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Lord Spoonbill was not less disappointed thanthe Countess of Smatterton, to hear that Penelopewas in daily expectation of seeing her father.Hereditary legislators are sometimes perplexed,and in the present case the son of the Earl ofSmatterton was in a state of grievous doubt andagitation.

His object in the first instance had been totake Penelope under his protection, and he supposedthat if the correspondence between her[2]and Robert Darnley could be broken off, therewould be very little difficulty in inducing her tocomply with his proposals. For it was his intentionto make a most liberal settlement and toplace her in a very handsome establishment.Living as he had always in splendour, andenjoying the luxuries and ostentation of wealth,though accustomed to them from his birth, hethought, that to one educated in such humbleobscurity as Penelope had been, these fascinationswould be irresistible. During the shorttime that he had been under the same roof withher, he had seen and observed more of thecharacter of her mind, and he felt that it was notpersonal beauty alone that she possessed, butthat her disposition was kind and her temperbeautiful; and therefore he loved her with amuch purer regard than ever he had beforeentertained for any one of the sex. He loved herso much, in fact, that he absolutely regrettedthat her rank in life was not nearer to his own.

It now also occurred to him, from what he[3]had heard in the autumn, that it was veryprobable that Robert Darnley might be inEngland, and that through the intervention ofMr Primrose some explanation might bring theparties together again, and thus his lordship’shopes would be disappointed and his schemesfrustrated. Then there came into his lordship’smind the thought of the intercepted letters, andwith that thought the fear that a discovery mightbe made as to the manner in which, and theperson by whom, they had been intercepted.But that fear was transient, for his lordshipconfidently said to himself, “It is absolutelyimpossible that Nick Muggins should betrayme.” What could his lordship be thinkingabout when he uttered this soliloquy? Did theRight Honorable Lord Spoonbill think that theprinciple of honor was stronger in the mind ofNick Muggins, the Smatterton post-boy, than itwas in his own Right Honorable self? Wherein,did his lordship imagine, consisted the essential[4]superiority of the high born above the sons ofthe peasantry? Did his lordship imagine thatthe only difference was in titles and soft whitehands? It is not for us to know what lordsmay think, it is enough for us to gaze withwonderment on what they do.

Present circumstances and present feelingscompelled Lord Spoonbill to enter into seriousdeliberation with himself as to what step heshould pursue. He could not for a momentadmit the possibility of making an honorableoffer of his hand to the young lady; such aproposal would have been the death of the Earlof Smatterton. That offer, which his lordshipgravely called the other proposal, required alittle more circumlocution and management; forhis lordship was not quite so simple as not to beaware that, if making the first proposal was condescensionon his part, accepting the latter wouldbe condescension on the part of the lady. Therewas required for this purpose a tolerably strong[5]attachment to his lordship, which might not yetexist in the lady’s mind. And though LordSpoonbill was not by any means a man of greatunderstanding or extraordinary penetration, yetin those matters in which he was most conversanthe was not altogether unskilful. In pursuitsof a similar nature to the present, hislordship was by no means inexpert; but, in thepresent instance, he knew that the person inquestion was gifted with mental powers superiorto those which had belonged to his previousvictims, and his own regard for her was somewhatmore tender and respectful.

These considerations on the one hand told hislordship that success would be endangered byprecipitancy, while the fact that Mr Primrose, inthe course of a day or two, would make hisappearance, rendered it necessary that someimmediate steps should be taken. It is a greatpity that hereditary legislators, who are born togovern a nation, should in any case be incapableof legislating for themselves. Such a case now[6]occurred. Lord Spoonbill thought of calling tohis aid the counsel of a friend. For this purposehe forthwith ordered his horse for a morningride; and, after an unmercifully rapid gallop often miles, he dismounted at the door of one ofthe prettiest little cottages within twenty milesof London.

This cottage was almost secluded from thesight of the world, but was yet within reach oflife’s gaieties and luxuries. Its secludednesswas owing partly to the immensely thick plantationsby which it was hidden from the road, andpartly to the narrow and almost imperceptiblelane which led to it. The external appearanceof the plantation was rugged and uncultivatedand neglected; and this appearance was, onthe part of the owner and occupier of the place,cunningly intentional. He was a man who lovedseclusion, but who loved the world; but theworld which he loved was not the miscellaneousworld of promiscuous humanity; it was only theworld of select and superfastidious fashion, of[7]graceful gaiety and refined voluptuousness. Heloved society not as society, but as the meansof more intense and effective sensual gratification.Our readers, we trust, will excuse andaccompany us if we describe with very particularminuteness this very singular character. Hebelonged not to any class, or tribe, or generaldescription of men; for if he had, a few wordsof outline would suffice to state the class towhich he belonged, and imagination or observationmight supply the rest. But he was aperfect unique.

His personal appearance was striking, thoughnot marked by any decided or obvious singularity.He was tall and well formed, finelyproportioned and of graceful carriage. The topof his head was entirely and shiningly bald;his complexion was fair, and there was for themost part a look of good humour and easy gaietyin his countenance; but an attentive observermight occasionally perceive a transient cloudinessthat looked like disappointment, and there[8]were also visible traces of slight asperity andsymptoms of sneer and contemptuousness. Inhis dress he was fastidiously accurate and expensivelysplendid. He regarded fashion no fartherthan as it gave him an opportunity of exhibitinghimself to the greatest possible advantage.

Of the qualities of his mind it is difficult tospeak intelligibly. He was intellectual, thoughsensual; his reading was remarkably limited,and his knowledge as remarkably extensive. Hehad received the rudiments of his education atWestminster, and had finished his studies atCambridge, at which place he had become acquaintedwith Lord Spoonbill. But, notwithstandingall the opportunities which had beenafforded him, he had not made what is calledprogress in literature. He was perfect in nospecies of knowledge or science which is derivablefrom books. He had learned Greek, Latin,French, Italian and German, but he was familiarwith none of them. He had slightly attendedto the exact sciences, but he had forgotten of[9]them everything but their existence. He hadread ancient and modern history; his recollectionof them was little, but clear, and when he hadany occasion to speak of any of their facts or theirphilosophies, he generally spoke with accuracy,and thereby acquired a reputation, which he hadno wish or ambition to acquire, of being a wellread man. Few people speak Greek or Latin,and therefore our gentleman, not being examined,passed for a scholar. Everybody who pretendsto any degree of refinement or fashion, interslopshis own native language with an ungrammaticalnasal blattering, called quoting French; and ourgentleman had picked up enough of that affectedtrumpery to pass well in the society which heoccasionally frequented. With how small aportion of real literature and actual knowledgea man may pass muster in society, is only knownto those who love the reputation of scholarshipbetter than its toils.

The gentleman of whom we are speaking wastoo politic to trouble himself about politics. His[10]politics, if the theory of such an indolent onemay be called by that name, were Ascendancypolitics. Those are the best subjects who nevertrouble their heads about politics: if we wereking we should always encourage and patronizesuch people. The tame negroes in the WestIndia islands do not trouble their heads aboutpolitics, nor do the subjects of the Emperor ofMorocco, or the King of Persia, for if they did,their heads would soon cease to trouble them.The people of the United States do trouble theirheads, but the time may come when there maybe in that part of the world a great multitudewho will not trouble their heads about politics;it will then be a much pleasanter thing to beking of America than it would now. But whilewe say that our gentleman was indifferent topolitics, and therefore a good subject, we by nomeans wish it to be understood that he was aTory, for Tories do trouble their heads aboutpolitics, and trouble other people’s heads too.

This person eschewed partisanship, because it[11]would give him trouble to belong to a party.His principle was to possess and enjoy animallyevery luxury within his reach; but at the sametime to avoid those excesses which are palpablyand obviously ruinous to the constitution. Hehad made the experiment for very few years, buthe began to find thus early that the experimentwas not likely to succeed. For want of exertionand activity the keenness of his relish hadalready begun to abate; and by carefully extractingthe bitter ingredients from life’s cup andcasting them away, he found that its sweetswere sickening and saturating. Whatever wasannoying to mind or body, he endeavoured, andin most cases successfully, to avoid. But therewas gradually and surely coming upon him thebitterest of all annoyances; that kind of mentalsuffering which is only describable in the languageof paradox, and which we will set downfor the purpose of giving the purblind puppiesof criticism something to yelp at. He was thenbeginning to feel the bitterness of sweetness, the[12]darkness of light, the discord of harmony, thesolitude of society, the weariness of rest, thedeformity of beauty; but he knew not howand from whence this annoyance was comingupon him. He had felt that sensibility waspainful, and he had suppressed or neutralized it;he avoided the sight or thought of suffering, forhe felt that sympathy with pain was painful.He had not exercised the powers of his mind, lestthat exercise should interfere with that system ofluxurious enjoyment which he had adopted.He had despised and derided the moral feeling,and had studiously guarded himself against allreproofs which conscience might administer tohim. But with all this care he experiencedfeelings far more oppressive than those againstwhich he guarded.

Now the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill wasalso a man of no mental exertion, but he wasa man of no mental power; he also was sensual,but his was not a deliberate and studied sensuality,it was purely animal and instinctive.[13]He was an Epicurean, but not an Epicureanphilosopher. At Cambridge he had been acquaintedwith this Mr Erpingham, and he hadadmired the dextrous sophistry by which thisgentleman had proved the worse to be the bettercause. Mr Erpingham had also been proud ofthe acquaintance with nobility, though LordSpoonbill was a younger man than he. Andthey had become the confidents and companionsof each others profligacies.

In a difficulty therefore of that kind to whichwe have above alluded, it is not to be wonderedat that his lordship should enter into consultation,or at least into conversation, concerningthe subject with his good friend Erpingham.

We would not, however, have our readersimagine that Lord Spoonbill was quite such aninny as to make it the subject of deliberateconsultation and express enquiry, to learn whathe ought to do on the present occasion; hemerely meant to make a call upon his friend,and he was prompted to make that call by the[14]circumstances in which he was then placed withregard to Penelope Primrose. His object wasto talk the matter over, and he certainly couldnot have selected a properer person to take partin such conversation.

The two friends had not met for some time; theinterview was agreeable therefore to both parties;for they had a great mutual respect for each other:Lord Spoonbill admired Mr Erpingham’s talents,and Mr Erpingham had a high respect for LordSpoonbill’s title and high connexions.

CHAPTER II.

Lord Spoonbill was ushered into an apartment,the air of which was warm and fragrant:the warmth came from Newcastle, and thefragrancy from Bond street. At first enteringthe room his lordship saw not any one to whomhis name could have been announced. Theservant who had opened the door for him closedit immediately behind him, and he seemed tobe in an empty apartment. By an instinctnatural to an Englishman he advanced towardsthe fire-place, and there he presently saw on asofa, the back of which was towards the door,his friend Erpingham reclining at full length,and having before him an open volume placed[16]on a low table, which had been constructed andadapted for reading on a sofa. This was whatErpingham called “reading made easy.”

His lordship expressed by his looks some surprisethat his friend should not rise from thesofa, and said, “Erpingham! are you unwell?”

“Ah! Spoonbill, is it you? Excuse my notrising to receive you; but the fact is, I havebeen trying for the last hour and a half to getinto an easy position, and I have but just accomplishedit, and if I move now I shall not beable to recover the position, and you know howwretched that sensation is. Well, how are theold materials?”

This last question referred to the health ofthe Earl and Countess of Smatterton; and itwas a phrase which Erpingham had learnedfrom Lord Spoonbill himself.

To this question Lord Spoonbill made theregular response, and continued,[17] “How is it,Erpingham, that I never have the pleasure ofseeing you unless I ride over to you?”

“Can’t say,” was the careless reply: “but,”continued the Epicurean, “I am not partial tomixed company. Now your house in town is toomultitudinous for me.—But my Clarissa tellsme that the Countess of Smatterton is goingto astonish the whole world by introducing anew first-rate voice.”

For explanation, it may be enough to informthe reader that Clarissa held the same place inMr Erpingham’s establishment as Lord Spoonbillwished Penelope to hold in his. His lordshiptherefore was not sorry that the subjectshould be thus introduced, and he replied:

“Exactly so. But we have our doubts whetherthe lady will, under present circumstances,assent to the arrangement: for when she cameto London, it was as an orphan, but now herfather has returned from India after a long, and,I suppose, a profitable absence. Mr Primrose,the father, is now on his way from Smatterton,and he has said in his letter to his daughter,that he is about to place her in a home of hisown. So I fear we shall lose this star.”

Mr Erpingham did not lay anything verymuch to heart, and therefore he did not expressany serious lamentation on this probable loss.He directed his remarks to other matters; andamong other questions which he asked of LordSpoonbill, alluding to the circumstances andevents of his lordship’s life, he enquired: “Andhave you got rid of your dear little Ellen at last?You had a great deal of trouble with her, I thinkyou told me some time ago.”

Lord Spoonbill was quite as profligate as hiselegant friend, but he had not so successfullyand completely neutralized all his feelings.Though his profligacy therefore was coarserthan that of Erpingham, and though his lordshipwas not over gifted with sensibility, yethe was not so entirely and systematically heartless.To this question concerning poor Ellenhe shook his head, and said:

“Why, yes; I was sorry for the poor thingtoo: she was very much in love with me atone time, I really believe.”

“Ay,” replied Erpingham, “that was bad.It is quite annoying to have a woman in lovewith one. I could not endure it. I makeit a rule never to encourage anything of thekind. You were too much addicted to sentimentalitywhen you were at Cambridge. I suspectnow that you are more than half in lovewith this Miss Primrose. Is she pretty andsilly?”

“Oh, well,” replied his friend, “I have nowish to be in your confidence. Pray don’t tellme any more of your secrets than you wishme to know. And if you are going to talk asmuch nonsense to me about Miss Primrose asyou did two years ago about your ‘dear littleEllen,’ I must beg to be excused. Positively,Spoonbill, I have grown quite nervous of late.”

“I think,” replied his lordship, “you havegrown quite provoking. I have no intention ofboring your ears with any sentimentality, as youare pleased to call it.”

This being uttered in a petulant tone, andErpingham not liking to take the trouble ofreplying in the same tone, contented himselfwith indolently saying:

“Well, well, don’t be angry. Say what youplease. I will bear it very patiently.”

Lord Spoonbill having but little time tospare, and being very desirous of unburtheninghis mind to his friend, suffered this kind ofcareless half-apology to extract from him thesecret of his attachment to Penelope. Erpinghamlistened as attentively as he could to thestory, and when it was finished he yawned out,“Ah! sure! But what assistance can I giveyou?”

It was not very easy to answer that question.His lordship was more disposed indeed to askquestions than answer them, and therefore, in[21]steadof replying to the question of his friend,he said: “Now what would you advise me todo?”

“Make her an offer of a handsome establishment.I suppose she is violently in lovewith you.”

“I cannot be quite sure of that,” replied hislordship; “but I believe I am not quite disagreeableto her.”

“There is something in that,” replied Erpingham;“but not much. According to your accountof this Miss Primrose, it should seemthat she is of a good family, and perhaps thearrangement that you contemplate would not beacceded to.”

“That,” answered his lordship, “is what Imost fear; and I will acknowledge to you thatI am so far in love, that rather than lose herI would actually marry her.”

“Marry her,” exclaimed the Epicurean;“marry her! Impossible!” Saying this, Erpinghamroused himself from his indolent loung[22]ingposture, and with much greater energy thanhe was accustomed to use, he said: “Spoonbill,I am not much in the habit of either giving ortaking advice, but I will for once so far adviseyou as to say, that if you contemplate marryingMiss Primrose, you must not on any accountwhatever make her any other offer.”

“Why so!” echoed his friend;[23] “because, ifthe young lady has a proper sense of her owndignity, she will not accept an offer of marriagefrom one who has made her an offer of anotherdescription; and if she has not that sense ofdignity, but merely makes a profitable marketof your passion for her, she will despise you fora fond fool, and you, when your fondness isover, will look upon her as a cunning, artfulbaggage. I know nothing about Miss Primrose;but I am very sure that no woman is fit to bea wife who could ever forgive a proposal of adifferent description.”

The sagacious hereditary legislator could notunderstand this logic, and he stared at his friendas if he thought that he was crazy. “Blessmy soul, Erpingham,” at length he said, “whatnonsense you are talking. I really cannot understandyou. What can be more natural andregular than to offer her marriage, if she willnot accept me on any other terms. You talkabout hating sentimentality; I am sure youare now talking as much sentimentality as anyone need wish to hear.”

Erpingham had exerted himself so much bythe two last speeches which he had made, asnot to wish to continue the discussion, or toundergo any more blundering interrogations fromhis noble friend; he therefore began to resumehis indolent attitude, and said, “Well, do asyou like best, Spoonbill, only remember I didnot refuse my advice when you asked it. Willyou stop now and take your dinner with me?”

Lord Spoonbill was not any more disposedthan his friend to carry on the discourse, and[24]therefore declined the invitation to dine, andmade the best of his way home again. As herode homewards he attempted to think, but hefound no small difficulty in that mental operation.There are some advertising schoolmasters whoprofess to teach their pupils to think; but aswe were not educated in one of these thought-mongeringseminaries, we cannot think howthinking can be taught. It may be possible,for the only impossibility in these days is todecide à priori that anything is impossible.But we do verily believe that, had Lord Spoonbillbeen at one of these establishments, hewould have puzzled his preceptor as much ashis preceptor would have puzzled him.

By the time that his lordship had arrived athome he had come to the conclusion of histhinking, and the result was, that he thoughtErpingham to be quite an altered man; andhe also thought that he would not follow theridiculous advice which his friend had givenhim.

Penelope made her appearance at dinner, andlooked, as Lord Spoonbill said, most divinely.How Lord Spoonbill should know what divinelooks are, we cannot tell: perhaps he meantthat Penelope looked like a parson. HoweverPenelope might look at dinner, it is very certainthat Lord Spoonbill looked very much at Penelope.But the young lady’s thoughts were sopleasingly and agreeably engaged, and her anticipationswere so delightful, that everybodyand everything appeared agreeable to her. Itwas very different with the Countess of Smatterton.Her anticipations were not very pleasant:her ladyship apprehended that the return ofMr Primrose to England would be the destructionof her prospects, as far as they related toMiss Primrose. Having already observed thatthe young lady had manifested some reluctanceto the public exhibition of her musical talents,the Countess very naturally supposed that MrPrimrose would indulge an only child in whateverfancy she might take up.

It was unfortunate also for the Countess, thatshe could not easily suppress her feelings ofdispleasure or dissatisfaction when any of herfavourite fancies were disappointed. Havingalready so far committed herself among her rivalprodigy-fanciers as to make a kind of preliminaryexhibition of her newly discovered wonder,her ladyship felt that it would be very mortifyingindeed to make her appearance in townwithout fulfilling the high promises which shehad made, and gratifying the expectations whichshe had raised.

It is mortifying to spend money for nothing;but it is infinitely more mortifying to be at theexpense of a prodigious deal of condescensionto answer at last no good or self-gratifyingend. This was the loss and the mortificationwhich the Countess of Smatterton now suffered,or at least anticipated. Instead therefore ofthe usual courteous manner which her ladyshiphad hitherto manifested towards the nieceof the late rector of Smatterton, there was cold[27]ness,haughtiness, and silence. The Earl ofSmatterton had not so quick a perception asthe Countess, and he had not anticipated anydisappointment in the return of Penelope’sfather to England. His lordship still continuedto sport the condescensions, and he didnot take any notice whatever of her ladyship’sfit of ill-humour. When stupid men are henpeckedthey often receive more pity than theyneed, for they are very frequently insensibleto many of the ill-humours of their mates.

Now, as the Countess was silent, an opportunitywas offered for his lordship to talk.Happy would it be if all married people wouldtalk only one at a time.

“And so, Miss Primrose,” thus spake theEarl of Smatterton, “I find that you expectshortly to see your father. It is a long while,I think, since you have seen him?”

“Sixteen years!” repeated his lordship:[28] “youwill hardly recollect him. The meeting, I daresay, will be very interesting. And may I ask,what time in the day you expect your father?”

“I fear it will be late in the day, my lord,for my father will not arrive in London tilltwelve or one o’clock. His letter tells me thathe will call soon after that time at your lordship’shouse in town, where he supposes I nowam.”

There was much truth in this last remark ofhis lordship’s. The Earl was somewhat remarkablefor the intense and unquestionable truth ofmany of his remarks. He was by no meansgiven to what is called romancing. Indeed,so exquisitely and unquestionably true was thisobservation, that Penelope thought it needednot the corroboration of her assent, but that itmust carry conviction to every mind. And soit did; and especially to the mind of the Countess,who immediately observed:[29] “Perhaps itmay be agreeable to Miss Primrose to go totown early to-morrow morning for the purposeof meeting her father.”

Her ladyship made this proposal because shehad no desire to entertain Mr Primrose, andshe thought that if Penelope was to be takenfrom her patronage at all, the sooner it wasdone the better. What prodigious lies patronsand patronesses do tell when they profess tohave no other object in view than the welfareand happiness of those whom they patronise.The Countess of Smatterton had been pleasingherself with the thought that she should bethe talk of the season, as producing and exhibitingsuch a prodigy as Miss Primrose; andher ladyship, who was very partial to thanks,had been enjoying the anticipation of Penelope’soverpowering gratitude for such distinguishedand desirable patronage. But when all thesepleasant and agreeable speculations seemed toburst like a bubble, then was her ladyship veryangry and morose; and it was her wish to let[30]Penelope know how deeply the disappointmentwas felt. There were no words however whichher ladyship could use expressive of her feelings,and at the same time reproachful to MissPrimrose. It was not Penelope’s fault that herfather, after an absence of sixteen years, wasnow returned to England; nor would it havebeen proper and just ground of rebuke that theyoung lady should be pleased at the thought ofseeing her father again, and be ready to yieldherself to his direction in preference to undergoingthe precarious patronage of the great.

Lady Smatterton was not the less ill-humouredbecause she had no just ground on which shemight utter the language of expostulation andreproof to Penelope, but on the contrary heranger was greater: for had there been an opportunityof indulging in language of reproach,that very circumstance would have been a reliefand consolation. It was not therefore with avery agreeable intonation nor with the accompanimentof the most gracious of all possible[31]looks that her ladyship proposed that Penelopeshould go to town to meet her father. But thepoor girl being happy in her own thoughts, andunconscious of anything done or said by herthat could be offensive to the Countess, wasquite unobservant of the harshness of her ladyship’smanner, and thought only of the substantialkindness of the proposal. To the suggestionof the Countess Penelope thereforereplied with grateful and pleasurable vivacity:

“Your ladyship is extremely kind; and, ifit is not giving too much trouble, I should certainlybe happy to take the earliest opportunityof meeting my father.”

“It will be giving no trouble,” hastily andsharply replied her ladyship; “there are coachesto town almost every hour. They will tell youin the housekeeper’s room what time the firstcoach goes.”

Some high-spirited young ladies would havebeen mightily indignant at a reference from anobleman’s table to the housekeeper’s room[32]and stage-coaches. But Penelope was not sohigh-spirited; she was so completely occupiedwith the thought of an early meeting with herfather, that nothing else was able to obtain possessionof her mind.

A momentary pause followed the last observationof the Countess; and then, in his ownpeculiarly majestic manner, the Earl of Smattertonsaid, “I am of opinion that it is not quiteproper and suitable for a young lady to travelin a stage alone and unprotected.”

With exquisite, and as if premeditated,promptitude Lord Spoonbill replied, “Certainlynot; but there will be no necessity forMiss Primrose going alone or in the stage-coachat all. I shall drive up to town tomorrowmorning, and if the young lady will accept ofa seat in my gig, I shall be most happy in hercompany.”

Hereupon a general family frowning tookplace. The Countess frowned at the Earl, hislordship frowned at Lord Spoonbill, and Lord[33]Spoonbill frowned at the Countess; and if Penelopehad not been too polite she would havelaughed at all three. Lord Spoonbill, however,in spite of frowns, determined to have his ownway, and seeing that Penelope was desirous ofgoing to town, insisted on accompanying her.

The Countess was next puzzled how to partwith Miss Primrose; whether as concluding thatthe young lady would not return to her andadopt the profession which had been recommendedby her ladyship, or as admitting theprobability that Mr Primrose would not objectto the public employment of his daughter’smusical talents. For with all her ladyship’salarm at the return of Mr Primrose to England,it had not yet appeared that his return wouldinterfere with her ladyship’s schemes. The probabilityhowever was, that when there was nopecuniary necessity for the exercise of thesetalents, they would not be cultivated for publicdisplay.

Before the Countess parted from Penelope for[34]the night, her ladyship said, “Miss Primrose,as I presume that your father may not objectto the profession which I have chosen for you,may I ask when it will be convenient for youto take lessons previous to your public appearance:for it is now time to think of that matter?Of course you know that I have engaged a preceptorfor you?”

The Countess ofSmatterton had more fearsthan hopes on the subject, and as for Penelopeherself, she had taken it for granted that thereturn of her father would of course release herfrom dependence on strangers, and consequentlyrender all professional employment unnecessary.She was therefore startled at the question, butwith tolerable promptitude and presence of mind,replied:

“I am grateful for your ladyship’s kindness.But, till I have seen my father, it is impossibleto say when I can begin to apply myself to theinstruction so kindly provided. I will returnas soon as——”

The Countess understood this sentence, andanswered with rather more asperity than becamea kind and condescending patron: “Youneed not trouble yourself to return to me, MissPrimrose, unless you please to accept of theinstruction that I have provided for you. If Iconfer favours I expect to choose what favoursI shall confer.”

Penelope made no reply, for her heart wasfull, and she thought of Mrs Greendale; but,under all this, the joy at the thought of herfather’s return kept her spirits from sinking.

CHAPTER III.

It was a very fine morning when Lord Spoonbill’sgig was brought to the door to conveyPenelope to London. The young lady was joyfuleven to tears. Hers was a joy of such intoxicatingand almost bewildering nature, thatit became necessary for her to exercise somerestraint over herself, lest she should make herselfridiculous by ungoverned prating. LordSpoonbill was also pleased with the commissionwhich he had given to himself, to conduct theyoung lady to town. But his pleasure wasmingled with thoughtfulness, and alloyed bymeditating and contriving. He not been inexperiencedin the winning of female affection,[37]but he was conscious that there was in the mindof Penelope something widely different from andfar superior to those with whom his former intimacieshad been.

Deeply and seriously did he endeavour torevolve in his mind the advice which he hadreceived from his friend Erpingham. But hislordship’s mind was unfortunately too narrowand contracted to afford room for anything toturn round in it. He tried and tried, but allto no purpose, to understand what Erpinghamcould possibly mean, when he said that awoman is not fit for a wife who can forgivean offer of a different description. His lordship,on the contrary, thought that a woman is notfit for a wife who is of an unforgiving disposition.

So far indeed as his lordship’s own personalfeelings were concerned he would have had noobjection whatever to offer his hand to MissPrimrose; an offer which he thought of coursecould not possibly be rejected. But then again[38]he thought of his dignity; and he rememberedhow very severely he had spoken, and how verycontemptibly he had thought, of some titled individualswho had so far compromised their dignityas to marry from the lower orders. Yet therewas something so elegant and so naturally noblein Penelope’s look, manner, expression, tone ofvoice, carriage and person, that nature itselfseemed to have ennobled her. She seemed fittedfor any station in society. This was all verytrue; but Lord Spoonbill could not for all thisreconcile his mind to the thought of raising MissPrimrose to the exalted rank of the Spoonbillfamily. He was fearful too that the degradationwould break his mother’s heart. All thesethoughts, if thoughts they might be called, withmyriads more of the same complexion and tendency,passed through the mind, if mind he hadany, of the son and heir of the Right Honorablethe Earl of Smatterton.

We have said it was a fine morning, and iftwo of the English nation can on such a morning[39]travel together without talking about the finenessof the weather, when it is really fine, they aretwo that we have never seen, heard, or read of.

“We have a beautiful morning for our ride,Miss Primrose,” said Lord Spoonbill.

“Beautiful, indeed,” replied Penelope; andshe said it with such energy, with such heart-boundingglee, as if the sun had never shewn herits cloudless face before. And never indeed hadit shone so brightly before to her. There issomething peculiarly and positively beautiful ina fine bright day in the midst of winter. Theshortness of its light adds to its intensity andcondenses its interest. But when there is sunshinewithin as well as without, and when theheart is young, pure, hopeful and buoyant, thenis there felt a revelry of delight, a wantonness ofhappiness. So felt Penelope on this bright andbrilliant winter’s morning. And when there wasadded to the joyous feeling within and to theeffect of the spirit-stirring anticipation withwhich she set out on her journey, the bracing[40]and sharpening of an almost frosty air, her finecountenance was suffused with as brilliant a hueas ever graced the human countenance. As faras life excels the art of the sculptor, so far didthe countenance of Penelope on this morning’sjourney excel in brightness and beauty itsordinary expression. “We are not stocks andstones.” So thought Lord Spoonbill when hegazed on the lovely one who sat beside him. Healmost felt the majesty of loveliness, and wasalmost awed into reverence.

And did not the thought then occur to hislordship, that the scheme which he was meditatingmust of necessity destroy that peace, thathappiness, that purity, which now formed solovely and interesting a picture? Did not somerecollection of beauty prematurely fading, of theburning blushes of self-reproach, of the convulsivethrobbings of breaking hearts, of memoryburdened and writhing under the agony ofthoughts it cannot bear and cannot forget, comeinto the mind of the Right Honorable Lord[41]Spoonbill? Did he not recollect poor Ellen,lovely in her simplicity, happy in her innocence,the light of her home and the joy of herwidowed mother’s heart? And did he not thinkof that same Ellen dropping the tears of agonizingpenitence on that mother’s dying pillow,and wandering now, for aught he knew to thecontrary, a houseless, shivering, desolate outcast?

No such thoughts entered his mind. Selfishnessand sensuality predominated over, or excludedall other feelings. He used all the art ofwhich he was master to render himself agreeableto his companion during their short journey. Healso exerted all his power of observation to seewhether any symptoms betrayed an interest inhim on the part of Penelope. But in the brightnessof her looks, and the joyousness of herfeatures, no other emotions were visible and noother thoughts could be read. His lordshipwas convinced that he could not possibly livewithout her, and he resolved that at all events he[42]would make known his admiration by wordsas well as by looks. Like all the rest of theworld, preferring his own judgment to the adviceof any other, he determined that the offer ofmarriage should be reserved till he should ascertainthat no other was likely to succeed.

The journey was soon over. They arrived atthe Earl of Smatterton’s town mansion full twohours before it was likely that Mr Primroseshould be in town. Ten thousand thanks weregiven by the grateful Penelope for the kindnessof his lordship, and unnumbered acknowledgmentsof the goodness and condescension of theEarl and Countess of Smatterton. Such werethe joyous feelings of the young lady, that thesethanks and acknowledgments were expressedwith unusual earnestness and warmth of manner;and such was the modesty of Lord Spoonbill,that for himself and for his right honorableparents he disclaimed all right and title to sucha profusion of thanks.

