Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 56, No. 346, August, 1844 by Various

V >> Various >> Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 56, No. 346, August, 1844

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

"They will sting him to death. I see--I see."

CHAPTER III.

Next day I trotted over to the Hall. Mr Percy Marvale was busy putting
the finishing stroke to his _Demon of the Waste_, in which the
interesting incident of the murder in the shooting-box is introduced;
and Frank and I had a long and confidential conversation in the garden.
Miss Sibylla Smith and the students of three-volume novels were for once
very nearly right in their guesses on the subject of his tutor's
daughter. He certainly was in love, if not engaged, but not exactly in
the way they had imagined; and it struck me that, in spite of his
declaration of constancy and firmness, there was still a very reasonable
chance of there being an opening for some of the bees alluded to by my
wife. For my own part, I am no believer in sentiment and romance, and
could not enter into Frank's feelings at all.

Not far from Frank's guardian's house, in Leicestershire, there was a
small white-walled villa, surrounded by pretty pleasure grounds, and
inhabited by the most enchanting family in the world. The father, a
clergyman, too much of an invalid to hold a living, and only rich enough
to struggle on in the quietest possible way, with a wife and a daughter.
The wife, of course, was all that was amiable and wise; and the
daughter, Alice, endowed with every possible perfection. As to her
beauty, it was above description, and her disinterestedness almost
incredible. Every week, and at least every day of every week, Frank
found himself at the fireside of the Reverend Mr Elstree, and no mother
and sister could be so affectionate to him as Mrs Elstree and Alice. He
was only fourteen, to be sure, when the acquaintance began, and the girl
nine or ten; so that when he was twenty-one, he could not recall by what
means, or on what occasion, he had told Alice he was devoted to her; nor
could he even recollect what method she had taken to tell him she was
delighted to hear it; but the case was, nevertheless, as complete a case
of engagement, and true love, as if he had made formal propositions on
his knees, or signed a bond on parchment. By this time he was at
Cambridge, and considered himself as much a man as undergraduates always
consider themselves--and wrote twice a-week to Alice--and heard twice
a-week in return--and looked at her portrait, which he kept in a secret
drawer of his desk, about twenty times a-day; and (which was the only
thing about it that made me think it a real instance of true love) he
never mentioned her name to one of his companions. Yet Cambridge has its
temptations even to people as constant as Amadis de Gaul. Frank was a
gay young fellow, with a good allowance--had his father's seat on
horseback, and sported a red coat whenever the hounds came within twenty
miles. He was blessed also with a capacious appetite, both for solids
and fluids, and occasionally astonished the waiter at the Eagle and
Child, by ordering in an extra basket of magnums; but, in the main, he
was steady--and looked at the little portrait with undiminished
admiration. All this time poor Mr Elstree knew nothing of the
engagement, but looked on Frank more as a son than as a mere
acquaintance, without any thought of its being in his power to attain in
reality to that degree of relationship by means of the beautiful Miss
Alice. If Frank believed this, I will be bound Miss Sibylla Smith would
not have given him credit for such stupidity. But there are innocent
minded people in the world, and poor Elstree was one of them. The visits
to the white-walled villa were continued all the vacation; love went on
increasing; and nothing could be more delightful than the description
Frank gave of the happiness of that youthful time. But black days were
in store for them. He left Cambridge, and went to London--the great
trial for country affections. The affections, by his account, continued
exactly the same; but the ideas altered--he saw other people, he mixed
with the world--he overlaid the passion that lay snug and powerful at
the bottom of his heart, with a score or two of flirtations; but, so far
from burying it, they only kept it warm. In the mean time, however, the
correspondence was not so regular as before--and perhaps the expressions
on both sides not quite so tender; for it is impossible for a man in the
Clarendon, with a carriage at the door to carry him down to Ascot, to
write about flames and arrows, which come so naturally when musing on
the Cam or Isis. And in the midst of this London career--during all
which, he assured me, he liked her better than ever--he was startled by
hearing that Mr Elstree was very ill. He hurried down to Leicestershire,
but found he was too late. The good man had died, after having learned
from his daughter the secret of her engagement, and having refused his
consent to it, not on the ground that he was too good a match for
Alice--which would be almost as vulgar a reason as if he had been too
poor--but on the ground that he was young, giddy, thoughtless, and the
wasting health and wan cheek of his daughter had told him that he was
fickle too. People in the country make so little allowance for young men
during their first season in town; and mother and daughter, in spite of
all his protestations, in spite of all the vows he made to Alice, which
she believed in her heart--were firm in breaking off the connexion, and
would see him no more. And this resolution seemed to be formed on the
maturest deliberation, and in spite of every inducement to the contrary
they kept it. He had not seen them for nearly a year. Their income, at
all times small, had been annihilated by the father's death; they left
the white-walled villa, and after bidding him farewell for ever in a
letter, and thanking him for his friendship to her father, and some few
tender recollections on her own account, Alice had begged him to forget
her! And Frank thought of her, of course, every hour of his life--tried
every means to find out where they had gone, that he might resume his
suit, and to offer them the fortune of which he had now come into full
possession--but all in vain. His friend, Mr Percy Marvale, had
undertaken to find them out within six months if they were still on the
habitable globe, and thought he had discovered that the scene of their
retirement was in our county; and with a knowledge of nature drawn from
melodramas, French and English, he had laid it down as a rule, that as
they were reduced in circumstances, Alice had gone out as a governess--
which accounted for his theories about squints and red hair. It was a
curious story; but there was perfect sincerity in all he said; and
instead of trying to dissuade him, I could not help offering my services
to discover the vanished pleiad--if she twinkled in any part of our
Worcestershire heavens.

