n 
 

 
 (<^'-::> 
 
THE 
 
 SPENDTHRIFT: 
 
 a ©"ale. 
 
 WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH, 
 
 No care, no stop ! so senseless of expense. 
 That he will neither know how to maintain it, 
 Xor cease his flow of riot : Takes no account 
 How things go from him ; nor resumes no care • 
 Of what is to continue : Never mind 
 Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. 
 
 Shakspeaee : Timon of Athene. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HABLOT K. BROWNE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 aEOKOE ROUTLEDGE & CO., EAEEINGDON STEEET ; 
 
 NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET. 
 1857. 
 
 \^The Author reserves the right of Translation.'] 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I, PAGE 
 
 Wabd and Guardian 3 
 
 II. 
 
 VlSITOBS TO THE CaSTLE.— A GaME AT GlEEK 12 
 
 in. 
 
 The Beacon Hill 18 
 
 IV. 
 
 How Sm Randal de Meschines peoposed to cure Gage of his 
 Passion 25 
 
 V. 
 
 Introducing Arthur Poynings op Reedham and his sister Lucy— a 
 Letter from Clare Fairlie . > 29 
 
 VI. 
 
 In which Lettice Rougham displays a Ready Wit . . . . 42 
 
 VII. 
 Whence Mr. Fairlie obtained Intelligence, and how he paid for 
 IT 51 
 
 VIII. 
 How Gage Lost a few Thousands at Basset 61 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Ivy Tower .67 
 
 X. 
 
 Good Advice thrown away.— Gage prefers travelling post-haste 
 
 ALONG THE ROAD TO RuiN 75 
 
 XI. 
 In which Sir Randal proves himself as expert at Sword-play as at 
 Cards 80 
 
 xn. 
 
 Newmarket 85 
 
 xm. 
 
 The Race 91 
 
 XIV. 
 
 How Mrs. Jenyns and Mr. Fairlie came to an understanding . . 9d 
 
 XV. 
 Wherein several Personages connected with this History find 
 
 THEIR WAY TO THE AnGEL AT BURY St. EdMUND'S .... 100 
 
 h 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 XVI. PAGE 
 
 Mes. Pinchbeck accidentally discovebs hee runaway Husband — 
 
 AmnuR MEETS Lettice Ex)ugham, and hears of a Gband Masked 
 
 Ball to be given at the Angel — ^Lucy teies to pebsuade heb 
 Bbothbr to take hee to the Ball 109 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Cabds of Intitation to the Ball aee sent to Lady Poynings and hee 
 Family 120 
 
 XVIII. 
 Pipes and Punch 122 
 
 XiEX. 
 
 A Peep at the Masked Ball 125 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Two Pages .... 129 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The Caed-eoom 134- 
 
 XXII. 
 Masquerade Peolics 138 
 
 xxni. 
 
 What happened during Supper 141 
 
 XXIV. 
 How Mr. Tibbits sought Revenge upon Arthur Poynings . . .148 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Under what circumstances Sir Hugh Poynings's travelling- 
 carriage WAS DRIVEN OFF 158 
 
 XXVI. 
 Tfi£ Debt of Honour, and how it was paid 159 
 
 XXVII. 
 Showing how Mrs. Jenyns took a Peep into Me. Paielie*s Steong- 
 
 BOX; AND WHAT SHE GOT BY doing so 170 
 
 xxvm. 
 
 PeOM WHICH IT WOULD APPEAR THAT Mr. PaIRLIE SOMETIMES PROMISED 
 
 MORE THAN HE INTENDED TO PERFORM 176 
 
 __ ^ XXIX. 
 
 How Clare Pairlie endeavoured to prevail upon her Pather to 
 PAY Gage's Debts 181 
 
 XXX. 
 A Rash Promise 187 
 
 XXXI. 
 The Arrest ^ ][g2 
 
 The Evil Genius . . . . *, ... 199 
 
 A T r. xxxm. 
 
 A Letter FROM Clare ........ 205 
 
 i 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 XXXIV. PAGE 
 
 A Night at the Giloom-porter's 210 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 A Singular Request 216 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 A Sleepless Night 221 
 
 xxxvn. 
 
