"'Gascoigne--true--Gascoigne.' His lordship wrote the name down in a note-book.

"Bows for the last time--not a word more on either side.

"And now that I have written all this to you, my dear mother, I am almost ashamed to send it--because it is so full of egotism. But Rosamond, the _excuser general_, will apologize for me, by pleading that I was obliged to tell the truth, and the whole truth.

"Love to Caroline, and thanks for her letter.--Love to Rosamond, upon condition that she will write to me from Hungerford Castle, and cheer my solitude in London with news from the country, and from home.

"Your affectionate son,

"ALFRED PERCY.

"P.S. I hope you all like O'Brien."

We hope the reader will recollect the poor Irishman, whose leg the surgeon had condemned to be cut off, but which was saved by Erasmus. A considerable time afterwards, one morning, when Erasmus was just getting up, he heard a loud knock at his door, and in one and the same instant pushing past his servant into his bedchamber, and to the foot of his bed, rushed this Irishman O'Brien, breathless, and with a face perspiring joy. "I axe your honour's pardon, master, but it's what you're wanting down street in all haste--here's an elegant case for ye, doctor dear!--That painter-jantleman down in the square there beyond that is not _expicted_."

"Not expected!" said Erasmus.

"Ay, not expected: so put on ye with the speed of light--Where's his waistcoat," continued he, turning to Dr. Percy's astonished servant, "and coat?--the top coat, and the wig--has he one?--Well! boots or shoes give him any way."

"But I don't clearly understand--Pray did this gentleman send for me?"

said Dr. Percy.

"Send for your honour! Troth he never thought of it--no, nor couldn't--how could he? and he in the way he was and is. But G.o.d bless ye! and never mind shaving, or another might get it afore we'd be back.

Though there was none _in it_ but myself when I left it--but still keep on b.u.t.toning for the life."

Erasmus dressed as quickly as he could, not understanding, however, above one word in ten that had been said to him. His servant, who did not comprehend even one word, endeavoured in vain to obtain an explanation; but O'Brien, paying no regard to his solemn face of curiosity, put him aside with his hand, and continuing to address Dr.

Percy, followed him about the room.

"Master! you mind my _mintioning_ to you last time I _seen_ your honour, that my leg was weak _by times_, no fault though to the doctor that cured it--so I could not be _after carrying_ the weighty loads I used up and down the ladders at every call, so I quit _sarving_ the masons, and sought for lighter work, and found an employ that _shuted_ me with a 'jantleman painter', grinding of his colours, and that was what I was at this morning, so I was, and standing as close to him as I am this minute to your honour, thinking of nothing at all just now, please your honour, _forenent_ him--_asy_ grinding, _whin_ he took some sort or kind of a fit."

"A fit! Why did you not tell me that sooner?"

"Sure I _tould_ you he was not _expicted_,--that is, if you don't know in England, _not expicted to live_; and sure I _tould_ your honour so from the first," said O'Brien. "But then the jantleman was as well as I am this minute, that minute afore--and the _nixt_ fell his length on the floor entirely. Well! I set and up again, and, for want of better, filled out a thimble-full, say, of the spirits of wine as they call it, which he got by good luck for the varnish, and made him take it down, and he come to, and I axed him how was he after it?--Better, says he.

That's well, says I; and who will I send for to ye, sir? says I. But afore he could make answer, I bethought me of your own honour; and for fear he would say another, I never troubled him, putting the question to him again, but just set the spirits nigh hand him, and away with me here; I come off without _letting on_ a word to n.o.body, good or bad, in dread your honour would miss the job."

"Job!" said Dr. Percy's servant: "do you think my master wants a job?"

"Oh! Lord love ye, and just give his hat. Would you have us be standing on ceremony now in a case of life and death?"

Dr. Percy was, as far as he understood it, of the Irishman's way of thinking. He followed as fast as he could to the painter's--found that he had had a slight paralytic stroke, from which he had recovered.

