The Chaplain of the Fleet

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER XVII.

  HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL.

  The agitation of spirits into which I was thrown by this interview withthe Doctor, blinded me for the moment to the fact that Harry Temple,of whose pretensions I thought I had disposed, was still an angry andrejected suitor. Indeed, for a few days he had ceased to persecute me.But to-night he manifested a jealousy which was inexcusable, after allI had said to him. No one, as I had gone so far as almost to explainto him, had a better right to give me his hand for the evening thanmy lord; yet this young man, as jealous as the blacksmith god whom hepersonated, must needs cross our steps at every turn, throwing angryglances both upon me and my partner. He danced with no one; he threwaway his hammer, left off limping, consorted with none of the gaycompany, but nursed his wrath in silence.

  Now the last dance of the evening, which took place at two o'clock inthe morning, was to be one in which all the ladies threw their fansupon the table, and the gentlemen danced each with her whose fan hepicked from the pile. My lord whispered to me that I was first tolet him see my fan, whereupon, when the fans lay upon the table, hedeliberately chose my own and brought it to me.

  I took off my domino, which was now useless, because all the companyknew the disguise. Everybody laughed, and we took our places to leadoff the country-dance.

  It was three o'clock when we finished dancing and prepared to go home.

  Harry Temple here came up to me and asked if he might have the honourof escorting me to my lodgings. I answered that I had already promisedthat favour to Lord Chudleigh.

  "Every dance, the whole evening: the supper, the promenade: all givento this happy gentleman! Surely, Kitty, the Queen of the Wells mightdispense her favours more generously."

  "The Queen," said Lord Chudleigh, "is the fountain of honour. We haveonly to accept and be grateful."

  I laughed and bade Harry good-night, and offered him my hand, which herefused sullenly; and murmuring something about pride and old friends,turned aside and let us go.

  Everybody, it seems, noticed the black looks of Harry Temple all theevening, and expected, though in my happiness I thought not of such athing, that high words would pass between this sulky young gentlemanand his favoured rival, to whom he was so rude and unmannerly. Now,by the laws of the Wells, as laid down strictly in the rules of thegreat Mr. Nash for Tunbridge Wells and Bath, and adopted at allwatering-places, the gentlemen wore no swords on the Parade and in thecard-rooms; yet it was impossible to prevent altogether the quarrels ofhot-blooded men, and the green grass of the Downs had been stained withthe blood of more than one poor fellow, run through as the consequenceof a foolish brawl. When will men cease to fight duels, and seek tokill each other for a trifling disagreement, or a quarrel?

  Generally, it takes two to make a quarrel, and few men are so perverseas deliberately to force a duel upon another against his will. Yetthis was what Harry Temple, my old schoolfellow, my old friend, of whomI once held so high an opinion, so great a respect, actually did withLord Chudleigh. He forced the quarrel upon him. My lord was always agentleman of singular patience, forbearance, and sweetness, and onewho would take, unprovoked, a great deal of provocation, never showingthe usual sign of resentment or anger, although he might be forcedto take up the quarrel. He held, indeed, the maxim that a man shouldalways think so well of himself as to make an insult impossible, unlessit be deliberate, open, and clearly intended. As for his courage, hewent on to say that it was a matter of self-respect: if a man's ownconscience approve (which is the ultimate judge for all but those whoseconsciences are deadened by an evil life), let him fear not what mensay, knowing full well that if they dare say more than the customs ofthe polite world allow, it is easy for every man to prove that he is nocoward.

  Lord Chudleigh, then, having led us to the door of our own lodging,unfortunately returned to the Assembly Rooms, where--and outside uponthe Terrace--some of the gentlemen yet lingered. I say unfortunately,because, as for what followed, I cannot believe but that poor Harry,whose disposition was not naturally quarrelsome, might have beeninflamed by drinking wine with them when he ought to have gone to bed.Now wine, to one who is jealous, is like oil upon fire. And had mylord, for his part, retired to Durdans--as he might very properly havedone, seeing the lateness of the hour--the morning's reflection would,I am sure, have persuaded Harry that he had been a fool, and had noreasonable ground for quarrel with his lordship or with me.