During this long communication we had left the garden, and were lounging
slowly by the side of the river that runs through the park. We were both
engaged in the narrative, and I was no little surprised, on looking to
the other side, to see my magisterial friend, Old Smith, and his two
daughters, busy with fishing-rods. The girls were tastefully dressed--
but more to catch admiration than fish; two very showy handsome girls
they were and I could not help thinking in my secret soul that there
were not much odds to be risked on the late favourite Alice, against
such a spanker as Monimia Smith. As for Sibylla, she despised gold and
acres in comparison with genius and mustaches; and therefore, I
concluded, she intended to be the second horse to her sister, and keep
out the rest of the field. A clever, dashing, creature Monimia
certainly, with such a pretence at childishness that nobody felt any
wonder at any thing she did. And that same childishness is a very
captivating quality till a girl is rising twenty or thereabouts; but
after that time it does not take. At the same time, it is only a show
qualification after all, and may do for a ball-room, but has no chance
any where else. We looked at them without making any remark, and all
three pretended to be so busy watching, their floats, that they had no
idea--not they, poor souls!--that Frank Edwards of Bandvale Hall was
within a mile of them. Sibylla occasionally glanced towards the house,
in hopes, I suppose, of seeing Mr Percy Marvale emerge from his literary
labours; but Monimia, looking under her long beautiful eyelashes, saw
very well where we were, and threw herself into twenty attitudes of
expectation, hope, and disappointment, ad ran through the whole gamut of
a fisher's passions, in a way that would have done for a recitation of
Collins's ode; and graceful, playful, and beautiful the attitudes were--
and I saw in a moment that Frank's attention was caught. He was silent
all of a sudden, and said no more about Alice Elstree. Monimia had it
all her own way; but when she saw that her bait had taken, she
determined to play the trout a little longer. She cast herself into
finer and more captivating attitudes than ever, threw back her bonnet
till it hung at her back--her beautiful hair broke loose--and in her
hurry to pull up her hook, though I am ready to declare the float had
never moved, she pressed so vehemently on poor Old Smith, who was deep
in a contention with the root of a tree, which had held his hook
prisoner for half an hour, that he lost his footing and fell plump into
the water. If Monimia's motions were astonishing, her screams were
appalling; and though I feel sure she had no intention of drowning her
father, she had put him into tremendous hazard. The water was deep--he
could not swim a stroke--the banks were steep; and there stood Monimia
wringing her hands, while Sibylla had taken the quieter method of
showing her agitation by falling into a faint upon the grass. In a
moment Frank had left my side, dashed into the stream, and half forced,
half supported Old Smith to the side, with my assistance, brought him
safe on dry land. The girls hurried round by the bridge, and came upon
us like a charge of Cossacks, while we were attending to the half-drowned
parent on the bank.

