CHAPTER XXXVII.
It is strange how we all go grinding the fate of each other in thisworld, high and low, rich and poor, the cottage tenant and the lord ofthe mansion, all jostling each other, and without knowing it, eachmaking his fellow take a step this way or that, which very muchinfluences the onward path. All was cheerfulness and gaiety atTarningham Park. Mary Clifford had assured Ned Hayward that hermother's consent would not only be given, but given cheerfully, thather guardians, whose period of rule was so nearly at an end, wouldraise no objection, and that all who loved her would be glad to seeher the promised bride of one so well worthy of esteem. Nor was herpromise unaccomplished; for good Mrs. Clifford was delighted. NedHayward had ever been a great favourite of hers ever since he had cometo her rescue in Tarningham-lane. The guardians were quite quiescent,replying to the letter of announcement, that whatever Miss Cliffordjudged for her own happiness and received her mother's consent, wouldinsure their approbation. Sir John was in an ecstasy, and Isabella inthe midst of her own happiness, felt happier still at that of hercousin. Daily letters were received from Beauchamp all breathing joyand hope, and though lawyers were troublesome and men of businessdilatory, yet not one word was said, not one thought seemed to beentertained of any real danger or difficulty.
All then was cheerfulness and gaiety at Tarningham Park, and not oneof its inmates had the slightest idea of the anxiety and alarm whichwere felt for them in a cottage not far off. Every morning and everyevening long consultations were held between Widow Lamb and herson-in-law regarding the fate of Mr. Beauchamp, and just in proportionto their ignorance of the habits of the world were the difficultiesthat presented themselves to their imaginations. Stephen Gimlet wasanxious to act in some direction. Mr. Beauchamp, as he stillfrequently called him, being absent, he thought it would be better tosay all that they had to say, to Sir John Slingsby, or at all eventsto Captain Hayward; but on the contrary his mother-in-law, with longerexperience, a disposition naturally timid and cautious, and upon thewhole better judgment, insisted that it might be wrong or dangerous todo so.
"You cannot tell, Stephen," she said, "what this good young lord hastold them and what he has not. We cannot even be sure how this womanstands with him. He may have divorced her for ought we know. I am sureher conduct has always been bad enough; and if such should be the casewe might make the poor young lady unhappy when there is no need.Nobody even can guess at all the mischief that might happen. No, no,you watch closely for the young lord's coming back, and as soon asever he is here, you and I will go up and speak to him. He must beback in time for that, and I dare say he will come on Saturday night,so there will be plenty of time."
It was one of Stephen Gimlet's maxims, and a very good one, too, thatthere never is plenty of time; but he carried the matter somewhat toofar, for he thought one could never do too much. Now that is a verygreat mistake; for in love, politics, and ambition, as in the roastingof a leg of mutton, you can remedy the _meno_, but you cannot remedythe _piu_. However, to make up for not doing what his mother-in-lawwould not let him do--and in regard to Beauchamp she had the whip handof him, for she did not let him into her secrets--he busied himselfevery spare moment that he had in watching the proceedings of CaptainMoreton and the fair lady he had with him. His long familiarity withbeasts and birds, greatly affected his views of all things, and he gotto look upon these objects of his contemplation as two wild animals.He internally named one the fox and the other the kite, and with thesame sort of shrewd speculation in regard to their manners, habits,and designs, as he employed upon brutes, he watched, and calculated,and divined with wonderful accuracy. One thing, however, he forgot,which was, that a human fox has a few more faculties than the merebrute; and that, although the four-legged fellow with the brush mightrequire great caution in any examination of his habits andproceedings, Captain Moreton might require still more. Now that worthygentleman very soon found out that there was an observant eye uponhim, and he moreover discovered whose eye that was. There could nothave been a more unpleasant sensation to Captain Moreton than to feelhimself watched, especially by Stephen Gimlet; for he knew him to bekeen, shrewd, active, decided, persevering, one not easily baffled,and by no means to be frightened; one, who must be met, combated,overcome in any thing he undertook, or else suffered to have his ownway. Captain Moreton was puzzled how to act. To enter into open warwith Stephen was likely to be a very dangerous affair; for theproceedings of the worthy captain, as the reader may suppose, did notcourt public examination; and yet to suffer any man to becomethoroughly acquainted with all his in-comings and out-goings, was verydisagreeable and might be perilous. To gain time, indeed, was thegreat thing; for Moreton's intention was, as soon as he had fairlyseen his cousin married to Isabella Slingsby, to take his departurefor another land, and to leave the consequences of the situation, inwhich he had placed Lord Lenham, to operate, as he thoroughly believedthey would operate, in destroying health, vigour, and life. His onlyobject in remaining at all was so to guide the proceedings of his faircompanion, and to restrain her fiery and unreasoning passions, as toprevent her overthrowing his whole scheme by her intemperate haste.But how to gain the necessary time was the question. He first changedhis haunts and his hours, went out on the other side of the heath; butStephen Gimlet was there; took his walk in the early morning, insteadof late in the evening; but the figure of Stephen Gimlet was seen inthe gray twilight, whether it was day-dawn or sunset; and CaptainMoreton became seriously uneasy.