We need not detail the particulars. Nature and Dr. Percy _brought him through_. He was satisfied with his physician; for Erasmus would not take any fee, because he went unsent for by the patient. The painter, after his recovery, was one day complimenting Dr. Percy on the inestimable service he had done the arts in restoring him to his pencil, in proof of which the artist showed many master-pieces that wanted only the finishing touch, in particular a huge, long-limbed, fantastic, allegorical piece of his own design, which he a.s.sured Dr. Percy was the finest example of the _beau ideal_, ancient or modern, that human genius had ever produced upon canvas. "And what do you think, doctor," said the painter, "tell me what you can think of a connoisseur, a patron, sir, who could stop my hand, and force me from that immortal work to a portrait? A portrait! Barbarian! He fit to encourage genius! He set up to be a Mecaenas! Mere vanity! Gives pensions to four sign-post daubers, not fit to grind my colours! Knows no more of the art than that fellow," pointing to the Irishman, who was at that instant grinding the colours--_asy_ as he described himself.

"And lets me languish here in obscurity!" continued the enraged painter.

"Now I'll never put another stroke to his Dutch beauty's portrait, if I starve--if I rot for it in jail! He a Mecaenas!"

The changes upon this abuse were rung repeatedly by this irritated genius, his voice and palsied hand trembling with rage while he spoke, till he was interrupted by a carriage stopping at the door.

"Here's the patron!" cried the Irishman, with an arch look. "Ay, it's the patron, sure enough!"

Dr. Percy was going away, but O'Brien got between him and the door, menacing his coat with his pallet-knife covered with oil--Erasmus stopped.

"I axe your pardon, but don't go," whispered he: "I wouldn't for the best coat nor waistcoat ever I seen you went this minute, dear!"

Mr. Gresham was announced--a gentleman of a most respectable, benevolent, prepossessing appearance, whom Erasmus had some recollection of having seen before. Mr. Gresham recognized him instantly: he was the merchant whom Erasmus had met at Sir Amyas Courtney's the morning when he offended Sir Amyas about the made sh.e.l.l. After having spoken a few words to the painter about the portrait, Mr. Gresham turned to Dr.

Percy, and said, "I am afraid, sir, that you lost a friend at court by your sincerity about a sh.e.l.l."

Before Erasmus could answer--in less time than he could have thought it possible to take off a stocking, a great bare leg--O'Brien's leg, came between Mr. Gresham and Dr. Percy. "There's what lost him a rich friend any way, and gained him a poor one, if that would do any good. There it is now! This leg! G.o.d for ever bless him and reward him for it!"

Then with eloquence, emphasis, and action, which came from the heart, and went to the heart, the poor fellow told how his leg had been saved, and spoke of what Dr. Percy had done for him, in terms which Erasmus would have been ashamed to hear, but that he really was so much affected with O'Brien's grat.i.tude, and thought it did so much honour to human nature, that he could not stop him.--Mr. Gresham was touched also; and upon observing this, Erasmus's friend, with his odd mixture of comedy and pathos, ended with this exhortation, "And G.o.d bless you, sir! you're a great man, and have many to my knowledge under a compliment to you, and if you've any friends that are _lying_, or sick, if you'd recommend them to send for _him_ in preference to any other of the doctors, it would be a charity to themselves and to me; for I will never have peace else, thinking how I have been a hinderance to him. And a charity it would be to themselves, for what does the sick want but to be cured? and there's the man will do that for them, as two witnesses here present can prove--that jantleman, if he would spake, and myself."

Erasmus now peremptorily stopped this scene, for he began to feel for himself, and to be ashamed of the ridicule which his puffing friend, in his zeal, was throwing upon him. Erasmus said that he had done nothing for O'Brien except placing him in St. George's Hospital, where he had been admirably well attended. Mr. Gresham, however, at once relieved his wounded delicacy, and dispelled all fears and anxiety, by the manner in which he spoke and looked. He concluded by inviting Dr. Percy to his house, expressing with much cordiality a wish to be more intimately acquainted with a young gentleman, of whose character he had accidentally learned more good than his modesty seemed willing to allow should be known.