“I beg, Miss Primrose,” said his modest lord[43]ship,“that you will not so overwhelm us withyour thanks. We are but too happy in havinghad it in our power to afford you any little accommodation.”

“Oh my lord, you are very kind, very kind.But I am almost afraid that I have said or donesomething to offend her ladyship, the Countess;for, when I took my leave last night, her ladyshipspoke to me as in anger. I fear I didwrong in so readily accepting the offer to cometo town to meet my father.”

To the ear of Lord Spoonbill there was somethingexceedingly graceful and musical in thetone with which this language was uttered. Thereis indeed an indescribable beauty in the accentsof a grateful mind fearful of having offendedits benefactor. His lordship was aware of hismother’s feelings on the subject of the probableloss of Penelope, and his lordship was himselfalso fearful of losing her. But he did not usethe language of harshness under that apprehen[44]sion,he sought rather to retain her by kindnessof expression. Assuming therefore an unusualtenderness and considerateness of manner, hetook the young lady’s hand, as if unconsciously,but in truth designedly, and holding the handwith sufficient firmness to prevent it being withdrawn,but not so as to excite suspicion orthought of intentional seriousness, he said:

“I am very sorry that anything which theCountess may have said, has given you uneasiness;but my mother has a peculiar earnestnessand hastiness of manner, that you have mistakenfor anger. No one can ever be offended withMiss Primrose.”

There was a little pause, during which LordSpoonbill endeavoured to catch a glance of theexpression of Penelope’s countenance, withoutappearing to make any particular observation;and, in this short pause, Penelope almost sighed.Lovers delight to hear sighs, and Lord Spoonbillwas especially pleased at this symptom of emo[45]tionin Miss Primrose. Retaining her handtherefore, and softening his tone down to deepertenderness, he continued:

“The Countess no doubt will be sorry to loseyou, if the return of your father necessarily involvesthat condition. But let us hope that maynot be the case.”

Having thus spoken, his lordship pressedthe young lady’s hand more emphatically, andsighed. Now, by rights, Penelope should at thishave started up, and suddenly withdrawing herhand, knitting her brows, advancing three stepsbackward and darting a look of indignation athis lordship, should have exclaimed, “Unhandme, my lord; what is the meaning of this language?”But Penelope neither did nor said anythingof the kind. For the word ‘unhand’ wasnot in her dictionary, and she had been too longacquainted with Lord Spoonbill to expect thathe should be able to explain the meaning of allhe said. There was also another reason why theyoung lady did not thus express indignation[46]and astonishment; namely, that having no suspicionof the views or intentions of his lordship,she did not observe or rightly interpret his languageand his sigh. In addition to this, it maybe also supposed that the expectation of herfather’s arrival had some influence in renderingher unobservant of everything else.

Emboldened by the unresisting manner inwhich Penelope listened to his conversation, hislordship proceeded to speak less equivocally,and grasping with both his hands the still unremovedhand of Penelope, and assuming a lookand tone of tenderness, he said:

“Pardon me, Miss Primrose, if I seize thisfirst and perhaps last opportunity of avowing howdearly I do love you.”

His lordship was about to say much more onthe same interesting topic, but Miss Primroseinterrupted him. The manner in which the interruptionwas given was rather singular, and didnot seem at all favorable to his lordship’s hopes.For, instead of looking serious and frowning and[47]attitudinizing, the young lady merely withdrewher hand, and said with a smile:

“My lord, I hope you are only jesting; butmy feelings are too much interested with thethought of presently meeting my father, to allowme now even to enter into the humour of ajest.”

Thereupon his lordship rose from his seat, laidhis hand upon his heart, and directed to MissPrimrose a look, which would, on the stage,have called down deafening plaudits from theback of the one shilling gallery to the front rowof the pit, and with indescribable earnestnessexclaimed, “By heavens, Miss Primrose, I amserious!”

To that declaration the young lady repliedseriously, “Then, my lord, I am very sorry tohear it.”

Thus speaking, Penelope went towards thewindow, leaving his lordship to think what heshould say next. The enamoured hereditarylegislator then, undaunted by the smiles or[48]frowns of Miss Primrose, followed the younglady to the window, and in less impassioned butmildly persuasive tones continued his address,saying:

“Then, my lord,” continued Penelope, “Imust be permitted to say that I feel very muchhurt and surprised at what you have alreadysaid. You have recalled to my mind thoughtsthat I would willingly have forgotten; this allusionwill suffice to let your lordship understandthe state of my feelings. I hope you will forbearthe unpleasant discussion. Indeed”—here hervoice was feebler, and her lip quivered, andthe full tear was in her eyes, and her whole frametrembled, but she did not look the less lovelyfor this emotion; summoning an effort, shecontinued, “For mercy’s sake, my lord, let me[49]meet my father as composedly as I possibly can.In less than an hour he will be here. Pray donot rob our meeting of its happiness.”

In saying this she threw herself into thenearest chair, and covering her face with herhandkerchief she sobbed and wept, and in spiteof herself thought of Robert Darnley. The RightHonorable Lord Spoonbill also sat down, andthought of Nick Muggins and the indescribablepony. But his lordship neither wept norblushed. We record this fact rather for its truththan its beauty. It seems indeed an encouragementto such sparks as, in their transgressions,sometimes feel remorse; for it is as much as tosay that, by practice, they will become so familiarizedwith meanness and cruelty as to cease tofeel ashamed of them.

His lordship for a few minutes was silent.But as soon as Penelope was a little more composed,he said;[50] “I am very much concerned,Miss Primrose, for the uneasiness which I haveoccasioned you, and so far from wishing tointerrupt the happiness of your meeting withyour father I will retire, that you may composeyourself. Only let me request that I may havethe honor of being introduced to Mr Primroseafter your first meeting is over.”

This was all very rational and proper, and thekind, considerate manner in which it was spokenpleased Penelope very much, and she made heracknowledgments for the kindness with somuch grace as to fascinate his lordship morethan ever. He thought he had never seen solovely and interesting a creature in his life. Heapologized for having introduced such a subjectso inopportunely, and attributed it solely to thefear that the arrival of her father might precludehim from speaking on the subject at a futuretime.

When the poor girl was left alone, it was noeasy matter for her to arrange her scatteredthoughts and to bring herself back to that stateof holiday extasy with which she had begun theday. Nor was much time afforded her for the[51]purpose; for, not many minutes after the departureof Lord Spoonbill, the arrival of MrPrimrose was announced. There seemed toPenelope to be scarcely any interval betweenhearing a carriage stop at the door, and findingherself embraced in the arms of her long lostfather.

Over a scene like this all modest dramatistswould drop the curtain, knowing that imaginationwould be rather impeded than assisted byfarther exhibition.

CHAPTER IV.

To continue that reference to the drama withwhich the preceding chapter was concluded, itmay be remarked that, when the curtain hasfallen thus abruptly on one scene, the spectatorsdo not anticipate that, on its being drawnup again, the eye should be greeted with anycontinuation of that scene; but rather do theylook for some great and decided transition. Ourreaders therefore will not now be surprised ifwe take them back again to Neverden andSmatterton. They are pleasant villages, andtheir inhabitants are for the most part unartificialpeople.

It is a fact worthy of notice, and we have no[53]doubt that our observant readers have alreadyremarked it, that all the personages in thosetwo villages of whom we have yet spoken, havehad that delectable and pleasing feeling of theirown importance, by which they have consideredthat the world has been under infinite obligationsto them. To have that feeling stronglyand genuinely, is a real happiness; and if therehas ever been any human being whom we haveenvied, it has been P. P., clerk of this parish,especially while he was writing his own memoirs.To endeavour to rob any one of this sense, iscruel, heart-rendingly cruel and barbarous; butfortunately for human happiness, this robberycannot easily be effected.

But though the good people of these villageshad this feeling in a very high and pure degree,yet it is not altogether confined to them; andif the Reverend Mr Darnley, in his vigintennialvisits to London, has been rather angry andoffended at the rude behaviour of the people in[54]the streets who have jostled and driven againsthim, without having the grace to move their hatsto him, that self-same Mr Darnley has in histurn inflicted upon a distinguished inhabitantof the great metropolis as serious a mortificationas his reverence experienced from metropolitanneglect.

We have introduced to our readers the Rev.Charles Pringle; we have now to introduce thatgentleman’s first-cousin, Zephaniah Pringle, Esq.This illustrious personage was not a native, buthad long been an inhabitant, of the great metropolis,and, according to his own view of thematter, a great ornament to it. He was a literaryman. He had been destined by his parentsfor agricultural pursuits, but his genius wasabove them. The circumstances, the trifling circumstances,which tend to develope the powersof the mind and to direct the energies into theirproper channel, are always worthy of notice.Everybody knows the story of Sir Isaac Newton[55]and the apple. But everybody does not know,but soon will know, the circumstances whichmade Zephaniah Pringle a critic.

When Zephaniah was about twelve years oldhe was taken to Smatterton by his father, whohad to make a call of business on Mr Kipperson.While Mr Pringle and Mr Kipperson wereengaged in looking at some cattle which thelatter had to dispose of, young Pringle wasgaping about in the library, and admiring withgreat veneration all its literary wonders; butthat which most powerfully arrested his attentionwas a plaister bust of Dr Johnson. Andwhen the agricultural gentlemen returned to thelibrary, Zephaniah, pointing to the bust, said,“Father, was that there thick-headed man aheathen philosopher?”

Mr Kipperson, who was pleased with theyoung gentleman’s manifestation of a taste forliterature and philosophy, kindly corrected themisapprehension of the youth, and said,[56] “No,my lad, the heathen philosophers did not wearwigs. That is a bust of Dr Johnson, the celebratedcritic and lexicographer.”

Zephaniah, with open mouth and expandedeyes, stared his thanks to Mr Kipperson, whoimmediately asked the young gentleman if hewas fond of reading. To which he replied in theaffirmative. Whereupon Mr Kipperson kindlylent the youth Boswell’s Life of Dr Johnson.

From that moment young Pringle felt anirresistible impulse to become a man of letters;and with a view to gratify that ambition, hisfather was kind enough to let him have anotherquarter’s Latin, in order to give him anopportunity to perfect himself in classical literature.

Thus qualified, the young man in due timewent up to London. In the great metropolishe soon divested himself of the rusticity of hismanners, and after some few failures in thefirst instance, for want of knowing the properknack of writing, he soon acquired a tolerablefacility, and absolutely once wrote something[57]that was talked about. From that moment henever saw two people talking together in abookseller’s shop, without fancying that theywere talking about Zephaniah Pringle.

He took great pains to imitate Dr Johnson;but his literary companions detected him andlaughed at him. He had but a slender frameand a slender voice; and when he attemptedthe oracular and the pompous style, it was likeplaying the Hallelujah Chorus on a fife. Hecould not adopt the doctor’s Jacobitism, buthe took instead of that a double extra super-Eldonhigh Toryism. And in religion, not thathe ever went to church, he was decidedly ofopinion that all dissenters and Roman Catholicswere convinced that the church of Englandwas the only true church, but that they wouldnot conform merely out of spite. It was hisopinion that the Duke of Wellington wouldnever have driven the French out of Spain,had he not always made a point of hearing allhis soldiers every day say the church catechism.

He had a praiseworthy and prodigious horrorof gymnastics; they came from Greece, andthe ancient Greeks were republicans. In hisnotion of mechanics’ institutes he was exceedinglyungrateful to Mr Kipperson, who patronizedhim and them too; and when Mr Kippersononce proposed to establish a mechanics’institute at Smatterton for the benefit of theagricultural operatives, this Zephaniah Pringlehad the impudence to write him a long letteron the subject, accusing him of a design tosubvert the established church, and convertEngland into a republic. Mr Kipperson gaveup the scheme, not because of this letter, butbecause, when he assembled the people of thevillage in one of his barns to read them alecture on hydrostatics, every soul of them fellfast asleep.

There was another subject on which Mr ZephaniahPringle had very strong opinions,—viz.West India slavery. He very properly laughedat the absurdity of supposing that negroes have[59]the slightest objection to be flogged to death;and he knew that the only object which theabolitionists had in view, wasto overturn theestablished church.

Mr Zephaniah Pringle had a most exquisiteconceit of his own superlative wisdom and penetration.This gentleman must have experiencedtherefore a sensation of great delightin taking his important self down to Smattertonto visit Mr Kipperson and surprise the natives.But how great must have been his astonishment,when introduced by Mr Kipperson at the rectoryof Neverden, to find that Mr Darnley the elderhad never heard of the name and fame of ZephaniahPringle. He consoled himself, however,with the reflection, that many other names greatas his own were equally unknown to this obscurevillage parson.

Finding that the young ladies of Mr Darnley’sfamily were addicted to reading, the critickindly administered his gratuitous and unaskedcommentaries on divers modern and ancientauthors. He astonished the daughters of the[60]rector of Neverden by opinions hitherto unheardand unthought of. The confidence of his mannerpassed for wisdom and decided apprehensionof the subjects on which he spoke; and as hetook care to let it be thoroughly understoodthat all who differed from him were fools, andas literary young ladies do not like to be consideredfools, they of course assented to ZephaniahPringle’s opinions on literary topics.

In his conversation with Mr Darnley theyounger he found that, by talking literature, hedid not seem to magnify himself to his heart’scontent; for Robert Darnley did not believe thatcritics were conjurors. The genius then hadrecourse to talk concerning those persons ofhigh style and dignity with whom he had thehonor to be acquainted. Among other greatnames, he mentioned that of Lord Smatterton,and the scarcely less illustrious name of LordSpoonbill.

“And pray what kind of man is this LordSpoonbill? for, though the family resides in thenext village, I am totally unacquainted withthem.”

“Lord Spoonbill himself is the best creaturein the world. The Earl of Smatterton is aproud, haughty man, like the rest of the Whigaristocracy.”

“I cannot say that Lord Spoonbill is altogetherwithout pride. He has very high notions;but his manner is not pompous like his father’s.And he can be very agreeable, though he is byno means a man of any great share of intellect.”

“I have heard him spoken of,” replied RobertDarnley, “as being a very profligate man.”

“I believe,” said the critic, “he is rathergay, but not more so than most young men ofhis rank. The finest joke in the world is, thathis father, the Earl of Smatterton, thinks thathe is one of the gravest and steadiest young menof the age, and quotes him as such accordingly.[62]But the fact is, that his lordship has lately takenunder his protection a lady, now received at LordSmatterton’s table.”

Robert Darnley could not believe his ownsenses. The language which he now heard fromZephaniah Pringle seemed to allude plainlyenough to Penelope, but it could not be possible,he thought, that a young lady of suchhigh and pure spirit as Miss Primrose couldever submit to an arrangement so truly humiliating.Suppressing and concealing his agitationas well as he could, he endeavoured toascertain from the man of letters what wasreally the fact concerning Lord Spoonbill andthis, as yet unnamed, young lady.

“Surely, Mr Pringle, you do not mean to saythat Lord Spoonbill has a lady in keeping, whomhe introduces to his father’s table? This is reallybeyond all credence.”

“But indeed, sir, I do mean it,” replied Zephaniahthe critic:[63] “and, if you have never heardthe story, I can tell you all the particulars.”

“It is no business of mine,” said Darnley,“but I do feel curious to know the particularsof so very singular a case, as a young manbringing a kept lady to his father’s own table.”

“It is not altogether so,” replied Mr Pringle;“but I will tell you exactly how the case stands;I know Spoonbill very intimately.”

This last expression was uttered as everybodywould naturally suppose such an expressionwould be uttered by such a man. Afterthoroughly enjoying the high and refined satisfactionof having said, “I know Spoonbillvery intimately,” the loyal and religious criticproceeded:

“You must remember old Greendale, therector of Smatterton, who was my cousin’s predecessorin the living. He died a very shorttime before you returned from India. This oldman had a very pretty niece, you know; youmust remember her, for I understand that shelived with old Dr Greendale from her infancy.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Darnley, with much[64]effort concealing the agitation which he felt;“I remember her very well, her name is Primrose;but you surely do not mean to say thatMiss Primrose is living under the protectionof Lord Spoonbill?”

Hereupon Mr Pringle did somewhat hesitateand say, “Why, why—I cannot exactly saythat—that she is absolutely living under hisprotection. She is rather living under the protectionof Lady Smatterton as yet. You perhapsmay not know that Miss Primrose has aremarkably fine voice, and is in fact a first-ratevocalist: now Lady Smatterton is a great patronessof musical talent, and has taken a fancyto bring Miss Primrose out this season as apublic singer, and Lord Spoonbill has madeproposals, which I believe have been acceptedby the lady; and she is to be under his lordship’sprotection as soon as she leaves LordSmatterton’s house, and that will be very soon.That is the true state of the case. I wonderyou have never heard of it before; for though[65]you have been from India a very short time, yetin country places intelligence flies very rapidly.”

“Well, you astonish me,” said Mr Darnleythe younger; “I could not have thought thata young lady, brought up by such an exemplaryand virtuous man as the late Dr Greendale,should ever condescend to live upon those termswith the first nobleman in the kingdom.”

“Oh, sir,” replied the knowing critic, “youdo not understand the heart, especially thefemale heart. There is something in title andsplendour so fascinating to the weaker sex,that few can resist its influence. I have observedand studied the human mind in all itsvarious attitudes, and I have lived in the worldlong enough to cease to be astonished at anythingI hear or see. In such an outlandishplace as India you see nothing and learn nothing.London is the only place where thehuman character can be thoroughly and properlystudied.”

Much more to the same purpose did the fluent[66]cousin of the new rector of Smatterton say tothe son of the rector of Neverden. But RobertDarnley heard him and heeded him not. Deeplydid the intelligence concerning Penelope sinkinto his mind, and painfully did he revolve theidle gossip of the loyal and religious critic,who had properly and thoroughly studied humannature, in his lodgings in Fetter lane, Holborn.

CHAPTER V.

The day which followed immediately afterthe above-mentioned conversation, was destinedfor a grand dinner party at the mansion of SirGeorge Aimwell, Bart. Preparations were madefor a splendid entertainment. It was not aneasy matter to get together a large party in thatneighbourhood without admitting to the tablesome individuals of dubious dignity. There was,for instance, the equivocal Mr Kipperson, atonce landlord and tenant, gentleman and farmer;but then he was so zealous a friend to theinterest of agriculture. He was so thoroughlyenlightened on the corn question, that thegreat men of Smatterton and Neverden could[68]not but respect him. Sir George Aimwell alsoliked Mr Kipperson, because he was a badshot, and had so ardent a zeal against poachers.

This party was assembled, among other objects,for the purpose of welcoming to England the sonof the rector of Neverden. But Robert Darnleywas by no means in spirits for the enjoyment offestivity. He was sorry for what he had heardfrom Zephaniah Pringle, and he was angry thathe was sorry, and then again sorry that he wasangry.

It had been unfortunate for him that therehad been such silence observed on the subjectof his correspondence and acquaintance withPenelope. Scarcely any one but the partiesconcerned knew anything of the matter. MrKipperson suspected it, and the Smattertonfamily had been informed of it by Mr Darnley,because the reverend gentleman thought it butrespectful to let them into the secret. As forSir George Aimwell, he scarcely knew or thoughtof anything, except administering justice and[69]killing birds. The Reverend Charles Pringle,rector of Smatterton, was also quite unaware ofthe existence of any correspondence betweenRobert Darnley and Penelope Primrose. Nowonder then that, under the present awkwardcircumstances, and with the false account whichZephaniah, the critic, had brought from London,there should be in the hearing of Robert Darnleymuch conversation by no means agreeableto his feelings, or soothing to his mind.

When the party began to assemble they beganalso to talk: but at the first their talk was verydesultory and common-place. The worthy baronetwas congratulated by Mr Kipperson onhaving caught a poacher, and was condoled withby the same gentleman on having lost almosthis whole brood of pheasants. It is astonishingthat any one can be so simple as not to seethat pheasants were obviously created to be shotby gentlemen and noblemen only, or their gamekeepers.There was also much talk about horsesand dogs, and the poor-rates, and Mr Malthus,[70]and parish settlements, and the agricultural interest.

It is very erroneously stated by many persons,both in writing and in speaking, that the periodbetween the first arrival of the company and theserving up of the dinner is most weary, stale,flat and unprofitable. But as there is no spotof earth so barren as not to produce some curiosityto reward the toil and gratify the tasteof the botanist, so there is no attitude or conditionof our being which may not yield somefruit of instruction and amusement to the moralbotanist. We deserve the thanks of our readersfor much that we communicate in the way ofinformation and amusement, but perhaps fornothing so much as for directing their attentionto the great and valuable truth, that even theusually-considered dreary half hour before dinneris not absolutely barren and worthless. Peradventurealso, by directing the attention to thismatter, we may prevent many a dinner frombeing spoiled, because we thus present a strong[71]inducement to an early arrival. He that arrivesfirst is pretty certain that the rest of the companycan have no opportunity of pulling hischaracter to pieces behind his back. For whenthe host expresses to the rest of his party hiswonder that Mr Smith is not come, then thegood people who are hungry and impatient beginto talk about Mr Smith, and they use himungently, treating his transgressions with nocandour, and honoring his virtues with no encomium.There is also something very curious inobserving the different effects which dining produceson different persons. Some will enterthe drawing-room brimfull of intelligence, tellingeverybody everything that everybody knows, andnobody cares about. There are people who entertainthe strange notion that tongues weremade to talk about mere matters of fact; andwhen they have said their say, they are silentfor the rest of the evening. There are againothers who, before dinner, look as wise and asstupid as owls; who seem at a most painful loss[72]what to do with their hands, or their feet, ortheir eyes; who having no motive to look atone object in the room more than at another,let their eyes roll unmeaningly and incessantlyabout as if they were endeavouring to keep themopen without looking at anything. But whenthese apparently inanimate imitations of ChineseMandarins have had their dinner, their looks arebrightened and their tongues loosened, and asbefore dinner they seemed as if they were wishingmost ardently for an opportunity to simperat something which might be said by another,they after dinner give forth that which interestsand delights. The period before dinner is alsoone of great importance for the exhibition ofpersonal decoration. Then, and then only, hasdress its right display, and its full complementof observers. In this brief digression it is impossibleto enter into one half, or one twentiethof the particulars which may interest and delightan observant mind. “Sermons in stones andgood in everything,” is one of the most true[73]and most valuable expressions which the pen ofShakspeare ever wrote. But to proceed.

There was, as we have said above, much miscellaneoustalk before dinner at this “grandmiscellaneous” entertainment, given by SirGeorge Aimwell. Mr Kipperson strutted aboutthe room with his hands in his pockets, lookingas wise as a conjuror and as pleased as Punch,saying something scientific or agricultural toevery one there. The Reverend Charles Pringlemade his appearance also time enough to showthe company how possible it was to violate thedecorum of clerical attire without actually transgressingthe literal regulations. Lady Aimwellreceived much of that gentleman’s polite attention;and the daughters of Mr Darnley werealso not unnoticed. The new rector of Smattertonwas very clever at conundrums, some newones of his own making were graciously communicatedto the young ladies. Zephaniah Pringle,the critic, was pleased to look very important,and to feel his dignity and intellectuality mightily[74]hurt, because the talk, such as it was, had nointerest for him. He was much at a loss tothink how it was possible for human beings totake an interest in such unintellectual thingsas corn, cattle, game and poor-laws; and hethought the people were great blockheads becausethey talked about what concerned themselves.Robert Darnley received the congratulationsof his friends; but he received them coldly,for his mind was not at ease.

Now after much talk, miscellaneous and desultory,several of the party, while yet they werewaiting for dinner, congregated together at oneof the windows, and their talk was almost inwhispers. Zephaniah Pringle was one of thatselect committee, and he was speaking verygravely and very knowingly, and Sir GeorgeAimwell was looking as much as to say, “I amvery sorry for it.” Mr Darnley the elder wasalso one of the whispering group, and lookedas serious and solemn as any one of them; andevery now and then he turned his eyes suspi[75]ciouslyand inquiringly towards his son. Theyoung gentleman more than suspected what wasthe subject of their discourse; and as the rectorof Neverden was the only one of the party whohad any suspicion of the interest which RobertDarnley took in the person concerning whom thediscussion was made, they did not very carefullysubdue and suppress their voices, but theyspoke loudly enough to be heard in their whispering,and the name of Primrose was heard byRobert Darnley, and in spite of his high spirithe felt sick at heart. And though he felt littleappetite for dinner, he was glad of the announcement,which relieved him from hearing, or ratherfancying that he heard, talk that told of theshame of Penelope.

Oh, that our pen could write strongly asour heart feels against those villanous, viper-souled,low-minded, merciless reptiles, who, frommotives too grovelling and dirty to be analyzed,impertinently by their ill-digested calumnies,mutilate and mangle the fairest reputation, and[76]sully the purest characters. Never can suchvermin be sufficiently punished or adequatelyvituperated, for they are absolutely incapableof feeling such racking mental agonies as theyinflict on others. What could such a heartlesspuppy as Zephaniah Pringle feel of mentaland heart-rending agony, compared with thatwhich Robert Darnley experienced, when hehad reason to think that the high-minded,clear-souled Penelope, whom he had loved forher purity, her moral as well as personal beauty,had so far forgotten all good feelings and allhigh thoughts as to sink down into a characterfor which refined language has no name?

The baronet’s table was splendidly covered,and the guests were as well pleased in demolishingas the cook had been in constructingand compiling the various specimens of culinaryart. Sir George Aimwell paid, as was proper,especial attention to Robert Darnley, and endeavouredto draw the young man into conversation,or, more properly speaking, to provoke[77]him into narrative. To such questions as wereasked he gave an ample and intelligent answer,but he proceeded no further; he did not seemdesirous to obtrude himself upon the attentionof the company.

Table-talk was by no means the forte of theworthy baronet; but when he had a party hegenerally exerted himself: and as he was verywell aware that, in his own proper person, andfrom his own peculiar stores, he was by nomeans a man of talk, he very considerately endeavouredto set in motion other tongues thanhis own. On the present occasion he thought,that as Mr Robert Darnley had been longabroad, he would most likely be best able toentertain the guests. But when the hospitablehost observed how very slowly and reluctantlythe young man brought out the stores of hisinformation, he next directed his attention toZephaniah Pringle, who was not so reserved.He spoke fluently, and readily, and oracularly.Sir George, though not a man of letters, was[78]ready enough to indulge his guests, or to sufferthem, if they would, to indulge themselves, withliterary conversation; and it was a great happinessto Zephaniah Pringle to let the inhabitantsof Smatterton and Neverden know how great aman was in their company. Yet there was alittle abatement from the purity and intensityof that enjoyment, in the observing how inaptthey seemed to be in comprehending whichwere the first publications of the day, andwhich were productions of inferior note. Someof the party asked strange things about reviewsand magazines, and Zephaniah was astonishedthat there should be in any part of GreatBritain such complete, total darkness, and intellectualneglect, as that his own peculiar periodicalshould be altogether unknown even byname. He attributed their ignorance to merespite, or thought that Lord Smatterton, being aWhig, had made it a point to conceal from hiscountry neighbours the existence of that periodical,which, by the means of pastry-cooks and[79]tobacconists, had an immense circulation in themetropolis. The daughters of Mr Darnleylistened with much reverence to the oracles ofZephaniah the critic, and they thought himprodigiously wise, because he thought differentlyfrom everybody else. They asked hisopinion of every book which they rememberedhaving read: and they endeavoured to persuadethemselves to entertain the same opinions ashe did.

If our readers imagine that, from what wehave said concerning the daughters of the rectorof Neverden, these young ladies were superficialsimpletons, we are desirous of removingsuch impression. They were not conceitedlyconfident in their own judgment; and, as theywere not much in the way of seeing or hearingliterary pretenders and intellectual quacks, theygave Zephaniah Pringle credit for all that heassumed. They did not think very highly ofthemselves, and therefore they readily yieldedassent to the oracles of one who appeared so[80]competent and able to give an opinion. Manyothers, besides the daughters of Mr Darnley,have been at a first, or even second interviewwith Zephaniah, very greatly deceived as to theheight, the depth, and the breadth, of the critic’sunderstanding.

This part of our narrative, though not directlytending to the developement of the history, wecould not consent to pass by unnoticed; forthough it may not be very entertaining, it is instructive,and it affords us an opportunity ofgiving a valuable hint to our young readers.The hint to which we allude, is to cautionthem against too much modesty. Only suppose,for instance, that such an empty-headedcoxcomb as Zephaniah Pringle had entertaineda fair opinion of his own understanding, or thathe had underrated his own intellectual powersand stores, who would ever have found out thathe was superior to what he assumed? Whowould have taken the trouble to urge him toassume a higher rank? Not one. But now[81]that he set himself up for a great one, who wasto detect the hollowness of his pretensions?Not above one in a hundred. And who wouldtake the trouble to expose him? Not one in athousand. And who would take notice of theexposure? Not one in ten thousand.

In our next edition we will cancel this lastparagraph, if we find that modesty has ever madeits owner rich or celebrated. Modesty is certainlyvery much to be praised, and if we werecandidate for any situation of honor or emolument,or even for a good seat in a theatre, weshould very much approve of the modesty ofsuch as, having power to rival us, would meeklyand quietly stand out of our way.

CHAPTER VI.

During the night which followed the granddinner given by Sir George Aimwell, RobertDarnley scarcely slept a single hour. He retiredto his apartment full of bitter and distractingthoughts, almost tempted to believe thatthere was truth in the foul libels that thoughtlessblockheads have uttered and written concerningthe gentler sex. He said to himself,“Frailty! thy name is woman.” He was sogrieved, so pierced to the heart’s core, that heforgot for a while all that he had heard, read,or witnessed of woman’s devout affection, unweariedkindness, heroic attachment, and moralsublimity. And he thought not of the patience[83]with which woman bears the peevishness of ourinfancy, the selfishness of our riper years, andthe capricious fretfulness of our declining age.He was for a while angry and contemptuous,professing to himself an indifference which hedid not feel, and fancying himself superior tothat weakness under which he was writhing andlabouring in bitter agony. Then there was achange in the complexion of his thoughts, andas the angry passions yielded to the approachingdrowsiness which health must periodically experience,more tender and more gentle thoughtssubdued him. The eyelids were scarcely closed,when imagination threw her rainbow light on pastdays, and there stood before him, not quite ina dream, the image of Penelope—lovely, bright,and living. The momentary vision melted him,and the effort to retain it banished it. Slowlyhis slumbers crept again upon him, and thevision was more distinct, and he could hearagain that sweet voice with which he had beenenraptured, and there was in his heart a repeti[84]tionof that swell of feeling with which he hadyears ago taken his leave of her. So passed thenight.