  The sun was already rising, for it was nearly four o'clock in themorning; the ladies were all gone off to bed; those who lay about thebenches yawned and stretched themselves; some were for bed, some foranother bottle; some were talking of an early gallop on the Downs; thelamps yet glimmered in their sockets; the Terrace looked, with its oillamps still burning in the brightness of the morning sunshine, withthe odds and ends of finery, the tattered bravery of torn dresses, goldand silver lace, tinfoil, broken paper crowns and helmets, as sad as atheatre the morning after a performance; the stalls of the Wizard, theItalian performers, and the dancing girl, were empty and open; theirhangings were already torn down, the stand for the horses beside thepond was broken in parts.

  When Lord Chudleigh came back he found waiting for him, among thelatest of the revellers, Harry Temple, his face pale, his lips set, hismanner agitated, as of one who contemplates a rash act.

  My lord threw himself upon a bench under the trees, his head upon hishand, pensive, thinking to calm the agitation of his spirits by thefreshness of the morning air. Harry began walking up and down in frontof him, casting angry glances at him, but as yet speaking not. Now,within the deserted card-room when the lights had all burned out, andthe windows were wide open, sat all by himself Sir Miles Lackington,turning over a pack of cards at one of the empty tables, and thinkingover the last night's play, at which he had won some money, andregretted to have been stopped just when he was in luck. There were nowonly a few gentlemen left, and these were one by one dropping off.

  Presently, with an effort, Harry Temple stopped in front of hislordship and spoke to him.

  I declare that up to this time poor Harry had always been the mostpeaceful of creatures, though strong, and well accustomed to hold boutswith Will, in which he proved almost equal to that stalwart competitor,at wrestling, singlestick, quarterstaff, or boxing. Also, as was provedby the affray of the Saturday evening, already related, not unready onoccasion. But a bookish youth, and not one who sought to fix quarrelsupon any man, or to commit murder in the name of honour. And thisshows how dangerous a passion is thwarted love, which can produce in apeaceful man's bosom jealousy, hatred, rage, and forgetfulness of thatmost sacred commandment which enjoins us not to slay.

  "I trust, my lord," he said, laughing and blushing, as if uncertain ofhimself, "that your lordship hath passed a pleasant evening with theQueen of the Wells."

  Lord Chudleigh looked up, surprised. Then he rose, for there was a lookin Harry's eyes which meant mischief. The unlucky love-sick swain wenton--

  "Lord Chudleigh and Miss Kitty Pleydell. The very names seem made forone another; no doubt his lordship is as fine a gentleman as the ladyis beautiful."

  "Sir!" said Lord Chudleigh quietly, "you have perhaps been drinking.This is the only excuse for such an association of my name with thatyoung lady's in a public assembly."

  "Oh!" he said, "I want no excuse for addressing your lordship. TheTemples were gentlefolk before the Chudleighs were heard of."

  "Well, Mr. Temple, so be it. Enjoy that superiority. Shall we closethis discussion?"

  "No, my lord; there is more to be said."

  He spoke hotly, and with an anger which ought surely to have beensimulated, such small provocation as he had received.

  "Then, sir, in Heaven's name, let us say it and have done with it."

  "You have offended me, my lord--you best know how."

  "I believe I know, Mr. Temple. You also know what grounds you have forbelieving that to be an offence."

  "I say, my lord," his voice rose and his eyes flashed, "t
hat you haveoffended me."

  "Had I done so wittingly," returned Lord Chudleigh, "I should willinglyask pardon. But I deny your right to take offence."

  "You have offended me highly," he repeated, "and that in a manner whichmakes an apology only a deeper insult. You have offended me in a mannerwhich only one thing can satisfy."