 Showing how Gage was again prevailed upon to Play, and what 
 success attended him 225 
 
 xxxvm. 
 
 An Interview in the Ivy Tower 228 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 How Mr. Pudsey entertained his Prlbnds 234 
 
 XL. 
 In which Pudsey makes a modest Proposition to Mr. Fairlie . . 239 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Wherein it is demonstrated that " Walls have Ears" . . . 244; 
 
 XLn. 
 
 Pairlie's First Move — and how it Prospered 249 
 
 XLin. 
 
 Fairlie's Second Move— and how he was Checkmated . . .255 
 
 XLIV. 
 In which Fairlie makes another False Move 260 
 
 ^XLV. 
 How Gage's Eyes were at last Opened 265 
 
 XLVI. 
 The Prophecy Fulfilled 273 
 
 xLvn. 
 
 The Last Effort 278 
 
 xLvm. 
 
 The Denunciation ......... . . 286 
 
 XLIX. 
 Night at the Castle 297 
 
 L. 
 Atonement 308 
 
 LI. 
 
 Morn at the Castle 313 
 
 UI. 
 
 How THE YOUNG SquIRE CAME TO HIS OWN AGAIN 322 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sword-Plat To face the Title. 
 
 The Beacon Hill 21 
 
 Appearance of Sir Hugh Poynings and his Chaplain at the 
 Masked Ball 145 
 
 The Debt of Honour . . 168 
 
 Mrs. Jentns taking a Peep into Eairlie's Strong-Box . . .172 
 
 The Arrest 192 
 
 A Night at the Groom-Porter's 211 
 
 The Denuncla-iion 290 
 
THE SPE^^DTHEIFT. 
 
 I. 
 
 WABD AND GUAEDIAN. 
 
 Heir to twenty thousand a year at twenty-one. This was the 
 case with Gage de Monthermer. An enviable fellow. Let us see 
 how he came by his fine property. 
 
 Warwick de Monthermer — Gage's sire — had a fine old family 
 mansion in Sufiblk — Monthermer Castle — noted for its beautiful 
 situation, and the picturesque ruins in the immediate vicinity; a large 
 park, well stocked with deer, and boasting some of the most magni- 
 ficent timber in England — oaks, coeval with the Druids, towering 
 elms, and wide-spreading beeches ; a gallery of choice pictures, in- 
 cluding portraits of liis once-ennobled race, the first of whom, 
 Radulphus de Monthermer, married Joane Plantagenet, daughter 
 of King Edward I., and the last (the last of these haughty barons, 
 we mean) lost his head and his honours in 1471 ; a house in perfect 
 repair; fertile lands; farms well tenanted and well cultivated; pro- 
 perty well managed; cellars well stocked with wine; a famous pack 
 of. hounds ; a numerous stud of horses : everything, in short, that 
 a country gentleman could desire. 
 
 Warwick de Monthermer lived altogether at Monthermer Castle, 
 where he exercised unbounded hospitality. The house was always 
 full of company. He was fond of hunting, shooting, fishing, and all 
 manly sports; and equally fond of good cheer, so that the robust 
 exercises he constantly indulged in were indispensably necessary to the 
 preservation of his health. Warwick was a widower of long standing. 
 Wedded to the Hon. Henrietta Gage, the beautiful and accom- 
 pHshed daughter of Lord Hengrave, he had the misfortune to lose 
 her in the second year of their union. She left him an only son, 
 
 b2 
 
4 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Gage— named after his mother— upon whom the whole of War- 
 wick's affections were fixed. As may be anticipated, the child was 
 too much indulged by his doting father, who gratified his every 
 whim, and allowed him to do just as he pleased. Yet in spite of 
 such injudicious treatment, Gage was not utterly spoiled. His chief 
 faults were indolence, and proneness to self-indulgence. As a boy, 
 he was free from vice, and had a generous disposition, and a frank, un- 
 suspicious nature. When he grew up, his features developed a striking 
 resemblance to those of his beautiful mother, and this circumstance 
 endeared him yet more strongly to his father. At eighteen. Gage 
 was sent to college, and he had been at Oxford little more than a year 
 when he sustained the heaviest affliction that could have befallen 
 him in the death of his father, who broke his neck while hunting. 
 This sad event occurred in 1728. 
 
