Part 61 (1/2)
says Lawless; 'depend upon it, his mother knows he's out,' and catching hold of the reins, he clambers up into his seat, shouting, 'Give 'em their heads! Stand clear! Chut! chut! 'As soon as the brutes found they were loose, instead of starting off at a jog-trot, as reasonable, well-behaved horses ought to do, what do you suppose they did? The beast they tied on in front turned short round, stared Lawless in the face, and stood up on its hind legs like a kangaroo, while the other animal would not stir a peg, but, laying down his ears, gave a sort of a screech, and kicked out behind. 'Pretty, playful things,' said Lawless, flipping the ashes off the end of his cigar. 'Put his head straight, William. Chut! chut! 'But the more he chutted the more they wouldn't go, and began tearing and rampaging about the yard till I thought they'd be over me, so I scrambled up a little low wall to get out of their way, missed my footing, and tumbled over backwards on to a dung-heap, and before I got up again they were off; but if that young jackanapes don't break his neck some of those days, I'm a Dutchman! Umph! umph!”
”Lawless is a capital whip,” replied I, ”and the chestnuts, though fiery, are not really vicious. I don't think there is much danger.”
”Ah young men! young men! you're all foolish alike. I don't know how you'd get on, if you hadn't a few old stagers like me to think for you and give you good advice.--And that puts me in mind that I want to have half an hour's serious conversation with you, Frank. Can you listen to me now?”
”I am quite at your service, sir,” replied I, resigning myself to my fate with the best grace I could command.
”Umph! Well, you see, Frank, I've no chick nor child of my own, and I've taken a kind of a fancy to you from a boy; you were always a good boy and a clever boy, and you've gone on well at college, and distinguished yourself, and have been a credit to the man that sent you there.--By the bye, didn't you ever want to know who it was sent you there?”
”Often and often,” replied I, ”have I longed to know -404-- to whose disinterested kindness and generosity I was indebted for so great an advantage.”
”Umph! Well, you must be told some day, I suppose, so you may as well know now as at any other time. The man that sent you to college ain't very unlike me in the face. Umph!”
”My dear, kind friend,” replied I, seizing his hand and pressing it warmly, ”and is it indeed you who have taken such interest in me? How can I ever thank you?”
”I want no thanks, boy; you did better than thank me when you came out fourth wrangler; why, I felt as proud that day when they were all praising you as if it had been my own son. Say no more about that; but now you've left college, what are your wishes--what do you think of doing? Umph!”
”I had thought of reading for the bar, deeming it a profession in which a man stands a fair chance of distinguis.h.i.+ng himself by honourable exertion; I am aware it is somewhat uphill work at starting, but Mr.
Coleman has promised to introduce me to several men in his branch of the profession, and to give me all the business he can himself, so I should not be quite a briefless barrister. But if there is anything else you wish to recommend, any other career you would advise me to pursue, I am very indifferent, that is, I am not at all bigoted to my own opinion.”
”Umph! I never had any over-strong affection for lawyers--gentlemen that eat the oysters themselves and leave their clients the sh.e.l.ls! However, I suppose there may be such things as honest lawyers to be met with, and it's better for every man to have a profession. Well, now, listen to me, Frank, I--umph!--your sister's going to be married, to be married to a young man for whom I've a very great respect and affection; Sir John Oaklands is a thorough specimen of a fine old English gentleman, and his son bids fair to become just such another, or even a yet higher character, for Harry's got the better headpiece of the two. However, I don't like your sister to marry into such a family without a little money of her own to buy a wedding-bonnet; so you give her this letter, and tell her to mind and get a becoming one. We may trust a woman to take care of that, though, eh, Frank? Umph!”
”Really, sir, your kindness quite overpowers me; we have no possible claim upon your liberality.”
”Yes, you have, boy--yes, you have,” replied Mr. Frampton, ”the strongest claim that can be; you have -405-- saved me from falling a victim to the worst disease a man can suffer under--you have saved me from becoming a cold-hearted, soured misanthrope; you have given me something to love, some pure unselfish interest in life. And now we are on this subject, I may as well tell you all my plans and wishes in regard to you: I have no soul belonging to me, not a relation in the wide world that I am aware of, and I determined, from the time when I first sent you to college, that if you conducted yourself well and honourably, I would make you my heir.--Don't interrupt me,” he continued, seeing that I was about to speak, ”let me finish what I have to say, and then you shall tell me whether you approve of it. You not only came up to, but far surpa.s.sed, my most sanguine expectations, and I saw therefore no reason to alter my original intentions. But it is stupid work for a man to wait till all the best days of his life are pa.s.sed, without funds sufficient to render him independent, to feel all his energies cramped, his talents dwarfed, and his brightest aspirations checked, by a servile dependence on the will and caprice of another--waiting for dead men's shoes--umph! and so, Frank, as I feel pretty tough and hearty for sixty-five, and may live, if it please G.o.d, another ten or fifteen years to plague you, it's my wish to make you your own master at once, and I'll either a.s.sist you to enter any profession you please, or if you like to settle down into a country gentleman, and can pick up a nice wife anywhere, I can allow you one thousand pounds a year to begin with, and yet have more than I shall know how to spend during the rest of my days in the land of the living.