  "Before we go any farther, Mr. Temple," said my lord, sitting downagain calmly and without heat, "I would know exactly the nature of myoffence, and your reasonable right to regard it as such."

  "It needs not, my lord. You know well enough what I mean."

  "I know that, of course; I would wish to know, as well, your right tobe offended."

  "I say, my lord, that it is enough."

  Harry, being in the wrong, spoke still more loudly, and those who wereleft drew near to see the quarrel.

  "You need not raise your voice, sir," said Lord Chudleigh; "I like anyaltercation in which I may be unhappily engaged to be conducted likethe rest of my business in life, namely, with the decorum and quietnesswhich become gentlemen like the Temples, and those of that youngerfamily the Chudleighs. You have, I believe, travelled. You have,therefore, without doubt, had opportunities of observing the well-bredand charming quietness with which gentlemen in France arrange theselittle matters, particularly when, as now, the dispute threatens toinvolve the name of a lady. Now, sir, that we understand each other,I must inform you that unless I know the exact nature of my offenceto you, which I have the right to demand, this affair will proceed nofurther. I would as soon accept a quarrel from a mad Malay runningamuck at all he meets."

  "My lord!" cried Harry, with red face and trembling fingers.

  "Of course I do not pretend to be unable to form a guess," LordChudleigh went on gravely; "but I must beg you to instruct me exactlywhat you mean. You will observe, sir, that I am here, as a visitor,previously unknown to yourself. It is therefore strange to learn thatone has offended a gentleman towards whom my behaviour has been neitherless nor more guarded than towards others."

  "My lord, you have offended me by the attentions you have paid to ayoung lady."

  "Indeed, sir! So I believed. But permit me to ask if the young lady isconnected with you or with your house by any ties of relationship orotherwise?"

  "She is not, my lord."

  "Further: have you any right of guardianship over this young lady?"

  "None, my lord. But yet you have offended me."

  "The young lady is free to accept the attention of any man she mayprefer; to show her preference as openly as she considers proper. Iconclude this to be the case. And, if so, I am unable to perceive inwhat way I can wilfully have offended you."

  "Your lordship," said Harry Temple, enraged by his adversary'scalmness, but yet with sufficient self-command to speak in lower tones,"has offended me in this: that if you had not paid those attentions toMiss Pleydell, she might have accepted those courtesies which I wasprepared to offer her."

  "Indeed, sir! that is a circumstance with which I am whollyunconcerned. No doubt the same thing might be said by other gentlemenin this company."

  "I knew that young lady, my lord, long before you did. It was mydeliberate purpose, long ago, to make her my wife when the opportunityarrived----"

  "The time has come," resumed Lord Chudleigh, "but not the man----"

  "I say, it was my fixed intention to marry Miss Pleydell. I did not,my lord, form these resolutions lightly, nor abandon them withoutsufficient reason. It is still my resolution. I say that you shall notstand between me and my future wife!"

  "Indeed! But suppose Miss Pleydell refuses to give her consent to thisarrangement? Surely such a resolve, however laudable, demands theconsent of the other party."

  "Miss Pleydell will not refuse my hand when you have left her. Abandona field, my lord, which never belonged to yourself----"

  "Tut, tut!" said Lord Chudleigh. "This, sir, is idle talk. You cannotseriously imagine----"

  "I seriously imagine that, if necessary, I will make my way to thatyoung lady over your lordship's body, if you stand in my way."

  Lord Chudleigh took off his hat and bowed low.

  "Then, sir, the sooner you take the first step in the pursuance of yourresolution the better. I will bar your way upon the Downs at any timeyou may appoint."

  Harry returned the obeisance.

  "I wait your lordship's convenience," he said.

  "My convenience shall be yours, Mr. Temple. For it is you who desire torun me through, not I you. Have your own way."

  "It is late to-night," said Harry, now quite calm, though with a hotflush upon his cheek. "Your lordship would like to rest. Perhapsto-morrow, after breakfast, while the ladies are at morning prayer."