Nothing, however, as yet appeared to have resulted from all thiswatching, till, on the Saturday morning, somewhat to Captain Moreton'ssurprise, the door of the room, where he was sitting alone, wasopened, and in walked his friend and acquaintance, Harry Wittingham.The young man was exceedingly pale; but still he appeared to movefreely and without pain or difficulty; and a look of real pleasurecame up in Captain Moreton's face, which completely deceived Mr.Wittingham, junior, as to the sensations of his friend towards him. Hefancied, as Captain Moreton shook him warmly by the hand, and declaredhe was delighted to see him well again, that the other was really gladat his recovery. Now Harry Wittingham might have been wounded, sick,dying, dead, buried, turned into earth again, without CaptainMoreton's caring one straw about him, simply as Harry Wittingham _perse_; but as one who might be serviceable in his schemes, who mighthelp him out of a difficulty, and, by taking part in a load of danger,might help Captain Moreton to bear the rest, he was an object of greatinterest to the captain, who, congratulated him again and again uponhis recovered health, made him sit down, inquired particularly intoall he had suffered, and did and said all those sorts of things whichwere most likely to make a man thus convalescent believe that afriendly heart had been greatly pained by all he had undergone.
Harry Wittingham was soon seated in an armchair, and making himselfquite at home. Contrary to the advice of all doctors, he indulged in aglass of brandy-and-water at the early hour of half-past ten, anddeclared he was a great deal better for it, that old fool Slatteryhaving kept him without wine, spirits, or porter for the last fiveweeks.
"Ay, that might be necessary some time ago," said Moreton, "till yourwound was healed, but it is all stuff now. It must have been a badwound that you have got, Harry; and I am devilish sorry I could not bedown myself, for I think then you would have got no wound at all.However, you gave him as good as you got, and that was someconsolation. No gentleman should ever be without his revenge, whetherit be with cards, or pistols, or what not, he should always givesomething for what he gets, and if he does that, he has every reasonto be satisfied."
"I have not got quite enough yet," said Harry Wittingham, with asignificant nod of his head; "and some people shall find that by andby."
"Ay, that's right, quite," answered Captain Moreton; "but I say, Hal,how is the old cock, your father? I heard yesterday he was breakingsadly--got the jaundice, or some devil of a thing like that--as yellowas one of the guineas he keeps locked up from you--time for him totake a journey, I should think."
; For a minute or two Harry Wittingham made no reply, but then he sethis teeth hard and said,
"I should not wonder if the hard-hearted old flint were to leave itall away from me."
Captain Moreton gave a long, low whistle, exclaiming, "Upon my life,you must stop that. Hang me, if I would not pretend to be penitent andplay a good boy for a month or two."
"It is no use in the world," answered Harry Wittingham; "you might aswell try to turn the Thames at Gravesend as to put him out of hiscourse when once he has taken a thing into head. He must do what helikes, he can't take it all, that's one comfort; but I say, Moreton,what the devil is that fellow Wolf hanging about here for? You hadbetter not have any thing to do with him, I can tell you. He is asgreat a scamp as ever lived, and I'll punish him some day or another.I should have come in yesterday, but I saw him sitting down there uponthe mound upon the heath, looking straight here, and so I went away."
"Did you see him again to-day?" asked Captain Moreton, with veryuneasy feelings.