When morning came again, it found theyoung man unrefreshed and unrested. But inthe family of the rector of Neverden there wasgreat regularity and punctuality. Robert Darnleytherefore made his appearance at breakfastat the usual hour. It was impossible not tosee that his mind was painfully disturbed, andit was also equally impossible not to conjecturethe cause of its agitation.

A very unpleasant restraint sat upon the wholeparty. Mr Darnley the elder would not speakon the subject of his son’s altered appearance,and Mrs Darnley and her daughters were reluctantto introduce any mention of the matter,unsanctioned by Mr Darnley. The hour ofbreakfast was usually to that family a seasonof social and cheerful talk, but on the presentoccasion there was silence and restraint; and asthey abstained from addressing themselves to[85]Robert, they also abstained from talking to oneanother. When breakfast was over Mr Darnleydesired his son’s presence in the study.

Robert Darnley knew he was destined to undergoa lecture, and he braced himself up tobear it with filial resignation. The young man’sfather prided himself on the fluency with whichhe could talk in the way of admonition, and webelieve that he derived almost as much pleasurefrom these exhibitions as his auditors did profit.Sir George Aimwell used to say, that instead ofsending poachers to gaol, it would be a betterplan to send them to Mr Darnley to be talkedto; for the worthy baronet thought that theywould not readily expose themselves to the riskof a second infliction. Those of our readers whohave never been talked to will not be able tosympathize with Robert Darnley; those whohave, will pity him from the bottom of theirhearts.

The young man promptly obeyed his father’scommands and delayed not to attend him in the[86]study; for he naturally supposed that the soonerthe lecture began the sooner it would be over.The father seated himself and desired his son toshut the door and seat himself too. These preliminarysteps having been taken, and Mr Darnleyhaving stirred and arranged the fire so amplyas to preclude the necessity of any more attentionto it for some time, thus began:

“Robert, my dear boy, I wish to have somelittle talk with you. I have not had muchopportunity of speaking to you since you camehome. Now, you know, I can have no otherobject in view than your welfare. I do notdesire you to follow the advice I may give you,unless you are convinced of its propriety. Youknow of course what I am now alluding to—yourunhappy attachment to that unfortunateyoung woman, Miss Primrose. For my part, Icannot say that I altogether approved of it inthe first instance; but I said nothing. I knewthe impetuosity of your character and the obstinacyof your disposition, and therefore I con[87]cludedthat opposition might do more harm thangood. I hoped that, in time, your own goodsense would let you see that it was not a suitableconnexion for you. I do not say indeedthat I have ever observed anything absolutelyimproper in the conduct of Miss Primrose; butI must be permitted to say, that there wastoo much pride in her manner, considering herstation and expectations. Of the young woman’sfather I knew comparatively nothing, except thathe had gambled away his property and brokenhis wife’s heart. Mr Primrose did call here,as you know; but I must confess to you I wasnot much pleased with his manners. I wasunder the disagreeable necessity of rebukinghim for taking the name of the Lord in vain.As for the young woman herself, of course youmust relinquish all thoughts of her after whatyou have heard from Mr Pringle. Now let meadvise you to banish her from your mind atonce. I am sorry to see that your thoughtsare still too much dwelling upon her. You[88]make your mother and your sisters and me veryuncomfortable by these gloomy looks. Whycan you not be cheerful as you used to be?What have you to regret? You ought ratherto be grateful that you have been rescued fromsuch a marriage, and that it cannot be said thatthe dissolution of the acquaintance arose fromyour own caprice. I think that the youngwoman did not manifest a very great sense ofpropriety when she so readily adopted the professionof a public singer. And what wouldthe world say, should the report ever get abroad,that my son was desirous of marrying a publicsinger? I gave the young woman all the goodadvice I possibly could; but I fear it will beof no use to her. There were such very strongmanifestations of her partiality for that profligateyoung man, Lord Spoonbill, that I am notat all surprised at what I hear from Mr Pringle.Now all that I can say is, that if after this youcan retain any regard for Miss Primrose, you donot shew yourself a man of sense and prudence.”

Here Mr Darnley paused, not because he wasout of breath, for he spoke very slowly anddeliberately, but because he thought that hehad said enough to induce his son to relinquishthe thought of Penelope, and to make himselfmightily happy under his disappointment. Butit certainly is very provoking, after living threeyears or more in expectation of receiving thehand and heart of a lovely, amiable, and intelligentyoung lady, to find at last that all thisbright anticipation is come to nought. It hadbeen painful to Robert Darnley that several ofhis later communications had been unanswered;but he would not suffer that circumstancealone to weigh with him, considering it possiblethat the fault was in the irregular transmissionof letters. When he came back to Englandand heard that Miss Primrose was in Londonwith the Earl of Smatterton’s family, itappeared obvious enough that she had consideredthe correspondence as having ceased.But still it was not clear to the young ma[90]n’sentire satisfaction that this had been a voluntaryact on the part of Penelope. It waspossible that his letters might not have reachedtheir destination, and that Miss Primrose mightbe regarding him as the faithless one. Suchwas his spirit, that he would not rest under theimputation of such conduct, and he resolvedto take the earliest opportunity of coming toan explanation. When, however, in addition toall that he had heard from his own family ofthe partiality manifested by Penelope for LordSpoonbill, he heard also the tale told by ZephaniahPringle, he wavered and hesitated. It wasnot probable, he thought, that such rumourscould be totally unfounded, and it comportedbut too well with what Mr Darnley had alreadysaid.

The distress of mind which Robert Darnleysuffered, and that gloominess of look which hisfather reprobated and lectured him upon, didnot arise so much from the mere loss ofPenelope, as from the harassing doubts to[91]which he was exposed by the conflicting ofexternal and internal evidence. It is a painfulthing to doubt, because it is humiliating, andseems to question our discernment. It is alsovery perplexing to the mind when it sees evidenceenough to prove that which it feels to beimpossible, or very unlikely. In this dilemmaRobert Darnley had been placed by what hehad heard of Penelope Primrose. He knew, orat least very firmly believed her to be of decidedcharacter, good principle and high spirit. Hefelt it impossible that she should love a profligateor a blockhead, and he knew Lord Spoonbillto be both. But it was very clear that shewas with Lord Smatterton’s family, and thatshe had certainly contemplated the public exerciseof her musical talents.

To his fathers discourse therefore he listenedwith unresisting patience, and only replied whenit was finished; “I can only say, sir, that ifwhat Mr Pringle has said concerning MissPrimrose be true, I have been very much[92]deceived in the estimate which I had formedof the young lady’s mind and character.”

“Certainly you were,” replied his father;“you are a young man and have seen but littleof human nature. You are hasty, very hasty,in forming your judgment. You will grow wiseras you grow older. Now I was not deceivedin Miss Primrose. I could see her real character.I always thought her very proud andvain and conceited. But she laboured undergreat disadvantages in her education. Her unclewas a worthy man, but he was a mere scholar,by no means a man of the world. And as forMrs Greendale, she is a very weak woman.”

Robert Darnley knew his father too well tocontradict him directly in anything which hemight be pleased to assert; he therefore onlyventured in a very circuitous way to insinuatethe possibility that Mr Zephaniah Pringle mightbe erroneously informed, and that there mightbe some mistake or misapprehension. But theworthy rector of Neverden was not able to bear[93]the slightest approach to contradiction or opposition.He had lived so long in absolute authorityin his own house and parish, that he wasperfectly sincere in believing that he could neverbe wrong and ought never to be contradicted.He therefore contributed very considerably toshorten the discussion, by saying:

“You are of age, and of course may do as youplease; but, if you will condescend to take myadvice, you will think no more of Miss Primrose.At all events, it is my particular request that Imay hear no more of her.”

To this the young gentleman bowed respectfully.Now it does not appear to us that MrDarnley adopted the best plan in the world toset his son’s heart at rest. Nor did RobertDarnley find any great alleviation in whathis father had been pleased to say concerningPenelope’s actual situation and real character.It also occurred to the young gentleman’s mind,that his father had superfluously and unnecessarilyquoted the fact of Mr Primrose having[94]used irreverent and thoughtless language. It isnot indeed, generally speaking, advisable tobring every possible accusation against an offendingone; for by so doing we make knownour own pettishness or malignity quite as muchas we display the sins of the accused. If MissPrimrose had been in other respects a suitablewife for Robert Darnley, the fact that her fatherhad spoken hastily and unadvisedly, would nothave rendered her unsuitable. And if the situationof Penelope had been such as it had beenrepresented by Mr Pringle, then there was quiteenough to set Robert Darnley’s mind at restupon the subject, without quoting Mr Primrose’stransgressions.

The disappointed lover had no sooner finishedthe task of hearing his father’s lecture, thanhe was destined to undergo a gabblement fromhis mother and sisters. Mrs Darnley was aworthy good creature as ever lived; but shewould talk, and that not always consequentially.She always however meant well, though she[95]might be clumsy in the manifestation of herwell-meaning.

“Well, Robert,”—thus began Mrs Darnley,—“andso your father has been talking to youabout poor Penelope Primrose. What a pity itis that such a nice young woman should turnout so. I really could hardly believe my senseswhen I first heard of it. Dear me, what afavorite she used to be here; your father usedto think so highly of her.”

“I can’t say that I thought so very highly ofher,” interrupted Miss Mary Darnley; “she wasa great deal too haughty for my liking. Ofcourse we were civil to her for Robert’s sake.”

Miss Mary was rude in thus interrupting hermother, but it was the general practice with theyoung ladies, and Mrs Darnley was so muchin the habit of being interrupted, that she alwaysexpected it, and kept talking on till some oneelse of the party began. Now this remark ofMiss Mary might be founded on truth, or itmight be merely the result of an angry imagi[96]nation.For there is in the human mind sucha reluctance to acknowledge an error in judgment,that even when we have been really andpalpably deceived in a human character, wegenerally find out or persuade ourselves thatwe “prophesied so,” though we never told anybody.

The eldest Miss Darnley, however, had morecandour. It was her opinion that, though MissPrimrose had not behaved exactly as she oughtto do, yet she had too high a sense of proprietyand decorum ever to transgress as was representedby Mr Pringle.

In this annunciation of opinions it was butright and regular that the youngest should speakin her turn; and notwithstanding the apparentdeference which she had seemed on the previousday to yield to the oracular language of ZephaniahPringle the critic, she said:

“I wonder who told Mr Pringle? I dare sayMiss Primrose did not, and I should not thinkit likely that Lord Spoonbill did.”

“Oh dear,” replied Mary, “I dare say it isthe general talk in London, and everbody knowsit by this time.”

“Oh dear,” retorted Martha, “I dare sayyou know a great deal about London.”

“I know a great deal more about it than youdo, Martha; I was there with papa nearly twomonths when we had lodgings in Wigmorestreet.”

Martha was inclined to be pert, and Mary tobe pettish, and the two sisters would verylikely have enjoyed a skirmish of tongues, hadthey not been stopped by the good humour oftheir brother, who was very happy to diverttheir tongues and thoughts to other topics.Robert Darnley therefore made an effort to suppressunpleasant feelings, and directed the conversationto affairs of a different description;and he amused his mother and sisters withanecdotes and narratives descriptive of thecountry from which he had recently arrived.

In assuming this composure, Robert Darnley[98]was not a little aided by the suggestion thrownout by Martha. And he began to think it verypossible that Mr Zephaniah Pringle might havebeen misinformed. He might have had witenough to form that conjecture without theassistance of his youngest sister; but he wastoo much agitated to think calmly on thesubject.

CHAPTER VII.

The preceding chapters, relative to affairs atNeverden, were rendered indispensable by thenecessity under which we were placed to accountfor the non-appearance of Robert Darnleyin London, to clear up the mystery and explainthe cause of the interrupted correspondence.We are now most happy to revert to that partof our narrative which more immediately anddirectly concerns Penelope Primrose and herfather. For this purpose therefore our historygoes back a few days.

After the first passionate agitation of meetinghad subsided, and Penelope was able tospeak collectedly, and Mr Primrose was patient[100]enough to listen to two successive sentences,the young lady explained to her father the situationin which she had been placed by thesudden decease of her uncle, and spoke of thekindness which she had experienced from theEarl and Countess of Smatterton, adding, thatthey had been so kind as to propose giving herthe opportunity of meeting her father in London.She then informed her father that Lord Spoonbillwas in the house, and would be happy tosee him.

Mr Primrose was too happy at the meetingwith his daughter to think anything of theawkward stories which he had heard of theyoung gentleman’s irregularities. He thereforeexpressed himself pleased with an opportunityof making his acknowledgments to any part ofthe family. The young lord therefore soon madehis appearance. And such was the frank, gentlemanlyaspect and bearing of Mr Primrose,that his lordship was quite delighted with him,and said with great sincerity much which he[101]would otherwise have said with polite formalityand hypocrisy.

Penelope exercised a considerable degree ofself-command in introducing Lord Spoonbill socomposedly to her father. And happy was itat this moment for Mr Primrose, that such washis cheerfulness and hilarity of feeling, that hewas only sensible to that which was pleasantand agreeable.

“My Lord Spoonbill,” said he with oneof his politest bows, and with the most agreeableintonation of voice that he could command,“I thank you most sincerely, and I begthat you will convey my most cordial and respectfulthanks to the Earl and Countess ofSmatterton for their kind and generous attentionto my dear child.”

Even with similar politeness did Lord Spoonbillprofess how truly happy the Earl and Countesshad been in affording any accommodationto the neice of their late esteemed friend, therespected rector of Smatterton. By making men[102]tionof that good man, Lord Spoonbill broughttears into the eyes of Mr Primrose, who mournfullyshook his head and replied:

“Ah, my lord, he was indeed a good man.I lament the loss of him most sincerely. Somuch kind feeling, blended with such strict integrity,and so high a degree of moral purity, Inever have witnessed in any other. I have seenstrictness of principle with severity of manners,and I have witnessed kindness of heart withmoral carelessness; but the late Dr Greendalehad the most finely attempered mind of anyman I ever knew. He did, or desired to do,good to everybody, and that must have beena hard heart which he could not soften.”

It was well for Lord Spoonbill at this momentthat he was not of so susceptible a temperamentas Mr Primrose, or the remark last recordedwould have distressed him. It was in anotherpoint of view ill for his lordship that he hadnot a little more sensibility, for if he had hemight have been moved to contrition and re[103]flection.His lordship very courteously assentedto every compliment which Mr Primrose feltdisposed to pay to the late Dr Greendale. Andpresently his lordship directed the talk to othermatters; for though he had not sensibility tobe moved, yet he had enough of that kindof feeling which rendered him awkward underreflections and recollections. The hereditarylegislator was also especially desirous of knowingwhat was to be the immediate destinationof Miss Primrose and her father; but found,after a long conversation and many indirecthints, that no arrangement of any determinatenature had entered the mind of Mr Primrose,who probably thought, that for the night ensuing,he might take up his abode at the town residenceof Lord Smatterton.

At length, Lord Spoonbill, finding that itbecame time for him to return to dinner, andknowing that it would not be very agreeableto the Countess to take back with him fatherand daughter too, and suspecting also very[104]strongly and very naturally that the two werenot likely to be separated, began to make somethinglike an apology to Mr Primrose for havingbrought him to an empty house, and offeredsuch accommodation as the house might afford,expressing his great regret that he himself wasunder the necessity of returning to Lord Smatterton’ssuburban villa.

These explanations and apologies roused MrPrimrose to his recollection, and he presentlyand promptly declined availing himself of hislordship’s kind offer, and expressed his intentionof taking up his abode at a hotel, whichhe named.

Lord Spoonbill was satisfied. He now knewwhere to find Mr Primrose again; and so longas he was not at a loss where to seek Penelope,his lordship readily took his leave, with a promisethat he would very shortly pay his respectsagain to his good friends.

Mr Primrose and his daughter then went totheir hotel, and the overjoyed parent endeavoured[105]to compose himself for the sobriety of narrativeand interrogation. Many questions were asked,and multitudinous digressions and recommencementsand interruptions rendered their discourserather less instructive than entertaining.The father of Penelope walked restlessly aboutthe room, and ever and anon would he stop andlook with an indescribable earnestness on theface of his child, as if to fill his mind’s eyewith her image, or to endeavour to trace herlikeness to her departed mother. And fromthese momentary absorptions he would start intorecollection, and utter such thrilling expressionsof delight, that his poor child feared that thejoy would be too much for him.

Some of the human species have suffered morefrom joy than from sorrow. Ecstacy has liftedthe mind to that height and giddiness as todestroy its self-command, and to precipitate itinto the depths and darkness of idiocy. Penelopeentertained a fear of this kind for herfather. For she had not been accustomed to[106]witness or yield to any very strong emotions.Her uncle, with whom she had lived, had beena very quiet man; and, in his studious retirement,life had passed smoothly and placidly asthe waveless current of a subterranean stream.Mrs Greendale had experienced and manifestedoccasional ebullitions, but they were merely culinary,domestic, common-place, and transitory. Asfor herself, poor girl, deep as her feelings mighthave been, and strongly, as in various instances,she might have been moved, these emotions weresolitary and soon suppressed.

When therefore she saw her father in this stateof agitation, much of her own joy was abated inthoughts and fears for him. But in time theviolence of the emotion abated, and the fatherand daughter sat down together to dinner. Thiswas a relief to them both. When the cloth wasremoved, Mr Primrose then bethought himselfof Robert Darnley. Drawing closer to the fire,he said to Penelope; “Well, but, my dear child,I have not yet said a word about an old ac[107]quaintanceof yours, whom report says you havenot used handsomely. But I don’t mind whatreport says. Have you quite forgot your oldneighbour Robert Darnley?”

Penelope sighed and shook her head, andreplied, “Oh, no, my dear father; I have notforgotten him.”

“What!” exclaimed Mr Primrose;[108] “do yousay that he was the person who dropped thecorrespondence? You are wrong, my dear, youare wrong. Ay, ay, I see how it is—some lettershave not been delivered. It is all a misunderstanding;but it will soon be set right. I haveseen the young man. He is now at Neverden;and he tells me that you have not answered hisletters. But we shall soon see him in town.He would have come with me, but he mustneeds stay to eat his Christmas dinner at theparsonage, just to please the old folks. Thatof course is right; and if children did butknow how easily parents are pleased, and howhappy they are when their children please them,there would not be so many undutiful childrenin the world.—And so, my dear Penelope, it isall a mere invention that you are attached toLord Spoonbill?”

Recollecting what had that morning takenplace, and from that also calling to mind whatbefore she had not noticed, and what withoutthat event she would have forgotten; thinkingagain how assiduously and politely attentiveLord Spoonbill had behaved towards her, shebegan to think that his lordship’s attentive behaviourhad been seen and noticed by otherswhen it had not been obvious to herself. Andthese thoughts confused and perplexed her.Therefore she did not immediately reply to herfather’s interrogation. Her silence was observedby her anxious parent, and he hastily said:

“What then, is it true? But it is a greatpity. Robert Darnley is a fine spirited youngman; and I am sure he did not design to dropthe correspondence. Well, well; you are likeyour father, you are very hasty. But nevermind, it cannot be helped now. And what willyou say to poor Darnley when he sees youagain; for I fully expect him up in town as soonas Christmas is well over? I dare say he willbe here in a week, or a little more. I told himthat he would find us at this hotel. And hasLord Spoonbill really made proposals to you?And have you accepted his offer?”

The discovery which this talk of her fatheropened to the mind of Penelope moved her withfeelings not describable. There was powerfuland oppressive agitation, but whether painful orpleasurable she scarcely knew. Her heart wastoo full to speak, and her thoughts too hurriedfor utterance. The colour was in her cheeks,and the tears were silently falling, and presentlythe quick glancing eye of her father caught theexpression of concern and deep feeling, and hisimpetuosity misinterpreted the emotion. With[110]rapidity of utterance, and with kind tendernessof tone, he exclaimed, grasping her hand:

“Nay, nay, my dear Penelope, do not be soafflicted. You misunderstand me, indeed youdo. I am not angry with you. If you arereally attached to Lord Spoonbill, and if he hasa regard for you, I would not for the worldoppose your inclinations. If you are happy, Ishall be so. I know comparatively very littleof Robert Darnley. As to what I saw of hisfather, I certainly thought not favourably. Theyoung man appeared not so proud and formalas the old gentleman. But Lord Spoonbill maybe a very excellent man, and I am sure he wouldnot be your choice if he were not so. I daresay that all these stories I have heard of hisprofligacies are not true.”

Hereat the young lady started; and she thoughtthat she had some faint recollection of havingheard some obscure hints on that subject; forthese matters are not made the topic of explicitdiscourse in the presence of young ladies. And[111]with this impression she hastened to undeceiveher father as to the state of her affections, protestingvery calmly and deliberately that therehad not been any transfer of her attachment toLord Spoonbill from Robert Darnley. And, asconnectedly and circumstantially as she was able,she narrated the history of her life, from thedecease of her worthy uncle to the moment ofher meeting with her father.

Mr Primrose made his observations on theseevents, and expressed himself delighted in havingarrived in England time enough to preventhis daughter from publicly exhibiting her musicaltalents. Now, in the course of Penelope’snarrative, mention had not been made, nor didit seem necessary to state the fact, of LordSpoonbill’s declaration of devotedness, which hislordship had made that very morning. It wastherefore unfortunate, though of no great consequence,that when the poorgirl had finishedher story, Mr Primrose said:

“And so then after all Lord Spoonbill hasnot said a word to you on the subject of attachment?”

It became necessary then to acknowledge whathad passed in the morning; and the reluctancewith which the acknowledgment was made verynaturally excited some slight suspicion in thebreast of Mr Primrose, that there was somethingmore serious than had been acknowledged. Asatisfactory explanation however was made, andall was right again.

This trifling incident would not have beenmentioned, but for the illustration which itaffords of the value of explicitness and candour,and for the proof which it presents that thepurest and most upright mind may, from a falsedelicacy, involve itself in serious perplexity.

CHAPTER VIII.

At the hotel where Mr Primrose had taken uphis residence, he remained with his daughter fortwo or three weeks. Penelope and her fatherwere during this time in daily expectation ofseeing or hearing from Robert Darnley, butthere came no letter, there came no visitor.Mr Primrose grew impatient, and talked to hisdaughter about writing. That Penelope shouldwrite was quite out of the question, nor couldthe young lady bring herself readily to allowher father to write.

They both agreed that, if the young man wasstill seriously attached, he would find some wayof communicating with them now all partieswere together in England. And so he certainly[114]would have done, had it not been for the falsereport carried to Neverden by the loyal andreligious Zephaniah Pringle, and corroboratedby the almost unanimous and universal talk ofthe people of that village. Influenced by thistale, he remained at Neverden spending day afterday in most clumsily doing nothing at all. Hisfather talked to him, his mother talked to him,and his sisters talked to him, but all their talkamounted to nothing. Disappointed affection isa painful feeling, and talking cannot heal it;nor was it ever known in the course of humanexperience, that calling a man a fool has beenthe means of making him wise.

Whatever were the feelings of Robert Darnleyon this sad blight of his fair hopes, he was wiseenough to keep them to himself; he was indeeddull and listless, but he did not annoy othersany farther than thus negatively. On the otherhand, the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill hadno sooner accomplished the mighty feat of tellingMiss Primrose how devoted he was to her, than[115]he must needs again invade the luxurious andlounging solitude of his friend Erpingham inorder again to talk over the subject. His lordshipdid not indeed on the very day after, butat as short an interval as possible consistentwith other engagements, call upon his luxuriousfriend to enjoy the pleasure of talking aboutMiss Primrose.

Now Erpingham, as we have already intimated,was by no means a simpleton. He hadwisdom enough to see through Lord Spoonbill,though his lordship was not always able to comprehendthe logic of his old college companion.There is at Cambridge, as everybody knows, aspecies of animal called a tuft-hunter, that is, aplebeian man, who, for pence or pride, cultivatesan acquaintance with the young green shootsof nobility that are sent to that place to learnhorse-racing, card-playing, and mathematics, inorder to make laws to preserve game and keepup the dignity of hereditary legislators. NowErpingham was not one of that description.[116]But there are, among the unfledged lordlingswho honor that town and university with theirsuperfine presence, some few individuals who,in order to enjoy a stronger sense and feeling oftheir own noble rank and exalted condition, seekfor acquaintance among the untitled. Of thisclass was Lord Spoonbill, and his acquaintancethus and there formed, was Mr Erpingham.

To seek an acquaintance with any individualis generally felt, whether it be so consideredor not, as an act of humiliation. It is at allevents a homage paid to the acquaintance thussought. He that voluntarily seeks after another,involuntarily pays that other a compliment. Andfrequently that compliment is taken by thosewho receive it for more than it is really worth.By this circumstance therefore that the acquaintancewith Erpingham had been of Lord Spoonbill’sown seeking, the former did not quite sohighly value and honor the young legislator asotherwise he might have done. And when oncewe can thoroughly and heartily take it into our[117]heads that any man is a fool, it is no difficultmatter to convince ourselves that he really is so.Plenty of illustrations are always at hand, if webe intimate with the person in question.

Now, in spite of all the reverence which MrErpingham felt for high rank, he could not helpthinking that his lordship was no conjuror.Indeed it is no more to be wished than it is to beexpected that the House of Lords should be allconjurors. As therefore Mr Erpingham thoughtbut indifferently of the understanding of hisright honorable friend, it is not to be wonderedat that Lord Spoonbill should not always betreated with the most profound respect. AtCambridge, indeed, Erpingham thought it somethingof an honor to be acquainted with a nobleman;but by degrees, and especially afterleaving the university, the gentleman thoughtotherwise, and diminished much of the homagewhich he had formerly paid to that right honorablehereditary pillar of the Protestant succession.

When therefore Lord Spoonbill made his ap[118]pearanceagain, and threatened a tedious lack-a-daisicalprating about love, Mr Erpinghamalmost laughed at him.

“Well, Spoonbill,” said the Epicurean, “andso you are coming to report progress. And whatsays this paragon of wit and beauty? I supposeyou have made your arrangements: and am I tobe honored by an introduction?”

Lord Spoonbill shook his head, and went ontediously to relate all the particulars of thejourney to London and the introduction to MrPrimrose. To all this Mr Erpingham listenedvery attentively; and, when the narrative wasconcluded, he drawled out, “Well, Spoonbill,and what then?”

To that question the hereditary legislator madeno direct or intelligible reply. His friend thereforerepeated his question, adding:[119] “Were youcontent with making a mere sentimental speechabout your devotion to this young lady? Anddid not you give the slightest intimation of yourdesigns?”

“Then I will tell you, my good friend, that Ihave done more for you than you have done foryourself.”

Lord Spoonbill started and stared, and exclaimed:“Erpingham! what do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Do you know ZephaniahPringle, a literary prig, with whose vanityI sometimes amuse myself?”

“Certainly I do,” replied his lordship; “butwhat can he have to do with this matter?”

“A great deal,” replied Erpingham; “he is,as I suppose you know, an impertinent chatter-box,and whatever is trusted to him as a profoundsecret is sure to be known to all the world; soI communicated to him that Miss Primrose wasin the high road to be placed under the protectionof the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill, andby this time Smatterton and its adjoining villageis already in possession of the important secret.”

On hearing this, Lord Spoonbill started, as if[120]with a strong sense of moral indignation, and exclaimed:“Erpingham, are you mad? Whatcould you mean by circulating such a report?Suppose I should intend to marry Miss Primrose!”

Although Lord Spoonbill was quite as profligateand unprincipled as Mr Erpingham, yetas his profligacy and want of principle werenot managed and directed precisely after themodel of the same vices in the conduct of hisfriend, his lordship took credit to himself thathe could enjoy the pleasure of reproving thevicious principles of this Epicurean. But thoughhe expressed a feeling of indignation at the cool,deliberate viciousness of this son of luxury andsensuality, he felt no little satisfaction in thethought that this report must infallibly reachthe ears of Mr Robert Darnley, and thus preventany further attempt on his part to renew theacquaintance with Penelope.

It may seem rather strange to some part ofour readers, that a man who could descend to themeanness of intercepting letters, should lift uphis voice and turn up his eyes at the sin of circulatingfalse reports touching the character andsituation of a young woman, and that this sameman should deliberately meditate on schemes forplacing that young woman in that situationwhich he professed to think so degrading. Butthere is a wonderful difference in the apprehensionwhich men entertain of the same vices underdifferent circumstances. There is also observablein the feelings of Lord Spoonbill, on thepresent occasion, the readiness and satisfactionwith which a man will cheerfully avail himselfof the benefits derivable from the vicious or unprincipledconduct of others.

The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill seemedto think that his friend Erpingham had behavedvery unhandsomely and disrespectfully to Penelopeby causing such a rumour to get into cir[122]culation;but, when it occurred to him that someadvantage might be taken of the said rumour,his indignation was abated, and all his reproofwas softened down into merely saying:

Everybody who is worse than ourselves is toobad; everybody, whose vices differ from ours,is too bad. Lord Spoonbill was selfish, sensual,and unprincipled; but he endeavoured to concealhis character, and, from attempting to deceiveothers, had come at last to deceive himself;and he really did flatter himself that there wassome good in his character, and some good feelingsin his heart. But Erpingham, on the otherhand, did not play the hypocrite either to himselfor to others; he was definite and decided,and he took to himself some little credit for theunblushing honesty of his conduct and character.He smiled contemptuously at the meanness andlittleness of his friend Spoonbill’s vices; butthis meanness was essential to the very exist[123]enceof his vices, he would have been frightenedat himself had he seen his own moral featureswithout a mask.

There was this difference in the character ofthese two friends, that had Erpingham had thesame object in view as Lord Spoonbill, he wouldhave pursued it unblushingly, unhesitatingly, andwithout remorse. He would have interceptedletters, but he would not have shuddered whenhe had them in his possession; nor would hehave hesitated to open them, if that would haveforwarded his schemes. There would have beenno demur or doubt, but everything would havebeen rendered subservient to his villanous purposes.But Lord Spoonbill was not so straitforwardin his roguery, he was a more pusillanimousprofligate. The difference between thetwo is, that Erpingham was an object of indignation,and Lord Spoonbill of contempt.

Seeing therefore how matters now stood, theRight Honorable Lord Spoonbill thought that hemight as well pursue his first object with regard[124]to Penelope, and not, at least for the present,think or say a word concerning marriage. Andit was a great consolation to him in the courseof his meditations to think how much more unprincipledErpingham was than he.