  Oh, the bloodthirsty wretch!

  Lord Chudleigh bowed again.

  "That time, Mr. Temple, will I dare say suit the convenience of mysecond."

  The code of honour, be it observed, does not allow the exhibition ofany emotion of horror, remorse, or repugnance, when you arrange tocommit that private murder which gentlemen call a duel.

  Lord Chudleigh bowed once more, and left his adversary. He walkedacross the Terrace to the card-room, where Sir Miles was alone withthe scattered packs of cards. When he came out, he bowed a third time,and walked slowly away. I hope that, in his own chamber, he reflectedon the wickedness of the appointment he had made, and on its possibleconsequences.

  Sir Miles threw away the cards, and came out rubbing his eyes.

  "Ods my life, sir!" he said, addressing Harry Temple, who, now that themischief was done, looked somewhat sheepish, though dignified.

  The few gentlemen who were left drew nearer, anxious to lose nothing ofwhat might happen. English people of all ranks love above all things towatch a quarrel or a fight, whatever be the weapons.

  "Ods my life, sir!" repeated Sir Miles. "This is a pretty kettle offish! Here we have all spent a pleasant night--dancing, playing, andmaking love, every one happy, even though some gentlemen did lose theirmistresses or their money, and here you spoil sport by quarrelling atthe end of it. What the Devil, sir, does it concern you whether my lordtalks gallantry with one young lady or another?"

  "That, Sir Miles, allow me to tell you, is my business. If you are hislordship's second, let us arrange accordingly. If a principal, let usfight afterwards."

  "No, sir," replied the baronet. "It is everybody's business. Itconcerns the cheerfulness, the security, the happiness of all thishonourable company. What! if I amuse myself, and a young lady too, bywriting poems on her dainty fingers, must I needs go out and measureswords with every young hot-head who would fain be doing the same?Seconds and principals? Have we nothing to do but to fight duels? Mr.Temple, I thought better things from a gentleman of your rank andfamily. What! any jackanapes lawyer--any pert young haberdasher--mightthink it fine thus to insult and challenge a harmless nobleman ofgreat name and excellent qualities! But for _you_, Mr. Temple! you,sir, a gentleman of your county, and of ancient and most honourablestock----Fie, sir, fie!"

  "I think, Sir Miles," said Harry, who wished now to have thepreliminaries settled without more ado, "that things having so faradvanced, these reproaches may be spared. Let us proceed to business."

  "A girl can choose, I suppose," Sir Miles went on, "without theinterference or the objection of a man who is neither her father, herguardian, her brother, nor her cousin? Why, as for this young lady,whose name, I say, it is not respectful to name in this business--Imyself, sir, I myself paid her attentions till she bade me go about mybusiness. What, sir! do you think I should have suffered any man toquestion my right to make a Lady Lackington where I choose, and where Icould! She laughed in my face. Mighty pretty laughing lips she has, andteeth as white as pearls; and a roguish eye when she chooses, for allshe goes so grave. Did I, then, go snivelling in the dumps? Did I takeit ill that she showed a liking for Lord Chudleigh, who is worth ten ofme, and a dozen of you? Did I hang my chops and wipe my eyes? Did I,therefore, insult his Lordship, and call him out?"
r />   "All this, Sir Miles," Harry replied impatiently, "has nothing to dowith the question which lies between Lord Chudleigh and myself."