"Where is my papa?" exclaimed Monimia--"my dear papa!"--and threw
herself beside him on the turf, showing her figure, I must say, to the
very best advantage. "And you," she cried, "his saviour--his preserver!"
--and here she actually flung herself into poor Frank's arms, and laid
her head upon his shoulder, in one of the most becoming faints I ever
saw. There being no other person worth fainting for, Sibylla retained
her composure; and as Monimia continued insensible, and Old Smith was
really chilled, and might catch his death of cold, we conveyed them
both, as carefully as we could, to the house; gave Monimia in charge to
the gardener's wife and her sister, and installed Old Smith in Frank's
own bed. I sent off a labourer on my pony for the doctor, and went to
make enquiries after Miss Monimia. She was very ill, but Sibylla hoped
she would soon be well enough to attend upon her father. Mr Percy
Marvale made a multitude of quotations from some of his own melodramas
_apropos_ to the occasion, and Sibylla replied in the same high-flown
style. It was evident they were quite used to such incidents in the
Surrey, and I left them to entertain each other. On the doctor's
arrival, he pronounced it improper to remove Mr Smith after his system
had undergone such a shock; and the same judgment, very nearly, was past
on Miss Monimia.

"I told mamma before I left home," whispered that young lady to her
sister, as she lay gracefully on the outside of the bed, "that I would
make an impression on Mr Edwards, if I could. I think this will do it,
if any thing will; for we sha'n't let papa be well enough to move for a
week. He is a delightful, fascinating man, and we have him all to
ourselves."

CHAPTER IV.

Have you?--poor girl, you never heard of Alice Elstree! But Frank, to be
sure, has not heard of her for a year--and you're certainly pretty, and
he's young--and has an eye for the sublime and beautiful. The betting
grows nearly even. All the skill of the gardener's wife, and as many
other women as could be pressed into the service, was put into
requisition to prepare a dinner for such unexpected guests; but as if by
some half miraculous foreknowledge of events, preparations seemed to
have been made on a great scale at Howkey; and on hearing of the
accident, the good-natured Mrs Smith had despatched a light luggage cart
filled with cold pies, preserved soups, and joints of meat, as if in
anticipation of a blockade--in this respect imitating the good French
marshal who besieged Gibraltar, and supplied old Elliot with provisions.
But even after dinner was provided, how were the invalids, in addition
to the original garrison, to be lodged for the night? Frank and his
friend would not hear of coming over to me, and it was finally arranged
that they should take up their quarters at the Rose and Crown. Old Smith
kept his bed, but, for an invalid, performed wonders on the veal-pies;
and also, by way of recruiting his exhausted strength, and showing his
regard for Lord Cardigan at the same time, kindly made a crystal
decanter of his throat, and decanted a black bottle of port into it with
astonishing skill. Monimia was not so weak as to be kept in her
apartment, and joined us--for I stayed to see how matters would end in
the dining-room--and, I am bound to say, that gratitude for a father's
safety was never shown in a more captivating manner than by that pale
and interesting young lady, both in words and glances, during the whole
evening. Sibylla and Mr Percy Marvale were equally pleased with the
unlooked-for incident that threw them together; and I could not help
thinking that the spy for Mr Frank Marvale's interest had an eye kept
pretty open for his own; but watching the proceedings of people who
would be fifty times better pleased if the race of Paul Prys were
extinct, is very tiresome, and I soon took leave. The ladies betook
themselves to their room at the same time, and the young men walked
alongside of my pony down to the village inn. As we went, Mr Percy
Marvale was loud in his praises of all the inhabitants of Howkey--from
the half-drowned sire to the youngest of the children; so it is not to
be supposed that Sibylla and Monimia were omitted in his eulogies. I
remarked that he made no allusion to red hair or squinting, and that
Frank himself said nothing against his extravagant laudations of
Monimia's beauty. As little did he say any thing in corroboration. Was
silence a tribute to his old love, or the ominous commencement of a new?
One whole day he had been with her--a week, perhaps, was before him, of
constant association. How difficult for a young fellow to continue deaf
and blind to soft tones and softer glances, that spoke in reality of
herself, though professedly they were all about her father!

Next day Monimia was still further recovered, and her venerated governor
not yet fit to be moved. It was so bright and sunny that it would have
been a shame to stay in doors, and Frank accompanied the lively Monimia
into the garden. Oh! the running to and fro, the reaching up of the
white arm, and standing on tiptoe to get at the fruit-trees on the
wall--the merry laugh, the conscious looks, the blushing cheek--if Frank
isn't made of stone, he'll yield to a certainty. She trips over all the
beds with a wicker-basket on her arm to gather flowers, and clips them
off so gracefully, and arranges them so tastefully, and all to be
presented to the gallant deliverer of her papa. She is already on her
way back, having achieved a nosegay of surpassing sweetness, when Mr
Percy Marvale hurries out of the library window with a letter in his
hand.

