The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I don’t wonder at it,” replied Trussell, laughing; “I am almost surprised the train-bands were not sent after you.”

  “The cream of the adventure was its close,” pursued the knight. “Never was fury equal to that displayed by the miser at his disappointment. I declare I almost pitied him. His daughter is a charming girl — beautiful as an angel, and rich — nay, i’faith, it is impossible to say how rich she must be. Villiers you ought to take her off her father’s hands.”

  “I’ll think of it,” replied the beau, carelessly, “for I am desperately in want of money. Like yourself, I have had some dealings with old Scarve, and know him to be as great an extortioner as Shylock or Sir Giles Overreach. I don’t think, however, I could marry his daughter, if she had the wealth of the Indies.”

  “You have never seen her, or you would alter your opinion,” replied Sir Bulkeley. “She is the most beautiful creature I have beheld for this many a day.”

  “You pique my curiosity,” replied the beau. “I must see this paragon of perfection. Apropos of beauty,” he added to Randulph, who could scarcely hide his uneasiness, “don’t you think Clementina Brabazon a fine girl, Mr. Crew?”

  “Remarkably so,” replied the young man distractedly.

  “She is nothing to what her mother was,” observed Sir Singleton. “Twenty years ago, Lady Brabazon, then Miss Norcote was, with one exception, the loveliest creature in existence.”

  “And who might be the exception?” enquired Trussell.

  “I am glad you have asked me,” replied Sir Singleton; “because it is a gratification to me to tell you that it was your sister Sophia — the mother of this young gentleman. Delicious creature that she was! She quite won my heart, Mr. Crew; and if she had not been insensible to my suit, I might have had the honor of being your father.”

  “The supposition is highly flattering,” replied Randulph, smiling.

  “It makes one melancholy to think of the beauties of by-gone days,” continued the old beau, sentimentally consoling himself at the same time with a pinch of snuff. “Not having seen the miser’s daughter, I cannot speak to her attractions; but Sir Bulkeley is a good judge, and his opinion may be relied on. To my taste, the prettiest woman of the day is Kitty Conway, the actress at the little theatre in the Haymarket.”

  “What, the fair Orinda, as she is called, from the part she played in the opera?” remarked Trussell. “She is certainly a vastly pretty creature. But you need scarcely sigh in vain there, Sir Singleton.”

  And thus they rattled on, till the beau, rising, said, “Mr. Cripps, tell Antoine I shall now make my toilette. How shall we spend the morning, gentlemen? At the Cockpit, the Groom Porter’s, the Cocoa-tree, or White’s?”

  “If you desire something new, sir,” observed Mr. Cripps, who lingered for a moment, “there is a grand musical entertainment this morning at the Folly on the Thames. I think you would be much diverted by going thither, ‘pon rep!”

  “A good suggestion!” cried the Beau. “I have often rowed past the Folly, but have never been inside it.”

  “Then don’t neglect the present opportunity of seeing it,” said Sir Singleton. “It used to be a pleasant place, when we were young fellows, Trussell. Many a fine woman we have seen there, eh?”

  “Many a one, many, Sir Singleton,” replied the other; “and made love to them too. I shall be glad to see the place again.”

  “The Folly be it, then,” cried the beau; “and some folks would say it was a proper place for us. Excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen. I will dress as rapidly as possible.” So saying, he retired behind the screen, which was drawn still further across the room. Not feeling much interest in the conversation which ensued after the beau’s withdrawal, Randulph arose to look at some exquisite miniatures and other articles of virtu scattered about the room, and was engaged in examining a magnificent snuff-box, when Mr. Cripps, who had returned from attending his master, came up to him, and said, in a low tone, “I am charged with a letter for you, sir. Here it is.”