  "What I argued, for my own comfort, when sweet Kitty said me nay, wasthis: that the marriage condition hath many drawbacks, as is abundantlyevident from history and poetry, while freedom hath many sweets--thata man may tire of a Beauty and a Toast in a month, but he never tiredof liberty--that children often come after matrimony, and they areexpensive--that, as for the lady's good looks, why, as many prettywomen are in the sea as ever came out of it. And as for my woundedfeelings, why, what is it but so much vanity? Granted that she is theToast this year: prithee who will be the Toast next? Last year, theytell me, it was Peggy Baker--and a monstrous pretty woman, too, thoughnot to compare with Kitty. Now her nose is out of joint. Who next? Somelittle miss now getting rapped over the knuckles in the nursery, Mr.Temple; and she will be, in her turn, quite as fine a woman as we shalllive to see. That is to say, as I shall live to see, because you, ofcourse, will be no more. At eleven o'clock upon the Downs you will getyour quietus; when my lord's sword has once made daylight through yourfine waistcoat. 'Tis pity, but yet what help? Mighty little lookingafter pretty women where you are going to, Mr. Temple. I advise youto consider your earthly concerns before you go out. Well, 'tis ashame, it is, a well-set-up man like you, with a likely face and prettyfortune, to throw all away because a woman says nay:

  'Shall I wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair?'

  Tilly vally! A pretty reason why two tall fellows should stick swordsinto each other. I have a great mind, sir, not to allow my principalto go out on such a provocation."

  "I can easily give him more, Sir Miles," said Harry hotly, "or youeither, as soon as you have finished your sermon."

  "Oh, sir!" Sir Miles laughed and bowed. "Pray do not think that Idesire to fight on that or any other provocation. We gentlemen ofNorfolk sometimes try conclusions with the cudgel before the rapiercomes into play. Therefore, sir, having given you my mind on thematter, and having nothing more to say at this moment, you may as wellrefer me at once to your friend."

  Harry turned to the group of lookers-on.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "an unhappy difference, as some of you havewitnessed, has arisen between the Lord Chudleigh and myself. May Irequest the good offices of one among you in this affair?"

  One of them, an officer in the king's scarlet, stepped forward andoffered his services. Harry thanked him, briefly told him where helodged, introduced him formally to Sir Miles, and walked away. A fewminutes' whispered consultations between Sir Miles and this officerconcluded the affair. The principals were to fight on the Downs ateleven o'clock, when there are generally, unless a match is going on,but few people up there. This arranged, Sir Miles walked away to tellLord Chudleigh; and Harry, with his second, left the Terrace.

  Thus the affair, as gentlemen call an engagement in which their ownlives and the happiness of helpless women are concerned, was quietlyarranged on the well-known laws of "honour," just as if it were nothingmore than the purchase of a horse, a carriage, or a house; we at homesleeping meanwhile without suspicion, dreaming, very likely, of loveand joy, even when death was threatening those dearest to us. Sometimeswhen I think of this uncertain life, how it is surrounded by naturewith unknown dangers--how thoughtless and wicked men may in a momentdestroy all that most we love--how in a moment the strongest fortune isover-thrown--how our plans may be frustrated--how the houses of cards(which we have thought so stable) tumble down without a warning, andall our happiness with them--when, I say, I think of these things Iwonder how any one can laugh and be merry, save the insensate wretcheswhose whole thought is of their own enjoyment for the moment. Yet theLord, our Father, is above all; in whose hand is the ordering of thesmallest thing--the meanest life. Moreover, He hath purposed that youthshould be a time of joy, and so hath wisely hidden away the sources ofevil.

  * * * * *

  Cicely Crump was stirring betimes in the morning, and before six wasin the market buying the provisions for the day. And as she passedthe door of the Assembly Rooms, she looked in to see the dipper, afriend of hers, who sat at the distribution of the water, though butfew of the visitors took it regularly. This good woman, Phoebe Gameby name, had kept the secret for more than an hour, having heard it,under promise of strictest secrecy, from one of the late revellers whenshe took her place among the glasses at five o'clock in the morning.She was a good woman and discreet according to her lights; but thisdreadful secret was too much for her, and if she had not told it toCicely, must have told it to some one else. At sight of her visitor,therefore, discretion abandoned this good woman, and she babbled allshe knew. Yet not in a hurry, but little by little, as becomes a womanwith such a piece of intelligence, the parting of which is as theparting with power.