 During his minority, the care of Gage and of his large estates de- 
 volved upon Mr. Felix Fairlie, who had been appointed his guardian 
 by his father's will. Of this person, it will now be necessary to give 
 some account. Long and honourably (as it was supposed) had Mr. 
 Fairlie filled the post of steward to Warwick de Monthermer. His 
 birth was obscure enough, but what of that, if the man himself were 
 respectable, and had sufficient ability to push himself forward in the 
 world ! The son of an old servant at the Castle, brought up by the 
 family, and early displaying great quickness of parts, great method, 
 and great aptitude for business, Felix Fairlie had mounted step by 
 step, till he attained the chief place in his master's establishment. 
 " Master," indeed, Warwick could scarcely be termed. For some 
 time before his death, the Squire had begun to treat Mr. Fairlie as 
 an equal and a friend, consulting him upon all occasions, and en- 
 trusting him with the entire management of his affairs. Having 
 the most perfect reliance upon Fairlie's integrity and good judg- 
 ment, he confided his property to him while he lived, and in con- 
 templation of his demise, constituted him his sole executor, and 
 committed his beloved son to his charge. 
 
 How Mr. Fairlie fulfilled his trusts will be seen by-and-by. 
 A most respectable-looking man was Mr. Fairlie ; very smooth- 
 spoken, bland and courteous in manner. Even those who dif- 
 fered with him in opinion acknowledged his excessive complai- 
 sance. From his gentlemanlike exterior, his politeness, and perfect 
 
i 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 6 
 
 good breeding, it was difficult to conceive he could ever have filled 
 a menial capacity ; yet such, as we have shown,* had been the case. 
 When his patron died, Mr. Fairlie was between fifty and sixty. 
 Tall and thin, with an aquiline nose, and dark eyes, overshadowed 
 by jetty brows, he had a very handsome and imposing exterior. 
 In attire he was unostentatious, but scrupulously neat; always wear- 
 ing clothes of a sober hue, and a plain peruke. 
 
 In estimating the character of this highly respectable man, it is but 
 fair to state, that the favourable opinion entertained of him by his 
 patron was not altogether shared in by that patron's friends ; some 
 of whom fancied they perceived defects in him, which Monthermer 
 failed to discover. They did not think him so perfectly trustworthy 
 as he was deemed by the Squire, and felt sure Mr. Fairlie was 
 feathering his own nest at his employer's expense. Two or three of 
 the more courageous among them resolved to open Monthermer's 
 eyes to his danger ; but before this could be done, the worthy 
 gentleman's eyes were closed for ever. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie's position was then perfectly secure. For two years 
 he would be uncontrolled master of the Monthermer estates; while 
 the early destinies of the young heir were wholly in his hands. 
 
 Nothing therefore was left the friends but to fold their arms, 
 and look on* 
 
 As much attached to his guardian as his father had been. Gage 
 had equal confidence in him. Impossible to shake it. But no one 
 undertook the ungracious task, and things were allowed to pursue 
 their course. 
 
 On the next term after his father's decease. Gage returned to 
 Oxford. Heretofore, he had not read very hard, but he now left 
 off reading altogether. With a certainty of twenty thousand a year, 
 any great devotion to scholastic labour or mental discipline could 
 scarcely be expected of him. He had plenty of idle, extravagant 
 acquaintances, and he soon acquired a taste for their habits. Such 
 a well-plumed pigeon was sure to be plucked by all the kites and 
 rooks of the University. Mr. Fairhe occasionally remonstrated with 
 him for his heedlessness and extravagance — but so very gently and 
 cautiously as to give no offence — and then he always honoured his 
 ward's drafts upon him ; earnestly cautioning him against borrowing 
 money from any one but himself, and taking every means to pre- 
 
CF THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 vent liim from doing so. The worthy man had no other object 
 except a wish to ketp the thoughtless young scapegrace out of bad 
 hands. 
 