"We've found her at last! I told you, if she was in England, I would
ferret her out in no time."

Frank seized the letter, tore open the seal--a flush passed over his
cheek--he devoured the words--read the over again--and did not even look
up, when Monimia dropt her basket and picked it up again, with the grace
of Taglioni.

"Glorious--glorious!" he said, and nearly kissed the scarcely legible
scrawl. "I will go this moment--it can't be far."

"Are you going, Mr Edwards?" said Monimia, holding the nosegay in her
hand. "I hope you will soon return."

"Perhaps I may--but, pray, make my excuses to your father--my friend, Mr
Marvale, will do the honours of the house."

"And you go away so suddenly?" she said, and pouted.

"I can't help it--business--sudden intelligence. Can you tell me where
the village of Wibbelton is?"

"No," said the young lady, and laid the nosegay very quietly in her
basket.

"If I should not return before Mr Smith is well enough to go home, will
you present my compliments to your sister, and assure her"--

"Oh! she will he very sorry, I dare say," said Miss Monimia tartly,
tying the strings of her bonnet, which had again fallen back and shown
her beautiful ringlets.

"I wish the flowers were better," continued Frank; "and at some future
time, I trust"--

"Oh, the flowers are good enough!" said the young lady. "I think the moss
rose is Charles Lambert's favourite, so I have gathered this bunch for
him."

You would scarcely have known the cold-voiced, calm-eyed Miss Monimia,
to be the playful, graceful hoyden of five minutes before. She made
Frank a stately curtsy, and, without farther parley, he hurried down to
the village, and ordered the solitary post-chaise of which the Rose and
Crown could boast.

"Stay you here," he said to Mr Percy Marvale, "and I will join you in
two days if any thing occurs. We may be disappointed again, though the
present intelligence seems authentic."

The intelligence which so suddenly altered the destination of Miss
Monimia Smith's nosegay, was from one of Frank's Leicestershire
correspondents; and was to the effect, that Alice had gone into a
situation in the little village of Wibbleton, where she had been
securely hidden from all her lover's pursuits for half a year.
Wibbelton, he found, was fifteen miles from Bandvale, on the Birmingham
road, and merrily away he trotted as fast as the two posters could go.

The news, the air, the motion, that had such an exhilirating effect on
Frank Edwards, seemed to be equally efficacious in the case of my old
friend Smith. He felt so well on being told of his host's departure,
that he was able to move at once; and, without waiting for consultation
with the doctor, or even for his carriage, he accompanied his daughter
and the indefatigable Percy Marvale across the fields to Howkey on foot.

Meanwhile the hopeful lover drew near the hamlet of Wibbelton. He drove
to the inn as the likeliest place where he could get information, and
entered the common parlour, a neat little whitewashed room, with clean
sanded floor, that looked out upon the village green. At a little table
by the window sat a gentleman reading the newspaper, and occasionally
relieving the dryness of the parliamentary debates by a sip at a little
tankard of beer. He was a neatly dressed old man, with his thin long
hair tied behind in a cue, a bright blue coat buttoned close up to the
throat, stocking-thread pantaloons, and high Hessian boots. His upright
carriage and projecting chest pointed him out at once as a military man;
and the bow he had made, on Frank entering the room, showed at once he
was a man of the old school--very formal and ceremonious--but was
indicative of good-nature at the same time.

"A stranger in Wibbelton?" he said, laying down the paper. "Ha! I
thought so--never remarked you before, though I keep my eye on any new
face that appears in our parish."

"There are not many strangers, I presume, who find their way to this
out-of-the-way village," replied Frank.

"I beg your pardon, my young friend. Many do. It is just the place for
strangers to come to. A more complete retirement is not to be found in
England."

"But every one is not enamoured of retirement," answered Frank.

"Then they have never been in active life. As for my step-son and me,
who have been pushed about the world all our days, we find no place like
Wibbelton."

"A soldier, I presume?" enquired Frank.

The old _militaire_ bowed. "A soldier, sir, not quite unknown to fame,
if I may be allowed to say so. My step-son also."

"And both reside here?"