  "Cicely," she said, shaking her forefinger in an awful and threateningway, "I have heard this very morning--ah! only an hour or sosince--news which would make your poor young lady jump out of herpretty shoes for fright. I have--I have."

  "Goodness!" cried Cicely. "Oh, Phoebe! whatever in the world is it?"

  "I dare not tell," she replied. "It is as much as my place is worth totell. We dippers are not like common folk. We must have no ears to hearand no tongue to speak. We must listen and make no sign. The qualitysays what they like and they does what they like. It isn't for ahumble dipper to speak, nor to tell, nor to spoil sport--even if it ismurder."

  "Oh, tell me!" cried Cicely. "Why, Phoebe, your tongue can run twentyto the dozen if you like. And if I knew, why there isn't a mouse in allEpsom can be muter, or a guinea-pig dumber. Only you tell me."

  Thus appealed to, Mrs. Game proceeded (as she had from the firstintended) to transfer her secret to Cicely, with many interjections,reflections, sighs, prayers, and injunctions to tell no one, but togo home and pray on her bended knees that Lord Chudleigh's hand mightbe strengthened and his eye directed, so that this meddlesome younggentleman might be run through in some vital part.

  Cicely received the intelligence with dismay. The good girl had moreof my confidence than most ladies give to maids: but she was above thecommon run and quick of apprehension. Besides, she loved me.

  "What use," she asked bitterly, "for Mr. Nash to prohibit the gentlemenfrom wearing their swords when they have got them at home ready forusing when they want? Mr. Temple, indeed! To think that my young ladywould look at him when my lord is about!"

  "Well--go, child," said the dipper. "You and me, being two poor womenwith little but our characters, which are, thank the Lord, good so faras we have got, cannot meddle nor make in this pie. I am glad I toldyou, though. I felt before you came as if the top of my head was beinglifted off with the force of it like a loaf with the yeast. Oh, thewickedness of gentlefolk!"

  Cicely walked slowly back, thinking what she had best do--whether tokeep the secret, or to tell me. Finally she resolved on telling me.

  Accordingly she woke me up, for I was still asleep, and communicatedthe dreadful intelligence. There could be no doubt of its truth. SirMiles, she told me, had expostulated with Harry Temple, who would hearno reason. They would meet to kill each other at eleven o'clock, whenthe ladies were at prayers, on the Downs behind Durdans.

  I thanked her, and told her to leave me while I dressed; but not toawaken Mrs. Pimpernel, who would be the better for a long sleep afterher late night, while I thought over what was to be done.

  First of all I was in a mighty great rage with Harry; the rage I was inprevented me from doing what I ought to have done--viz., had I been inmy right mind, I should have gone to him instantly, and then and thereI should have ordered him to withdraw from the Wells. Should he refuse,I would have gone to Sir Robert, a Justice of the Peace, and caused theduel to be prevented.

  I could find no excuse for Harry. Even supposing that his passion wasso violent (which is a thing one ought to be ashamed of rather than tomake a boast of it), was that any reason why my happiness was to b
edestroyed? Men, I believe, would like to carry off their wives as theRomans carried off the Sabine women, and no marriage feast would bemore acceptable to their barbarous hearts than the one in which theserude soldiers celebrated this enforced union.

  Cicely and I looked at each other. It was seven o'clock. The duel wasto take place at eleven. Could I seek out Lord Chudleigh? No; hishonour was concerned. Or Sir Miles? But the honest baronet looked ona duel as a necessity of life, which might happen at any time to agentleman, though he himself preferred a bout with cudgels.

  Presently Cicely spoke.

  "I once heard," she said, "a story."

  "Child, this is no time for telling stories."

  "Let me tell it first, Miss Kitty. Nay, it is not a silly story. Agentleman once had planned to carry off a great heiress."

  "What has that to do with Lord Chudleigh? He does not want to carry meoff."