 At length, Gage's proceedings occasioned so much scandal, that 
 the heads of houses would no longer tolerate his riotous conduct, 
 and with two others — Nat Mist and Jack Brassey — he was ex- 
 pelled from the University. This gave him little co^ce^n, as he 
 had never intended to graduate. But his guardian was much 
 distressed by the occurrence — or affected to be so— and repre- 
 sented to him how much concern his indiscretions would have 
 given his excellent father, if he had been alive. Some feelings 
 of compunction were aroused in Gage's breast by these remarks, 
 but his remorse was of short duration ; and Mr. Fairlie had no 
 intention of alienating the affections of his ward by over-severity. 
 On the contrary, he desired to have him constantly near him — as 
 the best means, he asserted, of keeping him out of harm's way. The 
 poor young gentleman was so easily led into mischief 
 
 Mr. Fairlie, however, had another motive besides the one he 
 assigned for desiring to keep his ward constantly near him. Like 
 his late patron, the somewhile steward was a widower — and like him 
 he had an only child — a daughter, whom he would have gladly seen 
 Lady of Monthermer. There was thus much in favour of Mr. 
 Fairlie's scheme ; in that his daughter Clare, who, at the time of 
 Gage's removal from the University, was just eighteen, was a re- 
 markably beautiful girl — tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, exquisitely 
 proportioned, graceful, gentle. Candour sat upon her open counte- 
 nance ; and truth looked out from the depths of her tender black 
 eyes. Fashioned of finer clay than her father, she had none of 
 the flaws to be met with in his coarser composition. She had been 
 very carefully brought up by an excellent and exemplary mother, 
 whose death was a loss, in every way, to Fairlie. Clare, there- 
 fore, might well be an object of attraction to Gage, and if the 
 young man should become sufficiently enamoured to choose her 
 as his bride, her father had no doubt she would be found fully 
 equal to the elevated position. And therein he was right. 
 
 But if Mr. Fairlie expected any co-operation in his scheme 
 from his daughter, he was greatly in error. Clare had no idea 
 whatever of ensnaring the young man, and the accounts she 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. t 
 
 had heard of his proceedings at Oxford had strongly prejudiced 
 her against him. She therefore shunned him as much as possible; 
 but in spite of all her efforts to avoid a meeting, they were fre- 
 quently brought together. As young Monthermer's guardian, Mr. 
 Fairlie had now his own set of apartments at the Castle, and, indeed, 
 was more completely master of the house than the young gentleman 
 himself. Most of the old servants had been discharged, and only 
 such were retained as suited the new ruler of the estabKshment. 
 Clare, of course, was looked upon in the light of a mistress by all 
 the household; and, indeed, by her father's express injunctions she 
 superintended everything. Necessarily, then, she must often be 
 brought into contact with the young lord, of the mansion. But 
 though urged to do so by her father, she resolutely refused to preside 
 at Monthermer's table, or even to appear at all when he had com- 
 pany. 
 
 Things turned out just as the steward had foreseen. It was im- 
 possible that a youth so inflammable as Gage could daily behold a 
 charming girl like Clare and not fall in love with her. His marked 
 attenticns to her soon left no doubt as to the state of his feehngs. 
 Her father was secretly delighted; but he judged it most prudent 
 not to interfere. He did not believe Clare could be indifferent 
 to the handsome youth, yet the coldness of her manner towards 
 him looked like it. As Gage became more ardent, she grew more 
 reserved, until at length she decHned altogether to meet hinu The 
 young man was too much in love to be offended, but he sought an 
 explanation of her father, who professed to be taken by surprise by 
 the communication made to him, good-naturedly chided his ward, 
 but at length undertook to confer with his daughter on the subject. 
 He did confer with her; and on finding she was determined to 
 reject Gage, provided he offered her his hand, he poured forth a 
 torrent of reproaches and invectives against her. But upbraidiugs 
 and menaces were of no avaiL AIL Clare could be brought to 
 consent to was. to grant a final interview to Gage on the morrow.. 
 