O'Brien's eyes sparkled; he rubbed his hands, but restrained himself lest Dr. Percy should be displeased. When Erasmus went away, O'Brien followed him down stairs, begging his honour's pardon--if he had said any thing wrong or unbecoming, it was through ignorance.

It was impossible to be angry with him.

We extract from Erasmus's letter to his mother the following account of his first visit to Mr. Gresham.

"When I went to see Mr. Gresham, I was directed to an unfashionable part of the town, to one of the dark old streets of the city; and from all appearance I thought I was going to grope my way into some strange dismal den, like many of the ancient houses in that quarter of the town. But, to my surprise, after pa.s.sing through a court, and up an unpromising staircase, I found myself in a s.p.a.cious apartment. The darkness changed to light, the smoke and din of the city to retirement and fresh air. A near view of the Thames appeared through large windows down to the floor, balconies filled with flowers and sweet shrubs!--It was an Arabian scene in London. Rosamond, how you would have been delighted! But I have not yet told you that there was a young and beautiful lady sitting near the balcony, and her name is Constance: that is all I shall tell you about the young lady at present. I must go on with Mr. Gresham, who was in his picture-gallery--yes, picture-gallery--and a very fine one it is. Mr. Gresham, whose fortune is one of those of which only English merchants can form any adequate idea, makes use of it in a manner which does honour to his profession and to his country: he has patronized the arts with a munificence not unworthy of the Medici.

"My complaining genius, the painter, who had abused his patron so much, was there with his portrait, which, notwithstanding his vow never to touch it again, he had finished, and brought home, and with it the sprawling Venus: he was now extremely angry with Mr. Gresham for declining to purchase this chef-d'oeuvre. With the painter was a poet equally vain and dissatisfied.

"I admired the mildness with which Mr. Gresham bore with their ill-humour and vanity.--After the painter and poet, to my satisfaction, had departed, I said something expressive of my pity for patrons who had to deal with the irritable race. He mildly replied, that he thought that a man, surrounded as he was with all the comforts and luxuries of life, should have compa.s.sion, and should make allowance for genius struggling with poverty, disease, and disappointment. He acknowledged that he had met with much ingrat.i.tude, and had been plagued by the pretensions, expectations, and quarrels of his tribe of poets and painters. 'For a man's own happiness,' said he, 'the trade of a patron is the most dreadful he can follow--gathering samphire were nothing to it.'

"Pray tell my father this, because it opens a new view, and new confirmation of his opinions--I never spent a more agreeable day than this with Mr. Gresham. He converses well, and has a variety of information, which he pours forth liberally, and yet without the slightest ostentation: his only wish seems to be to entertain and inform those to whom he speaks--he has no desire to shine. In a few hours we went over a world of literature. I was proud to follow him, and he seemed pleased that I could sometimes antic.i.p.ate--I happened to know as well as he did the history of the two Flamels, and several particulars of the Jesuits in Paraguay.

"My father often told us, when we were boys, that there is no knowledge, however distant it seems from our profession, that may not, some time or other, be useful; and Mr. Gresham, after he had conversed sufficiently with me both on literature and science, to discover that I was not an ignorant pretender, grew warm in his desire to serve me. But he had the politeness to refrain from saying any thing directly about medicine; he expressed only an increased desire to cultivate my acquaintance, and begged that I would call upon him at any hour, and _give him the pleasure of my conversation, whenever I had time_.

"The next morning he called upon me, and told me that he was desired to ask my advice for a sick partner of his, to whom, if I would accompany him, he would immediately introduce me. Who and what this partner is, and of what disease he is dying, if you have any curiosity to know, you shall hear in my next, this frank will hold no more--except love, light as air, to all at home.