From a long, and to the Epicurean a wearyingdiscussion, Lord Spoonbill returned to his home;and on his return he found that the Countesswas quite angry, and that her patience was exhaustedin waiting for Penelope’s return. Theyoung lady had indeed mentioned the subject toher father, but he did not think any furtheracknowledgments necessary than he had alreadypersonally made to the heir of the house ofSmatterton. Nor could Mr Primrose persuadehimself that any very high tribute of gratitudewas due for that species of patronage which theCountess of Smatterton had proposed for hisdaughter. It was his feeling, that her ladyshiphad in view her own gratification quite as muchas the welfare of Penelope.

When therefore Lord Spoonbill found that the[125]Countess was still expecting either the return ofMiss Primrose, or some grateful intimation thatthe proffered patronage was declined, he thoughtit an excellent opportunity to propose a call onMr Primrose; and, after some of the usual prateabout condescension and dignity, the young lord,on the following morning, rode up to town.

CHAPTER IX.

When a lady finds herself a second time alonewith a gentleman who has once addressed heron an interesting topic, but whose address hasnot been altogether pleasant and agreeable, thelady’s situation is by no means enviable. It ismore distressing still when, in the recollection ofthe young lady, there are yet lingering the faintrelics of brighter and better hopes.

This was the situation of Penelope when LordSpoonbill called upon her. Mr Primrose wasnot within: business demanded his attention inthe City, and there he was likely to be detainedsome hours. The young lord, with well feignedseriousness, expressed his regret that he should[127]be so unfortunate as not to meet with Mr Primrose,and he added that he would call again ifMr Primrose was likely soon to return. Whenhowever he heard that Penelope did not expecther father till dinner-time, he was more pleasedwith the information than he professed to be.Miss Primrose very respectfully enquired afterthe Earl and Countess of Smatterton; and, inreplying to those enquiries, Lord Spoonbill tookthe opportunity of hinting that her ladyshipfelt somewhat anxious to know whether thereturn of Mr Primrose to England had inducedPenelope to relinquish the thought of that professionwhich she had recently contemplated,and for which immediate preparation becameotherwise necessary and important.

In reply to this enquiry, Penelope informed hislordship that her father had expressed himselfdecidedly of opinion that such pursuit wouldnot be agreeable to himself or necessary for hisdaughter. Lord Spoonbill cared little for thedisappointment, except that it would be in the[128]way of his schemes, and render the arrangementwhich he meditated rather more difficult of execution.So far as expectation was concerned,he was prepared for this event; but he was notprepared with any plan that he might immediatelypursue.

After the common-place talk was finished,his lordship thought that he ought to take hisleave; but he was reluctant to go, and he didnot know how to stay. Penelope also wishedhim gone, for she was afraid of a renewal of anunpleasant topic. The young lady also took noparticular pains to conceal that wish, and his lordshipwas not quite so flat as not to discern thathis presence was not very acceptable. In truth,his situation was grievously perplexing, and awiser man than he would have been at a loss insuch circumstances how to act. It was clearto him that Penelope had not quite forgottenRobert Darnley; it was also obvious that LordSpoonbill was not yet essential to the happinessof Miss Primrose; he most earnestly desired[129]to render himself agreeable to Miss Primrose,and he very well knew that nothing could bemore agreeable than that he should take hisleave; but that would not have been agreeableto himself; and greatly as he desired to do anythingthat might recommend him to the approbationof Miss Primrose, he was equally desirousof avoiding anything that might be disagreeableor unpleasant to himself.

Lord Spoonbill is not to be regarded in thisinstance as differing so very widely from therest of the world. Other lovers frequently havethe same ideas on the subject of the mutualaccommodation of themselves and their adoredones. And if, after this observation, any individualof the gentler sex should be deceivedby professions and protestations of disinterestedness,the fault will be hers and not ours.

In this embarrassing situation in which LordSpoonbill was placed, it occurred to his mostfertile imagination that it might greatly forwardhis designs upon Penelope, if, by any means,[130]he could contrive to bring the young lady tothink unhandsomely of Robert Darnley. Itcertainly would not do for his lordship to makeany direct allusion to this young gentleman;for it was hardly supposed by Miss Primrosethat there existed in the mind of his lordshipany knowledge of the acquaintance betweenher and the son of the rector of Neverden;and such was his lordship’s clumsiness in themanagement of his irregularities, that he waseven fearful of the most indirect allusion toRobert Darnley, lest, in making that allusion,he might betray himself.

At length it came into his lordship’s mostsagacious head that, although it might behazardous to make any allusion to Neverden,there could not be much risk incurred by enquiringafter Mrs Greendale, therefore he venturedto ask, as if for want of something elseto say, if Miss Primrose had lately heard fromSmatterton, and in making this enquiry he endeavouredto watch the countenance of the[131]young lady most narrowly, in order to observewhether the mention of Smatterton producedany deep emotion as connected with Neverden.Penelope answered with perfect composure, andinformed the hereditary legislator that Mrs Greendalehad not written to her since her departurefrom Smatterton.

After mentioning Mrs Greendale, his lordshipproceeded to some more common talk, merelyand obviously to delay his departure; and hemanifested in this kind of talk that he had agreat wish to recur to that topic which he hadintroduced on the morning of Mr Primrose’smeeting with his daughter. But if it was evidentto Penelope that such was his lordship’swish, it was quite as evident to his lordship thatthe young lady was equally uneasy under theapprehension, and dreaded the repetition of adiscussion which at its first introduction had sodistressed her thoughts.

And now it would have been absolutely anduncontrollably necessary for Lord Spoonbill totake his leave, and he must have taken his[132]leave, not knowing when or how he might findPenelope again, had it not been for one of thoseunexpected and extraordinary accidents whichoften change the aspect of a whole life. Thisaccident was neither more nor less than thesudden return of Mr Primrose to his hotel.

By the expression of Mr Primrose’s countenance,which seldom indeed concealed or beliedthe emotions of his mind, it was visible thatsome calamity had befallen him, or at least thatsomething had occurred to discompose him. Itmight not be anything very serious; Penelopehoped it was not; for, during the short timethat she had been with her father she had hadabundant occasion of observing that such was thesusceptibility of his feelings, that the expressionsof joy and sorrow were soon excited, and thatby a very slight and trifling occurrence.

But it was soon manifest that it was no trivialcircumstance that oppressed the spirits of herfather in the present instance. When he enteredthe apartment he scarcely noticed hisdaughter or Lord Spoonbill. He took the former[133]by the hand, and to the latter he slightly bowed;and this was his only recognition of them, forhe did not open his lips, and he scarcely directedhis looks towards them. His lips were closelycompressed, as if he feared that by openingthem he should betray or give way to strongerexpressions of grief than might well becomehim. He sat himself down upon a chair andlooked listlessly out into the street, movingneither feature nor muscle, except that the vibrationof his eyelids was more rapid than usual.

Lord Spoonbill was now at a loss whether tooffer his sympathy or to take his departure. Hecould not, with any great propriety, leave theroom without taking some notice of Mr Primrose;but such was the expression of the poorman’s countenance, that it seemed that merelyto speak to him in the most common-placemanner imaginable would be to distress hisfeelings, and to burst open that flood of griefwhich he seemed to endeavour to restrain. Directingtherefore an enquiring look to Penelope,and again turning towards Mr Primrose, his[134]lordship, by these looks and the movements whichaccompanied them, intimated an intention ofdeparting, if his presence were a restraint.Seeing that Mr Primrose kept his position, andthat no change was made in his features, hislordship was just whispering to Penelope thathe was sorry to see her father under such depression,and that it might be agreeable that heshould leave them, Mr Primrose hastily startedup and said;

“I beg your pardon, Lord Spoonbill, for myrudeness, but I have met with a shock thismorning that has completely subdued me.”

At this speech, Penelope caught her father’shand with tender eagerness, and asked, as wellas her feelings would allow, what was the natureof the misfortune that he had met with. Mosttenderly, and with a tone which reached eventhe heart of Lord Spoonbill, Mr Primrose said;

“My dear, dear child, you are a dependentagain, and God knows how soon you may be anorphan indeed.”

Before Penelope could speak, and indeed[135]before she well comprehended her father’smeaning, the distressed man directed his speechto Lord Spoonbill, saying;

“Could you believe it possible, my lord, thatsuch deliberate villains should exist in a Christiancountry, as to take from a man the littleproperty which he had been toiling for years toaccumulate, to take what they knew they nevercould restore. Those villains suffered me, butten days ago, to deposit my all in their hands,and now they have stopped payment; and fromall that I can hear in the City, I am not likelyto receive above one shilling in the pound, andI may wait months, or perhaps years, for that.”

It may be in the recollection of the reader, thatLord Spoonbill was described in an early partof this narrative as being unduly and indecentlypleased to hear of the illness of Dr Greendale,as exulting in the thought that the decease ofthat worthy, kind-hearted man would afford hislordship a more convenient opportunity of pursuinghis schemes against the peace and inno[136]cenceof Penelope Primrose. It will not thereforeappear very surprizing if that same hereditarylegislator should regard the present calamityof Mr Primrose as an agreeable circumstance tohimself, and as greatly favouring his designs.There was however, in the contemplation of thismisfortune of the father of Penelope, a desirealso on the part of his lordship to contributetowards its alleviation. Lord Spoonbill was aprofligate, and he was a mean, contemptiblefellow; but he was not a devil incarnate, delightingin mischief or wickedness purely for itsown sake. He wished Mr Primrose no ill, hehad no desire to inflict any injuries or to givepain to any one, but he loved himself, and hepursued his own plans for his own pleasure, andhe was pleased with whatever gave him promiseor hope of success, even though that very circumstanceshould be the death or injury of another.

Seeing, therefore, that in the present circumstancesthere was something which afforded himpromise, he was pleased, and being pleased he[137]very kindly sympathised with Mr Primrose, andexpressed a wish that matters might not be quiteso bad as was expected.

Mr Primrose took his lordship’s sympathyvery kindly, and his mind was soothed by it; andwith rather more self-possession than might havebeen expected, he replied; “For myself, I carebut little; but it is mortifying, after so long anabsence from my native land, and after so muchtoil and perseverance for the sake of my ownand only child, to find that all the fruit of thattoil is swept away at once.”

Penelope, who had been overwhelmed by thesuddenness of the intelligence, had scarcelyspoken; but now assuming with great successa calmness and resolvedness of manner, said toher father:

“If that be all the calamity, my dear father,it is easily remedied. The Countess of Smattertonhas been kind enough to promise meher high patronage, and to facilitate my effortstowards providing an independency, and LordSpoonbill has but this moment, just before youreturned, been enquiring whether or not I designto continue my preparation for that pursuit.”

“No, no, my Penelope, that is an occupationwhich I am sure can never suit your taste. Iwill not on any account consent to that. Howcan I bear to think of my own child exertingand wasting her strength to amuse the public,and to see her standing before a promiscuousand unfeeling multitude, exposed to the rudenessand insolence of loudly expressed disapprobationand extempore criticism?”

“Nay, my good sir,” said Lord Spoonbill inhis pleasantest manner; “there is no danger, andthere need be no fear, that Miss Primrose willever incur disapprobation; whatever loud expressionsthere may be, will be expressions ofapplause and delight.”

“And that,” rejoined Mr Primrose,[139] “is almostas bad. To stand up before a multitude andbeg for their applause, even if the applause begained, is to my feelings humiliating. To a femaleit is more painful still. I cannot brook the ideaof being dependent on a multitude, a capriciousmass of, perhaps, gross and indiscriminating individuals.”

Lord Spoonbill was so much delighted withthe probability of Miss Primrose’s return to thecondescending and discriminating patronage ofthe Countess of Smatterton, that the anticipationmade him more than usually eloquent andlogical; and there was something also in themanner of Mr Primrose that excited the hereditarylegislator to use his utmost powers ofpersuasion. He therefore thus pursued the subject:

“But, sir, it is not merely in that professionwhich Miss Primrose contemplates, that thepublic takes the liberty of expressing its opinion.The highest personage in the kingdom isnot exempt from expressions of public censureor public applause; and when a nobleman inthe House of Peers, or a gentleman in the Houseof Commons, rises and expresses his sentimentson any question of policy, the public takes theliberty to express, and sometimes very loudlyand rudely, an opinion of the merits or demeritsof such speech.”

“Yes, my lord, you are talking very plausibly;but you must feel that there is a widedifference between the two cases. You cannot bysuch arguments cheat me out of my feelings.I thought it a calamity when I heard that mychild meditated that profession, and I was delightedthat it was in my power to save her fromsuch a painful publicity.”

It was not perhaps quite consistent with thestrictest veracity when Penelope, interrupting herfather, said: “Indeed, my dear father, you quitemisunderstand me, if you think that I should feelany unpleasant sensations in that publicity.”

Mr Primrose saw clearly enough the motive ofthat speech; and he began to wish that thisdiscussion had not taken place in the presence ofa third person; and Lord Spoonbill saw that thisfeeling oppressed the poor man. With a degree[141]of propriety and delicacy therefore, which hecould readily assume when it suited his purpose,he concluded his visit by saying:

“Well, Mr Primrose, I will not intrude uponyou any longer for the present; and I can onlysay, that I hope you will not find the affairs ofyour banker quite so bad as you expect; but ifyou should, then I will venture to say that theEarl of Smatterton will not forget a near relativeof the late respected Dr Greendale. Our familywill be in town in a few days, and I shall be mosthappy then to repeat my call. And should MissPrimrose still persist in wishing to adopt themusical profession, a patroness and every possibleassistance will not be wanting.”

In this there was much kindness, and MrPrimrose was accordingly pleased with theyoung lord, and forgot for a moment that hehad ever heard any stories to his discredit.And, when the father and daughter were leftalone, they entered into long and serious talkconcerning their respective prospects.

Mr Primrose was not left absolutely pennylessby the stopping of his banker; but thegreater part of his property was gone if, as reportstated, the house should be only able topay one shilling in the pound. Indeed, uponthe supposition of a much larger dividend, theproperty, which would then remain to Mr Primrose,would be but a very narrow and scantyindependence. He had not made so very largea fortune in India as some persons are said tohave accumulated; but, as soon as he had acquiredwhat he thought a respectable competence,he returned to England to have as muchas possible the enjoyment of his daughter’scompany, and those pleasures which none buta native land is capable of affording.

When he had stated to Penelope as accuratelyand fully as possible the various particulars relativeto his property, and mentioned the sourcesfrom whence the rumours came concerning theincompetency of his banker, the young ladyvery composedly expressed her readiness to avail[143]herself of the proffered patronage of the Countessof Smatterton. There appeared so muchsincerity and cheerfulness in the proposal, thatMr Primrose felt himself considerably relieved:and not only did there appear sincerity in thelanguage used by Penelope, but there really waswhat there appeared to be. For reluctant asshe might have been to engage in such a professionmerely for the gratification of a patroness,she felt very differently when she thoughtthat she might thereby be an assistance to herfather.

Hurt as Mr Primrose’s feelings, or pride, mighthave been at the thought of receiving assistancefrom his own daughter, whom he had hopedto place in a state of independence, and mortifiedas he might be at the prospect of theyoung lady making a public appearance, yet hehad but little to say to the repeated enquirywhich Penelope made in answer to all hisobjections; for invariably his remarks were fol[144]lowedby the question—“What else can bedone?”

It was too late for Mr Primrose to return toIndia; and the patronage or interest which oncehad favoured him now existed for him no longer.He had not been brought up to any professionwhereby he might gain a livelihood in England,and he had been accustomed to a style of livingwhich rendered daily bread a more expensivearticle to him than to those of humbler prospects.

A very distressing and heart-rending scenemay be drawn of human suffering from the lowestand most abject of the children of penuryand destitution. But we have our doubts whetherthe bitterest and keenest sense of sufferingis really in that class. The poor gentlemansuffers mentally, and while the beggar who liveson casual charity has an occasional luxury ina full meal, he, whose poverty must be hiddenbut cannot be unknown, is labouring under an[145]unremitting and incessant pressure; and it isthis that wastes away the body to a mere shadowand bows down the spirit to the earth. Theyare cruel and unfeeling indeed, who mock suchmisery as this. We envy not the talent whichcan draw mirth from a source so painful.

CHAPTER X.

Another morning dawned, and with its openinglight there came to the father of Penelopea feeling of his comparatively destitute situation.His heart swelled as he thought of it, and hehad some difficulty to preserve composure enoughto meet his child. There was however one dropof consolation in the cup of his affliction, for itwas not by his own fault or folly that his presentloss was occasioned. But even this consolationafflicted him, for it brought to his recollectionhis past folly, and reminded him of the patientendurance with which the mother of hisPenelope had borne up, as long as possible,against her sufferings. He recollected how gra[147]duallyand slowly she sunk, and how to the verylast moment of life her looks were to him alltenderness and forgiveness. And he thoughtthat he could also discern in his child thosesame moral features which had been the graceand glory of her departed mother.

Commanding his feelings as well as he could,he commenced the talk concerning the calamityof the preceding day. His heart was touchedby the cheerful manner in which Penelope referredto the proposal of the Countess of Smatterton,and he smiled through his tears to hearhow sanguinely the poor girl talked of the certaintyof high success. But as yet all was inuncertainty.

His banker, in whose hands he had placed thegreater part of his property, had certainly stoppedpayment; but it could not yet be ascertainedwhen his affairs would be put into a train forsettlement, nor was it likely that one so littleacquainted with the City as Mr Primrose shouldbe able to form any idea of the dividend which[148]might be paid. He certainly had heard it saidthat no greater dividend would be forthcoming,than one shilling in the pound. But people inthe City sometimes tells lies not knowing themto be lies, and sometimes even do they go so faras to tell lies knowing them to be so.

Mr Primrose was a very hasty man, catchingup whatever he heard, and taking it for grantedthat all he heard was true. He never thoughtof enquiring what was the political party towhich his banker belonged, nor did he know towhat party those persons attached themselveswho told him the melancholy story of that banker’sinability to pay more than one shilling inthe pound. As for Mr Primrose himself, he,poor man, knew nothing about party; he wasnot aware that England contained two classesof men, one of which is all that is good, andthe other all that is bad. He simply knew thatthe banker had stopped payment, and that twovery respectable-looking gentlemen had declaredit as their opinion that there would not be a[149]dividend of more than one shilling in the pound.That story he believed, and on that presumptionwas proceeding. His daughter of course couldknow nothing about the matter; and as for theRight Honorable Lord Spoonbill, he was such asuperfine sort of a gentleman that he hardlyknew that there was such a place as the City;and if he had ever heard of such an animal as aCity Alderman, he took it for some such a creatureas the Bonassus.

Now this melancholy intelligence, which MrPrimrose had brought with him from the City,put a stop of course to those employments inwhich he would otherwise have been engaged.He was preparing to look out for some residence,either in town or country; and for that purposehe had every morning read with great attentionall the advertisements of desirable residences tobe sold or let. It was not very pleasant to turnfrom these thoughts to study painfully the meansof again acquiring a maintenance.

It was more especially distressing to him toobserve how anxiously his poor child now supplicatedas a favour to be permitted to engagein an occupation, from which he knew that,under other circumstances, she would havetimidly shrunk. He was afflicted to hear suchsolicitations; but he had so much pleasure inhis daughter’s society, and so little occasion togo out, that he remained in his hotel the greaterpart of the morning, or more properly speakingthe day. Towards evening however it occurredto him, and to any one else it would have occurredmuch earlier, that it might be the meansof setting his mind a little at rest, and of givinghim some little ground of hope, if he should goonce more into the City and enquire of his agentinto the probability of a settlement or arrangementof his banker’s affairs.

While Mr Primrose was gone into the CityPenelope was left mournfully alone. It is indeedvery dull to spend a long solitary evening in a[151]strange place without occupation, and with nothingto think upon but painful recollectionsand fearful anticipations.

The room in which the poor girl was left waslarge and well furnished, but there were no booksin it, and the pictures were but indifferent engravingsin splendid frames. There was a newspaper,but that was soon exhausted. There weremany persons in the house, but Penelope knewnone of them, and none of them cared abouther.

It had been very different at Smatterton, andat Neverden; in those two villages everybodyknew her, and everybody loved her more or less;and there she never felt herself alone, for sheknew that her good uncle was near her, andthere is some pleasure in knowing that a goodfriend is near us. There, when she heard footstepsand voices, they were familiar voices andthe footsteps of friends; but in the large hotel,where she sat alone waiting for her father, sheheard only the voices of strangers. And when[152]for the sake of a little variety she drew aside thedrapery of the long windows and looked downupon the lamp illuminated street, there wassomething quite melancholy in the dim appearanceand the monotonous sounds. Carriage-wheelsseemed to roll incessantly, and theirpassing lights were miserably reflected from myriadsof little puddles coldly shining amidst theuneven pavement.

There was a specimen or two to be heardof the London cries; but there was no musicin them, and they fell upon the ear with astrangely unpleasant effect, intermingled with theoccasional sound of a street organ. Penelopestrained her attention to listen to the music, andit was pleasant to her, though the images whichit raised in her mind were those only of sadregrets. There is more effect produced by thosestreet organs than people in general are awareof. Shall we be pardoned the strangeness of theexpression, if we say that they sometimes give awholesome agitation to the stagnation of the[153]moral atmosphere? And shall we be still fartherpardoned if we digress, for the sake of illustratingby an anecdote the above singular expression?By such a digression we are not interruptingour narrative, which is now indeed, likeits pensive heroine, standing still.

A father had lost an affectionate and promisingchild, over whose long lingering illness he hadwatched anxiously but hopelessly. The poorchild had suffered patiently, but had experiencedsome intervals of ease, and some sensationseven of delight. A popular melody hadcaught his fancy, and when the wandering organistof that neighbourhood played his favouriteair, the little sufferer’s eyes would brighten, andhis pale transparent hand would beat the timeas knowingly as an amateur. That was a scenefor a parent to recollect. And the poor little onedied, and the father, when he had seen the graveclosed upon the child’s remains, returned to hishome in a state of apathy: feeling seemed tohave perished in him. The organist made his[154]accustomed round, played the favourite air; thebereaved father was awakened to the agony ofremembrance, and those tears flowed freely andspontaneously, which told that feeling had notdeparted.

By the itinerant musicians the feelings ofPenelope were awakened; but she could nothelp observing how much less emotion she experiencedthan formerly, when these well-knownmelodies brought to her mind thoughts of theabsent and the distant. Her mind was otherwiseengaged and her thoughts otherwise directed.Little did she imagine, when she had been anxiouslyexpecting and joyfully anticipating herfather’s return to England, that so dark a cloudwould obscure the first dawn of her happiness.While she was thus wearing away the slowlymoving hours, the door of the apartment wasopened and Lord Spoonbill made his appearance.

It is a great evil that virtuous men shouldever make themselves disagreeable, and it is also[155]a great evil that vicious men should make themselvesagreeable; but the latter is quite as commonas the former, and perhaps more so. Hethat exercises no reflection, and never turns histhoughts within, has so much the more attentionto give to the external of manner andaddress. And so much had Lord Spoonbill cultivatedmanner, that although Penelope hadreason to suppose him to be no conjuror, andthough she had also reason to think that hismorals were not the most pure, yet he was notaltogether offensive and disagreeable to her.She could not but feel almost grateful to himfor having so readily abstained from urging thetopic which he had mentioned on the day of hermeeting with her father. It also appeared toher highly flattering and complimentary, that aperson of his lordship’s rank should deign to paycourt to one of inferior station; for there wasnot in her mind the slightest or remotest suspicionthat Lord Spoonbill had any other than the[156]most honourable intention in making a professionof attachment.

When his lordship made his appearance, hewas received cordially and as cheerfully ascircumstances would permit. Penelope had nowfully made up her mind to adopt the professionrecommended by the Countess of Smatterton,and as Lord Spoonbill had on the previous day,in conversation with Mr Primrose, used argumentsrather recommendatory of that step, theyoung lady could not of course imagine thatthere remained in his lordship’s mind any intentionwhatever of pursuing the subject of hisattachment, or renewing any mention of his loveand devotedness.

This thought gave to her manner a muchgreater ease, and being also blended with thepensiveness of her present feelings, presented herto the eye of Lord Spoonbill as more interestingand lovely than ever. His lordship was a vainman; and to possess so lovely a creature as[157]Penelope, would be the means of gratifying hisvanity. He was cunning enough however tosee that Miss Primrose was quite unsuspiciousof his designs, and that she did not anticipate arevival of that discourse to which her earnestsupplications had put a stop. He felt thereforethat it would not be prudent hastily to recommencea conversation of that nature, but toendeavour to render himself more agreeable, andto try to ascertain how far there yet remained inher recollection any tender thoughts of RobertDarnley.

Such were his lordship’s intentions, but theywere frustrated by the manner in which Penelopespoke, and by the decision with which she proposedto cast herself on the patronage of theCountess, and to adopt the profession so earnestlyrecommended by her ladyship. LordSpoonbill to this proposal replied, that theCountess would be most happy to afford MissPrimrose all the assistance in her power; and hislordship was also pleased to say, that this reso[158]lutionwould contribute very essentially to increasethe attractions of Lady Smatterton’sparties.

Penelope sighed and almost shuddered at thethought; but, as the effort was made for thesake of her father, she subdued or concealed herreluctance. It was of course understood by hislordship, that this resolution of the young ladyarose from the loss which her father had experienced;it was therefore very natural that someexpressions of sympathy and concern should beused on the occasion by the hereditary legislator.These expressions were gratefully receivedby Penelope, though her language of acknowledgmentwas only the language of looks andimperfectly suppressed tears.

Lord Spoonbill interpreted this emotion as anomen in his favour; and he was tempted by hisevil genius to say something farther in allusionto the prohibited topic. He was greatly andagreeably surprised to hear no express and hastyinterruption; and fearful lest this silence should[159]proceed only from abstraction of mind, he wenton to speak more decidedly and less equivocallyconcerning his attachment to the young lady.Penelope gave symptoms of understanding hislordship, but shewed no decided or obviousmarks of disapprobation. There seemed to be,and there certainly was, a strong conflict in hermind. She had not, indeed, ceased to thinktenderly and affectionately of Robert Darnley;but she had nearly, if not altogether, ceased tohope. The conflict in her mind was betweenher affection for her father and her indifferenceto Lord Spoonbill. We will not say that hervanity was not flattered by the apparent offerof so splendid an alliance. It perhaps influencedher as little as it would influence anyone; but when the mind is just recovering fromthe pains and mortifications of a first disappointment,it is mightily indifferent to matters ofsentiment. The very loss of a first love is ofitself so great an affliction, that it appears as[160]if no condition of being could render the afflictiongreater.

Finding that Penelope returned no answer tohis protestations of attachment, and that shedid not withdraw her hand from his grasp, hislordship proceeded to urge his suit in the commonlanguage adapted for such occasions as thepresent, and used by such persons as his lordship.Penelope, fancying that she was aboutto give her consent to become Lady Spoonbill,prefaced that consent by expressing her fearsthat the Earl and Countess of Smatterton wouldlook down, with disapprobation at least, on oneso humble and portionless. To obviate thisobjection his lordship, who did not, or whowould not see the misapprehension of the younglady, observed that the Earl and Countess neednot know anything of the arrangement.

“But how is that possible?” inquired Penelopein the simplicity of her heart.

In explaining that possibility his lordship also[161]explained the object which he had in view inmaking a declaration of his attachment. NowPenelope, who had been brought up under theroof and instruction of Dr Greendale, and whoknew no more of the world than the world knewof her, was not able immediately and readily tocomprehend his lordship’s meaning, and whenshe did comprehend it, she was shocked andastonished at it; her pride also, of which shepossessed constitutionally an abundant share,took alarm at the indignity, and she would, butfor the utter depression of her spirits, haveresented the insult loudly and contemptuously.As it was, her only resource was in a copiousflood of silent tears, and when her paroxysm ofanguish was somewhat abated, so that she couldfind utterance for words, she said:

“My Lord Spoonbill, let me request you toleave me. My father will soon return, and ifhe should learn what has passed, I cannotanswer for the consequences.”

The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill began[162]to discern symptoms of a horsewhipping, andhaving acted dishonorably, he looked foolishly.It was not generous to attempt to take advantageof the misfortunes of Mr Primrose, and thedestitute condition of Penelope. But there wasin his lordship’s heart so great a regard forPenelope, that he resolved at all events to makeher his own, and that if marriage was the onlycondition, he would offer her marriage. Withthis view he stammered out something which heintended as an apology, and endeavoured, aswell as he could, to unsay all that he had saidconcerning the humiliating arrangement whichhe had at first proposed; but Penelope heardhim not, or if hearing, heeded him not.

Hereupon his lordship became more earnestin his solicitations, and made such clumsy attemptsto explain away his first proposal, thatthe young lady began to think more contemptuouslyof him than she had ever thought before.And now his lordship saw that there was sometruth and justice in the observations which had[163]been thrown out by his friend Erpingham. Seeingthe lady so resolute and obdurate, he thoughtit would be the wisest step that he could taketo leave her for the present, in hope that hereafterher indignation might somewhat abate.

When he was gone, the poor, perplexed, andalmost desolate one, felt in some measure relievedby his absence; but, when she began to reflect,she found that her hopes of the patronage ofLady Smatterton were now gone; for it wouldbe absolutely impossible for her to place herselfagain in a situation where she might be exposedto the importunities of Lord Spoonbill. Andwhen at a late hour in the evening her father returnedfrom the City, it was too much for her toreceive him cheerfully, and she could no longerspeak sanguinely and with confidence concerningher prospects under the patronage of LadySmatterton.

As for Mr Primrose, no brighter prospectseemed to shine before him; for he had gainedno intelligence. He had found, as he might[164]have expected, the office of his agent closed,and there was no one in the house who couldgive him the slightest information. He was astonishedat the world’s apathy; no one seemed tosympathise with him. Everybody was wrappedup in their own concerns, and the thoughts of allseemed to be centred in themselves. This isindeed not much to be wondered at. It is theway of the world, and always has been, andalways will, until some change takes place whichwe cannot yet anticipate or conjecture. It waspleasantly observed by a sentimental jockey, wholost by a considerable length the first race heever rode, “I’ll never ride another race as longas I live. The riders are the most selfish, narrow-mindedcreatures on the face of the earth.They kept riding and galloping as fast as theycould, and never had once the kindness or civilityto stop for me.”

In some such state of mind as this was MrPrimrose when he returned from his fruitlessexcursion in the City. All the inquiries which[165]he had made about his agent, as to where hewas, and how long the office had been shut,and what time it would be open tomorrow, andten thousand other matters, had been answeredwith a toil-saving brevity and a coldness, whichintimated that the persons answering the questionshad not so great an interest in them as theperson asking them.

CHAPTER XI.

Many days had now passed away since MrPrimrose had left Neverden and Smatterton, andsince Robert Darnley had expressed his resolutionto make prompt inquiry into the cause ofthe interruption of the correspondence betweenPenelope and himself. There had arrived nointelligence from the young gentleman: but MrPrimrose began now to think that he himselfhad not done right in listening and yielding tothe delicate scruples of his daughter. Thefather of Penelope was of that complexion ofmind that, under similar circumstances, he wouldhave thanked any one for removing any misunderstanding,even had it been the lady herself.