 The interview took place. Gage offered her his hand. In de- 
 clining it, she said she was fully sensible of the honour intended 
 her, and grateful for it ; she frankly owned she. was not indifferent 
 to Mr. Monthermer; but the disparity between them was such, 
 as to render a. imion impossible. Neither was he of an age to 
 
8 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 know who would make him a suitable partner for life. On his 
 knees, with protestations and tears, Gage combated these arguments 
 as well as he could, and strove to move her. In vain. At last, by 
 way of putting an end to a scene which, in spite of her firmness, 
 greatly agitated and distressed her, Clare said: "A year hence you 
 will be twenty-one, and will then have a right to act as you please- 
 At that time, if you have not changed your mind, and think fit 
 to address me, I may, perhaps, listen to your suit. I do not abso- 
 lutely promise this— but it may be so. Meantime, we must not meet 
 again — and if I might give you a counsel it would be to forget 
 me." 
 
 It is useless to detail what passed between Mr. Fairlie and his 
 daughter, when he learnt her decision from her own lips. It will be 
 easily imagined how he stormed. But all to no purpose. Clare 
 was not to be moved either by entreaties or rage. 
 
 Gage did not remain much longer at Monthermer Castle. He 
 went abroad for a year ; made the grand tour; launched into all 
 the dissipations of the gayest cities in Europe ; got fleeced by many 
 a foreign sharper ; tried to forget Clare (as she had recommended 
 him to do, though not in a way she would have approved), by 
 worshipping many a dark- eyed Italian beauty, and many a lively 
 dame of France ; scattered money about, wherever he went, with 
 reckless profusion — for he had an unlimited supply from Fairlie — 
 and returned to England, as he conceived, a finished gentleman — 
 or as some censorious folk declared, a finished fop and rake — to 
 take possession of his ancestral house and his broad domains on 
 his twenty-first birthday. 
 
 Absence and pleasurable distraction had not obliterated Clare's 
 image from the young man's breast. He had ^vritten to her several 
 times, and though she returned no answer to his missives, their 
 receipt was duly acknowledged by Mr. Fairlie, who said more than 
 he had any warrant to do for his daughter, and took good care not to 
 extinguish her lover's hopes. Gage's surprise and disappointment may 
 therefore be imagined when his offers were a second time rejected, 
 and more peremptorily than on the first occasion— for no further time 
 of probation was allowed him. He was of age, and could judge for 
 himself Clare's reasons for her decision were these. In addition 
 to disparity of position, their characters were wholly unsuitable. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 9 
 
 She could not be happy with a man addicted merely to pursuits of 
 pleasure. After a brief time he was sure to neglect her, and such 
 treatment would break her heart. On these accounts, she must 
 adhere to her original resolution. She could not cease to love him, 
 but she would never marry him : in fact, she would never marry 
 at all. 
 
 Again, Gage knelt, entreated, protested. She — and she alone, 
 had been the cause of his wildness and folly. He had striven to 
 forget her, but had failed. He now deplored his reckless conduct, 
 and severely blamed himself But he would reform — he wished to 
 reform — he intended to reform. A wife would entirely change his 
 character — would make another man of him. Clare should see how 
 steady he would become. He was tired of town life, and would reside 
 altogether at Monthermer Castle. She might shake her head, but 
 it was quite true. It was nonsense to recommend some one else to 
 him. No other woman, but she, should be his bride. Would she 
 drive him to desperation by persisting in a refusal ? 
 
 Refuse him, however, Clare did ; gently, kindly, but firmly. 
 
 If Gage was irritated and keenly wounded in his self-love by 
 Clare's decision, her father was mortified and hurt in a much greater 
 degree. To the last he had indulged the hope that all would come 
 right. His daughter's unqualified rejection of Gage came like a 
 clap of thunder upon him — and for awhile took away his power of 
 utterance. When he recovered his speech, he poured the vials of his 
 wrath upon her head. She did not seem frightened, and when he 
 had done, merely observed : *' Were no other reasons wanting, 
 father, you yourself would be an insuperable obstacle to the match.'* 
 " How so ?" Fairlie demanded, fiercely; but receiving no answer, 
 he added, ^' If you have any regard for this young man you will 
 marry him. It is the only chance of saving him. Recollect what 
 I tell you." And he left her. 
 