"Dear mother, affectionately yours,

"E. PERCY"

CHAPTER XVI.

Now for the visit to Hungerford Castle--a fine old place in a beautiful park, which excelled many parks of greater extent by the uncommon size of its venerable oaks. In the castle, which was sufficiently s.p.a.cious to accommodate with ease and perfect comfort the _troops of friends_ which its owner's beneficent character drew round her, there were apartments that usually bore the name of some of those persons who were considered as the most intimate friends of the family. The Percys were of this number. They found their own rooms ready, the old servants of the house rejoicing to see them again, and eager in offering their services. Many things showed that they had been thought of, and expected; yet there was nothing that could remind them that any change had taken place in their fortune: no formal or peculiar civilities from the mistress of the house, from her daughter, or nieces--neither more nor less attention than usual; but by every thing that marked old habits of intimacy and confidence, the Percys were, as if undesignedly and necessarily, distinguished from other guests.

Of these the most conspicuous was the Lady Angelica Headingham.--Her ladyship had lately come to a large estate, and had consequently produced a great sensation in the fashionable world. During the early part of her life she had been much and injudiciously restrained. The moment the pressure was taken off, the spirit boiled with surprising rapidity: immediately Lady Angelica Headingham shone forth a beauty, a bel-esprit, and a patroness; and though she appeared as it were _impromptu_ in these characters, yet, to do her justice, she supported them with as much spirit, truth, and confidence, as if she had been in the habit of playing them all her life, and as if she had trod the fashionable stage from her teens. There was only one point in which, perhaps, she erred: from not having been early accustomed to flattery, she did not receive it with quite sufficient _nonchalance_. The adoration paid to her in her triple capacity by crowds of worshippers only increased the avidity of her taste for incense, to receive which she would now and then stoop lower than became a G.o.ddess. She had not yet been suspected of a real partiality for any of her admirers, though she was accused of giving each just as much encouragement as was necessary to turn his head. Of these admirers, two, the most eager and earnest in the pursuit, had followed her ladyship to the country, and were now at Hungerford Castle--Sir James Harcourt and Mr. Barclay.

Sir James Harcourt was remarkably handsome and fashionable--completely a man of the world, and a courtier: who, after having ruined his fortune by standing for government two contested county elections, had dangled year after year at court, living upon the hope and promise of a pension or a place, till his creditors warning him that they could wait no longer, he had fallen in love with Lady Angelica Headingham. Her ladyship's other admirer, Mr. Barclay, was a man of considerable fortune, of good family, and of excellent sense and character. He had arrived at that time of life when he wished to settle to the quiet enjoyment of domestic happiness; but he had seen so much misery arise from unfortunate marriages among some of his particular friends, that he had been afraid of forming any attachment, or, at least, engagement. His acquaintance with fashionable life had still further rendered him averse from matrimony; and from love he had defended himself with infinite caution, and escaped, till in an unlucky moment he had met with Lady Angelica. Against his better judgment, he had been captivated by her charms and talents: his reason, however, still struggled with his pa.s.sion--he had never actually declared his love; but the lady knew it probably better than he did, and her caprice and coquetry cost him many an agonizing hour. All which he bore with the silence and patience of a martyr.

When the Percy family saw Lady Angelica for the first time, she was in all her glory--fresh from a successful toilette, conscious of renovated powers, with an acc.u.mulated spirit of animation, and inspired by the ambition to charm a new audience. Though past the bloom of youth, she was a handsome showy woman, with the air of one who requires and receives admiration. Her att.i.tudes, her action, and the varied expression she threw into her countenance, were more than the occasion required, and rather too evidently designed to interest or to fascinate.

She was surrounded by a group of gentlemen; Sir James Harcourt, Mr.

Barclay, Mr. Seebright, a young poet; Mr. Grey, a man of science; and others--_personnages muets_. Arduous as was the task, Lady Angelica's various powers and indefatigable exertion proved capable of keeping each of these different minds in full play, and in high admiration.