CHAPTER XXXI.
Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.--Shakspeare.
What ho! for England!--Shakspeare.
I have always had an insuperable horror of being placed in what thevulgar call a predicament. In a predicament I was most certainly placedat the present moment. A man at my feet in a fit--the cause of it havingvery wisely disappeared, devolving upon me the charge of watching,recovering, and conducting home the afflicted person--made aconcatenation of disagreeable circumstances, as much unsuited tothe temper of Henry Pelham, as his evil fortune could possibly havecontrived.
After a short pause of deliberation, I knocked up the porter, procuredsome cold water, and bathed Tyrrell's temples for several moments beforehe recovered. He opened his eyes slowly, and looked carefully round witha fearful and suspicious glance: "Gone--gone--(he muttered)--ay--whatdid he here at such a moment?--vengeance--for what?--I could nottell--it would have killed her--let him thank his own folly. I do notfear; I defy his malice." And with these words, Tyrrell sprung to hisfeet.
"Can I assist you to your home?" said I; "you are still unwell--praysuffer me to have that pleasure."
I spoke with some degree of warmth and sincerity; the unfortunate manstared wildly at me for a moment, before he replied. "Who," said he,at last, "who speaks to me--the lost--the guilty--the ruined, in theaccents of interest and kindness?"
I placed his arm in mine, and drew him out of the yard into the openstreet. He looked at me with an eager and wistful survey, and then, bydegrees, appearing to recover his full consciousness of the present, andrecollection of the past, he pressed my hand warmly, and after a shortsilence, during which we moved on slowly towards the Tuileries, hesaid,--"Pardon me, Sir, if I have not sufficiently thanked you for yourkindness and attention. I am now quite restored; the close room in whichI have been sitting for so many hours, and the feverish excitement ofplay, acting upon a frame very debilitated by ill health, occasioned mymomentary indisposition. I am now, I repeat, quite recovered, and willno longer trespass upon your good nature."
"Really," said I, "you had better not discard my services yet. Do sufferme to accompany you home?"
"Home!" muttered Tyrrell, with a deep sigh; "no--no!" and then, as ifrecollecting himself, he said, "I thank you, Sir, but--but--" I saw hisembarrassment, and interrupted him.
"Well, if I cannot assist you any further, I will take your dismissal. Itrust we shall meet again under auspices better calculated for improvingacquaintance."
Tyrrell bowed, once more pressed my hand, and we parted. I hurried on upthe long street towards my hotel.
When I had got several paces beyond Tyrrell, I turned back to look athim. He was standing in the same place in which I had left him. I sawby the moonlight that this face and hands were raised towards Heaven. Itwas but for a moment: his attitude changed while I was yet looking, andhe slowly and calmly continued his way in the same direction as myself.When I reached my chambers, I hastened immediately to bed, but not tosleep: the extraordinary scene I had witnessed; the dark and ferociousexpression of Glanville's countenance, so strongly impressed with everywithering and deadly passion; the fearful and unaccountable remembrancethat had seemed to gather over the livid and varying face of thegamester; the mystery of Glanville's disguise; the intensity of arevenge so terribly expressed, together with the restless and burninganxiety I felt--not from idle curiosity, but, from my early and intimatefriendship for Glanville, to fathom its cause--all crowded upon my mindwith a feverish confusion, that effectually banished repose.
It was with that singular sensation of pleasure which none but thosewho have passed frequent nights in restless and painful agitation, canrecognize, that I saw the bright sun penetrate through my shutters, andheard Bedos move across my room.
"What hour will Monsieur have the post horses?" said that praiseworthyvalet.
"At eleven," answered I, springing out of bed with joy at the change ofscene which the very mention of my journey brought before my mind.