 Great rejoicings had taken place at Monthenner Castle when the 
 young lord came of age, and the tenantry hailed his return with 
 delight, hoping he would remain among them. Mr. Fairlie had 
 already become obnoxious from his exactions, and the loss of good 
 Squire Warwick was universally deplored. The young Squire 
 they hoped would rectify all abuses ; reduce their rents, which had 
 been suddenly raised ; and restore the good old times. They 
 
la THE SPEJSTDTHRIFT.- 
 
 were quite; sure Squire Gage must be too like his worthy father, 
 who would listen to any man, and help him if he deserved it, to 
 turn a deaf ear to their just complaints. 
 
 But they found it difficult — indeed, impossible, to obtain a hearing 
 from Gage. Mr. Fairlie took care that those, who would not hold 
 their tongues, should never approach him. Gage hated business of 
 all kinds, and could scarcely be got to look at an account. It 
 bored him dreadfully, and he could not endure to be bored. 
 Fully aware of his carelessness, Mr. Fairlie did not fail to profit by 
 it. Placing piles of bills, documents, and vouchers before the 
 young Squire, he opened ponderous green-backed account-books 
 with large brass clasps for his inspection — quite certain he would 
 examine none of them. And so it happened. Gage just glanced 
 at the bills, and tossed them aside, closing the big green-backed 
 books with a shudder. 
 
 His guardianship having expired, Mr. Fairlie offered to resign 
 the managerial post he had hitherto filled to whomsoever the young 
 gentleman might appoint. As he expected, he was urgently solicited 
 to retain the office — and he reluctantly consented. 
 
 Next came a point the consideration of which could no longer be 
 postponed; namely, the adjustment of accounts between guardian 
 and ward. The latter, it appeared j had advanced to the former, 
 during the two years of his minority, no less a sum than fifty- 
 two thousand pounds; thus leaving G^ge only a beggarly eight 
 thousand for the first year of his coming into possession. Mr. 
 Fairhe showed the astounded young man how extensively he had 
 been pigeoned at college, wha4; sums he had squandered at Paris 
 upon Mademoiselle Colombe Mirepoix of the Grand Opera — how 
 he had been plundered at the gaming-tables of the Palais Royal — 
 how egregiously he had been duped at Naples by Signora Fulgioso, 
 an adventuress whom he had taken for a duchess — how lavishly 
 he had satisfied the demands of Senora Catalina Hermoso, prima 
 ballerina at Seville — how he had been fleeced by Count Schaffiroff, 
 lieutenant-colonel of the Semenowsky Guards at St. Petersburg 
 — how he had paid the debts, twice over, of the charming Baroness 
 Von Frolichlieben at Vienna^ — and how, in short, in one way or 
 other, he had contrived to get through upwards of fifty thousand 
 pounds. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. ft 
 
 Aghast at this recapitulation of his extravagance, Gage vowed he 
 was not aware he had spent half so much, and endeavoured to hide 
 his confusion by feigning to examine the accounts which Mr. Fairiie 
 again pressed upon him. But he was soon tired of the task, and 
 hastily signed a document, which was neither more nor less than his 
 crafty guardian's full and complete release and discharge, by way of 
 getting rid of a disagreeable matter. 
 
 "" So I have only a palti^f eight thousand for the present year, eh, 
 Fairiie?" he remarked. " How the deuce am I to live upon it, 
 eh?" 
 
 *' Oh, you can have any money you please, of course, sir," the 
 other replied ; " but you'll excuse me for saying, that eight thou- 
 sand pounds ought to go a long way — ^a very long way." 
 
 " It won't go a long way with me, Fairiie, I can tell you. Ill 
 begin to economise, next year," Gage rejoined, walking away. 
 
 " Next year," the steward muttered, looking after him with a 
 meaning smile. — " He economise — very likely." 
 
12 THE SPENDTHEIPT. 
 
 II. 
 
 VISITORS TO THE CASTLE. — A GAME AT GLEEK. 
 