For my own part, this last plan would give me the greatest satisfaction, for I should like to see you comfortably married and settled before I die. Now, what do you say to it? Umph!”
What did I say?--what could I say? I got up, and having once again pressed his hands warmly between my own, began pacing the room, quite overcome by this unexpected liberality, and the conflicting nature of my own feelings. But two short days ago, and such an offer would have been--as I then fondly imagined--the only thing wanting to secure my happiness; possessed of such ample means of supporting her, I could at once have gone boldly to Mr. Vernor, and demanded Clara's hand--nor could he have found just cause for refusing my request; and now, when what once appeared the only insurmountable obstacle to our union was thus removed, the thought that, by her faithlessness and inconstancy, she had placed -406-- a barrier between us for ever, was indeed bitter.
Surprised by the excess of my emotion, for which, of course, he was totally unable to account, Mr. Frampton sat gazing at me with looks of astonishment and dismay, till at length he broke out with the following interrogatory, ”Umph! eh? why, Frank--umph! anybody would think you had just heard you were going to be arrested for debt, instead of having a fortune given you--Umph!”
”My dear, kind friend,” replied I, ”forgive me. Your unparalleled liberality, and the generous interest you take in me, give you a father's right over me, and ent.i.tle you to my fullest confidence; such an offer as you have now made me would have rendered me, but one short week ago, the happiest of mortals; now, my only chance of regaining anything like tranquillity of mind lies in constant and active employment.”
I then gave him as briefly as I could an outline of my singular acquaintance with Clara Saville, our engagement, and the events which had led to my breaking it off, to all of which he listened with the greatest interest and attention. In telling the tale I mentioned Wilford and c.u.mberland by name, as he knew the former by reputation, and had seen the latter when a boy at Dr. Mildman's; but I merely spoke of Clara as a young lady whom I had met at Mr. Coleman's, and of Mr. Vernor as her guardian. When I concluded, he remained for a moment buried in thought, and then said, ”And you are quite sure she is false? Are you certain that what you heard her say (for that seems to me the strongest point) referred to you?”
”Would I could doubt it!” replied I, shaking my head mournfully.
”Umph!--Well, I dare say--she's only like all the rest of her s.e.x: it's a pity the world can't go on without any women at all,--what is her name?--a jilt!”
”Her name,” replied I, shuddering as he applied the epithet of jilt to her--for, deserved as I could not but own it was, it yet appeared to me little short of profanation--”her name is Clara Saville.”
”Umph! eh? Saville!” exclaimed Mr. Frampton. ”What was her mother's name? Umph!”
”I never heard,” replied I. ”Her father, Colonel Saville, was knighted for his gallant conduct in the Peninsula. Her mother, who was an heiress, died abroad: her guardian, Mr. Vernor--”
”Umph! Vernor, eh! Vernor! Why that's the fellow who wrote to me and told me--Umph! wait a bit, I shall be back directly. I--eh!--umph! umph!
umph!”
-407-- And so saying, Mr. Frampton rushed out of the room in a perfect paroxysm of grunting. It was now my turn to be astonished, and I was so most thoroughly. What could possibly have caused Mr. Frampton to be so strangely affected at the mention of Clara's name and that of her guardian? Had he known Mr. Vernor in former days? Had he been acquainted with Clara's father or mother? Could he have been attached to her as I had been to Clara, and like me, too, have become the dupe of a heartless jilt? A jilt--how I hated the word! how the blood boiled within me when that old man applied it to her! And yet it was the truth. But oh! the heart-spasm that darts through our breast when we hear some careless tongue proclaim, in plain intelligible language, the fault of one we love--a fault which, even at the moment when we may be suffering from it most deeply, we have striven sedulously to hide from others, and scarcely acknowledged definitely to ourselves. In vague musings, such as these, did I pa.s.s away the time till Mr. Frampton returned. As he approached, the traces of strong emotion were visible on his countenance; and when he spoke his voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and broken.
”The ways of G.o.d are indeed inscrutable,” he said. ”Information, which for years I have vainly sought, and would gladly have given half my wealth to obtain, has come to me when I least expected it; and, in place of joy, has brought me deepest sorrow. Frank, my poor boy! she who has thus wrung thy true heart by her cruel falsehood is my niece, the orphan child of my sister!”