He knew that Robert Darnley had not beenthe wilful cause of breaking off the correspondence,and he knew also that his own daughterhad not neglected to answer the letters whichshe had received. He knew that the partieswere attached to each other, and he had learnedfrom Penelope herself that there was no foundationfor the story of her attachment to LordSpoonbill. Now what should prevent him fromwriting to Neverden to inform the young gentlemanof this fact? He thought that it would bean act of kindness to both parties. Nevertheless,it should be observed, that Mr Primrosewas not one of those terribly kind people whoforce their kindness upon one, whether we likeit or not, as the man who beat his wife andsaid, “It is all for your good, my dear.”

When therefore he was fully satisfied that itwould be but an act of kindness to his daughterto remove the mystery from the mind of RobertDarnley, he did not take this step without first[168]consulting her for whose benefit such step wasto be taken. At breakfast he said to Penelope:

“So, my dear, my excursion into the Citywas to no purpose last night. I find that Imust make an earlier visit, and therefore I shallgo again to-day. I hope and trust I may findmatters not quite so bad as I first anticipated.And I think that you need not be in a verygreat hurry to engage in this profession. Icannot say I like patronage. But why shouldnot we take some steps to let Robert Darnleyknow that the breaking off the correspondencewas not your act? I think I ought to write tohim. Indeed I almost promised that I would.Very likely he may be waiting till he hears fromme.”

“My dear father,” exclaimed Penelope, “yousurely would not think of such a step as that.It would be exceedingly indelicate, and mightexpose me to contempt. Mr Darnley knowsthat I am in London, and if he were at all dis[169]posedto renew the correspondence, or to havean explanation of the cause of its interruption,he would either have written or have made hisappearance in town. Knowing that I was atLord Smatterton’s, it was no difficult matterto write to me; for the letter would be sureto find me, if directed under cover to his lordship.”

“But, my dear child,” interrupted Mr Primrose,“I think he expects to hear from me; forI recollect now having said something to thateffect.”

“But after this long interval, if Mr Darnleywere really anxious, and at all concerned aboutme, he would have written to press you to theperformance of your promise.”

“He might have done so to be sure,” said herfather, slowly and thoughtfully, and then, as ifrecollecting himself, he continued in a livelierand quicker tone;[170] “but perhaps, as he has notheard from me, he takes it for granted that youreally were desirous of dropping the correspondence;and so after all you will appear to himas the person by whose act and deed the acquaintancehas ceased.”

“And what will he, or can he think,” rejoinedPenelope, “if, under present circumstances, thereshould be on my part an effort made to renewthe acquaintance? No, no; let the matter rest.Even if you did promise to write first, you maybe sure that he would not have waited patientlyall this while in expectation of hearing from you.He might naturally enough suppose that I shouldobject to having overtures made as from me;and if he had a real regard for me, we shouldhave heard from him by this time. My attachmentto Mr Darnley was founded on the qualitiesand endowments of the mind, and if I weredeceived as to them, that attachment will soondie away.”

“Upon my word, child,” said Mr Primrose,[171]“I really do not think you have any regard forMr Darnley. You are certainly captivated bythis Lord Spoonbill.”

This was said by Mr Primrose not angrily,but with a tone of mock reproach. Penelopeshuddered at the allusion to Lord Spoonbill; butshe endeavoured to conceal her emotion as muchas possible, lest she should be under the necessityof informing her father of the proposal whichhis lordship had made her the day before.

While this conversation was passing betweenMr Primrose and his daughter, another scenewas passing at the town mansion of the Earlof Smatterton, where his lordship and familyhad arrived on the preceding day. Parliamentwas about to meet after the prorogation. Onsuch occasions his lordship’s magnificence swelledout to most extraordinary dimensions. Then didhe bethink himself that he was one of those whoheld in his hand the destiny of the British empire;and, when the postman brought letters fromdivers parts of the kingdom, his lordship felthimself to be the centre to which many mindswere directing their most anxious thoughts. Theletters were handed to his lordship on a silver[172]tray. The servant who brought them swelledwith importance, and even the silver tray shonewith unusual brightness beneath its importantburden.

“It is very fatiguing,” his lordship wouldsometimes say, “to have anything to do withpublic business. I often envy the obscurity ofhumble station. There is peace and quietnessin the lowly valley.”

This, together with much more pompous sentimentalityof the same kind, his lordship wouldutter when an unusual number of letters werebrought to him. On the morning to which wenow refer the number of letters was great, andthey were spread on the table by his importantlordship’s own right honorable hands. The contentsof some he anticipated, and of others heuttered his conjectures.

“Oh! here are two from Smatterton,” exclaimedhis lordship:[173] “one, I see, is from Kipperson:that Kipperson is really a man of sometalent; he has very just views of things. Thisletter from Kipperson is of course on privatebusiness, which must be postponed to the moreimportant affairs which concern the destiny ofthe empire. But from whom can this otherletter come? I have no other correspondentthere, except my cousin Letitia, and this is nother writing.”

Then his lordship looked very knowingly atthe letter again. But all this speechificationwas perfectly needless; for if he wished to knowfrom whom the letter came, he had nothing todo but to open it; and till he did open it he wasnot likely to know anything about it. After afull share of idle wonderment, his lordship tookthe envelope off the mysterious letter, and foundthat it was addressed to Mr Primrose. Thereathis lordship was angry, and expressed greatastonishment at the liberty thus taken with hisright honorable name. On looking again at thecover he discerned a few lines of apology, bearingthe signature of Robert Darnley, and stating thatthe liberty had been taken because the writer[174]did not know the gentleman’s address, andbecause he also understood that Mr Primrose’sdaughter was under his lordship’s roof.

“And how am I to know the gentleman’saddress?” exclaimed his lordship with a mostmagnificent air.

But the Countess, who had been informed byLord Spoonbill that Penelope had the intentionof returning to undergo her ladyship’s patronage,did not feel quite so angry as her lord, butsuggested that the young lord had seen MrPrimrose, and knew the name of the hotel wherehe lodged.

“Certainly,” said Lord Spoonbill, “I willtake care of it.” And he forthwith laid handsupon the letter. Lord Smatterton then added,“I beg that Mr Primrose may be immediatelyrecommended to make known his address toMr Darnley, that this liberty may not be takenagain.”

When Lord Spoonbill had possession of thisletter he forthwith began to think how he should[175]dispose of it. He was not quite sure, though itcame from Robert Darnley to Mr Primrose, thatit must of necessity discourse concerning loveand Penelope. When his lordship therefore inhis own apartment sat muttering over the letter,and wondering what it could contain, there wassome little more reason for his doubts and wondermentsthan for those of Lord Smatterton overthe unopened cover addressed to himself. Theletter in possession of Lord Spoonbill was notaddressed to himself, and therefore he had noright to open it, however deeply he might feelinterested in its contents.

He took up the letter, and looked at the directionand at the seal; and he endeavoured toconjecture on what other subject than that ofPenelope Mr Darnley could write to Mr Primrose.Then did his lordship poke his righthonorable finger and thumb into the open sidesof the letter, endeavouring to catch a glimpseof a word or two that might help him over the[176]difficulties of conjecture. But the letter wasso very ingeniously folded that not a single wordcould be seen. Hereupon, incredible as it mayappear, his lordship was in a very great wrath,and was offended with the insolence of RobertDarnley, who had taken such pains to fold hisletter, as if he had a suspicion that any individualof Lord Smatterton’s family should havethe meanness to look into it. This curious modeof folding the letter induced his lordship to makeanother and another attempt to read a line or aword. But nothing could be seen. Now, in theprogress of these repeated efforts at investigation,the letter was so much disfigured that his lordship,with all his ingenuity, could not make itlook like itself again.

Another difficulty now arose: for his lordshipwas ashamed to send it in so questionable ashape; and should he send or make any apology,he must tell something very much like a lie, andperhaps by his clumsiness in apologizing create[177]a suspicion of the real fact. Perplexed and undecided,he thrust the letter into his pocket andwalked out.

Lord Spoonbill must have been very muchattached to Miss Primrose to take all thistrouble, and to expose himself to so many annoyanceson her account; and the worst of thematter was that he could not, in making his visitto the young lady, quote all these instances ofmortification and self-denial as illustrations andproofs of his devotedness to her. He could nottell her that, for her sake, he had stooped tomeannesses of which any other man would havebeen ashamed. He could not tell her that, inorder to place her in the enviable rank of nobility,he had intercepted her letters and had corruptedthe integrity of Nick Muggins, the Smattertonpost-boy. By the way we cannot helpremarking, that Muggins was much to blamefor accepting a bribe to betray his trust. Butthe love of gold is an universal passion, it is notconfined to any one class or condition of human[178]life; it influences the high and the low, the richand the poor, the learned and the unlearned;

But to return to our enamoured hereditarylegislator. He was walking, he scarcely knewwhither, with Robert Darnley’s letter in hispocket; and he was meditating most perplexedlyon the various events of human life, onthose at least which concerned himself, and hethought that he had been acting very much likea fool, and he felt very much inclined to makea mighty effort to act like a wise man. Butwisdom is not an extemporaneous productionof a fool’s head. It required something morethan a volition to change the whole tenor of theconduct.

In his resolution to act more wisely, the RightHonorable Lord Spoonbill made with himselfthis stipulation, namely, that at all events, andby any means honorable, or dishonorable, he musthave Miss Primrose; for it was absolutely impossiblethat he could live without her. It wastherefore no easy matter for his lordship so tomanage matters as to gain Miss Primrose at allevents, and yet to act as a man of honor. Forhere was in his pocket a letter, which, as a manof honor, he ought immediately to hand over toMr Primrose; and yet he very strongly suspected,that if the said letter should come intothe possession of the person to whom it was addressed,it would be most probably the meansof placing an insuperable objection in the way ofhis lordship’s designs. It also entered into themind of the meditating young gentleman that,if the acquaintance between Miss Primrose andRobert Darnley should be renewed, there mightbe some talk about the letters which had not[180]reached their destination, and there might bemade some enquiries. And what if, after all,Nick Muggins should turn traitor! Who couldtell what influences fear or hope might exerciseover the uncivilized post-boy of Smatterton?

Instruction being a much more important objectthan amusement, we feel ourselves bound todirect the attention of our readers to the instructionwhich may be derived from the fact herealluded to. Here is political instruction andpersonal instruction. We do not believe a wordof the idle prating that some political greenhornsmake about secret service money; but we dobelieve that many of those politicians, and theyare not a few, who mistake cunning for wisdom,frequently become entangled in nets of their ownweaving, and fall into pits of their own digging.To play the rogue with perfect success, is aperfection almost beyond the reach of ordinaryhumanity: for they, who have talent and powerto do so, are generally too wise to possess the[181]inclination, and they who are weak enough topossess the inclination, are in nine cases out often too clumsy to carry it on with perfect success.And the worst of it is, that they mustmake use of tools which are either too strongto be managed, or too weak to be depended on.

This is also a lesson of instruction to personsin private life, especially to those who have nothingto do but to live on the fruits of theirgrandfather’s industry, or their great grandfather’sroguery; for it teaches them that, if they willpursue those ends which are dishonorable, theymust also make use of dishonorable means; andthey will very frequently be placed in very uncomfortableand mortifying situations.

Now, however willing Lord Spoonbill mighthave been to suffer the letter in his possessionto reach its proper destination, he found that hecould not send it without exposing his formermeanness to the risk of detection, and in all probabilitydefeating the end which he had in view[182]in intercepting the letters which were passingbetween Miss Primrose and Robert Darnley.In such perplexity, his lordship walked from onestreet to another till he found himself at a veryconsiderable distance from Mr Primrose’s hotel.

CHAPTER XII.

Lord Spoonbill was not like Cato. For historyrecords of the latter that he preferred beinggood to seeming so: Lord Spoonbill had nogreat objection to being a rogue, but did notlike to be thought one. It was therefore notvery pleasant for him to be placed in that dilemma,of which we made mention in the lastchapter. He saw, or at least had good reason tothink that he saw, that Mr Darnley was bent onrenewing the acquaintance with Miss Primrose;and he also feared that Penelope had not sufficientlyforgotten her first lover.

There also occurred to his mind the thoughtthat it was possible for Mr Darnley to make a[184]journey to London for a personal explanation,if the letter to Mr Primrose should not be answered.This consideration suggested to hislordship the necessity of taking prompt anddecided measures. He saw that no chance remainedfor him but in the way of matrimony.He certainly dreaded the encounter with his righthonorable parents; but, if he could not live withoutPenelope, it was absolutely necessary that heshould take steps to live with her.

This is a very proper place wherein to make adigression concerning the omnipotence of love;and here we ought to be extremely pathetic,shewing and demonstrating with heart-rendingeloquence, how irresistible is this universal passion:and perhaps some of our readers, not manywe hope, may think that we ought to make avery sentimental defence of Lord Spoonbill, assome of our predecessors in the history of lovershave made of those idle cubs who have shewntheir refinement and sensibility by seducing engagedor betrothed affections. But we do not[185]believe in the omnipotence of love; and we donot think Lord Spoonbill at all deserving of pity.Falling in love with Penelope was on his partperfectly voluntary, deliberate, wilful, and intentional.It is all very possible and very plausiblefor an inexperienced and thoughtless youthto find himself mightily attached to a youngwoman before he is aware almost of the existenceof the passion; but this was not the case withLord Spoonbill. When he saw Miss Primrose headmired her; when he became more acquaintedwith her, he liked her; and, from pursuing, heloved her. But he knew from the first that shewas otherwise engaged; and his designs towardsher had been degrading.

We have dwelt long, and perhaps tediously,on Lord Spoonbill’s embarrassment; we havedone so intentionally, because that embarrassmentdwelt tediously on his mind, and it wasnecessary, for the sake of accuracy in the picture,to represent the case not transiently, butcopiously.

The result of the right honorable hereditarylegislator’s meditation was, that as it was notpossible for him to live without Penelope, andas delay might expose him to the danger of beingcompelled to do that which he knew to be impossible,he would take the earliest opportunityof making regular and deliberate overtures ofmarriage. And he felt satisfied that the fascinationof title and the splendour of opulencewould be too much for a female heart to withstand.There was also another thought onwhich he grounded his hopes: he consideredthat the affection which Penelope had for herfather would induce her more readily to acceptan offer which would provide her with the meansof assisting him.

With this resolution he returned home; as hethought that it might be more advisable to communicatehis intention to the parties concernedby letter than by word of mouth. Probablyhis lordship might imagine that, if thus MrPrimrose were made acquainted with the mag[187]nificentoffer that awaited his daughter’s acceptance,paternal pride would be gratified, andpaternal authority might be added to other motives,inducing the young lady’s compliance.Lord Spoonbill was by no means fastidious asto the manner in which he gained his object,provided that the object was gained.

His lordship dined that day at home. Duringdinner he was silent, and looked almostsulky. The Earl and Countess inferred fromthese looks that their hopeful son was on theeve of saying or doing something not very agreeableto his parents; for he most usually prefacedan act of opposition to their will by putting himselfinto an ill-humour. This is a refined pieceof domestic tactics. None however but spoiledchildren can use it with proper dexterity andcomplete success. When a wife wishes to persuadeher husband out of his senses, or to guidehim against his better judgment, her prelude isgenerally an extraordinary degree of sweetness,and her preface is made of witching smiles; and[188]then the husband thinks that it would be cruelto convert such smiles into tears, and he passivelyyields to the power of the silent logic ofthe laughing eye. But the policy of a greatovergrown booby is different. The spoiled blockheadknows that no art of his can give extraloveliness to his looks in the eyes of his fondparents. His own precious numskull is to themthe ne plus ultra of human excellence. But ifthat sweet face is darkened by a frown, and ifthe dear pet is sulky, cross-grained, and ill-humoured,then anything and everything must beconceded to bring him back to his good-humouragain.

“No,” replied Spoonbill in a style of sulkyabruptness, which Tony Lumpkin himself mighthave envied.

“You seem to be quite out of spirits to-day:”said the Countess, in one of her most agreeableand winning tones.

“One cannot be always laughing and talking,”was the uncourteous and ungrateful reply.

Then followed a long pause. The Earl andCountess scarcely dared to speak to each other,and Lord Spoonbill pertinaciously held his peace.Now such a state of things cannot last long;it is absolutely unbearable. Very soon afterthe servants had left the room, as the youngman’s silence and sulkiness yet continued, LordSmatterton, who thought himself a bit of a politician,gave her ladyship a hint to indulge themwith her absence.

When they were alone, the Earl of Smattertonthus addressed his hopeful son: “Spoonbill, Ifear that something is preying upon your mind.May I be permitted to know what it is that disturbsyou?”

Lord Spoonbill did not make any reply to thisconsolatory interrogation: for he felt very wellsatisfied that the communication of the causeof his concern would not be very likely to removeit. He therefore thought it best to con[190]trive,if it could be so managed, to let the truthcome out gradually, and to bring his father toguess, than to tell abruptly, the cause of hisoppression.

“You are silent,” said the Earl of Smatterton.Lord Spoonbill knew that without requiringto be told of it. The Earl then continued:

“Why should you conceal from me anythingthat concerns and interests you? I am only desirousof promoting your welfare; and, if in anymatter I can serve you, command me.”

It is quite contrary to our notions of proprietythat sons should command their parents; it wasalso contrary to Lord Smatterton’s ideas of hisown dignity that any one should dictate to him;but in the present instance he adopted the courtier’slanguage. As his son did not seem disposedto command him, the father felt very muchinclined to command his son, and to insist withmighty dignity on knowing the cause of thisstrange behaviour. But Lord Spoonbill was[191]rather too old to be treated like a boy. Hislordship would not be snubbed; but he couldnot always escape a lecturing.

There is this difference between the rationaland irrational part of the creation; that, amongthe irrational animals, the parents are in haste togive their offspring a hint of their independence;but among rational beings, the young ones aremore in haste to throw off their dependence thanparents to renounce their authority or withdrawtheir protection. One reason perhaps for thisarrangement is, that rational youngsters are notquite so well able to guide and to take care ofthemselves as irrational animals are.

The feeling of which we are here speakingoperated very powerfully in the minds of LordSmatterton and his son. The father was especiallyfond of authority, and the son as fond ofindependence: but the father held the purse,and there lay the great secret of his power.Lord Spoonbill knew that he could not marry[192]Miss Primrose without the consent of more partiesthan himself and the young lady; he knewthat the means of an establishment must be contributedby his own right honorable father; andtherefore his consideration was, how to obtainthat consent, and how to reconcile his father’swell-known horror of plebeianism with his ownmarriage, with the daughter of a man who hadoriginally sprung from the City. To have madethe proposal flatly and plainly, would have putthe Earl into a most tremendous passion. Itwas therefore necessary to have recourse to management.

Finding that the Earl was slow in utteringconjectures, Lord Spoonbill was compelled togive broader hints; and for that purpose he rosefrom his seat and walked to the fire-place, andput his elbow on the chimney-piece, and hishand upon his forehead, and sighed—oh, howhe did sigh! He would have been a fine subjectfor Chantrey; but neither Chantrey nor any one[193]else could have immortalized that magnificentsigh.

At this movement the Earl started, and exclaimed:“Are you in love, Spoonbill?”

“What then!” echoed Lord Smatterton; “thatvery much depends on the person who hasengaged your affections. If it be a suitableconnexion, I shall throw no impediment in yourway.”

“But, perhaps, what may appear a suitableconnexion to me may not appear in the samelight to you.”

“Certainly not,” replied Lord Spoonbill cheerfullyand confidently; “I could not bear to livewith a wife who was not a person of intellect.”

Some of our readers might not have expectedthis remark from Lord Smatterton, or this replyfrom Lord Spoonbill; but let those readers look[194]out among their acquaintance for a great blockhead,and let them talk to him about intellect,and they will not wonder that Lord Spoonbillhad a fancy for an intellectual wife. There is,now a-days, a great demand for intellect, and ademand will always create a supply of some sortor other.

“And I think,” continued the Earl of Smatterton,“that I know your opinions on thatsubject too well to suppose that you would everdegrade yourself so far as to marry a person oflow birth.”

Lord Spoonbill bit his lips; and said, “Iwould never marry a woman of vulgar manners,whatever might be her birth.”

“You are right,” said the Earl; “but whycan you not tell me at once, without all thiscircumlocution, who is the lady that is destinedto the honor of becoming Lady Spoonbill?”

Here the young man hesitated and demurred,and endeavoured to say something that shouldamount to nothing. But the Earl was not con[195]tentto be put off evasively, and pressed so hard,that at length the secret was extorted. Thenwas the Lord of Smatterton exceedingly astonishedand grieved, and he groaned and shookhis head most solemnly, and in a tone of greatanguish of mind, said;

“Oh, Spoonbill! Spoonbill! That you shouldever have come to this! And have you made theyoung woman an offer of your hand?”

“I have,” replied the son, who thought thatthe readiest way of bringing the matter to aconclusion would be to avow it at once.

But, when the Earl farther enquired whetherthe offer had been accepted or not, the younglord was under the necessity of acknowledgingthat it had not been exactly accepted, but thathe had no doubt it would be. This was a curiouspiece of refinement in the art of lying. LordSpoonbill was too scrupulous to commit himselfby a downright palpable falsehood, which mightbe detected, but instead of that he had recourseto one of those lies, which are not so easy of[196]detection, but which answer quite as well thepurpose of deceit. It was quite as much a lie tosay that he had no doubt that his offer would beaccepted, as it would have been to say that ithad already been accepted. But the one liemight have been detected, the other could not.He had doubts of his acceptance, and seriousdoubts too; but he thought that if the younglady and her father found that the match wascountenanced by the Earl, and, if proposalscould be fairly and fully made before Mr Darnleyshould have an opportunity of holding any intercoursewith Miss Primrose or her father, therewas a possibility of success.

This information was indeed melancholy newsto Lord Smatterton, who had enjoyed and pleasedhimself with the thought that he had to boastof true patrician blood, and who looked forwardto see his only son uphold the dignity of hishouse. There is a pleasure in greatness whichnone but great ones know. It had been thepride of the Earl of Smatterton to look down[197]with contempt on such noble families as haddegraded themselves by admixture with plebeianblood. Now all his sneers and sarcasms, hethought, would be turned against himself, and itpained him to think that it might be said of him,“that is Lord Smatterton, whose son married awoman from the City.”

His lordship knew that his son was obstinateand headstrong, and he saw that there was nomode of preventing the catastrophe, if the youngman had set his mind upon it. But notwithstandinghe knew that opposition must be fruitless,he could not help speaking in his ownpeculiarly emphatic manner against the proposedmatch.

“Spoonbill,” said the Earl, “marry MissPrimrose if you please; but remember”—herehis lordship made a most magnificent pause—“rememberthat your establishment must befrom the fortune of your destined bride. Fromme you have nothing.”

Had circumstances been otherwise than they[198]were, and not requiring such despatch, LordSpoonbill would not have heeded this speech.He would have known that ultimately he shouldsucceed with his magnificent father; but hisobject was to come to a speedy decision; hewished to be able at once to make a decidedproposal. At this remark of his father LordSpoonbill was angry and sulky, and he pettishlyreplied; “I think I have a right to marry as Iplease.”

“And I also have a right to use my propertyas I please; and I will never consent to appropriateany part of it to the purpose of introducinga woman of low birth into my family.”

It may be very well supposed by our readers,that the discussion on this interesting topic betweenLord Smatterton and his son did not endhere; and we shall not be blamed for omittingthe remainder of the angry discussion betweenfather and son on this very interesting anddelicate topic. It may be very easily imaginedthat the son went on grumbling, and that the[199]father went on prosing, for a considerable lengthof time, and that they did not arrive at anysatisfactory conclusion.

It may be also very easily imagined that whenthe melancholy intelligence was communicatedto Lady Smatterton, her ladyship must havesuffered very acutely when she found that herbeloved and only child had so far forgotten thepure and high principles in which he had beennourished, as to think of bringing misery anddisgrace into a noble family, by letting down theSpoonbills to an alliance with the Primroses.

It is a pity that in these days of inventionand ingenuity no contrivance can be hit uponfor preventing such miserable and heart-breakingcasualties, as patrician youths falling in lovewith plebeian damsels. The “order” of hereditarylegislators has been in many instances mostcruelly and mercilessly invaded by impertinent,instrusive plebeians. Sometimes love and sometimesnecessity have compelled an union betweenthe high and low; and yet, notwith[200]standingthese painful and melancholy admixtures,patricianism has kept up a very prettyspirit of distinctness, and does yet contain somechoice specimens of the finer sorts of humanity.How much more magnificent and sublime patricianismmight have been but for these admixtures,it is impossible to say.

It is enough however for our present purposeto observe that, with all the power which LordSpoonbill, as an only one and a spoiled child,possessed over his parents, he was not able, evenwith the additional force of his sulkiness andill-humour, to bring them to assent to the ill-assortedunion which he contemplated. TheEarl and Countess of Smatterton could not givetheir consent to such a humiliating and degradingconnexion. They did not indeed know whoor what Mr Primrose was, but they did knowwho and what he was not. They knew that hewas not of their set; that he was not a man offamily or title, and that whatever property hemight possess, he had acquired it by his own[201]diligence or wit. Now that was an abomination,an indelible disgrace, a reproach not easily tobe wiped away. They took it for granted,indeed, that Mr Primrose had some property;but if they had known that even the little propertywhich he had was placed in jeopardy,their indignation would have been greater stillat the folly of their own and only precious petessaying to unite himself with a young womanwho had nothing to recommend her but thepossession of almost every virtue that can adornthe female character, united with a strong andmasculine understanding, and embellished withgracefulness of manners, gentleness of deportment,and a moral dignity, which was highenough to look down with indifference on theaccidental distinctions of society.

All that Lord Spoonbill could gain from hisinexorable and right honorable parents, was apromise that they would think about it.

CHAPTER XIII.

It is a sad thing to be the most unfortunatecreature in the world; and the only consolationunder such calamity, is the thought that it isby no means uncommon. Almost every body isin this condition at some period or other of hislife. This calamity befel Lord Spoonbill at thejuncture of which we are now writing. It happenedunder the following circumstances.

We have related that Mr Primrose, after hearingof the stoppage of his banker, went into theCity to his agent at a preposterously late hourof the day, and that in so doing he lost hislabour. We have also related that, during theabsence of Mr Primrose from his hotel, the[203]Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill called and madeovertures to Miss Primrose. We have also relatedthat Lord Spoonbill, finding that it wasabsolutely impossible to live without Penelope,and finding also that, without an establishment, itwould be as impossible to live with her, had madeknown to his respected parents his intention tolead that same young lady to the altar, or, inplain English, to marry her. Leading a ladyto the altar is merely a newspaper phrase, andsounds heathenish; we ought rather to say,leading her to the communion table. But, notto use superfluous words, let us proceed.

We have narrated that the right honorableparents of Lord Spoonbill were indignant at theproposal of their son, and we have also statedthat despatch was to the young gentleman anobject of the greatest importance. The reasonwhy he was in so much haste has also beenstated.

Now it so happened, that on the very day onwhich the letter of Robert Darnley was inter[204]ceptedat the house of Lord Smatterton, and bythe meanness of Lord Spoonbill, Mr Primrosewent again into the City and called on his agent,and made enquiries concerning the probabilitiesor chances of his bankers paying a good dividend.In these enquiries he found himself mostagreeably surprised, by ascertaining two veryimportant points: one was, that only part, andthat no very great part of his property had beenpaid into the hands of the said banker; and anotherwas, that what had been already paid therewould, in all probability, be soon forthcomingagain, very little, if at all, diminished by the untowardcircumstances that compelled a stoppage.

While therefore Lord Spoonbill was sulkingand pouting to his papa and mama about PenelopePrimrose, that young lady was enjoying theagreeable and pleasant intelligence which herfather had brought from the City. The briefdiscussion which passed between the father anddaughter concerning the propriety of writing toRobert Darnley, we have already narrated. This[205]took place on the morning of the day on whichMr Primrose, going into the City, found his affairsin so much better order than he had anticipated.

On the evening of that day the subject wasrenewed, though but faintly and indirectly. Butin the course of conversation Mr Primrosealluded to the offer which Mr Pringle, the newrector of Smatterton, had made of accommodatingMr Primrose with the parsonage-house, providedhe should choose to take up his residence at Smatterton.Now Penelope loved Smatterton formany reasons. There had she first learned toknow and feel what was real kindness of heart.With that village were blended all her earlyassociations and recollections. She loved thevillage church, and there was to her ear musicin its abrupt little ring of six small bells. Thevery air of the village was wholesome to her,morally as well as physically. The great boobyboys and the freckled girls of the village wereher intimates; not her companions indeed, butshe could sympathize with them, although they[206]could not always sympathize with her. She alsoknew the cows and the dogs and the horses.She knew the names of a great many of them;and very often, during her short sojourn in thegreat city, she had called to mind with a startingtear the recollection of the monotonous, drawling,daily tone, with which the farmers’ mentalked to these animals.

When therefore her father proposed taking uphis abode at Smatterton, and hiring for that purposethe parsonage-house, she altogether forgotits vicinity to Neverden and its association withthe name of Darnley, and she was delighted withthe prospect of going back again to those sceneswith which her mind connected images of pleasureand recollections of peace.

It was with ready and delightful acquiescencethat Penelope assented to the proposal; and asMr Primrose saw that his child was pleased withthe thought of going to reside at Smatterton,he hastened to put his intentions into execution;and at the very time that Lord Spoonbill was[207]grumbling about his right to marry whomsoeverhe pleased, Mr Primrose was making arrangementsto leave London.

The father of Penelope was not slow in hismovements, and he was not in the habit of givinghis purposes time to cool. He wrote by thatevening’s post to Smatterton, and at an earlyhour on the following morning he and hisdaughter commenced their journey. So thatwhen Lord Spoonbill, who heeded not his father’slong lecture on the subject of dignity,called again at Mr Primrose’s hotel, and heardthat the gentleman and his daughter were gone,and that they were gone to Smatterton, then hislordship was grieved beyond measure, and hisperplexity was serious, and his fears rose withinhim: for he took it for granted that there mustsoon be an interview and an explanation, andthen he distrusted Nick Muggins, and there roseup before his mind’s eye the phantom of thatungainly cub and his clumsy pony: that imagewhich, in the recollection of most who had seen[208]it, would excite a smile at its uncouthness, wasto the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill productiveof very painful emotions and disagreeableapprehensions. So his lordship thought himselfthe most unfortunate creature in the world.