  Randulph was prevented from making any remark by the significant looks of the valet, who, giving him to understand, by sundry winks and slight gestures, that his uncle was to know nothing of the matter, glided away. Glancing at the group at the table, the young man perceived that Trussell’s back was towards him, and that he was, moreover, occupied in recounting some jest to the others; he therefore moved nearer the window, broke the seal of the note, and read as follows: —

  “Young Man. — The letter committed to your charge by your mother, and which was of the last importance, though you appear to have attached so little to it, has fortunately reached its destination. Otherwise, the consequences might have been serious. It is necessary I should have an interview with you, and that without delay. I shall be in the south ambulatory of the cloisters of Westminster Abbey at six o’clock to-morrow, and shall expect you. Fail not in the appointment, as you regard your own safety and that of your Mother. Not a word of this to your Uncles, or to any one. The slightest imprudence will place you in jeopardy. Cordwell Firebras.”

  “Cordwell Firebras!” exclaimed Randulph, to himself. “Ay, now I remember, it was the name of the person to whom the missing letter was addressed. The whole affair is most mysterious; and the language of this note strange, and even alarming. I’ll question Mr. Cripps about it. But hold! I am desired not to mention the matter to my uncles, or to any one. Why should I observe the caution? And yet prudence tells me I had better do so. The note is dated yesterday. A few hours, therefore, will solve the riddle. I will keep the appointment.”

  As he uttered the last words, almost unconsciously aloud, and with some emphasis, he was startled by hearing a loud laugh behind him, and, turning at the sound, perceived Trussell’s round face peeping over his shoulder. He instantly crushed the letter between his fingers.

  “Nay, you had better let me see it,” laughed Trussell; “I overheard your exclamation. What fair dame has fallen in love with you, eh? Not the miser’s daughter, surely? And yet she is almost the only woman you can have seen. But I won’t ask impertinent questions, or make impertinent remarks. I see they annoy you. You are right to keep the secret, as well as the appointment. Ha! ha!”

  “You are mistaken, uncle!” cried Randulph, hastily; “my appointment is with—” and he checked himself.

  “Poh, poh! boy, no excuses with me,” interrupted Trussell. “Keep your own counsel. Fortunate dog! I was as lucky myself when I was as young. Ha! ha! But,” he added, with a look of some perplexity, “what Mercury brought you the billet?”

  “I did, sir,” interposed Mr. Cripps, who having observed what was going forward, flew to the rescue. “I was entrusted with it — by a lady, ahem! Your nephew makes his way rapidly, Mr. Trussell, ‘pon rep.”

  “So it appears,” rejoined Trussell, laughing louder than ever. “Myself over again — ha! ha!”

  Randulph was about to contradict the valet’s assertion, and set his uncle right, as far as he was able, but at this moment the screen was drawn aside, and discovered the beau fully dressed. He was habited in a coat of the finest scarlet cloth, richly embroidered with gold lace, a white waistcoat of the richest silk, flowered with gold in a large pattern, and a full-flowing flaxen periwig. On seeing his master, Mr. Cripps hastened to fetch his feathered hat and clouded cane, while the page brought him his hat and gloves. Antoine, the French servant who had assisted him to dress, then advanced with his handkerchief, which was of the finest cambric, edged with lace, and on which he poured a perfume from a scent bottle, while a fourth attendant handed him his snuff-box.

  “And now, gentlemen, I am at your service,” said the beau, carefully adjusting his hat. “Mr. Cripps you will attend us. We may need you at the Folly.”

  The favorite valet bowed, and opened the door of the anti-chamber. Mr. Villiers paused for a moment, to exchange a few words with the assemblage, — applauding the jockey for his success — announcing to the perfumer that he had just tried his scent, and woul
d accord him permission to put his name to it — commanding a court suit from the tailor — and nodding to Ned Oglethorpe, Captain Culpepper, and the fencing master. He then passed forth with his friends.

  The party first took a turn on the Mall. The morning being extremely fine, the walks were filled with a gay throng, as on the preceding day. Wherever they went, Beau Villiers drew all eyes upon him, and to Randulph’s amusement, and Trussell’s delight, they were followed by a crowd of curious gazers. Among those Randulph noticed the stranger whom he had met at the barber’s shop; but the latter did not seem to court his observation, and he soon afterwauls lost sight of him.