"My step-son's house is the large white manorial mansion you see on the
other side of the green. It is the noblest house in the county. Ah!
there is nothing equal to the fine residences of our venerable
agricultural nobility. My step-son is chief of the family; and though I
had the misfortune to lose his mother in a very few years after our
marriage, I always look upon him as a son. He looks on me as a father.
We fight our battles over again, and only feel the want of a little
addition to our pleasing intelligent society."

Frank looked towards the mansion described as one of the noblest in
England, and saw a tolerably sized square house, with a range of white
palings before the door, and a vine trailing over the front, but with no
appearance of grandeur more than the very ordinary houses by its side.

"It would perhaps destroy the charm of the retirement you spoke of, if
too many were admitted to share it," said Frank. "Has your step-son a
family?"

"Four blooming girls, and an equal number of boys, not quite old enough
yet to be treated as companions."

"Still at school?"

"Oh, no! My step-son hates public education. He brings them up beneath
his own roof."

"With the help of a tutor, I suppose?"

"No, sir--no. A tutor is too harsh. A governess does it all."

"Ah!" said Frank.

"You start, my friend, as if you thought it impossible; but 'tis the
case I assure you--quite a young woman, too--and yet what order she
keeps them in. If I had had an adjutant-general, when I had my command,
with half such zeal! We military men are judges of discipline, whether
it is in the school-room or the field. So is my step-son."

"Pray, what age is the young person you speak so highly of?"

"I should say not more than eighteen--so gentle too, with it all."

"Have you had the benefit of her services long?"

"About half a year; yes, I think she has introduced her system about
half a year. We are quite a family party here. You see the house next to
my step-son's?--the large mansion in the Tudor style of architecture?
That belongs to my other step-son; a man of the purest philanthropy,
who, merely to benefit the poor of his own village and the surrounding
country, practises as the medical man. Next to him, again, in the
turreted building with the Gothic portico, is his younger brother, who,
from equally philanthropic principles, and to prevent litigation among
our neighbours, acts here as an attorney. You see the brass plate on the
office door? We are quite a family party, you see."

"I congratulate you on your neighbourhood," said Frank. "But the next
house to the youngest of your step-sons--the lath and plaster cottage
with the broken casements, and untiled roof?"

"Ah! that is to be let. It belongs to The Chobb."

"To The Chobb! Who is The Chobb!"

"My step-son, sir. He is head of the great family of the Chobbs, and
follows the example of The O'Conor Don, The Chisholm, and other
representatives of the old blood, by taking the distinction 'the' before
his name. Should you like to look at the _cottage ornee_, sir?"

"The one with the broken windows?" enquired Frank; "is it empty?"

"Yes; the Marquis di Carralva left it last week. If you would like a
lodging in it for a few weeks, The Chobb will be happy to put in a
little furniture. You would join our circle"--

"And take lessons in discipline from The Chobb's governess?"

"Of course; you would immediately become one of the family. We are all
united in the village; no secrets, no privacy."

"Then I take the house, sir," said Frank. "May I ask who it is I have
the honour of talking to?"

"My name is General Hosham--you've heard of my being commander-in-chief
in Mexico; my step-son, Colonel Chobb, fought for the glorious Isabella
of Spain. Will you go and look at the villa, sir?"

"I shall take it," said Frank, "at all events. Very little accommodation
will be enough for me."

"And you will take possession?"

"Immediately; I consider myself Colonel Chobb's tenant from this hour."

"You do?" said the general, taking him by the hand. "You put me in mind
of my poor aide-de-camp, Saint Rosalio; he was a perfect gentleman. I am
proud to make your acquaintance, sir. I will be back in a few minutes."

And so saying, the general made a military salam, and walked in a
stately manner out of the room.

"By this manoeuvre I have at all events secured admission to The Chobb's
house; and if this governess is indeed poor Alice--but no--how could I
think she would be connected in any way with such strange people as
these? At all events, she is in the village, and by staying in it for a
few days I am certain to find her out." In the midst of these and
similar reflections, the general returned, and brought with him no less
an individual than The Chobb in person. He was a little man, very dark
in the complexion, and very fat, with the coarse look that a habit of
low dissipation is sure to leave upon the best features. Small impudent
eyes peeped sharply over the puffed out cheeks, and gave a look of
mingled bullying and cunning to his countenance, which told a very
intelligible tale of beer and tobacco. He held out his hand in the most
open, unaffected manner, and echoed all his step-sire's speeches on the
subject of the ornamental villa, and his pride and happiness in finding
so desirable a neighbour.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22