aeSCHYLUS: Prometheus.

Oh! wise was he, the first who taught This lesson of observant thought, That equal fates alone may dress The bowers of nuptial happiness; That never, where ancestral pride Inflames, or affluence rolls its tide, Should love's ill-omened bonds entwine The offspring of an humbler line.

Mr. Falconer, the next morning, after the doctor had set out on his return walk, departed from his usual practice of not seeing one of the sisters alone, and requested that Dorothy would come to him in the drawing-room. She appeared before him, blushing and trembling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She appeared before him, blushing and trembling. 308-265]

'Sit down,' he said, 'dear Dorothy; I have something to say to you and your sisters; but I have reasons for saying it first to you. It is probable, at any rate possible, that I shall very soon marry, and perhaps, in that case, you may be disposed to do the same. And I am told, that one of the best young men I have ever known is dying for love of you.'

'He is a good young man, that is certain,' said Dorothy; then becoming suddenly conscious of how much she had undesignedly admitted, she blushed deeper than before. And by way of mending the matter, she said, 'But I am not dying for love of him.'

'I daresay you are not,' said Mr. Falconer; 'you have no cause to be so, as you are sure of him, and only your consent is wanting.'

'And yours,' said Dorothy, 'and that of my sisters; especially my elder sisters; indeed, they ought to set the example.'

'I am sure of that,' said Mr. Falconer. 'So far, if I understand rightly, they have followed yours. It was your lover's indefatigable devotion that brought together suitors to them all. As to my consent, that you shall certainly have. So the next time you see Master Harry, send him to me.'

'He is here now,' said _Dorothy._

'Then ask him to come in,' said _Mr. Falconer._

And Dorothy retired in some confusion. But her lips could not contradict her heart. Harry appeared.

_Mr. Falconer._ So, Harry, you have been making love in my house, without asking my leave.

_Harry Hedgerow._ I couldn't help making love, sir; and I didn't ask your leave, because I thought I shouldn't get it.

_Mr. Falconer._ Candid, as usual, _Harry._ But do you think Dorothy would make a good farmer's wife?

_Harry Hedgerow._ I think, sir, she is so good, and so clever, and so ready and willing to turn her hand to anything, that she would be a fit wife for anybody, from a lord downwards. But it may be most for her own happiness to keep in the cla.s.s in which she was born.

_Mr. Falconer._ She is not very pretty, you know.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Not pretty, sir! If she isn't a beauty, I don't know who is.

_Mr. Falconer._ Well, no doubt, she is a handsome girl.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Handsome is not the thing, sir. She's beautiful.

_Mr. Falconer._ Well, Harry, she is beautiful, if that will please you.

_Harry Hedgerow._ It does please me, sir. I ought to have known you were joking when you said she was not pretty.

_Mr. Falconer._ But, you know, she has no fortune.

_Harry Hedgerow._ I don't want fortune. I want her, and nothing else, and n.o.body else.

_Mr. Falconer._ But I cannot consent to her marrying without a fortune of her own.

_Harry Hedgerow._ Why then, I'll give her one beforehand. Father has saved some money, and she shall have that. We'll settle it on her, as the lawyers say.

_Mr. Falconer._ You are a thoroughly good fellow, Harry, and I really wish Dorothy joy of her choice; but that is not what I meant. She must bring you a fortune, not take one from you; and you must not refuse it.

Harry repeated that he did not want fortune; and Mr. Falconer repeated that, so far as depended on him, he should not have Dorothy without one.

It was not an arduous matter to bring to an amicable settlement.

The affair of Harry and Dorothy being thus satisfactorily arranged, the other six were adjusted with little difficulty; and Mr. Falconer returned with a light heart to the Grange, where he presented himself at dinner on the twenty-seventh day of his probation.

He found much the same party as before; for though some of them absented themselves for a while, they could not resist Mr. Gryll's earnest entreaties to return. He was cordially welcomed by all, and with a gracious smile from _Morgana._

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

CHRISTMAS TALES--CLa.s.sICAL TALES OF WONDER--THE HOST'S GHOST--A TALE OF A SHADOW--A TALE OF A BOGLE--THE LEGEND OF ST. LAURA

Jane... We'll draw round The fire, and grandmamma perhaps will tell us One of her stories.

Harry... Ay, dear grand maamma!

A pretty story! something dismal now!

A b.l.o.o.d.y murder.

Jane... Or about a ghost.

--Southey: The Grandmother's Fate.

In the evening Miss Gryll said to the doctor, 'We have pa.s.sed Christmas without a ghost story. This is not as it should be. One evening at least of Christmas ought to be devoted to _merveilleuses histoires racontees autour du foyer_; which Chateaubriand enumerates among the peculiar enjoyments of those _qui n'ont pas quitte leur pays natal._ You must have plenty of ghosts in Greek and Latin, doctor.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: You must have plenty of ghosts in Greek and Latin 312-270]

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ No doubt. All literature abounds with ghosts.

But there are not many cla.s.sical ghosts that would make a Christmas tale according to the received notion of a ghost story. The ghosts of Patroclus in Homer, of Darius in aeschylus, of Polydorus in Euripides, are fine poetical ghosts: but none of them would make a ghost story. I can only call to mind one such story in Greek: but even that, as it has been turned into ballads by Goethe, in the _Bride of Corinth_, and by Lewis, in the _Gay Gold Ring_,{1}

1 Lewis says, in a note on the _Gay Gold Ring_:--'I once read in some Grecian author, whose name I have forgotten, the story which suggested to me the outline of the foregoing ballad. It was as follows: A young man arriving at the house of a friend, to whose daughter he was betrothed, was informed that some weeks had pa.s.sed since death had deprived him of his intended bride. Never having seen her, he soon reconciled himself to her loss, especially as, during his stay at his friend's house, a young lady was kind enough to visit him every night in his chamber, whence she retired at daybreak, always carrying with her some valuable present from her lover. This intercourse continued till accident showed the young man the picture of his deceased bride, and he recognised, with horror, the features of his nocturnal visitor. The young lady's tomb being opened, he found in it the various presents which his liberality had bestowed on his unknown _innamorata._'--M. G. Lewis: _Tales of Wonder_, v. i. p. 99.

would not be new to any one here. There are some cla.s.sical tales of wonder, not ghost stories, but suitable Christmas tales. There are two in Petronius, which I once amused myself by translating as closely as possible to the originals, and, if you please, I will relate them as I remember them. For I hold with Chaucer:

Whoso shall telle a tale after a man, He most reherse, as nigh as ever he can, Everich word, if it be in his charge, All speke he never so rudely and so large: Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe, Or feinen things, or finden wordes newe.{1}

1 Canterbury Tales, w. 733-738.

This proposal being received with an unanimous 'By all means, doctor,'

the doctor went on:

'These stories are told at the feast of Trimalchio: the first by Niceros, a freedman, one of the guests:

'While I was yet serving, we lived in a narrow street, where now is the house of Gavilla. There, as it pleased the G.o.ds, I fell in love with the wife of Terentius, the tavern-keeper--Melissa Tarentiana--many of you knew her, a most beautiful kiss-thrower.'