  "The gentleman was a wicked man and an adventurer. He only wanted thelady's money. One of her friends, a woman it was, found out the plot.She wanted to prevent it without bloodshed, or murder, or duelling,which would have happened if it had been prevented by any stupidinterference of clumsy men----"

  "O Cicely! get on with the story."

  "She did prevent it. And how do you think?"

  "How?"

  Cicely ran and shut the door, which was ajar. Then she looked all aboutthe room and under the bed.

  "It was a most dreadful wicked thing to do. Yet to save a friend or alover, I would even do it."

  "What was it, Cicely?"

  "I must whisper."

  * * * * *

  "Quick! give me my hood, child."

  She put it on and tied it with trembling fingers, because we werereally going to do a most desperate thing.

  "Is the house on the road, Cicely? Cannot he go by another way?"

  "No; he cannot go by any other way."

  "Say not a word, Cicely. Let not madam think or suspect anything."

  On the road which leads from the town by a gentle ascent to the Downs,there stood (on the left-hand side going up) a large square house inred brick, surrounded by a high wall on which were iron spikes. Thedoor of the wall opened into a sort of small lodge, and the greatgates were strong, high, and also protected by iron spikes. I hadoften observed this house; but being full of my own thoughts, and nota curious person always wanting to discover the business of others, Ihad not inquired into the reason of these fortifications. Yet I knewthat the house was the residence of a certain learned physician, Dr.Jonathan Powlett by name, who daily walked upon the Terrace dressed inblack, with a great gold-headed cane and an immense full periwig. Hehad a room in one of the houses of the Terrace in which he receivedhis patients, and he made it his business to accost every stranger onhis arrival with the view of getting his custom. Thus he would, afterinquiring after the stranger's health, branch off upon a dissertationon the merits of the Epsom waters and an account of the variousdiseases, with their symptoms (so that timid men often fancied they hadcontracted these disorders, and ran to the doctor in terror), which thewaters would cure. Mrs. Esther was pleased to converse with him, andI believe spent several guineas in consultations on the state of herhealth, now excellent.

  I had never spoken to him except once, when he saluted me with a finelypompous compliment about youth and beauty, the twin stars of such acompany as was gathered together at Epsom. "Yet," he said, "while eventhe physician cannot arrest the first of these, the second may be longpreserved by yearly visits to this invigorating spot, not forgettingconsultations with scientific and medical men, provided they areproperly qualified and hold the license of the College of Physicians,without which a so-called doctor is but a common apothecary,chirurgeon, or leech, fit only to blister and to bleed."

  I made my way to his house, hoping to catch him before he sallied forthin the morning. The place was, as I have said, hidden by high brickwalls, and the gate was guarded by a lodge in which, after ringing agreat bell, I found a man of rough and strong appearance, who asked merudely what was my business.

  I told him my business was with his master.

  After a little demur, he bade me wait in the lodge while he went away,and presently returned with the doctor.

  "My dear young lady," he cried. "I trust there is nothing wrong withthat most estimable lady, Mrs. Pimpernel?"

  "Indeed, doctor," I replied, "I come on quite a different errand. Andmy business is for your ear alone."

  Upon this he bade the fellow retire, and we were left alone in thelittle room of the lodge.

  Then I exposed my business.

  He looked very serious when he quite understood what I wanted him to do.

  "It is very dangerous," he said.

  I then told him how it might be so managed as that there should be nodanger in it at all. He thought for a little, and then he laughed tohimself.

  "But, madam," he said, "suppose I do this for you safely and snugly.What reward am I to have for my trouble and risk?"

  "What do you think the business is worth?"

  He looked curiously in my face as if wondering how much he could safelysay. Then he replied--

  "I believe it is worth exactly twenty guineas."

  "I can spare no more than ten," I replied.

  "Well," he said, "ten guineas is a trifle indeed for so great a riskand so great a service. Still, if no more is to be had, and to obligeso sweet a young lady----"

  Here he held out a fat white hand, the fingers of which were curled asif from long habit in clutching guineas.