Then again there was in his lordship’s possessionthe letter from Robert Darnley to Mr Primrose,and his lordship hardly knew what to dowith that. He thought that the secret of hishaving already detained it for a whole day mustinevitably transpire. Whether he should sendit or detain it would be equally ruinous to hisschemes. He looked very thoughtfully at theletter, and at length resolved to send it with anexplanation to Mr Primrose at Smatterton. Hethought that, if there should be on the letterany symptoms of curious or prying fingers, itmight be attributed to any one rather than tohis lordship; and he thought that, at the worst,no one would explicitly charge him with anattempt to penetrate into its secresy. The letterwas therefore despatched with an apology for its[209]detention as much like a lie as anything that alord could write.

There was nothing now left for Lord Spoonbillto do but to sigh over his calamitous lossas deeply as he could, and to explain to hisfather, as ingeniously as might be, the singularevent of the sudden departure of Mr Primroseand his daughter from London, at the very momentwhen a right honorable suitor for the younglady’s hand had started up in the person of LordSpoonbill. The son said it was very strange, andthe father also thought it was very strange, andhe recommended his son not to have any farthercorrespondence with persons who could behavethus disrespectfully. But the young gentlemanwas too much enamoured to listen to such advice,and he exercised most heartily all his littlewits to devise means of carrying on his suit toPenelope.

For the present we must leave his loving lordshipin London, enjoying all the luxuries andsplendors which gas, fog, smoke, foolery, wax[210]candles, painted faces, late hours, French cookery,Italian music, prosy dancing, Whig politics,and patrician scandal, could afford him. It isfar more to our taste to follow Mr Primrose andhis daughter into the country than to remainwith Lord Spoonbill in London. If any of ourreaders wish to know what Lord Spoonbill didwith himself in London, they may form a tolerablycorrect idea from ascertaining how the restof that tribe occupy their time. He was a veryfashionable man, he knew all the common-placesperfectly, and with his own set he was quite athome. There let us leave him.

Mr Primrose and Penelope travelled to Smattertonin perfect safety; and the father congratulatedhimself and his daughter upon their safearrival, observing that had they ventured to usethe stage-coach instead of post-chaises, theywould certainly have had their necks brokenat the bottom of some steep hill.

Their reception at Smatterton parsonage wasmost cordial and highly courteous. Nothing[211]could exceed the happiness of the young rectorin receiving under his roof so respected a friendas Mr Primrose. Preparations had been madeaccording to the best of the young clergyman’sability; and, as Mr Primrose’s letter mentionedthe day and the hour of his arrival, Mr Pringlethought that he could not do otherwise thanmake a party to meet the gentleman at dinner.

Since the departure of Mrs Greendale fromSmatterton, the establishment of Mr Pringle hadcontinued the same, but his domestics had nothad a very bustling life; and they ventured tocontradict the popular theory which representsman as a creature of habit. For during thereign of Mrs Greendale they had been accustomedto fly about the house with unceasingbustle and activity, but since her departure theyhad become almost as lazy as their master. Thedomestics were two female servants, one aboutsixty and the other about forty. They wereclumsy and uncouth, but their clumsiness washardly visible in the time of Mrs Greendale; for[212]under her administration they had been habituatedto move about with most marvellous celerity,and now that the old lady was departedthey seemed glad to take breath, and they tookit very leisurely. It was a great mercy that theywere not absolutely broken-winded.

There was also remaining in the establishmenta man servant, an amphibious animal as it were,not because he lived partly on land and partlyin water, but as living partly in the house andpartly out of it. He was a mighty pluralist, andfilled, or rather occupied, many places; and fromthe universality of his genius he might, had hebeen in higher station, have aspired to be primeminister, commander-in-chief, lord chancellor,and archbishop of Canterbury. As it was, hisoccupations were quite as multitudinous andheterogeneous. His great skill was in gardening,and finding that he was successful in cultivatingcabbages, he ventured also to undertake thecavalry department in the late Dr Greendale’sservice. His duties here were not many or[213]oppressive, seeing that the late doctor kept butone horse, and that was very quiet and gentle.This universal genius acted also as butler andfootman. In this last capacity he did not shine.He did not want for head, he had enough ofthat, and more than enough. As for figure, it isdifficult to say what that was, it was so exceedinglyindefinite. It was considerate of the lateDr Greendale that he did not task the poor manvery hardly as to his department of footman.But the new rector loved state, and it was hispride to keep a livery servant, and he would alsoinsist upon the attendance of this man at table.And though the footman was not himself a greatadept in waiting at table, he soon brought hismaster to wait.

With this ungainly establishment, the ReverendCharles Pringle took it into his head to give adinner to as many as he could collect, in orderto pay a compliment to Mr Primrose, and to paycourt to Miss Primrose. Unfortunately for MrPringle it did not answer.

It would be wearying to our readers to havethe particulars and the failures of a clumsymockery of an elegant dinner set forth at fulllength. Let it be supposed that there was expense,inelegance, constraint, anxiety, mortification.As we are not writing for cooks, we passover the minutenesses of a spoiled dinner; thegreatest evil of which was, that the party was insome degree silent during the progress of dinner,for they had not much opportunity of talkinggastronomically.

The English people can talk, but they musthave something to begin with. If they meet outof doors, they must begin talking about theweather, and within doors, especially at dinnertime, they must begin talking about eatablesand drinkables. From such beginnings they cango on to any subject; but they must of necessityhave a common-place beginning.

After the cloth was removed, and the spoiledor ill-arranged dishes were forgotten, the partyfelt themselves more at liberty. We have not[215]yet named the persons who composed the party;and when we say that Mr Kipperson, Mr ZephaniahPringle, and five or six of lesser note werepresent, our readers may well suppose that therewas no lack of inclination to discourse, especiallyon the part of those two gentlemen whom wehave named.

Now it has been stated, that Zephaniah thecritic had carried down to Smatterton an awkwardrumour concerning Penelope Primrose.The source from whence the said critic had gatheredthe information has been also stated. Butas soon as the intelligence of Mr Primrose’sintention to reside with his daughter at Smattertonreached the new rector, and was by himcommunicated to his brother and to Mr Kipperson,a virtual contradiction was given to the ill report;and then all three of the gentlemen found outthat they had never believed it.

To render themselves as agreeable as possibleto Mr Primrose, the three whom we have namedtalked great abundance of nonsense and magni[216]ficence.Their first concern immediately afterdinner was to consult on the best means of savingthe nation. Mr Kipperson was well satisfiedthat nothing would or could do the nation theslightest service, so long as the agriculturalinterest was neglected. There were two seriousevils which were growing worse and worse, theincrease of the population, and the importationof foreign grain. The ingenious agriculturistproved that the farmer was eaten up by theincreasing population, and that the quantity ofgrain in the country was so large that it couldnot find consumers.

Zephaniah Pringle agreed with Mr Kippersonin the grand principle that there were too manyconsumers for the corn, and too much corn forthe consumers. There was the great evil, hethought, in these two troubles existing at once;were they in existence separately they mightsoon be got rid of. The consumers might consumean extra quantity, and soon settle mattersin that way, or the want of corn might thin the[217]consumers, and soon settle matters that way.But, while the two evils operated together, theywere dreadful calamities.

Those of our readers who are not agriculturists,or political economists, cannot understandthis reasoning, or, more properly speaking, theywill not; they are blinded by their own interestedfeelings; they have prejudices which agriculturistshave not.

But though Zephaniah Pringle agreed withMr Kipperson, that the people were starving becausethere was too much corn, and that thecorn could not find consumers because therewere so many people to eat it, yet he thoughtthat there were more serious evils in the countryyet. He thought that those obscure seditiousnewspapers and vile trumpery publications, whichnobody reads and which everybody despises,which are published by a set of needy miscreants,who spare no expense in circulatingthem all over the kingdom, had corrupted theminds of all the people in this once happy land.[218]He thought that the nation was in a most prosperouscondition, and that nothing was wantingto render it more prosperous, than an additionalnumber of bishops, and an increase in the numbersof the yeomanry cavalry.

Mr Primrose listened with polite and pleasedattention to these dextrous and acute politicians,and he thought that his Majesty neednever be at a loss for a prime minister, or fortwo, if he wanted them, while Zephaniah Pringleand Mr Kipperson should live. But, as MrPrimrose was neither an agriculturist, nor a politicaleconomist, he felt himself a little puzzledto reconcile the apparent contradiction whichwas contained in Mr Kipperson’s statement ofthe agricultural grievances. Mr Kipperson wasvery properly angry with Mr Primrose for expressinga doubt on the subject; and thescientific agriculturist immediately and satisfactorilyexplained that all the superfluous populationwas pennyless, and could not pay for thecorn which they would like to consume. Where[219]uponMr Primrose understood that in the goodold times people were born with money in theirpockets.

Zephaniah Pringle almost feared that MrPrimrose was a radical, at least he thought hewas in the high road to become so, unless heshould resist that foolish propensity of wishingto understand what he talked about.

There might have been at the table of MrPringle, rector of Smatterton, some diversity ofpolitical opinion, as there certainly was, seeingthat Mr Kipperson was a Whig, and ZephaniahPringle a Tory; but the corn question most cordiallyunited them. How far these gentlemendiffered in some other points, we have seenalready in the matter of mechanics’ institutes.On this subject Mr Kipperson’s hopes wererather too sanguine; and perhaps Zephaniah thecritic was too nervously susceptible, on theother hand, of apprehensions of danger to theProtestant succession; for, to his mind, the mechanics’institutes had no other ultimate object[220]in view than transubstantiation and republicanism.

Concerning gymnastics, the gentlemen alsodiffered. Zephaniah condemned them in toto,and so did the rector of Smatterton, in spite ofhis whiggism. Mr Kipperson spoke very learnedlyabout muscles and tension, and provedthat bodily exercise was essential to intellectualvigour; but he had the candour to acknowledgethat he could never persuade his men to takegymnastic exercises when their day’s work wasover; and he attributed their ignorance of scienceto their neglect of gymnastics.

The whole of the conversation, to which wehave above alluded, did not take place in thehearing of Miss Primrose, nor indeed did onetenth part of it; for the fatigue of the journey,together with the agitation of her spirits, led herto make an early retreat from the dining-room.And the old female servant, who had knownPenelope from childhood, was delighted in theopportunity of again attending upon her. Fluent[221]was the old gentlewoman’s speech, and mightilycommunicative was she touching the variouschanges which had taken place in Smattertonand Neverden since the decease of the goodDr Greendale. The kind-hearted woman alsoexpressed herself delighted at the return of MissPrimrose to Smatterton, inasmuch as there wasone person who would be so happy to see heragain, and that person was Mr Robert Darnley.Penelope begged that his name might never bementioned again in her hearing, and thereuponthe poor old domestic began to fear that therewas some truth in the stories that had beentalked about in the village concerning MissPrimrose and Lord Spoonbill. And when theold servant found that she could not talk to herlate young mistress concerning love-matters, shehastily finished her discourse and left the younglady to retire quietly to rest.

CHAPTER XIV.

The news of Mr Primrose’s arrival at Smattertonsoon reached the rectory at Neverden. Hadit not found its way there sooner, Mr ZephaniahPringle would have been the first to communicatethe intelligence on the following morning.The arrival having been announced, was of courseexpected. And there was much anxiety felt onthe subject by all the parties concerned: ofcourse more especially by Robert Darnley. Forin consequence of his letter having been unanswered,he had fully determined, in spite ofall domestic opposition and paternal expostulation,to make a journey to London for the purposeof explanation.

The elder Mr Darnley was mightily displeasedto hear of the purpose which Mr Primrose hadin view in coming to Smatterton. To the fastidiousmind of the rector of Neverden it appearedvery indelicate for Miss Primrose, afterwhat had taken place, to throw herself in theway of Mr Robert Darnley: for in no other lightcould the rector of Neverden regard the meditatedsettlement of Mr Primrose at Smatterton.

It is a great pity that such a man as MrDarnley, who had for the most part a good understandingand good feelings, should be soobstinate in his prejudices and so immoveablein his fancies. He had, for some reason orother, taken it into his head that Miss Primrosewas proud and fantastical and unfeeling; andnothing could bring him to think favourably ofher. He saw everything that she did or saidthrough the deceptive medium of his erroneousapprehension of her character. It was a vainattempt to turn him from his humour. Hehad thoroughly believed at the first the calum[224]niousreport brought from London by ZephaniahPringle. He had also believed that it wasPenelope’s own wish, purpose, and desire, toadopt the musical profession; and though hehad felt satisfied that the cessation of the correspondencebetween his son and the young ladyhad sprung altogether from the caprice of thelatter, yet he considered that this meditatedresidence in Smatterton was, on the part ofPenelope, with a desire of meeting again withRobert Darnley.

We have already acknowledged, nor do wewish to retract the acknowledgment, that therector of Neverden was a very conscientious,attentive, and upright parish priest; we willgive him credit for great zeal and activity inthe discharge of his pastoral duties; but, notwithstandingall this, he was grievously deficientin one part of the Christian character, seeingthat he had very little of that “charity whichthinketh no evil.” We have seen other goodpeople, besides the rector of Neverden, who,[225]fancying themselves models of all that is right,and patterns for the rest of the world, have exerciseda perverse ingenuity in discovering, andan unholy pleasure in displaying and condemning,their neighbours’ faults, real or imaginary.These people imagine that they cannot show adislike of what is wrong without exhibiting adegree of malignity against such as transgress.Now the late Dr Greendale, though a man ofgreat purity and integrity, had no such feelingas this. He was as candid as he was pure, andhis gentleness was equal to his integrity. Andthe people of his parish liked him very much forhis goodness and gentleness, and so his characterhad a very powerful influence upon them.But Mr Darnley was a different kind of man.

When Zephaniah Pringle therefore made hisappearance at Neverden, and repeated the informationwhich had already been conveyed to therectory, as touching the arrival of Mr and MissPrimrose at Smatterton, the Rev. Mr Darnley[226]expressed himself astonished at the indecorumand want of feeling which Miss Primrosemanifested.

“Mr Pringle, I am quite surprized at thisintelligence. Your relative at Smatterton hascertainly a right to let the parsonage-house ifhe pleases; but I must say that I could wish,for the sake of public morals, that it had a morerespectable tenant.”

Now as Penelope had appeared most trulyrespectable, and not a little fascinating in theeyes of Zephaniah the critic, and as he was notquite certain that the rumour which he had beenthe means of circulating was quite founded onfact, and as his doubts were stronger after hehad seen Penelope and her father, he wished tounsay or to soften down what he had said. Hetherefore replied to the above exclamation:

“Why really, sir, I must say that I think MissPrimrose a respectable young lady, and it isprobable that the report which I heard in townmay not be perfectly correct. And indeed, asthe lady is about to reside with her father, it iscertainly not true to its full extent.”

Mr Darnley was not much in the habit ofchanging his opinion on matters of fact anymore than on matters of speculation; and havingonce felt himself persuaded that Miss Primrosehad acted improperly, it was no easy matterfor Mr Pringle to bring him to change the viewwhich he had entertained of the young lady’scharacter. Reasoning may be a very fine thing,and logic may be a very fine thing, and facts maybe very stubborn things; but neither reasoningnor logic can make a man change his opinion, ifhe does not like to do so; and there are no factsin the world so stubborn as a conceited man’sown stubborn will. Mr Darnley took it forgranted that whatever he took for granted mustbe most incontestably true; and Mr Darnley hadtaken it for granted that Miss Primrose hadnot demeaned herself aright, and nothing couldconvince him to the contrary. He adhered to[228]the general thought, though beaten out of allits particulars. We would not recommendany one who has exalted notions of the powerof reasoning and the force of evidence, to endeavourto convince another of any fact or speculation,till that other has shewn symptomsof an inclination to believe such fact or toadopt such theory.

It was all in vain that Zephaniah Pringle contendedthat Miss Primrose could not possiblybe living dishonorably with Lord Spoonbill inLondon, while she was living quietly and reputablywith her father at Smatterton. MrDarnley had made up his mind, and nothingcould shake his conclusions. Of some heads itis observed, that you can get nothing into them;of others it may with as much truth be said,that you can get nothing out of them. In thislatter predicament was placed the head of therector of Neverden.

When therefore Zephaniah found that no impressionwas to be made on Mr Darnley, he[229]gave up the discussion, not a little regrettingthat he himself had, for the sake of gratifying alittle vanity in talking about his own intimacywith Lord Spoonbill, done an injury which hecould not undo. He began also to fear lest heshould be detected and exposed; and under thatapprehension he found himself uneasy at Smatterton,and wished that his visit was finished.This served him perfectly right. He had madepublic talk of what had been told to him inconfidence, and as a secret, and he had circulateda calumnious report, careless whether it weretrue or false, and heedless what injury it mightinflict upon innocence, or what misery it mightoccasion to those concerned.

Yet this prodigiously conceited puppy couldand did in his critical lucubrations write himselfdown as being most zealously devoted to theservice of religion, and he would make a mightynoise about those most execrable and abominablecaitiffs, who presume to question one iota of thefaith according to Queen Elizabeth.

It is hard, very hard, that religion should haveto bear the reproach of the whims, vagaries,bigotry, and fanaticism of many, who are sincerein their profession and honest in their intemperatezeal; but it is doubly hard that a set ofcoxcomical greenhorns, who scarcely know thedifference between the Bible and the Koran, whocannot tell why they believe, and who do notcare what they believe, who never enter a church,and who never doubt because they never think,it is doubly hard that all their impertinent arroganceshould be laid to the charge of a religionwhich has never influenced one action of theirlives, or one thought of their hearts.

Finding that Mr Darnley the elder would notlisten to or be influenced by any recantation ofhis calumny, the critic next sought for the younggentleman to whom he made known the fact ofthe arrival of Mr Primrose at Smatterton.

During the visit, which the loyal and religiousZephaniah Pringle paid at Smatterton, there hadbeen comparatively little intercourse between him[231]and Robert Darnley. This was owing to twocauses: in the first place, Robert Darnley wasin low spirits, and had not much intercourse withany one; and, in the second place, he had acontempt for puppyism, and Zephaniah had witenough to see that he had.

In the present instance it was an object withMr Pringle to correct any erroneous notion whichhe might have conveyed to the mind of MrRobert Darnley; he therefore began the conversation.

“I think I must have been in an error whenI informed you, as you may remember, that MissPrimrose was living with Lord Spoonbill.”

“Very likely you were, sir,” replied Mr RobertDarnley, somewhat abruptly; “but did you notinsinuate to me that you had the informationfrom Lord Spoonbill himself?”

This question was perplexing to the critic.He had insinuated as much, but he had notabsolutely said so. Therefore he could not[232]promptly reply in the negative, but was forcedto make use of a little circumlocution, saying:

“Why not exactly so; I did not say that LordSpoonbill himself told me in so many words:I merely—I said—-that is—a very intimate friendof Spoonbill said, that he thought—that is, heunderstood that—I believe he said that he hadreason to suspect that some arrangement waslikely to be made—”

Thereupon the explanation tapered off into anindistinct muttering that was sufficient, if forno other purpose, at least to show that MrZephaniah Pringle was a sneaking, shuffling,contemptible fellow. Robert Darnley was notin the habit of flying into a violent passion whenhe felt contempt for any meanness of characteror conduct; if such had been his temperament,the present was an occasion, all circumstancesbeing considered, strong enough to tempt him toknock a fool’s head and the wall together. Hecontented himself with coolly saying:

“It is a great pity, sir, that you should havecirculated a report of that nature before youwere quite certain that it was true.”

“I am very sorry indeed,” replied Zephaniah,“that I was led into such an error.”

“Well, well,” said Robert Darnley, “I daresay it will not be productive of any very seriousconsequence. Nobody who was at all acquaintedwith Miss Primrose could possibly believe thereport.”

Zephaniah Pringle thought it but poor consolationto be told that he was not likely tobe believed. He felt himself indeed so thoroughlyhumbled, that he was heartily glad tobring his conference with Robert Darnley toa close. The critic very soon said, “Good morning,”and Robert Darnley returned his “Goodmorning” in such a tone, and with such an air,as to make Zephaniah experience the sensationof being looked down upon.

It was a great refreshment and relief to themind of the younger Darnley, to hear that[234]Penelope and her father had arrived at Smatterton.He had never believed the calumnioustale of the loyal and religious critic, but hecertainly did entertain some apprehension thatassiduous attentions from a person of high rankand large estate might produce in time an effecteven upon the mind of Penelope. As now MrPrimrose had come down expressly to take uphis residence at Smatterton, and as this was nota time of year for such families as that of theEarl of Smatterton to take up their abode inthe country, there was some ground to hope that,if the young nobleman had even made endeavoursto gain the affection of Penelope, he hadnot succeeded.

It was the blessing of Robert Darnley’s mindthat he had a disposition to look on the mostfavorable aspect of events, and it was not in hisnature to yield himself up to a slight misunderstandingor misapprehension. Many miseriesmight be avoided if mankind possessed in generala little more of that kind of considerate[235]ness;but the evil is, that they too often takeup with any idle tale, and are led by the merestand slightest apprehensions into quarrels, coldnesses,and loss of friendships: inasmuch, thata quarrel is courteously called a misunderstanding,much to the reproach indeed of the misunderstanders;for it is thereby intimated thatthe parties quarrel merely for the want of takingthe pains to understand one another, or sometimesperhaps to understand themselves.

Under the circumstances which belong to thisnarration, it would have been very possible fortwo simpletons to have made themselves completelywretched. And as some people are veryglad to be miserable for the sake of the pathosand sentimentality thereof, we will tell thesepeople, though perhaps they could find it outwithout our assistance, how they might makethemselves truly wretched under similar circumstances.

To gain this desirable end, the gentleman andthe lady should have despaired of meeting each[236]other again, and should have carefully avoidedeverything that might lead to an explanation,and they should, while very much in love witheach other, have made all possible haste to givetheir hands to another. They ought to havemarried, as it were, out of spite, and then aftermarriage they ought to have met by accident,and to have explained; and then they ought tohave compared notes, and to have made it outthat one had the worst husband, and the otherthe worst wife, in the world; and then theywould have had nothing more to do than tohave made a very pretty tragical conclusion ofthe business, either giving employment to, whatthe newspapers call, the gentlemen of the longrobe, or, more seriously still, causing the callingtogether of a coroner’s jury.

It was well for Robert Darnley that such wasnot his disposition. He thought it much thebest to ascertain, if he possibly could, what werePenelope’s real sentiments; and for that purposehe had already spoken to her father, and, as no[237]result had come from speaking, he had written;and if his letter had not been soon answered, orif Mr Primrose had not arrived at Smatterton,he would have visited the party in London.

CHAPTER XV.

The arrival of Mr Primrose and Penelope atSmatterton gave trouble and disturbance to manyminds there, and at Neverden. We shall befortunate if, without tediousness, we can explain this.

Zephaniah Pringle was troubled, because helaboured under the apprehension that some kindfriend or other might communicate to the fatherwhat had been said of the daughter. And Zephaniahvery naturally thought that the younglady’s father would resent the insult very muchto the inconvenience, bodily or mental, of thesaid loyal and religious critic.

The elder Mr Darnley was troubled, as we[239]have already intimated, lest this arrival shouldagain unsettle the mind of his son. Mrs Darnleyalso thought it was a pity, now Roberthad so nearly recovered his spirits, that thereshould be any probability of his being againdisturbed. Miss Mary Darnley, who, by frequentliterary and scientific discussions with thelearned and scientific Mr Kipperson, had becomea great admirer of the gentleman, was jealousof the presence of Miss Primrose again in thecountry. The two other young ladies, who didnot like to hear their father preach, except inthe pulpit, were troubled with the apprehensionof long lectures on the impropriety of beingimproperly in love.

Mr Kipperson also had his troubles; for thoughit would have given him great pleasure to havegained the heart of Miss Primrose, he thoughthe saw several formidable rivals among gentlemenof more suitable age. But Mr Kippersonhad too much self-love to suffer much from loveof any other description. Robert Darnley was[240]troubled and perplexed, though very muchpleased. He now saw that he should havean opportunity of ascertaining the truth: butin either case there was an evil. For if Penelopestill retained a regard for him, there was yetto be dreaded the opposition of his father; andif she did not, the change would be painful tohim.

But the greatest trouble was at Neverden Hall.There was residing under the roof of Sir GeorgeAimwell a young lady, who had been consignedto the care of the worthy baronet. The nameof this lady was Arabella Glossop. She hadvery recently been sent to Neverden by hercareful father, in order that time, absence, andchange of scene, might eradicate from her mindan unfortunate attachment which she had formedfor a pennyless lieutenant.

Here we cannot but suggest to our legislatorsan improvement, which might and ought to bemade in our military code. It is melancholy tothink how many instances have occurred of men[241]of low family and no fortune winning the heartsof young ladies of high birth, of respectableconnexions, and of good fortune. This mightbe prevented by a law, making it felony for amilitary officer without fortune to fall in lovewith a lady of good family.

Miss Glossop was not indeed of high family;but she was the daughter of a gentleman whosefamily had with great diligence been pushingitself up into consideration and importance.The mortification of anything like a humiliatingconnexion was so much the greater. Mr Glossop,the young lady’s father, was an eminentsolicitor in a small but genteel town, and hadmarried a distant relation of Sir George Aimwell.Of this connexion Mr Glossop was naturallyproud; and he made the most of it.

In the town where he lived was a theatre;and the company which performed there waspronounced by such London performers as occasionallylent their mighty selves for provincialexhibition, to be one of the best provincial com[242]paniesthey had ever performed with. When anactor from London made his appearance on thestage, Miss Glossop honored the theatre with herpresence. Greatly did the young lady surprizethe natives by her studied inattention to whatwas passing on the stage. It was to her a mightyamusement to laugh and talk aloud, especiallyduring those passages of the performance whichwere most interesting to the rest of the audience.By such means did Miss Glossop manifesther own importance and superiority. Thiskind of public rudeness passed with the ignorantpeople in the country for elegance andfashion.

The young lady was in error in this respect.But not only was she wrong in her calculations inthis point. Many other blunders did she make.For being very pretty, she thought herself handsome;and being tall, she thought herself elegant;and being acquainted with many books, shethought herself learned; and having a full, clear,comprehensive voice, she thought herself a beau[243]tifulsinger; and being able to perform at sightvery complicated pieces of music, she apprehendedthat she was an excellent musician; andbeing rude and blunt in her manner of speaking,she thought herself a person of great intellectualsuperiority; and from being very much stared at,she took it for granted that she was very muchadmired.

Now this lady did not apprehend that therewas any individual in the compass of her provincialacquaintance worthy to aspire to thehonor of her hand; and she was in the habit ofgiving herself such arrogant and domineeringairs at the country balls, that a facetiously inclinedyoung gentleman once actually contrivedin the advertisement announcing these balls, tohave the name of Arabella Glossop, Esq., printedas one of the stewards. The circumstance causeda great deal of talk at the time; but it is nowtotally forgotten, or at least very seldom alludedto. The printer of the paper was forced to tell[244]a great many lies to save himself from seriousinconvenience.

At one of these country balls there happenedto be a lieutenant who was quartered in thatneighbourhood, and was a person of exceedinglygood address, and also of good understanding,except that he was so very desirous of obtaininga fortune, that, for the sake of money, he wouldwillingly have married Miss Glossop. He hadheard reports of the lady’s fortune, and thesereports were of course exaggerated. He paidthe usual attentions, and was so far successfulthat, had it not been for some untoward accident,Mr Glossop’s ambition of matching his daughterwith some gentleman of fortune and considerationin the county, would have been frustratedby a poor lieutenant.

As soon as the unfortunate attachment wasmade known to the father, he put himself withall suitable speed into a most towering passion;he banged all the doors, thumped all the tables,[245]kicked all the chairs, and, but for the interferenceof Mrs Glossop, would have broken all thecrockery in the house, because his daughterwould not listen to reason. The young ladywas locked up; but the young lady grew sulky,and thought that her dear lieutenant was themost charming creature in the world, becauseher father was in a violent passion. And themore angry was Mr Glossop, the more deeply inlove was Miss Glossop.

We have said that the young lady was lockedup. Now Arabella did not like this discipline,and she seriously threatened her inexorable paa,that if she was not suffered to have her ownway, she would either starve herself to death, orgo mad. This last idea was no doubt suggestedby a pathetic passage in one of Oliver Goldsmith’spoems, wherein he says:

Whatever apprehensions Mr Glossop mightentertain concerning his daughter’s madness, hecertainly had some slight idea that he himselfmight be driven mad by the young lady’s perversenessand obstinacy. Therefore he adoptedthe very wise and prudent precaution, in suchcases made and provided, of sending the lovelyand loving Arabella to his worthy friend andrelative, Sir George Aimwell, Bart.

Mr Glossop wisely thought that absence andchange of scene might produce a beneficialchange in his daughter’s mind. The worthybaronet was pleased with the charge; for as theshooting season was nearly over, and as he hadsuffered very bitterly from the encroachments ofthe poachers, and as the transgressing ones hadmade their escape, he was glad of anything thatpromised him a little amusement. Arabella hadalways been a favorite with the baronet onaccount of her high spirit, and when he heardof the nature of the complaint which rendered[247]change of air desirable, he very readily undertookthe charge, thinking that a better remedy waswithin reach, and that Robert Darnley mightvery probably banish from the mind of his youngkinswoman all thoughts of the poor lieutenant.

Nor did the baronet judge unwisely. For, assoon as the lady had taken up her abode atNeverden Hall, her spirits revived, and her witand humour were all alive again, and her loveof admiration was as strong as ever, and shevery soon pronounced Robert Darnley to be acharming young fellow. The worthy baronetwas pleased with such good symptoms, and hadwritten word to her father accordingly. To amatch of this nature Mr Glossop had no verygreat objection. The Darnleys were of goodfamily, and the young man was likely to have agood property. Perhaps, Mr Glossop wouldhave preferred an union with the family of theEarl of Smatterton; but at all events the Darnleyswere better than poor lieutenants.

The circumstance of Arabella Glossop being[248]placed under the care of Sir George Aimwell,had rendered the intercourse between the halland the rectory rather more frequent than usual;and the baronet had of course been made acquaintedwith the fact of Robert Darnley’s formerengagement to Miss Primrose. When,therefore, Penelope and her father made theirappearance at Smatterton again, and thus gavea virtual contradiction to the calumnious reportwhich Mr Zephaniah Pringle had circulated, SirGeorge began to be apprehensive that hisschemes with regard to the son of the rector ofNeverden were very likely to fail.

We have now explained according to the bestof our ability, and in as few words as distinctnesswould permit us to use, the varied perplexitiesoccasioned by the apparently simple fact ofMr Primrose and his daughter taking up theirabode at Smatterton rectory. Oh! how complicatedare the interests of humanity, and whatmighty changes are made in the history of theworld and the destiny of nations by movements[249]apparently trifling and of no moment. Commonpeople do not observe these things; it is onlysuch wise people, gentle reader, as you and Iand Tacitus, that can take a philosophical andcomprehensive view of the history of man. Butwe must economise our wisdom, or it will nothold out. Therefore let us proceed with ourhistory.