"Oh, yes," answered Wittingham, "there he was prowling about with hisgun under his arm; but I doubled upon him this time, and went down thelanes, and in by the back way."
"I will make him pay for this," said Moreton, setting his teeth. "Hehas been spying here for a long time, and if it was not that I don'twish any fuss till the day after to-morrow is over, I would breakevery bone in his skin."
"It would be a good thing if you did," answered Harry Wittingham;"I'll tell you how he served me;" and he forthwith related all thecircumstances of his somewhat unpleasant adventure with Stephen Gimletwhen he visited the gamekeeper's cottage.
The moment he had done, Captain Moreton tapped him on the arm with ameaning smile, saying,
"I'll tell you what, Harry, though you are not very strong yet, yet ifyou are up to giving me ever so little help, we'll punish that fellowbefore to-morrow's over. If you can come here to-night and take a bed,we'll get up early and dodge him as he has been dodging us. He isalways out and about before any body else, so that there will be noone to help him let him halloo as loud as he will. He is continuallyoff Sir John's ground with his gun and dog, so that we have everyright to think he is poaching, as he used to do."
"Well, but what will you do with him?" said Harry Wittingham; "he isdevilish strong remember."
"Yes, but so am I," answered Captain Moreton; "and I will take himunawares, so that he cannot use his gun. Once down, I will keep himthere, while you tie his arms, and then we will bundle him over here,and lock him up for a day or two."
"Give him a precious good hiding," said young Wittingham, "for he welldeserves it; but I don't see any use of keeping him. If we punish himwell on the spot, that's enough."
"There's nothing that you or I can do," answered Captain Moreton,"that will punish him half so much as keeping him here till noon onMonday, for now I'll let you into one thing, Harry: I am looking outfor my revenge upon some other friends of ours, and I have a notionthis fellow is set to watch every thing I do, with promise of devilishgood pay, if he stops me from carrying out my plan. It will all beover before twelve o'clock on Monday; and if we can keep him shut uphere till then, he will lose his bribe, and I shall have vengeance.You can give him a good licking, too, if you like, and nobody can sayany thing about it if we catch him off old Sir John's grounds."
"I don't care whether they say any thing about it or not," answeredHarry Wittingham; "they may all go to the devil for that matter, andI'll lend a hand with all my heart. But remember, I'm devilish weak,and no match for him now; for this wound has taken every bit ofstrength out of me."
"Oh, you'll soon get that up again," answered Captain Moreton; "butI'll manage all the rough work. But how do you get on about money ifthe old fellow gives you none?"
"I should be devilishly badly off, indeed," replied the young man, "ifour old housekeeper did not help me; but she has taken her money outof the bank, and is selling some things for me; so I must not forgetto let her know that I am here if I come to-night."
"Oh, I'll take care of that," answered Captain Moreton. "There's a boybrings up my letters and things, a quiet, cunning little humpbackeddevil, who whistles just like a flageolet, and says very little to anybody. I'll tell him to go and tell old mother what's-her-name slyly,that you are here if she wants you."
The whole scheme seemed palatable to Harry Wittingham, and he enteredinto the details with great zest and spirit, proposing severalimprovements upon Captain Moreton's plan, some of which suited thatgentleman quite well. Another glass of brandy-and-water was added, andHarry Wittingham declared that it was better than all the doctor'sstuff he had swallowed since he was wounded, for that he was alreadymuch better than when he came, and felt himself quite strong again.After an hour's rambling conversation upon all sorts of things notvery gentlemanly either in tone or matter, the two worthy confederatesparted.
As the visitor took his way back to Buxton's Inn, he looked boldlyround for Stephen Gimlet with a pleasant consciousness of comingvengeance; but the gamekeeper was not to be seen, and meditating thepleasant pastime laid out for the following day, Mr. Wittinghamreached the inn, and ordered a very good dinner as a preparation. Hefelt a little feverish, it is true, but nevertheless he drank thebottle of stiff port which was placed on the table when dinner wasserved; and elated with wine, set out as soon as it was dark to takepart once more in one of those schemes of evil which suited too wellhis rash and reckless disposition, little knowing that all the time hewas the mere tool of another.
Beauchamp; or, The Error. Page 38