  I gave him five as an instalment, promising him the other five when thejob was done.

  All being safely in train, I returned home to breakfast; but afterbreakfast I returned to the physician's house, and sat down in thelodge, so placed that I could see without being seen, and looked downthe road.

  After the bell for morning prayers had stopped, I began to expect myfriends. Sure enough the first who came into sight were my lord andSir Miles, the former looking grave and earnest. A little while afterthem came a gentleman whom I knew to be one of the company at Epsom.He was alone. Now this was the most fortunate accident, because hadthe gentleman, who was none other than Harry's second, accompaniedhis principal, my plot had failed. But fortunately (as I learnedafterwards) they missed each other in the town, and so set off alone.This, at the time, I knew not, being ignorant of the laws of theduello. And last there came along Harry himself, walking quickly as ifafraid of being late.

  I gave a signal which had been agreed upon, and as he approachedthe house, the great gates were thrown open, and two strapping tallfellows, stepping quickly into the road, caught poor Harry (thewould-be murderer) by the arms, ran a thick rope round him before hehad time to cry out, and dragged him into the gates, so quickly, sostrongly, and so resolutely, that he had not the least chance of makingany resistance. Indeed, it was done in so workmanlike a fashion that itseemed as if the rogues had done the same thing dozens of times before.

  Heavens! To think that a man brought up so virtuously as Harry Temple,a young man of such excellent promise, so great a scholar, and one whohad actually studied Theology, and attended the lectures of a LadyMargaret Professor, should, under any circumstances of life, abandonhimself to language so wicked and a rage so overwhelming. Nothing eversurprised me so much as to hear that gentle scholar use such dreadfullanguage, as bad as any that I had ever heard in the Fleet Market.

  Caught up in this unexpected way, with his arms tied to his sides,carried by two stout ruffians, Harry had, to be sure, some excuse forwrath. His wig had fallen to the ground, his face was red and distortedby passion, so that even I hardly knew him, when Doctor Powlett cameout of his house and slowly advanced to meet him.

  "Ay, ay, ay!" he asked slowly, wagging his head and stroking hislong chin deliberately, in the manner of a physician who considerethwhat best treatment to recommend. "So this is the unfortunate younggentleman, is it? Ay, he looks very far gone. Nothing less, I fear,than _Demen
tia acuta cum rabie violenta_. Resolute treatment insuch cases is the best kindness. You will take him, keepers, to theblue-room, and chain him carefully. Your promptitude in making thecapture shall be rewarded. As for you, sir"--he shook his forefinger atthe unlucky Harry as if he was a schoolmaster admonishing a boy--"asfor you, sir, it is lucky, indeed, that you have been caught. You weretraced to this town, where, I suppose, you arrived early this morning.Ha! I _have_ known madmen to be run through their vitals by somegentlemen whom they have accosted; or smothered between mattresses--areprehensible custom, because it deprives the physician of his dues--orbrained with a cudgel. You are fortunate, sir. But have a care; thishouse is remarkable for its kindness to the victims of mania! but havea care."

  Here Harry burst into a fit of imprecations most dreadful to listen to.

  "Anybody," said the Doctor, "may swear in this house; a good many do:that often relieves a congested brain, and does no harm to me and myattendants. But disobedience or violence is punished by cold-waterbaths, by being held under the pump, by bread and water, and by othermethods with which I hope you will not make yourself better acquainted.Now, keepers!"

  For the truth is that the doctor kept a house for the receptionof madmen and unhappy lunatics, and I had persuaded him to kidnapHarry--by mistake. In four-and-twenty hours, I thought, he would havetime to repent. It was sad, however, to see a man of breeding andlearning so easily give way to profane swearing, and it shows thenecessity of praying against temptation. Women, fortunately, do not_know_ how to swear. It was, I confess, impossible to pity him. Why, hewas going up the hill and on to the Downs with no other object than tokill my lover!