The letter which Robert Darnley had writtento Mr Primrose, and which the Right HonorableLord Spoonbill had fruitlessly fumbled andtumbled to ascertain the contents thereof, foundits way at last into the hands for which it wasby its writer originally destined. It was broughtto Smatterton, as usual, by Nick Muggins.

Nick was a poor lad and a somewhat simpleone, though not altogether lacking craftiness.He was not so rich as an archdeacon, but he hadnot quite determined that he was too poor tokeep a conscience; therefore he had not entirelygiven it up for a bad job. He kept a pony—hewas almost forced to do so—but he kept his[250]pony very scantily and worked it hardly, andthe beast was at best but a queer kind of animal.It would have been a riddle to Buffon, and atreasure to Sir Joseph Banks. Nick’s consciencewas kept about as scurvily as his pony,and was much such another nondescript; but,like his pony, it answered his purpose as well as abetter; it was kicked, cuffed, and buffeted about,but still it was a conscience.

Now this conscience, such as it was, smotepoor Muggins right heartily when he deliveredinto the fair hands of Penelope Primrose a letterfor her father. The poor lad recollected that hehad, at Lord Spoonbill’s expense, drunk severalmore quarts of strong beer and glasses of ginthan would otherwise have fallen to his lot, andthat he had obtained these extra luxuries byputting into the hands of his lordship thoseletters which he ought to have delivered toPenelope Primrose.

When Penelope left Smatterton, and was residingin London, Nick thought little or nothing[251]concerning his treachery. But now she hadreturned to the country again, and he had seenher, and she had spoken to him kindly andcivilly, and had condescended to make enquiriesafter his poor old mother, his heart meltedwithin him, and he could hardly speak to her.It was very kind of her to come out and speakto him, there was not one young lady in a hundredwho would have condescended so much.Poor Muggins could not think what had bewitchedhim to play the traitor to so beautiful,so elegant, and so sweet-tempered a young ladyas Miss Primrose; for Nick had a notion ofelegance and beauty, though, to look at himselfand his pony, one would hardly have imagined it.

That was a curious refinement in Nick’sconscience, that he should reproach himself somuch the more bitterly for his transgression,because the person whom he had injured wasbeautiful and sweet-tempered. Perhaps hewould have thought less of the matter had MissPrimrose been a little, under-sized, snub-nosed,[252]cross-grained old maid. But that is a verydangerous and wicked mode of reasoning, andwiser people than Nick Muggins are guilty ofit; let such persons be told that under-sized,snub-nosed, cross-grained old maids have asmuch feeling as the rest of the world, and areas much entitled to the advantages and protectionof the laws of humanity as the young, andthe lovely, and the amiable.

Be this as it may, still the ungainly post-boyfelt rather awkwardly and looked foolishlywhen he thus encountered the unexpected appearanceand condescension of Penelope Primrose.And when he returned home to hismother’s cottage, he could not help acknowledgingto her his transgressions, and speaking ofthe remorse that he felt.

The old woman however thought and said,that what was done could not be undone, andthat he had better be more cautious anothertime, and that mayhap it might not be a matterof much consequence; just a love affair like, or[253]some sich stuff; and she concluded by tellinghim never to take money out of letters for fearof being hanged.

“But I am so sorry, mother,” said Nick,“you can’t think what a nice, kind young ladyMiss Primrose is.”

“Ay, ay,” said Mrs Muggins, in reply, “andso is my Lord Spoonbill a very nice younggentleman. Never mind now, only don’t do soagain. And what’s the use of your telling MissPrimrose anything about it?”

“Nonsense, boy; Lord Spoonbill is a personof much greater consequence than a dozen prettyMiss Primroses. I am sure he is as nice a manas ever lived.”

Nick muttered something about Lord Spoonbill’slarge whiskers, and the colloquy ceased;but Nick was fidgetty still.

The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill sufferedmuch uneasiness, and would, had he known[254]what was passing in the mind of Nick Muggins,have suffered much more. But our business isnow with the good people at Smatterton andNeverden, and we must therefore leave his lordshipto bear his troubles by himself as well ashe can.

CHAPTER XVI.

On the Sunday after their arrival, Mr Primroseand his daughter made their appearance atchurch, and the people of the village stared atthem of course. The rector of Smattertonpreached one of his best sermons, and in hisbest style. The eloquence was lost upon all hisaudience, except Mr Primrose and his daughter;they attended to the preacher, and the rest ofthe congregation attended to them.

When the service was over, Penelope took herfather to look at the monument which had beenraised in the churchyard to the memory of DrGreendale. It was a very handsome monument,and had been put up at the expense of the[256]Earl of Smatterton. There was a very long andelaborate eulogium on the deceased, which hadbeen drawn up, it is supposed, by Mr Darnley,but subsequently corrected and altered by theEarl of Smatterton in the first instance, and inthe next by the stone-mason.

Mr Primrose had been so long out of Englandthat, for aught he knew to the contrary, it mightbe the fashion now to write nonsense on gravestones. There was however a kind intention,and Mr Primrose was pleased with it. Whilethe father and daughter were thus mournfullyenjoying the contemplation of this memorial oftheir deceased relative’s virtues, the great boysand girls of the village who had been in thehabit of bowing and curtseying to Penelope, andwho remembered that their homage had beengraciously received while she lived there underher uncle’s roof, now thronged almost rudelyround them, as if with a view of attracting thelady’s notice.

For a little while Penelope was too much taken[257]up to notice them; but when her curiosity hadbeen gratified, and her feelings had been indulgedby a few gentle and stainless tears shed tothe memory of her departed benefactor, she turnedround and took particular notice of such as sheremembered. She asked them such questions asoccurred to her concerning their respective familiesand occupations, and she heard many an oldstory repeated concerning the aged and infirm.Enquiries were made by Penelope after grandfathersand grandmothers, and in one or twoinstances of great grandmothers. These enquirieswere copiously or sheepishly answered,according to the several tastes and habits of thepersons answering them.

There was one little girl in the group whoseface Penelope did not recollect. The child lookedvery earnestly at her, and seemed several timesas if about to make an effort to speak, but aweheld her back. With her, and as if urging heron to speak, was another and greater girl. Andthe greater girl moved the little one towards[258]Miss Primrose, and the poor little girl colouredup to the eyes; but she had gone too far toretract, and she was emboldened at last byPenelope’s kind looks to make a very prettycurtsey and say, “Please Miss—”

The poor thing could get no farther, tillPenelope relieved her embarrassment by takinghold of her hand and saying, “Well, my dear,what have you to say to me? I have no recollectionthat I have ever seen you before. Howlong have you lived at Smatterton?”

Then the little one was emboldened to speak,and she told Penelope that she had but recentlycome there, and that she had taken the libertyto speak, because she had some few weeks agopicked up a letter directed to Miss Primrose.

Hereupon the girl drew from her pocket ahandkerchief which was carefully folded up, andwhen with great ceremony the handkerchief wasunfolded, a letter made its appearance, whichdid not seem to have required much careful envelopingto keep it clean. It was miserably dirty,[259]and the direction was barely visible. Penelopewondered indeed that the child had been able tomake out the inscription, so far as to ascertainto whom it was addressed; but the hand-writingwas so manifestly Robert Darnley’s, that theyoung lady felt too much emotion and too eagera curiosity to wait to ask any farther particularsof the mode, place and time in which the letterwas found. Only waiting to ask the child hername and place of abode, and to make suchacknowledgment as is expected in such cases,Penelope hastened home full of contending andharassing thoughts, unable to form the slightestconjecture of a satisfactory nature concerningthis strange occurrence.

Now this letter, together with that whichRobert Darnley had written to Mr Primrose,and which Mr Primrose gave to his daughter forher perusal, set the question completely at restin the mind of Penelope, and assured her thatthe young gentleman had not by any neglectdesigned to break off the correspondence.

But when one difficulty was removed, anotherstarted up in its place. There was somethingvery remarkable in a letter being dropped out ofthe bag; but though it was barely possible thatsuch mishap might have befallen one letter, itwas by no means a supposable case that severalletters in succession passing between the samepersons should all have met with the same accident.In the interruption of these letters therewas clearly design and intention; but what wasthe design, or who was the designer, Penelopecould not conjecture. Her suspicions could notfind an object to rest upon; she was not aware ofhaving any enemies, and of course she could notimagine that any one but an enemy could havebehaved so cruelly. She concluded, therefore,as far as in such a case any conclusion couldbe made, that the interruption of the correspondencemust have been effected by some enemy ofRobert Darnley.

It was not very pleasant to have the idea ofsome concealed and unascertained enemy, but[261]there was something gratifying to Penelope inhaving discovered that verily the cessation of thecorrespondence had not been voluntary on thepart of her lover. Therefore, as it appeared fromthe letter which had been picked up that theyoung gentleman had not ceased to write, evenafter he had some ground to fear that the correspondencewas discontinued by the younglady, and as it was also manifest from the letteraddressed to Mr Primrose, that Robert Darnleywas still desirous of an explanation of the younglady’s silence, Penelope could not any longerresist her father’s proposal that he should writeto the young gentleman.

The answer was accordingly sent to RobertDarnley, and the explanation which he soughtwas amply and fully given. He was also asmuch puzzled as the young lady was at thecircumstance of the letter being picked up, andhis conjectures found no resting place. Hisimmediate impulse was to make direct enquiryof the post-boy, and to extort from him, if pos[262]sible,some account of the very remarkable factof a correspondence actually suppressed by thefailure of three letters in succession.

But there was a more interesting matter yetto attend to, and that was the meeting withPenelope after a long absence and an interruptedcorrespondence. Robert Darnley knewhis father’s temperament, and felt a difficulty inmentioning the subject to him, but still he couldnot think of renewing the acquaintance with aview to marriage, without explicitly informinghis father of the intention.

Mr Primrose and his daughter had now beenat Smatterton a few days, and as the two villageswere so remarkably intimate with eachother, it was impossible for anything to takeplace in the one without its being known in theother. The arrival of the parties had been madeknown, as we have seen, at the rectory of Neverden,and apprehensions were entertained bythe daughters of Mr Darnley that their fatherwould be grievously liberal of his wise exhorta[263]tionsto his yet enamoured son. And when twoor three days had passed away, and not a wordof public notice had been taken of the fact in thefamily of the rector, the young ladies began toplease themselves with the hope that no noticewould be taken of the matter, and they trustedthat some circumstance or other might removePenelope again, and finally, from Smatterton;or, as they thought it not unlikely, their brothermight soon fix his affections elsewhere.

It was very clear to the young ladies thatMiss Glossop, notwithstanding her recent disappointment,was something of an admirer oftheir brother; and it was obvious that SirGeorge Aimwell was desirous of cultivating anacquaintance between the parties. The worthybaronet was unusually eloquent in praising MissGlossop, and mightily ingenious in discoveringinnumerable, and to other eyes undiscernible,good qualities in his fair kinswoman. But thoughSir George was a magistrate and a game preserver,he was no conjurer. He was not aware[264]that there could exist any diversities of taste;but he seemed to imagine that those qualitieswhich were agreeable to himself must be agreeableto everybody else; and when he wasdescanting on the multitudinous excellences ofMiss Glossop, and describing her to RobertDarnley as possessing every possible and impossiblevirtue, he did not see that the young man’smind was of a complexion widely different fromhis own. It was not therefore to this younglady that the daughters of the rector of Neverdenlooked forward as the person likely toliberate them from Miss Primrose.

Their hope was altogether of an undefinednature. They merely hoped and trusted thatsomething would occur to relieve them fromtheir present uncomfortable condition. This undefinedhope is, perhaps, after all the best thatwe can entertain. It may appear not very rational,but we have a notion that in serious truth it isa great deal more rational than that hope whichseems to have a foundation in something pro[265]bable:for it is in the very nature and conditionof earthly events, that they almost invariablydisappoint expectation and miserably mock oursagacity. If therefore our hopes be of somethingdefinite, they will be almost assuredlydisappointed; but if we only hope generally andindefinitely that something, we know not what,may occur to remove the cause of our troubles,we may have a much better chance that we shallnot be disappointed. The chances in our favorare thus indefinitely multiplied.

The hope of the young ladies, that nothingwould be said about Miss Primrose becausenothing had been said about her for several days,was disappointed on the very morning that MrPrimrose sent his answer to Robert Darnley,explaining the cause of the suspension of thecorrespondence. The note from Mr Primrosewas brought to Neverden by the trusty servantand universal genius who performed at Smattertonrectory the various duties of foot[266]man,groom, gardener, butler, stable-boy, andporter.

Mr Darnley, whose eyes were ever vigilant,no sooner saw the messenger than he conjecturedwhat was the object of his coming; that is, heso far conjectured as to form an idea that thenote was with reference to Miss Primrose.When therefore the reverend gentleman heardthat a note was actually brought from Smattertonrectory, and addressed to Mr RobertDarnley, the feeling of curiosity was stronglyexcited to know what was the object of the saidnote. But, to say nothing of curiosity, the elderMr Darnley felt that it was his duty to beacquainted with all correspondence carried onwith persons under his roof, especially withmembers of his own family.

Impelled then by a double motive—the powerof curiosity and a sense of duty—the rectorof Neverden very peremptorily commanded theattendance of his son in the study. The com[267]mandwas as promptly obeyed as it had beenauthoritatively given.

“Most assuredly, sir,” replied the young gentleman:“I intended to acquaint you with itscontents as soon as I had read it.”

Robert Darnley then handed the paper to hisfather, who perused it with eager haste andanxious excitement. Rapidly however as therector read the communication, he discerned twofacts which made him angry, and, as he said,astonished. We have observed that the astonishmentrests upon the testimony only of MrDarnley’s own saying; and we have made thatobservation, because we think that Mr Darnleywas not strictly correct in his assertion: we donot believe that Mr Darnley was at all astonished[268]at those facts. He was no doubt angry when hediscovered that his son had written to Mr Primrose;and there is nothing incredible in the ideathat he was angry at the anticipation of a renewalof the acquaintance between his son and MissPrimrose. But he was not astonished at thesethings, and he ought not to have said that hewas. It is however a very common practice, forthe sake of giving pathos and effect to moralexhortation or expostulation, to express an astonishmentwhich is not felt. This is a species oflying, and Mrs Opie would certainly set it downas such.

Mr Darnley not only said that he was astonished,but absolutely affected to look astonished.But that dramatic species of visual rebuke wasby no means adapted to produce an impressionon Mr Darnley the younger; and had the trickbeen played off by any one else than a parent,the young gentleman would certainly havelaughed. It has been often observed, that childrenare much more knowing than is generally[269]supposed, and the same observation may beapplied to children of a larger growth. Butparents cannot well help considering their childrenas always children.

“And so,” said the rector of Neverden, “youhave actually had the folly to write to Mr Primrose,and to endeavour to renew an acquaintancewhich was clearly and positively broken off byMiss Primrose herself?”

“I think, sir,” responded with much gentlenessthe rector’s son, “that, if you read this noteattentively, you will see that Miss Primrose didnot positively break the acquaintance, but thatby some means, as yet unknown, the letterswhich should have passed between us were intercepted.Proof of that is given in the singularcircumstance, that the last letter which I wroteto Smatterton from India was the other daypicked up by a child.”

“Foolish boy,” said he,[270] “and can you sufferyourself to be so easily deceived as to believe thisstory?”

“Surely you will not go so far as to say thatMiss Primrose would descend to the meannessof asserting an untruth.”

“I am asserting nothing concerning MissPrimrose. This note is not her’s, it is herfather’s; and I do know that Mr Primrose canuse profane language; I have heard him. Andwould such a man hesitate at untruth for thesake of an establishment for his daughter? Besideswhat can be more clear than that, now thenegotiation with Lord Spoonbill is broken off,they are very willing to apply to you again.”

There is great power in imagination. MrDarnley had taken it into his head that Penelopehad really been simple enough to admire LordSpoonbill, and vain enough to aspire to title onthe strength of personal beauty. She was whatis commonly called a fine young woman, andthere was in her deportment, especially in theseason of health and spirits, while her uncle lived,[271]a certain constitutional magnificence of mannerwhich might easily bear the name of pride andhaughtiness. Now as Mr Darnley was himselfa proud man, he did not like pride; and thereis nothing at all paradoxical or inconsistent inthis. It is perfectly natural that those who feela pleasure in looking down on others and beinglooked up to, should not be pleased with such asindulge them not in their favourite occupation.

There had not indeed ever been in the behaviourof Penelope towards Mr Darnley anythingactually disrespectful; but Mr Darnley could seethat her spirit was high and essentially unsubmissive.He had therefore always called her proud;and as soon as any suspicion arose of the withdrawingof her affections from Robert Darnley,immediately the father concluded that this changewas owing to the young lady’s pride aspiring tothe hand of Lord Spoonbill; and when she wentto London to the Countess, then his suspicionseemed corroborated; and when she returned toSmatterton, and when Mr Primrose sent the note[272]in question to Neverden, then did Mr Darnleyfeel himself assured that the young lady hadbeen disappointed in her calculations concerningLord Spoonbill, and that now she repented herfolly in renouncing the hand of Robert Darnley,and wished to recall the affection which she hadspurned.

Under such persuasion, from which not all thelogic in the world could move him, he smiled atthe credulity and the weakness of the youngman, while the young man was equally astonishedand grieved at the immovable obstinacy of hisfather. Such cases sometimes occur, and perplexingare they when they do occur, in which ason bearing all possible respect towards a fatherfeels himself yet justified in the court of his ownconscience in acting contrary to his father’s will.Thus situated was the son of the rector of Neverden.He found that it would be in vain to useany arguments, and he was firm in his intentionof taking the earliest opportunity of acknowledgingthe receipt of Mr Primrose’s letter, and[273]of expressing his full determination to renew theacquaintance with Penelope. So far was theyoung man from participating in his father’s suspicions,that the very arguments which the fatherhad used, and the particulars which he hadstated, did but strengthen his own opinion of thepurity and correctness of the young lady’s conduct;and when he considered the circumstancesunder which she had been placed, he felt a degreeof pity for her, and he pitied her also that shelaboured under those untoward and unfoundedsuspicions which had been excited by the idletongue of Zephaniah Pringle.

It became in fact to Robert Darnley a matterof conscience to rectify all misunderstandings asearly as possible. Without therefore affectingto enter into any elaborate discussion with hisfather, he merely replied to what had been said:“I cannot say that I view this affair in the samelight that you do, sir; and I am satisfied that ifyou had a knowledge of all the facts, you wouldnot have reason to blame Miss Primrose. I will[274]not pretend to argue with you, or to presume toput my knowledge of the world in competitionwith yours. But I must take the liberty to sayfirmly, though respectfully, that it is my intentionto see Mr and Miss Primrose, and if I findthat Penelope is still the same amiable and pure-mindedyoung woman as she was when I firstmade her an offer of my hand, I will repeat thatoffer; and I am convinced your prejudice willwear off, if not by my arguments, at least theywill give way to the young lady’s real excellenceof character.”

Mr Darnley was not accustomed to be contradicted.Neither his wife nor his daughters everdisputed his will, or affected to oppose their logicto his determinations. Of his son’s obedienceand gentleness of disposition he had alwaysentertained the highest opinion, and with reason:but he forgot that everything has its limits, andthere is a point beyond which compliance andobedience cannot go. If Mr Darnley had said atthe close of his son’s last speech,[275] “I am astonished,”he would have spoken truly. He wasindeed astonished, but he was not frightened outof his propriety; he was rather frightened intopropriety.

For a few seconds he was absolutely speechlessand almost breathless. But soon respirationreturned, and the power of speech returned withit; and his momentary gasp of astonishmentgave him time for consideration. He consideredin that brief interval that he had no more powerover his son than his son chose to give him, andhe thought it a pity to endanger his influence byattempting to retain his authority. Subduinghimself, he replied:

“If you will be obstinate there is no help forit. But I could wish that you would listen toreason.”

Thus speaking, Mr Darnley left the apartment,angry but endeavouring to keep himself calm.

CHAPTER XVII.

Mr Darnley’s study overlooked the avenuewhich led to the house. For a study it was notwell situated, inasmuch as it was next to impossiblefor any one but a person of great powers ofabstraction to keep himself free from interruption.The situation however was very welladapted to the humour of the rector of Neverden;for thus he could observe every one who approachedthe house, and exercise a continualsuperintendance over his establishment, seeingthat no one could enter or leave the house withouthis knowledge.

At the study window Robert Darnley took hisstation, looking listlessly towards the road that[277]passed the end of the avenue and led towardsthe village of Smatterton. Turning a little towardsthe left hand he could see at a very shortdistance the magnificent towers of Smattertoncastle and the smart gilt weathercock of Smattertonchurch. The young man was beginning togrow sentimental and melancholy; but soon histhoughts were diverted from sentimentality bythe appearance of Nick Muggins and his ponyfumbling their clumsy entrance at the great whitegate that opened into the road. Better ridersthan Nick are sometimes puzzled at opening aheavy swing gate on horseback; but Nick wouldalways manage it without dismounting, if he hadto make twenty efforts for it.

Nick was certainly a picturesque, though by nomeans a poetical object; and his appearance dispersedthe gathering cloud of lackadaisicalnesswhich was just threatening Robert Darnley witha fit of melancholy. Other thoughts, thoughbearing on the same object, now took possessionof him; and as he was very straitforward and[278]prompt in whatever occurred to him, he immediatelyresolved to question the boy concerning thelost letters.

For this purpose, without waiting for the arrivalof the letter-carrier at the house-door, RobertDarnley went partly down the avenue to meethim. Nick made one of his best bows, andgrinned his compliments to the young gentlemanon his arrival in England; for this was the firstmeeting of the parties since the rector’s sonarrived at home. Robert Darnley was not a manof compliments; he proceeded directly to business.Producing from his pocket the letterwhich had been picked up by the little girl, heheld it out to the lad, saying:

“Muggins, can you give any account of thisletter; it was picked up in the road the otherday; do you ever drop the letters out of thebag?”

Muggins, who was as cunning a rogue as manyof his betters, concealed his conviction and shameas well as might be, and took the letter into his[279]hand with much simplicity of look, and gazedupon it for a while with “lack-lustre eye;” notthat he had any great need to examine the letterin order to answer the question, but therebyhe gained time to meditate a lie of some kind orother. After looking at it for a few moments hehanded it back to Robert Darnley, and said:

That might be true, but it was not much of ananswer to the question which was proposed tohim.

“The direction of the letter,” answered Darnley,“is to Miss Primrose at Smatterton. Nowdo you remember ever losing a letter that shouldhave been delivered at the rectory at Smatterton?”

Nick Muggins, we have related, was so meltedby the condescending kindness of PenelopePrimrose, that his heart smote him sorely for hisunfaithfulness to his trust, and he was on thevery verge of a confession of his iniquity; but[280]then Penelope was not likely to horsewhip him,whereas there did appear to the sagacious mindof the treacherous letter-carrier some possibilityof such operation being performed by the morevigorous arm of Robert Darnley; and as such acatastrophe must be exceedingly unpleasant to aman of any feeling, Nick resolved to use hisutmost sagacity to avoid it. The question therefore,which was last proposed, he answered thus:

“I’ve took a great many letters to Smattertonparsonage, sir, and I don’t never remember losennone as I took there.”

Here again was an equivocation worthy ofthe Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill himself.Robert Darnley thought that Nick Muggins wasa fool, but Nick was not such a fool as helooked. He had prodigiously fine diplomatictalents, but ‘Full many a flower, &c.’ as thepoet says.

All the questions and cross-questionings ofthe son of the rector of Neverden could notextort from the carrier of the Smatterton and[281]Neverden letter-bags any information leading tothe discovery of the circumstances to which theinterruption of the correspondence might beattributed. In despair of ascertaining anything,Robert Darnley ceased his interrogations, andthe uncouth rider of the indescribable beastthen handed to his interrogator his share of thecontents of the letter-bag. It was only oneletter, and the superscription was in an unknownhand.

The young gentleman opened the letter withgreat eagerness of curiosity, and looking to theend of it he found that it was anonymous. Heendeavoured to read and comprehend the wholeby one glance, but it did not betray its meaningso obviously; he was therefore under thenecessity of reading it regularly line by line.We are not much in the habit of printing letters—wethink it a breach of confidence; but,as the present is anonymous, we venture togive it:

“A sincere well-wisher to Mr Robert Darnley,though a total stranger, or nearly so, wishesto caution an unsuspicious and generous mindagainst a deep-laid plot, which has for its objectto entrap Mr D. into a marriage, whichwill bring with it poverty and disgrace. It maynot be altogether unknown to Mr D. that acertain gentleman, who shall be nameless, onceruined a handsome fortune by gaming. Thisgentleman now professes to have repaired hisshattered fortunes, and to have forsaken entirelyhis vicious habit. But this is mere pretence.Nearly the whole of that which he acquiredabroad, he has in a short time lost by gamblingat home; and now he gives out that hisloss arises from the stoppage of a banking-housein town. Concerning the character of ayoung lady nearly related to the gentlemanabove alluded to, Mr D. would do well to makethe strictest inquiry before he ventures on theirretrievable step of marriage. Mr D. ought toascertain why Smatterton is chosen for herresidence. The —— family is not residing atthe castle, but it is possible that an individual ofthat family may find a pretence for an incognitovisit there. A word to the wise is enough.”

A letter such as this was almost too muchfor Robert Darnley. He was honest, candid,and unsuspicious; but even in such minds ashis jealousy may be excited, and the aboveletter very nearly answered the purpose.

Instead of going directly to Smatterton, accordingto his first intention, he returned to thehouse, and read over and over again this mysteriousand anonymous epistle. But there wasnothing in it which could afford him the slightestinformation as to the source from whence itcame, or the motive with which it could havebeen written.

It was peculiarly mortifying, after the magnanimous,prompt, and decided avowal whichhe had made to his father, of his intention ofrenewing his acquaintance with Miss Primrose,that he should meet with this painful and perplexinginterruption. He began to wish that he[284]had not been quite so positive. He supposedthat of course his father took it for grantedthat the threatened visit to Smatterton wouldbe paid that very morning. And he had dreadedmeeting the family at dinner, should the visithave been paid; but still greater would be hismortification to meet his father again and beforced to acknowledge that he had not been toSmatterton. It would be but natural to ask ifhe had been there, and quite as natural to askwhy he had not.

The answer to these enquiries would involvethe young gentleman in a dilemma, to extricatehimself from which would require the talents ofa Muggins, or a Spoonbill. But Robert Darnleywas not cut out for shuffling and equivocating.His only consideration was, how far it might beprudent to inform his father of the receipt ofthe anonymous letter.

For the purpose of giving himself time for uninterruptedmeditation, he sauntered out fromthe house, and, as it were unconsciously, turned[285]his steps towards the village of Smatterton.And he thought, as he walked along, that itwould take several days at least, if not someweeks, to ascertain the truth or falsehood of theinsinuations. He knew not where to seek forinformation, or how to gain evidence either onone side or the other. If he should not verysoon make a visit to Mr Primrose, it would seemmanifest that his intention was not to renew theacquaintance with Penelope; and very mortifyingindeed would it be to him, if, after makingenquiries and finding that the insinuations of theanonymous letter were unfounded, malicious andmischievous, he should, by his tardiness or meansuspicions, have forfeited the good will of theyoung lady.

Fortunate for him was it, that while he wasthinking on the subject of this anonymous communication,and putting the case that it mightbe the work of some malicious and ill-designingone, there occurred also to his recollection thelost letter which had been picked up by a[286]stranger. With the recollection of that camealso again to his mind the image and tone andlook of the crafty letter-carrier, and the shufflingevasive answers which the cunning dog hadgiven to his interrogatories.

Wise and penetrating reader, who can’st divemost deeply into human motives, and read themovements of the human heart, we beseech theenot to impute it to stupidity or obtuseness inour friend Robert Darnley, that he could notsooner see the probability of the existence insome quarter or other of a spirit of treachery atwork against him. His own mind was of a veryunsuspicious cast, and he was not in the habitof looking for deeply-laid schemes, but he gavegeneral credit to appearances and ordinary assertions.He was not unaware of the existence ofroguery, or of the circulation of unfoundedreports, but he did not look very commonly andcunningly for tricks and falsehood in the everydaymovements of human life. But when heonce had ground for suspicion, he had sagacity[287]enough to pursue the investigation, and prudenceenough not to be deceived when once puton his guard.

He thought again of the anonymous letter, andhe knew that there was no individual residingin London sufficiently acquainted with him tohave written this letter for his sake. He thoughtof the intercepted letters, and of the allusionto Lord Spoonbill, and he thought of none solikely to have intercepted those letters asLord Spoonbill himself. An apprehension ofsomething near the truth now came firmly anddistinctly upon his mind.

Under the impression of this thought, he movedsomewhat more rapidly and decidedly towardsSmatterton, almost resolving that he would actuallycall at once on Mr Primrose, and renewhis acquaintance with Penelope. He thoughtthat he possessed penetration enough to discoverif there were in the young lady’s deportmentand carriage any symptoms of a diminished orimpaired moral feeling.

It would not be much out of his way to gothrough the park, and as there was a footpathpassing very closely by the castle, he designedto take that route, that, if meeting any one ofthe domestics, he might be able to ascertainwhether or not Lord Spoonbill was expected atSmatterton.

Not many steps had he taken with this intentionbefore he had the satisfaction of meetingthe unfaithful Nick Muggins, shuffling backfrom having delivered up his charge. Nick sawthe young gentleman, and would gladly haveavoided the meeting; but there was no way ofescape, except by going back again to Smatterton,and that was quite out of the question, forat the public-house of that village he had spenthis last allowable minute. Finding that theencounter must take place, Nick whistled himselfup to his highest pitch of moral fortitude,and put spurs to his beast. He might as wellhave struck his spurs against a brick wall. Therough-coated quadruped had been too long in[289]the service of government to be put out of hisusual pace by Nick’s spurs, and these saidspurs had been long enough in the service ofMuggins to have lost their virtue.

Nick’s next resource was to give Mr RobertDarnley the cut indirect, and to ride on withoutseeing him. But that was no easy matterin a narrow unfrequented road. Before therogue could resolve what to do, the parties weretogether, and Robert Darnley, advancing intothe middle of the road, gave command to thelad to stop. Disobedience of course was not tobe thought of; and though the consciousness ofguilt and the suspicion of accusation madehim tremble, yet the necessity of concealmentrendered him very cautious of betraying anyemotion.

