard c.u.mberland was Mr. Vernor's natural son were verified, and this discovery tended to account for a considerable deficiency in Clara's fortune, the unhappy father having been tempted to appropriate large sums of money to relieve his spendthrift son's embarra.s.sments. This also served to explain his inflexible determination that Clara should marry c.u.mberland, such being the only arrangement by which he could hope to prevent the detection of his dishonesty.

Reader, the interest of my story, always supposing it to have possessed any in your eyes, is now over.

Since the occurrence of the events I have just related the course of my life has been a smooth, and, though not exempt from some share in the "ills that flesh is heir to," an unusually happy one.

In an address, whether from the pulpit or the rostrum, half the battle is to know when you have said enough--the same rule applies with equal force to the tale-writer. There are two errors into which he may fall--he may say too little, or he may say too much. The first is a venial -473-- sin, and easily forgiven--the second nearly unpardonable.

Such, at all events, being my ideas on the subject, I shall merely proceed to give a brief outline of the fate of the princ.i.p.al personages who have figured in these pages ere I bring this veritable history to a close. c.u.mberland, after his flight from the scene at the turnpike-house, made his way to Liverpool, and, his money being secreted about his person, hastened to put his original plan into execution. A vessel was about to start for America, by which he obtained a pa.s.sage to New York. In the United States he continued the same vicious course of life which had exiled him from England, and, as a natural consequence, sank lower and lower in the scale of humanity. The last account heard of him stated that, having added drinking to the catalogue of his vices, his const.i.tution, unable to bear up against the inroads made by dissipation, was rapidly failing, while he was described to be in the most abject poverty. The captain of an American vessel with whom I am slightly acquainted, promised me that he would gain more particulars concerning him, and, if he were in actual want, leave money with some responsible person for his use, so as to ensure him against starvation.

The result of his inquiries I have yet to learn.

Old Mr. Coleman was, as may be imagined, dreadfully irate on the receipt of the singular epistle bearing the joint signatures of Lawless and Mr.

Lowe Brown, and was only restrained from bringing an action for breach of promise by having it strongly represented to him that the effect of so doing would be to make himself and his niece ridiculous. Freddy and Lucy Markham had the good sense to wait till Mr. Coleman had taken the former into partnership, which he fortunately inclined to do almost immediately; being then, with the aid of Lawless's receivership, in possession of a very comfortable income, the only serious objection to the marriage was removed; and the father, partly to escape Mrs.

Coleman's very singular and not over-perspicuous arguments, partly because he loved his son better than he was himself aware, gave his consent.

George Lawless is still a bachelor. If questioned on the subject, his invariable reply is, "Eh, married? Not I! Women are a kind of cattle, don't you see, that I never did understand. If it was anything about a horse now--" There are some, however, who attribute his celibacy to another cause, and deem that he has never yet seen any one calculated to efface the memory of his sincere though eccentric attachment to my sister f.a.n.n.y.

-474-- It was on a bright summer morning that the bells of the little church of Heathfield pealed merrily to celebrate a triple wedding; and fairer brides than f.a.n.n.y, Clara and Lucy Markham, or happier bridegrooms than Harry Oaklands, Freddy Coleman and myself, never p.r.o.nounced the irrevocable "I will". There were smiles on all faces; and if there were a few tears also, they were such as angels might not grudge to weep--tears of pure, unalloyed happiness.

Years have pa.s.sed away since that day--years of mingled light and shade; but never, as I believe, have either of the couples then linked together shown, by thought, word or deed, that they have failed in grat.i.tude to the Giver of all good things, who in His mercy had granted them the rare and inestimable blessing of sharing the joys and sorrows of this world of trial with a loving and beloved companion.

Clara and I reside at Barstone Priory, which is also Mr. Frampton's home, when he is at home; but his wandering habits lead him to spend much of his time in a round of visits to his friends; and Heathfield Hall and Cottage, Leatherly and Elm Grove, are in turn gladdened by the sound of his kindly laugh and sonorous grunts.

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