_Mr. Gryll._ If you could so find them, they would be of little avail against the new irruption of Goths and Vandals, which must have been in the apprehension of Niebuhr. There are Vandals on northern thrones, anxious for nothing so much as to extinguish truth and liberty wherever they show themselves--Vandals in the bosom of society everywhere even amongst ourselves, in mult.i.tudes, with precisely the same aim, only more disguised by knaves, and less understood by dupes.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ And, you may add, Vandals dominating over society throughout half America, who deal with free speech and even the suspicion of free thought just as the Inquisition dealt with them, only subst.i.tuting Lynch law and the gallows for a different mockery of justice, ending in fire and f.a.ggot.

_Mr. Gryll._ I confine my view to Europe. I dread northern monarchy, and southern anarchy; and rabble brutality amongst ourselves, smothered and repressed for the present, but always ready to break out into inextinguishable flame, like hidden fire under treacherous ashes.{1}

1 ----incedis per ignes suppositos cineri doloso.

--Hor. Carm, 11. i.

_Mr. MacBorrowdale_. In the meantime, we are all pretty comfortable; and sufficient for the day is the evil thereof; which in our case, so far as I can see, happens to be precisely none.

_Miss Ilex._ Lord Curryfin seems to be of that opinion, for he has flitted away from the discussion, and is going down a country dance with _Miss Niphet._.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ He has chosen his time well. He takes care to be her last partner before supper, that he may hand her to the table. But do you observe how her tragic severity has pa.s.sed away? She was always pleasant to look on, but it was often like contemplating ideal beauty in an animated statue--Now she is the image of perfect happiness, and irradiates all around her.

_Miss Ilex._ How can it be otherwise? The present and the future are all brightness to her. She cannot but reflect their radiance.

Now came the supper, which, as all present had dined early, was unaffectedly welcomed and enjoyed. Lord Curryfin looked carefully to the comfort of his idol, but was unremitting in his attentions to her fair neighbours. After supper, dancing was resumed, with an apparent resolution in the greater portion of the company not to go home till morning. Mr. Gryll, Mr. MacBorrowdale, the Reverend Doctor Opimian, and two or three elders of the party, not having had their usual allowance of wine after their early dinner, remained at the supper table over a bowl of punch, which had been provided in ample quant.i.ty, and, in the intervals of dancing, circulated, amongst other refreshments, round the sides of the ballroom, where it was gratefully accepted by the gentlemen, and not absolutely disregarded even by the young ladies.

This may be conceded on occasion, without admitting Goldoni's facetious position, that a woman, masked and silent, may be known to be English by her acceptance of punch.{1}

1 Lord Runebif, in Venice, meets Rosaura, who is masked, before a _bottega di caffe_. She makes him a curtsey in the English fashion.

Milord. Madama, molto compita, volete caffe?

Rosaura. (Fa cenno di no. )

Milord. Cioccolata?

Rosaura. (Fa cenno di no. )

Milord. Volete ponce?

Rosaura. (Fa cenno di si. )

Milord. Oh! e Inglese.

La Vedova Scaltra, A. iii. S. 10.

He does not offer her tea, which, as a more English drink than either coffee or chocolate, might have entered into rivalry with punch: especially if, as Goldoni represented in another comedy, the English were in the habit of drinking it, not with milk, but with arrack. Lord Arthur calls on his friend Lord Bonfil in the middle of the day, and Lord Bonfil offers him tea, which is placed on the table with sugar and arrack. While they are drinking it, Lord Coubrech enters.

Bonfil. Favorite, bevete con noi.

Coubrech. Il te non si rifiuta.

Artur. E bevanda salutifera.

Bonfil. Volete rak?

Coubrech. SI, rak.

Bonfil. Ecco, vi servo.

--Pamela Fanciulla, A. i. S. 15.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

HOPES AND FEARS--COMPENSATIONS IN LIFE--ATHENIAN COMEDY--MADEIRA AND MUSIC--CONFIDENCES

(Greek Pa.s.sage)

The Ghost of Darius to the Chorus, in the Perso of aeschylus.

Farewell, old friends: and even if ills surround you, Seize every joy the pa.s.sing day can bring, For wealth affords no pleasure to the dead.

Dorothy had begun to hope that Harry's news might be true, but even Harry's sanguineness began to give way: the pertinacity with which the young master remained at home threw a damp on their expectations. But having once fairly started, in the way of making love on the one side and responding to it on the other, they could not but continue as they had begun, and she permitted him to go on building castles in the air, in which the Christmas of the ensuing year was arrayed in the brightest apparel of fire and festival.

Harry, walking home one afternoon, met the Reverend Doctor Opimian, who was on his way to the Tower, where he purposed to dine and pa.s.s the night. Mr. Falconer's absence from the ball had surprised him, especially as Lord Curryfin's rivalry had ceased, and he could imagine no good cause for his not returning to the Grange. The doctor held out his hand to Harry, who returned the grasp most cordially. The doctor asked him, 'how he and his six young friends were prospering in their siege of the hearts of the seven sisters.'

_Harry Hedgerow._ Why, sir, so far as the young ladies are concerned, we have no cause to complain. But we can't make out the young gentleman.

He used to sit and read all the morning, at the top of the Tower. Now he goes up the stairs, and after a little while he comes down again, and walks into the forest. Then he goes upstairs again, and down again, and out again. Something must be come to him, and the only thing we can think of is, that he is crossed in love. And he never gives me a letter or a message to the Grange. So, putting all that together, we haven't a merry Christmas, you see, sir.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I see, still harping on a merry Christmas. Let us hope that the next may make amends.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Have they a merry Christmas at the Grange, sir?

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Very merry.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Then there's n.o.body crossed in love there, sir.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ That is more than I can say. I cannot answer for others. I am not, and never was, if that is any comfort to you.

_Harry Hedgerow._ It is a comfort to me to see you, and hear the sound of your voice, sir. It always does me good.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Why then, my young friend, you are most heartily welcome to see and hear me whenever you please, if you will come over to the Vicarage. And you will always find a piece of cold roast beef and a tankard of good ale; and just now a shield of brawn. There is some comfort in them.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Ah! thank ye, sir. They are comfortable things in their way. But it isn't for them I should come.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I believe you, my young friend. But a man fights best when he has a good basis of old English fare to stand on, against all opposing forces, whether of body or mind. Come and see me. And whatever happens in this world, never let it spoil your dinner.

_Harry Hedgerow._ That's father's advice, sir. But it won't always do.

When he lost mother, that spoiled his dinner for many a day. He has never been the same man since, though he bears up as well as he can. But if I could take Miss Dorothy home to him, I'm sure that would all but make him young again. And if he had a little Harry dandle next Christmas, wouldn't he give him the first spoonful out of the marrow-bone!

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I doubt if that would be good food for little Harry, notwithstanding it was Hector's way of feeding Astyanax.{1} But we may postpone the discussion his diet till he makes his appearance. In the meantime, live in hope; but live on beef and ale.

The doctor again shook him heartily by the hand, an Harry took his leave.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Live in hope; but live on beef and ale 294-252]