The appearance of Robert Darnley’s countenancewas at this interview very different fromwhat it had been an hour or two ago. For, inthe first instance, he had been merely making[290]an unsuspicious enquiry, and his interrogationshad been more for the purpose of gaining informationthan for fixing an accusation. Now, hefelt as if he were examining a criminal, and hedirected a stern enquiring look towards the uncouthvarlet, who blinked like an owl in thesunshine and seemed to be looking about forsomething to look at; for he was ashamed tolook at Robert Darnley, and afraid to fix hiseyes elsewhere.

“Muggins, have the goodness to dismount,”said the young gentleman; “I wish to have alittle talk with you.”

That was a movement by no means agreeableto Mr Muggins, who would thereby be broughtinto closer and more perilous contact with anugly ill-looking elastic knotted cane, which wasbending under the pressure of Mr Darnley’shand. Muggins therefore, in answer to thiscommand, said with all the coolness he couldmuster:

Now Muggins thought that if he was destinedto receive a caning for a violation of his trust,he need not add to his troubles by provokingMr Darnley to administer an extra applicationto him for refusing to dismount. Down thereforecame Nick, and at the word of commandfastened his horse to a gate-post.

“Now, Muggins,” said Robert Darnley, “ifyou don’t tell me the truth, I will cane you aslong as I can stand.”

“Sir?” said Muggins, in a tone of well-feignedastonishment, and with the accent ofinterrogation.

That question does by no means redound tothe credit of Muggins; for had he been a truly[292]honest lad, he would have been ready to tell thetruth on any subject.

“What about!” echoed Darnley; “aboutthose letters, to be sure, which you ought to havedelivered at the rectory at Smatterton. Tell mewhat you did with them, this moment.”

A threatening aspect accompanied, and athreatening attitude followed this speech. Mugginsgave himself up for lost. If he calledout “murder,” there was none to assist him;running away was an absolute impossibility;resistance would be vain; and shuffling wouldno longer answer the purpose. It is astonishinghow powerfully present considerations overwhelmand command the mind. If Muggins could havemustered up sufficient energy of purpose toresist the threats of the son of the rector of Neverden,he might afterwards have laid his casebefore the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill, bywhose interest he might have gained promotion,or by whose liberality he might have been hand[293]somelyrewarded. But all other thoughts andconsiderations were lost and absorbed in theelastic cane, which seemed vibrating with anxiouseagerness for a close acquaintance with hisshoulders.

Cowering and trembling, the guilty one, whosecraftiness would no longer avail him, droppedabjectly upon his knees and blubberingly imploredfor mercy, on consideration of revealingthe whole truth. Darnley, who thought more ofthe happiness of renewing his acquaintance withPenelope than of the pleasure of caning a gracelessvarlet, readily promised mercy upon confession.And so great was Nick’s gratitude forthe mercy promised, that he told the wholetruth, and gave up the character of Lord Spoonbillto contempt.

CHAPTER XVIII.

When the interview recorded in the last chapterhad concluded, both parties were pleased;but the pleasure of the one was far more durablethan that of the other. Nick Muggins enjoyedbut a negative delight in having escaped animminent and threatening peril. But afterwardshe began to reflect; for he could think, seeingthat he had nothing else to do.

It is worth notice, that many apparentlystupid, ignorant and obtuse cubs, whose employmentis monotonous and mechanical, possessa certain degree of shrewdness, and exhibitoccasionally symptoms of reflection and observationto which more cultivated and educated[295]minds are strangers. Curious it is also to seethe gaping wonderment with which those, whosewisdom is from books, regard those who happento have any power or capacity of thought withoutthe assistance of books. Gentle reader,when you are next requested to write some wisesentence in a lady’s album, write the following:“books are more indebted to wisdom, than wisdomis to books.”

Nick, we have said, began to think; and thefarther he was removed from Robert Darnley’scane with the less delight did he contemplatehis escape. It came also into his mind that,although this young gentleman had withheldthe threatened infliction, yet there were othertroubles awaiting him, and other dangers threateninghim. Drowning mariners, it has been said,seldom calculate upon the consequence of theirvows. Nor did Muggins calculate upon theprobable consequences of the confession whichhe had made to escape an impending castigation.

He had escaped the cane of Robert Darnley,[296]but he had thereby exposed himself to the dangerof a similar visitation from the hand of LordSpoonbill. There was also some probability, andno slight one, that he might in addition to othercalamities suffer the loss of his place. Peoplein office do not like to lose their places, for itmakes them very ill-humoured and provokesthem to all manner of absurdities. Nick alsothought that if his place should be taken fromhim in consequence of this his unfaithfulness,Lord Spoonbill would be also exposed, and LordSpoonbill being exposed would be mightilyangry with Nick, and, being angry with him,would not make him any remuneration for hisloss. Moreover Nick thought that Lord Spoonbillwould call him a fool for having divulgedthe secret, and Nick did not like to be called afool. Who does? So, in order to avoid beingcalled a fool, Nick meditated playing the rogue.

We by no means approve of this conduct, andwe record it not as an example, but as a caution;and we would seriously recommend all persons in[297]public offices to be as honest as they possiblycan; or if this political morality appears toorigid and savours of puritanical strictness, wewould advise them to be as honest as they convenientlycan.

The scheme of roguery which the letter-carrierdevised, was destined to be effected by means ofepistolary correspondence with the Right HonorableLord Spoonbill; but fortunately for therogue, as even rogues are sometimes fortunate,the trouble of writing was saved him by the personalappearance of Lord Spoonbill himself atthe town of M——, where Nick Muggins dwelt,and from which he carried the letters to Smattertonand Neverden. It was a great pleasure toMuggins to be saved the trouble of writing, forthat operation was attended with much labourand difficulty to him, seeing that he had manydoubts as to the shapes of letters and the meaningof words.

Muggins had not been at home many minutesbefore Lord Spoonbill presented himself to the[298]astonished eyes of the unfaithful letter-carrier.His lordship was wonderfully condescending tohonor so humble a roof by his presence; but itwas not the first time that he had paid a visit toMr Muggins in his own house. The object, ormore properly speaking the nature of the object,of his visit was guessed at, and the spirit ofNick’s knavery was kindled within him, and hewas prepared to say or do aught that his lordshipmight dictate or propose, for the purpose offurthering the hereditary legislator’s right honorablepursuit.

Nick’s residence is not indeed a matter ofmuch importance to the world, nor does its localityor aspect bear powerfully on the developmentof our catastrophe, or greatly assist the progressof our narrative. But we describe it, because wemay thereby give our readers a more completeand impressive idea of the great condescension ofLord Spoonbill in visiting so obscure an abode.

The town of M—— was situated on the banksof a river. The streets were long and narrow,[299]and the houses high and dingy. The ground onwhich the town was built was uneven, and thematerials with which it was paved were execrable.This is spoken of the best parts of thetown, of those streets which stood on the higherground. The inferior part was not paved at all,and was approachable only by an almost abruptdescent through a lane or narrow street, in whichthe houses nearly met at the top. The groundon which a passenger must walk was of a natureso miscellaneous as almost to defy description,and quite to puzzle analysis. Black mud, aseverlasting as the perennial snows which rest onthe summits of inaccessible mountains, decayedvegetables of every season of the year, refusefish, unpicked bones of every conceivable varietyof animals, deceased cats and dogs and rats inevery possible degree of decomposition, brokenbricks and tiles, and shreds of earthen vessels ofall variety of domestic application, sticks, stones,old shoes, tin kettles and superannuated old saucepans,formed the dead stock of the street. And[300]the live stock was by no means calculated togive to the spectator a high idea of the dignity ofhuman nature. The fair sex in these regionsappeared by no means to any great advantage;nature had done little for them and art less. Intheir voices there was less melody than loudness,and in their language more energy than elegance.They expressed their feelings without circumlocution,and resented indignities with hand aswell as tongue. In the air which they breathedthere might be enough to discompose and irritate,for the decomposition of sprats is by nomeans fragrant; and when an atmosphere isconstantly burdened with the effluvia of soap,tallow, and train oil, it is not calculated to soothethe irritated nerves.

To pass through such a region as this couldnot have been mightily agreeable to the refinedsenses of Lord Spoonbill. But not only did hepass through it, but he sought out in one of itsmeanest habitations the carrier of the Smattertonand Neverden letter-bags. All this however he[301]did patiently undergo for love of Penelope Primrose.

“Muggins,” said his lordship, “have you lefta letter at Neverden within this day or two forMr Darnley?”

“Oh, yes, my lord, I see Mr Robert himself.And please, my lord, I am almost afraid that youand I will be found out.”

“Why, I means, my lord, please your lordship,that one of them letters as I give your lordshipis been picked up, and Mr Robert Darnleyshowed it to me and axed whether I knowednothing about it. And he said he’d kill me if Idid not tell him, and so I told him that I didn’tknow nothing where it come from. And so, mylord, I’m quite afeard to go again to Neverden,only I don’t know what to do just to get a bit ofbread.”

“Why, Muggins, if that is the case,” said hislordship, “you had better get away.”

“Oh, leave that to me!” said his lordship,“and I will take care you shall be no loser.”

This was the point to which the crafty onewished to bring his right honorable friend. Sufficeit then to say that Lord Spoonbill, fancyingthat he should place discovery out of the reachof probability, made the rogue a very handsomepresent, and gave him letters whereby he mightfind employment in London, which would morethan compensate for the loss of his place in thecountry.

Then did Lord Spoonbill under cover of night’sdarkness find his way to Smatterton castle,pleasing himself with the thought that his well-formedscheme was now likely to take effect, andthat Mr Robert Darnley, after the warning of the[303]anonymous letter, would not be very hasty torenew his acquaintance with Miss Primrose. Itwas of course supposed by our readers, andintended to be so supposed, that the anonymousletter above alluded to was sent, if not by LordSpoonbill himself, at least by his instigation, andfor the purpose of forwarding his designs. And,that the merit of the communication may not beascribed to a wrong personage, it is right toinform the world that the writer of the sameletter was Colonel Crop. By this gallant officerLord Spoonbill was now accompanied to Smattertoncastle.

Colonel Crop was an excellent travelling companion,for he never disturbed the train of hisfellow-traveller’s thoughts by any impertinentprating. The dexterous economy which thecolonel exercised over his words and actions wasquite surprising. He could make a little go agreat way. If for instance any friend, and manysuch there were, invited the gallant colonel todinner, it would seem that thereby an occupation[304]were afforded him for an hour or two previouslyfor the purpose of dressing. But the ingenious time-consumermanaged to make a whole morning’swork of it. Equally economical was he of words.For if his Right Honorable friend Lord Spoonbillshould talk to him for a whole hour together,the colonel would think it quite sufficient toreply to the long harangue by simply saying:“’Pon honor! you don’t say so.”

With this lively companion did Lord Spoonbilljourney towards Smatterton; and as his lordshipwished to be left to his own thoughts, his friendwas not unwilling to indulge him; and thus didthe hereditary legislator enjoy the pleasure ofsilently congratulating himself on the dexteritywith which he had managed this affair; andmore especially was he delighted at the fortunatecircumstance of having removed Nick Mugginsfar away from the danger of being tempted orterrified into confession of his unfaithfulness.

It did not enter, nor was it likely to enter intothe mind of Lord Spoonbill, that Nick Muggins[305]had already impeached, and that Robert Darnleywas in possession of all the facts of the case.There was something else also in the transactionsof that day unknown to and unsuspectedby his lordship. That other matter to which wehere allude, was the visit which Robert Darnleyhad paid to Mr and Miss Primrose.

At the close of the preceding chapter werelated that Mr Darnley and the letter-carrierparted after their interview, and we have accompaniedNick back to his home, and have narratedwhat took place there. We may now thereforereturn to Robert Darnley, and accompany himalso in his visit to Smatterton.

After he had ascertained from Muggins thetruth of the matter concerning the suppressedletter, he no longer heeded the anonymous communicationwhich he had received; and insteadof passing through the park as he had designed,he proceeded immediately to the rectory.

He was most happy in the thought that nowall doubts and perplexities were removed from[306]his mind, and he was much better able and farmore willing to believe that Penelope still remainedpure, honorable, and affectionate, than togive credence to the foul calumnies which hadbeen circulated concerning her. There are individualsin the world of whom it is, ordinarilyspeaking, almost impossible to think ill. Suchwas the character of Penelope Primrose to thosewell acquainted with her. But the elder MrDarnley being a mightily pompous and grandsort of man, looked at almost every one from anawful distance. Discrimination of character wasby no means his forte. He thought that thewhole mass of mankind was divisible into twoclasses, the good and the bad. He consideredthat the good must do as he did, and think as hethought; and that the bad were those that opposedhim. It was his notion that it required onlya simple volition for the good to become bad andfor the bad to become good. And when he heardthat Miss Primrose had transgressed, he forthwithbelieved the tale and renounced her.

But to say nothing of the affection which theyounger Darnley entertained for the lady, andthe pleasing hopes with which for so long aperiod he had been accustomed to think of her,he could not think it possible for a mind likehers ever to descend to the meanness with whichshe had been charged. He did think it possiblethat, in consequence of a supposed neglect on hispart, and by means of ingenious assiduities onthe part of another, that her regards might betransferred from him; but even that he wouldnot believe without positive evidence. Many afaithful heart had been broken, and many anhonest man has been hanged, by circumstantialevidence.

The meeting of the lovers was silent. Theymight have been previously studying speeches;but these were forgotten on both sides. And intheir silence their looks explained to each otherhow much they had respectively suffered fromthe villany of him who had interrupted theircorrespondence. After a long and silent em[308]brace,and gazing again and again at thosefeatures which he had so loved to think of at amighty distance, Darnley at length was able tospeak, and he said: “And you have not forgottenme!” How cold these words do look onpaper. But from the living lips which spokethem, and from the energetic tenderness withwhich they were uttered, and from the thoughtof that mental suffering and that withering ofheart which had been occasioned by the fear offorgetfulness, and above all from the circumstancethat these were the first words whichPenelope had heard from those lips for so long,so very long a period, they came to her ear andheart with a thrilling power, and awakened herfrom her silent trance to the expression of thatfeeling which had almost subdued her.

“Forget!” she was attempting to echo herlover’s words, but emotion was too strong for theutterance of words, and she finished her answerby falling on his neck and weeping audibly.

Might it not have done Lord Spoonbill good[309]to have witnessed this scene? Surely it mighthave taught him how little prospect there was ofthe success of his designs; and he might, had hepossessed the ordinary feelings of humanity, havethought that the coronet must be brilliant indeedwhich could tempt Penelope to renounce herlover.

But Lord Spoonbill saw it not, and suspectedit not; if he had, it certainly would have savedhim a great deal of trouble.

The lovers, when they did recover themselvessufficiently to speak composedly and collectedly,had volumes of talk for each other, and Darnleywas interested and moved by the narrative ofPenelope’s excursion to London, and the narrowescape which she had from a profession so illadapted to the character and complexion of hermind. But in all the conversation Darnley didnot mention to Penelope the anonymous letterwhich he had that morning received, nor did hesay a word concerning the confession of theletter-carrier. As to the anonymous letter, he[310]would not insult her even by alluding to theexistence of evil reports; and as to the suppressedletters, he feared lest the impetuosity ofthe young lady’s father might be productive ofmischief. He thought it at all events most desirable,at least so long as they might remain inthe neighbourhood of Smatterton castle, to letPenelope suppose that the loss of the letters wasaccidental.

There may be some persons who think thatunder present circumstances it was the duty ofRobert Darnley to send Lord Spoonbill a challenge,or to bestow upon his lordship that chastisementwith which Nick Muggins had beenthreatened. That Lord Spoonbill deserved abodily castigation, we will readily concede; butas to duelling, we conceive it to be a very sillyand useless practice, and we are not sorry thatwe are not compelled to relate of the youngerDarnley that his inclination prompted him toadopt that very equivocal mode of demonstratinghimself to be a gentleman, or man of courage.

Very pleasantly passed the two or three hourswhich Robert Darnley allowed himself to spendat Smatterton parsonage; very awkwardly passedthe dinner hour on his return to Neverden parsonage;for the Rev. Mr Darnley would notspeak to his son, and poor Mrs Darnley andthe young ladies were afraid to speak when therector was silent.

CHAPTER XIX.

At a late hour in the evening Lord Spoonbill,accompanied by his worthy friend Colonel Crop,arrived at Smatterton castle. The domesticswere instructed not to make the arrival public,for his lordship was not desirous of being interruptedby any invasions of callers. His objectprofessed to be the making some arrangements,and laying down some plans for alterations andimprovements.

Colonel Crop was an excellent counsellor. Hewas one of those admirable advisers, whose suggestionsare always taken, and whose advice isalways welcome, for he never gave any adviceexcept that which was dictated to him by the[313]person whose counsellor he was. He would havemade an excellent prime minister for any sovereignwho might not like to be contradicted.His reverence for lords was very great, and fargreater of course would have been his reverencefor kings. He would no more think of reasoningwith or contradicting a lord, than a commonsoldier would think of refusing to march or haltat the word of his commander.

Now when this worthy couple had finished alate dinner, and Colonel Crop had assented toand echoed all that Lord Spoonbill had beenpleased to affirm as touching the excellence orthe reverse of the various meats and drinks composingtheir dinner, the hereditary legislatorbegan the work of consultation.

“Well, Crop, it is a good thing that I havesent that rascally letter-carrier away.”

“It would have been quite shocking if he hadbeen terrified or bribed out of his secret.”

“Now I have been thinking,” continued hislordship, “that you may be of great service tome in this affair.”

That was true enough, and so might any onewho would feed him. Young men of weak mindsand vicious habits are very much to be pitiedwhen they have such friends and companions asColonel Crop.

“Can’t say I do,” replied the colonel; “I haveseen her once, but I took very little notice.”

“I must introduce you then. Now you rememberthe trouble I had with the old onesabout this affair, and you know that I was foolenough, as I told you, to go so far as actually tomake Miss Primrose an offer of marriage.”

The colonel gave his assent to this propositionalso; for he seemed to think it an act of rude[315]nessto contradict a lord, even when he calledhimself a fool. And so perhaps it really is; fora lord ought to know whether he is a fool or not,and he would not say it if he did not believe it;and there is also a degree of wisdom in the discoverythat one has been a fool, for thereby it isintimated that the season of folly is over. Whosoevertherefore actually says that he was a foolformerly, virtually says that he is not a fool now.So no doubt did the colonel interpret the assertionof Lord Spoonbill, and with this interpretationhe said, “Exactly so.”

“But I think now,” proceeded his lordship,“I may have the young lady on my own terms.But the difficulty is how to manage the businesswithout alarming her, and perhaps bringing downsome deadly vengeance from that father of her’s,for he is as fierce as a tiger.”

That which is a difficulty to an hereditarylegislator and heir to a title and large estate,must of course be a difficulty also to a half-pay[316]colonel, who loves to depend upon occasionaldinners, and, like a hospital, to be supported byvoluntary contributions. Therefore the colonelsaid:

“If by any means we could contrive to getthe father out of the way, we might perhapsget rid of some obstacle. Crop, can you hitupon any scheme to separate them?”

“Can’t, ’pon honor,” replied the colonel, whoprobably thought that it was not becoming inhim to be more ingenious than his feeder. Thecolonel indeed was willing to do whatever hemight be bid, to say whatever might be put intohis mouth, to write whatever might be dictatedto him, and to go wherever he might be sent.But he was by no means a self-acting machine.He would do anything for any body, but herequired to be told explicitly what to do.

After a pause of some minutes, Lord Spoonbillobserved; “Perhaps some use might be made[317]of the stoppage of Mr Primrose’s banker. Iforget the name; have you any recollectionof it?”

To proceed much farther in narrating thislively dialogue which took place between theRight Honorable Lord Spoonbill and ColonelCrop, as to the most likely means of forwardingthe designs which his lordship meditated againstMiss Primrose, would contribute more to thereader’s weariness than to his amusement oredification. It will be enough in the presentstate of affairs to say, that this notable colloquyterminated in the determination on the part ofhis lordship to take no immediate steps in theaffair till he had ascertained what effect theanonymous letter had produced upon RobertDarnley. For this purpose, Colonel Crop mightrender himself useful. Instructions were thereforegiven him accordingly, and he was ordered[318]to ride over to Neverden Hall, where he mightbe most likely to gain some information.

Early therefore, on the following morning, thegallant colonel found his way to the mansionof the worthy baronet and able magistrate, SirGeorge Aimwell. The unpaid one was mightilywell pleased at the visit, and he shook the handof the half-paid one till his fingers ached.

“Well, Colonel, I am glad to see you. Soyou are tired of the gaieties of London already,and you are coming to relieve our dullness inthe country. How are our noble neighbours?”

“Quite well, I thank you,” replied thecolonel, who felt himself one of great importancein being able to speak so readily and assuredlyconcerning nobility.

And here we will take the opportunity, and avery fit one it is, of observing on a very curiousfact, namely, that the reverence for nobility andhigh rank is not felt so acutely and powerfullyby simple and unmixed plebeians, as it is by[319]those who have some remote affinity to nobility,or who fancy themselves to be a shadow or twoof a caste above the mere plebeian. ColonelCrop was not of noble family, but he was thelast of a mighty puissant race of insignificantattenuated gentry in a country town; and asnobility was a scarce article in the neighbourhoodwhere he was born and brought up, hewas mightily proud of his intimacy with thenoble family of the Spoonbills. But to proceed.

“Now, colonel, as you are here,” said theworthy baronet, “I hope you will stay andspend the day with me.”

We are always popping in our remarks uponeverything that is done and said; and here againwe cannot help remarking that Sir George Aimwellmight have had the grace to say “with us,”as well as “with me;” but he thought so muchof his own magisterial self, that he had no considerationof any one else.

To the invitation thus given the gallantcolonel scarcely knew what to say, for his com[320]mission,though very definite as to purpose, wasnot definite as to time. Now the colonel, thougha man of family, was somewhat obtuse, and bysome people would have been called stupid;and he scarcely knew whether or not he shouldcommunicate to the amiable magistrate atNeverden Hall, the fact of Lord Spoonbill’sincognito presence at Smatterton castle. And asit was not possible for him to send back to thecastle for further orders, he thought that themost prudent step that he could take would beto leave the matter of dining undecided, and goback in person to Smatterton for full directions.

He gave therefore an undecided answer tothe baronet’s invitation, saying that he had some“little matters” to attend to at Smatterton, andthat, if he possibly could return to Neverden inthe evening, he should be most happy to take hisdinner with the worthy baronet.

Back therefore to Smatterton trotted the convenientcolonel, in order to report progress andask leave to sit at the baronet’s table. Now we[321]“guess” that some of our readers are sneeringmost contemptuously at this convenient colonel,and admiring the placid facility with whichhe is moved about from place to place atthe nod of an hereditary legislator, and obeyingall the commands of a tadpole senator. Yetwhy should any one think that he is unworthilyor degradingly employed. Only let usimagine for a moment that the Right HonorableLord Spoonbill is a most gracious, or amost Christian majesty, and that his negociationsare for precisely the same purpose as theyare at present; or that from negociations of thisnature there may have arisen between twomighty and puissant nations a just and necessarywar—such things have been—then would thesaid Colonel Crop, in his capacity of negociator,be regarded with profound admiration by all hismajesty’s most faithful and loyal subjects; andmorning and evening papers would be proud ofputting forth second editions to immortalize his[322]diplomatic movements. But, as it is, ours is theonly record of these matters.

When Colonel Crop therefore returned toSmatterton castle, and informed his right honorableemployer of what had passed at Neverden,Lord Spoonbill thought, though he did not say,that Colonel Crop was a great booby.

“Why, colonel,” said his lordship, “by allmeans go back and take your dinner with SirGeorge; you may find out something aboutDarnley; I am in no hurry for your return, onlylet me know all that you can collect concerningthis young lady; and above all endeavour tofind out whether Mr Robert Darnley is spokenof as her future husband, or whether the acquaintancebetween them is broken off. Thatis all I wish to ascertain at present. I shallthen know how to act. For don’t you see that,if Darnley keeps at a distance in consequenceof the present reports, I am more likely to haveher on my own terms. There is no heart so easyto win as that of a disappointed lover.”

With his instructions back went the colonelto Neverden. And as we have not the opportunityof giving verbal or senatorial advice tomighty and puissant princes, we will here do allwe can for the good of our country, and of allcountries into the language of which this historymay be translated, by advising and most earnestlyrecommending that blockheads, howevervalorous or gallant, like our friend Colonel Crop,be not employed in diplomatic offices. There isa very great difference between the vigorous armthat can break a man’s head, and the ingeniousdexterity which can bend a man’s heart. And,generally speaking, those people can have butlittle regard for brains, whose business it is toknock them out.

For want of a dexterous diplomatist, LordSpoonbill, as we shall see hereafter, was exposedto great inconvenience, and suffered mighty andserious disappointment.

Colonel Crop was not sorry that leave wasgranted him to dine at Sir George Aimwell’s.[324]For the baronet had an excellent cook, and thecook had an excellent place, and few are theinstances in which there exists so good an understandingbetween master and servant, as inthe present case there did between the worthymagistrate and his as worthy cook.

Whether Colonel Crop did or did not possessthe organ of hope strongly developed in hisskull, we cannot tell, for the gallant colonel hasnot yet been hanged; if he had, we might havefound any organs we pleased; but we may supposethat he had the organ of anticipativeness,for his thoughts dwelt so seriously and intentlyupon the good dinner that he was likely toenjoy at Sir George Aimwell’s table, that he didactually and truly forget a great part of hiserrand. Oh, how selfish is mortal man!

The colonel, however, with all his propensityto oblivion, had sufficient memory to recollectthat his business was to ascertain whether MrDarnley, son of the rector of Neverden, still continuedhis acquaintance with a young lady or[325]not. At the table of Sir George Aimwell therewas introduced a young lady, Miss Glossop.The name of Glossop bears no very markedaffinity to that of Primrose, but by some strangefatality or fatuity, the gallant colonel confoundedthem. The young lady, by a certain dashingstyle of behaviour, passed off with the colonelas a remarkably fine young woman; and whenSir George Aimwell spoke banteringly to herconcerning Robert Darnley, then the gallantnegociator was sure that this was the lady inquestion.

There was a still farther corroboration in thecircumstance that this lady was gifted withremarkable vocal powers. The colonel was nogreat judge of music, but he could see that sheplayed very rapidly, and he could hear that shesung very loud; and therefore he entertained thesame notion of her musical talents which sheherself did.

The musical exhibition took place after tea.Lady Aimwell cared little about music or[326]anything else, and in the presence of her husband’svisitors she generally shewed her dignityby looking sulky. But Colonel Crop wasso vastly polite, that her ladyship was generallymore civil and courteous to him than to anyother guests who were attracted to NeverdenHall by the fame of the baronet’s cook.

And while Miss Glossop was amusing herselfwith melodious vociferations, and singing andplaying so loud that the poor magistrate couldhardly keep his eyes shut, Colonel Crop andLady Aimwell were engaged in a whispering ormuttering conversation, all about nothing at all.They both agreed that it was remarkable weather,neither of them had remembered it so mildfor many years. Lady Aimwell was very wellpleased to hear Colonel Crop’s common-placenothings which he had brought from London,and her ladyship related all that had taken placeat Neverden since the colonel was there last.

Her ladyship was not especially partial toMiss Glossop. There was some little jealousy[327]in the heart of Lady Aimwell that this stranger,as it were, should occupy so much of the baronet’sattention. Disagreeable people are generallythe most jealous. Her ladyship noticed themusic.

“I wonder,” muttered the fretful one toColonel Crop, “that Sir George can bear to hearsuch a constant noise. I am sure he knowsnothing of music. There is a great deal of talkabout her fine voice and her rapid execution;her voice sounds to my ear very much like thevoice of a peacock.”

Saying this her ladyship smiled, because itwas almost witty, and the colonel also smiled,for he too thought it was witty.

“But I beg your pardon, colonel,” said herladyship; “perhaps you may be partial tomusic?”

“By no means,” replied the colonel, “and Iwas not aware that Sir George was partial to it.Our friends at the castle are very musical.”

It was pleasant for the colonel to be able to[328]talk about our friends at the castle; but LadyAimwell, though not very ambitious of publicityin the gay world, was rather jealous of theSmatterton great ones, and thought herselftreated with too much haughtiness and distanceby the Earl and Countess.

“I wish that all that noise and affectationwere at the castle, instead of tormenting me.”

Thus spoke Lady Aimwell. Now, thoughtColonel Crop, there was a fine opportunity forintroducing his diplomacy; and for that purposethe gallant negociator said, in a very knowingaccent:

“But I think I have heard that this younglady is likely to give her hand to a Mr ——Mr —— bless me, I forget names.”

“Yes, yes,” replied the colonel,[329] “I believethat is the name; Darnley, Darnley, ay, ay,that is the name. This lady is going to be marriedto Mr Darnley, I have heard.”

“Oh no!” replied her ladyship, “I don’tbelieve it. I can hardly think it probable. Indeed—butI hope it will go no further”—

Here her ladyship spoke in a still lower keyand more subdued tone, and the gallant colonellistened with profound attention, and with greatdelight did he hear her ladyship thus speak:

“There has, I believe, been some talk aboutsuch an affair, and Robert Darnley has met herhere once or twice. But the truth is, he seemsto know her character and disposition too well.And if there were any such thoughts on his part,I am sure he has given up all such idea by thistime. Indeed, I do not think that there ever wasmuch regard on either side.”

This was grand intelligence for the colonel.He felt himself mightily important. He soonceased the conversation, and took his leave ofthe family at Neverden Hall, and he reportedall that he had heard and seen according to thebest of his ability.

“Ay, ay, Penelope; bless me, how soon Iforget names. So I have seen her and heardher.”

“Wonderfully,” replied the colonel, who wasmore than usually eloquent in consequence ofthe good success of his diplomacy: “to be sureI do not understand music, but I never saw sorapid an execution in my life.”

“But,” interrupted his impatient lordship,“did you hear anything about that Darnley?”

“Yes,” replied the colonel, with mighty pompand energy of manner. “Lady Aimwell told me,in confidence, that Darnley knew her charactertoo well to think of marrying her. These wereher ladyship’s own words.”

“Now, Crop, you have done me a serviceindeed. Now I think the day is our own.”

When the good friends parted for the night,[331]his delighted lordship was so occupied with hisown sweet thoughts that he was quite intoxicatedwith joy. He would, had he been able, havesung aTe Deum; and it would be very well ifTe Deum had never been sung on occasions quiteas unworthy as, if not infinitely more so thanthe present.

Page	Original text	Corrected text
34	Smattertno	Smatterton
59	too verturn	to overturn
111	gird	girl
231	enoug	enough

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Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofPenelope

PENELOPE:
OR,
LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofPenelope

PENELOPE:OR,LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PENELOPE:
OR,
LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.