Part 22 (1/2)

Sir John took a quick turn towards the door, but, stopping suddenly, said he would join the young men in the picture gallery, where, accompanied by Mr. Martyn, he went. With the younger Martyn, the Baronet was well enough acquainted; and now his aim was to chat with our hero.

Twm became a little agitated as he found himself in close contact with his father, and a something like an equality in society, since they were both friends in the same family. True, this was really owing to the accident of circ.u.mstances, but Twm was there fairly upon his own merits, and not by imposition. Sir John asked him particulars concerning his adventures on the highway, and Twm, throwing all his natural wit into the account, made a favourable impression on his father.

The Martyns, father and son, being summoned down stairs, the stately baronet was left alone with his humble and unknown son. Twm looked towards the walls, with some feelings of awkwardness. The old-fas.h.i.+oned gallery was hung with numerous paintings: portraits by Holbein and Vand.y.k.e, with interesting and humorous pieces by foreign masters. Sir John pointed out and warmly expatiated on the merits and peculiarities of the various schools, fixing his eyes more on our hero's face than on the paintings, to measure the extent of his taste and intellect by the effect they might produce on him; for the Baronet was quite an enthusiast in the fine arts, and would be quick in discovering whether or not he was throwing away his observations on a blockhead. He was not slow in observing the evidence of mind in his auditor, from the deep interest which he took in his details; but he especially remarked that his fancy was princ.i.p.ally taken by the drolleries and homeliness of the Dutch and Flemish pictures, in one of which Twm fancied he saw a resemblance to Carmarthen Jack, his aunt Juggy, of hump-backed peculiarity, and even a counterpart to the starveling Moses. Apologizing for the rusticity of his taste, he owned his admiration of the boors and the lowly damsels, as they reminded him of some such, the familiars of his childhood in Wales.

”And where might that be pa.s.sed?” enquired the Baronet, smilingly.

”In the humble town of Tregaron, in Cardigans.h.i.+re,” replied Twm.

”Who are the princ.i.p.al gentry in that neighbourhood?” enquired the Baronet. When Twm mentioned Squire Gras.p.a.cre and his late lady, Sir John looked him hard in the face; then, silently fixing his eyes on the floor, he recollected a certain pa.s.sage in his life, that prevented him visiting Gras.p.a.cre-Hall, from the dread he entertained of the censures and lectures of his decorous and straight-laced sister, Mrs. Gras.p.a.cre.

”Did you know the lady you mentioned, Mrs. Gras.p.a.cre?” enquired the baronet. ”Very well, Sir John,” was Twm's reply, ”I have great reason, for, to that lady's benevolence I am indebted for the little education I have received.”

Now, Sir John knew very well that his sister was anything but benevolent, so that by this a.s.sertion our hero lost a little in his opinion, and he suspected him of a little cant.

”If she sent you to school, she had some motive; what was it?” ”I am a natural son, Sir John, which, perhaps Mr. Martyn informed you of: the lady sent me to school, because one of her great relations was said to be my father,” replied Twm, fixing his eyes on the baronet's face, which he had the satisfaction of seeing quail beneath his riveting gaze.

Recovering himself, however, he cast a severe look on our hero, and, in a harsh tone and manner, said, ”Now must I doubt all your a.s.sertions, as one falsehood is apparent to me. The lady you named was my sister, and certain it is that no relation of hers could be your father.”

Here the lion in our hero's heart was roused, and he indignantly repelled the charge of falsehood, saying that he expected neither truth nor honour from his father, since he was known to him.

”And what may be your father's name then?” asked the Baronet, biting his lip, to prevent the laughter that seemed ready to burst out. ”Sir John Wynn of Gwydir!” exclaimed Twm in a dare-devil strain, that made the Baronet start at his vehemence. Admiring the fire that flashed in his eyes, his honest, fearless, and energetic behaviour, Sir John opened his arms, and received him in his embrace!

When Mr. Martyn came to announce the arrival of the bishop, he found our hero sobbing on his father's neck, who soothed him by promises, that the neglect of years should now be remedied, and that he was glad and proud of the original, which he found in Mr. Martyn's picture gallery.

The interview had ended very differently to what Twm and Mr. Martyn had expected, and our hero felt grateful to a protecting Providence which had so ordered events.

Sir John and Mr. Martyn descended, and our hero was left alone in the picture gallery. They joined the worthy Bishop at the table in the old-fas.h.i.+oned saloon, which, being overlooked from the rails of the gallery, Twm saw and heard all that pa.s.sed, by the particular invitation of his worthy host.

The Bishop commenced addressing Mr. Martyn:-

”We are here met to-day, Mr. Martyn,” said he, ”to submit to your arbitration, a matter in dispute between Sir John and myself. Sir John has expressed himself to you with reference to me, in an unfriendly manner, yet I have every confidence in your impartial judgment.” Here Mr. Martyn bowed, and Sir John, coughing to keep down his choler, of which he had as good a share as ever fell to the lot of a Cambro Briton, flourished his laced cambric handkerchief about his face, as he added, ”His lords.h.i.+p cannot be more glad of an unbia.s.sed umpire than I am myself, Mr. Martyn.”

The Bishop continued:-”Sir John's request to me, was, that I would confirm a lease for three lives, upon the rectory of Llanrwst, at the yearly rent of fifty pounds; the same being worth one hundred and forty pounds, and is of my patronage. This request much perplexed my mind, for it grieved me to deny Sir John anything, yet my conscience cried aloud against such a grant, so prejudicial to the church itself, and especially to the next inc.u.mbent, whom I should have grievously wronged by beggaring the See, and injuring the living for future Clergymen.”

Here the Bishop resumed his seat, and the Baronet with great a.s.sumption of stateliness, rose and spoke in a slow and acrimonious strain.

”The sower went out to sow; and some of his seed fell in stony ground, where it withered, because it took not root; the seed was good, but the land nought. I may justly say so by you, my lord. I have in all things showed myself a friend, my lord; inasmuch that if I had not pointed the way with my finger, whereof I have yet good testimony, your lords.h.i.+p would have been still humble vicar of Llaurhaiader.”

The Bishop, without rising, mildly replied, ”You have done me much kindness, Sir John, but no dishonest kindness; nor do I mean to deny you any of your fair requests.”

”I am really much obliged to your lords.h.i.+p, for your present good opinion,” replied the Baronet, with sneering courtesy, ”more particularly that you express your opinion before Mr. Martyn. But the words you have just uttered agree only indifferently with others you have at various times used in reference to me.”

”Good Sir John,” replied the Bishop, ”you do wrong me very much to say so.”

Sir John replied with much warmth, ”I have good proof, my lord, that you protested to your late servant, Thomas Vaughan, that all the good I ever did you, when vicar of Llaurhaiader, was to go to Llandda Church, and with my family add so much to your scanty congregation there; and, forsooth! that I had once on a time sent you a fat ox, on your installation in the See of Asaph; truly, my lord, this is to strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.”

The good Bishop's reply was mild and conciliating. ”Good Sir John, you wrong yourself as much as me, to believe such idle sayings. If this were not a case of conscience, you should not need to ask me twice; remembering ancient kindness, your request is of great force to me.”