  Having sauntered as far as Buckingham House, the party returned their steps, and quitting the park, repaired to the Cockpit at Whitehall. Here Sir Bulkeley Price quitted them, having first engaged Randulph, and his uncle to dine with him at his house in St. James’s Square on the following day. A quarter of an hour was next whiled away at the Cockpit, after which they proceeded to the Groom-porter’s, whose rooms closely adjoined it, where even at that hour they found high play going forward. Beau Villiers, who was a desperate gamester, and seldom liked to miss an opportunity, approached the table where they were playing hazard, and in a short space of time came off the winner of a hundred pounds. Elated with his success, and in high good humour, he left the rooms, and repaired with his companions to Whitehall Stairs, where Mr. Cripps called a boat, in which they all embarked for the Folly.

  Randulph had detected the stranger among the crowd of lookers-on at the Groom-porter’s, and their boat had not got many yards from shore, when he observed him descend the stairs, and get into another wherry, with the intention, as it appeared from his gestures, of following them.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XI.

  The Miser’s Consultation with His Attorney — Jacob Alarmed by His Master’s Appearance at Night — The Visit of Cordwell Firebras.

  By the combined attention of his daughter and sister-in- law, the miser, after a little while, was restored to sensibility and placed in his chair, where the very glass of wine he had destined for Jacob being administered to him, mixed with hot water, completed his recovery. Still he was very weak; his gaze wandered from the heap of treasure on the floor to the mortgage deed on the table, and unable to hear the sight of the latter, he ordered Jacob to place the little strong box in which he usually kept his papers on the table, and unlocking it with a trembling hand, deposited the deed within it. This seemed to be a great relief to him, for he presently became more composed, and rising, with his daughter’s assistance, stepped towards the pile of moneybags, and tried, but ineffectually, to lift one of them.

  “Do not attempt it, father,” said Hilda, “You had better let Jacob carry this money into your own room; and let me also recommend you to retire to rest.”

  “No, no,” replied the miser; “I shall not sleep till I have counted the gold in each of those sacks; and if I find any deficiency, let Sir Bulkeley Price look to it. Take them up stairs, Jacob.”

  The injunction was promptly obeyed, and Jacob had just completed his task, when a knock was heard at the door.

  “Who can it be?” cried the miser. “Ah! now I recollect, it must be my attorney, Mr. Diggs. He was to call about the foreclosure. Curses on it! instead of being present at my triumph, he will witness my mortification. Jacob, if it should be Mr. Diggs, you may admit him, but no one else. Hilda, and sister Clinton, you had better retire to your own room. I have business to transact. You may as well say good night, for I shall go to bed as soon as Mr. Diggs leaves.”

  Hilda looked anxiously at her father, and kissed his brow.

  “Have you anything to say, child?” he asked, touched by her affection.

  “Only that I wish you would not count the money to night,” she replied, “You need rest.”

  “I shall sleep all the sounder for having counted it,” he replied, “especially,” he added, with great asperity, “if I find there is any mistake.”

  “Well, I hope you will be better to-morrow,” sighed Hilda. And she withdrew with her aunt.

  The next moment, Jacob ushered into the room a respectable-looking, middle-aged man, with smooth, rosy features, somewhat marred in their expression by what is termed a cocked eye. Indeed, no power of vision seemed to reside in the orb thus unnaturally fixed. This blemish excepted, Mr. Diggs — for he it was — might be said to have a prepossessing countenance, except that there were some lines of treachery about the mouth, and that the chin was very cunningly formed. He was plainly but handsomely attired in a dark suit, and had neither the air nor the manner of a pettifogging attorney, which indeed he was not. His voice was so agreeably modulated, that it fell almost like notes of music on the ear; and he had a very pleasing and very plausible address.

  “Well, sir, am I to congratulate you?” he said, as he took the chair offered him by Jacob “Do I pay my respects to a Welsh squire? Ha! ha!” But perceiving from the other’s countenance that something was wrong, he changed his tone, and added, “I hope you are well, sir. From what I had heard from your nephew, who has just left me, I expected to find you in high spirits.”

  The miser made no reply, but signed to Jacob to leave the room, which the latter did very reluctantly.

  “The mortgage money has been paid, Mr. Diggs,” said Mr. Scarve coldly, as soon as they were alone.