I was a luxurious personage in those days. I had had a bath made frommy own design; across it were constructed two small frames--one for thejournal of the day, and another to hold my breakfast apparatus; in thismanner I was accustomed to lie for about an hour, engaging the triplehappiness of reading, feeding, and bathing. Owing to some unaccountabledelay, Galignani's Messenger did not arrive at the usual hour, onthe morning of my departure; to finish breakfast, or bathing, withoutGalignani's Messenger, was perfectly impossible, so I remained, till Iwas half boiled, in a state of the most indolent imbecility.
At last it came: the first paragraph that struck my eyes was thefollowing:--"It is rumoured among the circles of the Faubourg, that aduel was fought on--, between a young Englishman and Monsieur D--;the cause of it is said to be the pretensions of both to the beautifulDuchesse de P--, who, if report be true, cares for neither of thegallants, but lavishes her favours upon a certain attache to the Englishembassy."
"Such," thought I, "are the materials for all human histories. Every onewho reads, will eagerly swallow this account as true: if an author werewriting the memoirs of the court, he would compile his facts and scandalfrom this very collection of records; and yet, though so near the truth,how totally false it is! Thank Heaven, however, that, at least, I am notsuspected of the degradation of the duchesse's love:--to fight forher may make me seem a fool--to be loved by her would constitute me avillain."
The next passage in that collection of scandal which struck me was--"Weunderstand that E. W. Howard de Howard, Esq., Secretary, is shortly tolead to the hymeneal altar the daughter of Timothy Tomkins, Esq., lateConsul of--." I quite started out of my bath with delight. I scarcelysuffered myself to be dried and perfumed, before I sat down to write thefollowing congratulatory epistle to the thin man:--
"My dear Mr. Howard de Howard,
"Permit me, before I leave Paris, to compliment you upon that happinesswhich I have just learnt is in store for you. Marriage to a man likeyou, who has survived the vanities of the world--who has attained thatprudent age when the passions are calmed into reason, and the purerrefinements of friendship succeed to the turbulent delirium of thesenses--marriage, my dear Mr. Howard, to a man like you, must, indeed,be a most delicious Utopia. After all the mortifications you may meetelsewhere, whether from malicious females, or a misjudging world, whathappiness to turn to one being to whom your praise is an honour, andyour indignation of consequence!
"But if marriage itself be so desirable, what words shall I usesufficiently expressive of my congratulation at the particular match youhave chosen, so suitable in birth and station? I can fancy you, my dearSir, in your dignified retirement, expatiating to your admiring brideupon all the honours of your illustrious line, and receiving from her,in return, a full detail of all the civic glories that have ever gracedthe lineage of the Tomkins's. As the young lady is, I suppose, anheiress, I conclude you will take her name, instead of changing it. Mr.Howard de Howard de Tomkins, will sound peculiarly majestic; and whenyou come to the titles and possessions of your ancestors, I am persuadedthat you will continue to consider your alliance with the honestcitizens of London among your proudest distinctions.
"Should you have any commands in England, a letter directed to me inGrosvenor-square will be sure to find me; and you may rely upon myimmediately spreading among our mutual acquaintance in London, the happymeasure you are about to adopt, and my opinions on its propriety.
"Adieu, my dear Sir,
"With the greatest respect and truth,
"Yours,
"H. Pelham."
"There," said I, as I sealed my letter, "I have discharged some part ofthat debt I owe to Mr. Howard de Howard, for an enmity towards me, whichhe has never affected to conceal. He prides himself on his youth--myallusions to his age will delight him! On the importance of his goodor evil opinion--I have flattered him to a wonder! Of a surety, HenryPelham, I could not have supposed you were such an adept in the art ofpanegyric."
"The horses, Sir!
" said Bedos; and "the bill, Sir?" said the garcon.Alas! that those and that should be so coupled together; and that we cannever take our departure without such awful witnesses of our sojourn.Well--to be brief--the bill for once was discharged--the horsessnorted--the carriage door was opened--I entered--Bedos mountedbehind--crack went the whips--off went the steeds, and so terminated myadventures at dear Paris.
Pelham — Complete Page 31