  “I am sorry to hear it,” replied the other; “but I feared as much from your countenance.”

  “Well, never mind it,” replied the miser, forcing a smile. “It is a disappointment, but I can bear it.”

  “I am glad you take the matter so philosophically sir,” rejoined Diggs, “but I confess I cannot view the loss with equal indifference.”

  “Why what interest, except professionally, can you feel in the matter,” said the miser coldly.

  “I take as much interest in the affairs of my clients as in my own,” rejoined Diggs; “and it so happens that you are not the only party who may suffer by this untoward and vexatious occurrence.”

  “Not the only party!” repeated the miser. “You perplex me.”

  “I will explain, sir,” returned Diggs. “Your nephew, as I told you, has just been with me. He spoke of his hopes of a union with your daughter, and of the settlement he proposed in case of such an event, to make upon her; and concluded by hoping that you would assign this very estate in Flintshire to her as a marriage portion.”

  “But I have it not, Diggs — I have it not!” cried the miser, pathetically.

  “So I am sorry to learn,” replied Diggs, “ — but,” and he slightly paused, as if calculating how far he could safely go— “you have the mortgage money.”

  “Mr. Diggs,” replied the miser, fixing his keen grey eyes upon the attorney— “I told my nephew, to-day that I would not give my daughter a farthing, and I am not one, as you know, to waver in my resolution. What settlement does Philip propose to make upon her?”

  “Nothing, sir,” replied Diggs, affecting to be a little hurt— “nothing, without a corresponding settlement on your part. Nor could I honestly advise him to do otherwise.”

  “Then the match is at an end,” rejoined Scarve, “and you may tell him so.”

  “I hope not, sir,” replied the attorney; “you are both good clients, and, having the interests of both sincerely at heart, I should like to see you more closely united. Your nephew would be a son to you, Mr. Scarve. He has a great regard, as well as profound respect, for you; and, having precisely the same careful habits as yourself, your property, will undergo no diminution, if it should ever come into his hands. I need not remind you of the large fortune he inherited from his father, whose will you have seen; but I may tell you, because I have no interdiction from him against so doing, that by the fortunate disposition of that money, by loans and otherwise, he has already added twenty thousand pounds to the amount, and, in a few years, if he is equally fortunate, there is no doubt he will double it.”

  “Philip is a very clever young man,
unquestionably,” said the miser, his eyes sparkling with pleasure: “there are few such.”

  “You may truly say so, sir,” replied Diggs; “and I should hesitate, if I were you, before I threw away the opportunity now offered of so good a match — one in all respects so accordant with your taste. You will at once perceive my meaning, sir, when I say that you would scarcely respect your nephew — certainly not give him credit for the prudence he possesses, — if he were to accept your daughter without some marriage portion. It is not that he wants the money, nor that he doubts your ultimate intentions respecting her; but he deems it right, as a matter of propriety and fairness, that a sum equal to his own should he given.”

  “And what amount does he propose to settle?” inquired the miser.

  “Twenty thousand pounds,” replied Diggs.

  “Hum!” exclaimed Scarve; and he continued for some time wrapped in thought, during which Diggs kept his single eye fixed upon him. “Well,” he said, at length, “all things considered, I am disposed to stretch a point, and to do more than I intended. I will behave handsomely to my nephew, who deserves to be so dealt with. He shall settle thirty thousand pounds — mind, thirty thousand, Diggs! — on my daughter; and I will give them fourteen thousand — the very sum I have just received from that accursed Welch baronet — on the day of the espousals.”

  “I cannot, of course, take upon me to answer for Mr. Frewin, sir,” replied Diggs, who could scarcely conceal his satisfaction; “but I hope and trust he will agree to the arrangement — indeed, I am pretty sure he will do so: he is devotedly attached to your daughter, and I am convinced he would make a sacrifice for her.”

  “He makes no sacrifice, sir,” cried Scarve, sharply; “none whatever.”

  “I mean merely in feeling, sir,” interrupted Diggs, in a deprecatory tone; “but since we have in a measure agreed upon the matter — for I will presume Mr. Frewin’s assent — I may add, it is his earnest wish that the marriage should take place as soon as possible.”