 While Gage was yet smarting from his wound, half a dozen 
 visitors arrived at the Castle ; and as they were precisely the kind 
 of persons calculated to cheer him, he hailed their appearance with 
 unfeigned delight. All six were choice spirits — at least, Gage 
 thought them so — various shades and grades of the fop, the rake, 
 and the gambler. One he had met abroad — another in town — 
 while the rest were old college chums, two of whom had participated 
 in his pastimes at the University, and shared his disgrace. 
 
 With two exceptions, they were all very young men; indeed, 
 the oldest of them was not more than thirty-five, and in right of 
 his seniority, this person shall be first described. How stars of the 
 first brilliancy in the fashionable hemisphere pale, and are for ever 
 extinguished ! From 1720 to — 30, who did not know Beau 
 Freke ? Who knew him ten years later ? Who recollects him 
 now ? Renowned for his daring gallantry — his success at play — 
 his address at arms — (he had fought four duels, and each time 
 killed his adversary) — his magnificent exterior, and his consummate 
 taste in dress. Beau Freke was an arbiter in all matters of elegance 
 and fashion. He was fond of taking young men in hand, and 
 launching them into the world-r-though they generally paid rather 
 dearly for their tuition — and with this view he had attached himself 
 to Monthermer. Gage looked upon him as a model, worthy of 
 imitation; and hoped some day to be like him. 
 
 In point of rank, the most important of the visitors was Lord 
 Melton, a young nobleman, who was a good deal upon the turf; 
 who consorted chiefly with blacklegs and jockeys, and looked like 
 a blackleg and a jockey himself, betted heavily, and ran horses at 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 13 
 
 Newmarket, Doncaster, York, Lincoln, and every other race-course 
 in England, 
 
 Next in consequence to the sporting lord, but incomparably his 
 superior in manner and personal appearance, was Sir Randal dc 
 Meschines, the representative of a very ancient Cheshire family — a 
 young man, reputed to be very rich, and known to be very profli- 
 gate. Sir Randal had been one of Beau Freke's pupils, and did 
 full credit to his instructor. Nat Mist and Jack Brassey were only 
 varieties of the same genus. As we have mentioned, they had been 
 expelled from Oxford at the same time as Gage. 
 
 The last on the list, and noticeable in some respects from the 
 others, was Brice Bunbury. An odd fellow was Brice, — and very 
 popular with a certain set of men about town. He was much patronised 
 by Beau Freke, who found him very useful, and employed him upon 
 some secret services not particularly creditable to Brice's notions of 
 propriety and morality. But Brice was not strict. Strange how he 
 got on. He had nothing — that was notorious. Yet he dressed well, 
 dined well, lodged well — but always at other people's expense. 
 Sometimes one person paid for him, sometimes another. Always 
 borrowing a trifle, he never repaid thq loan. On the other hand, 
 it must be admitted that Brice Bunbury was worth a whole host 
 of ordinary, led captains and parasites. He was very droll and 
 diverting, picked up all sorts of information about pretty actresses? 
 and pretty women generally, and could convey a message or a 
 billet-doux, if required, with unequalled dexterity or effrontery. 
 Brice had already dipped a little into Gage's purse; and he was 
 so delighted with the accommodating disposition of the young 
 man, that he resolved to devote himself exclusively to him : that is, 
 60 long as the young man's purse should be well supplied, and 
 continue accessible. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie was perfectly aware of the character of the visitors, 
 and if his scheme had been successful, and his daughter had been 
 engaged to young Monthermer, he would have done his best to 
 prevent them from entering the house. As it was, he was not dis- 
 pleased to make the acquaintance of persons whom he felt sure 
 would be useful to him in his ulterior designs. Beau Freke and Sir 
 Randal came together in the travelling carriage of the latter, and 
 Brice Bunbury was accommodated with a seat in the rear of the 
 
14 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 conveyance, which, he was compelled to share with Mr. Tibbits and 
 Mr. Trickett, the two fine gentlemen's very fine gentlemen. Brice 
 was fain to confess that the valets were good company. There 
 was no vast difFerence between them and their masters, and before 
 they reached their destination he had contrived to get a good deal 
 out of them. Trickett boasted so much of the money he had won at 
 the servants' faro-table, that Brice thought of borrowing a trifle from 
 him. But he abstained, and was so well pleased with his new ally — 
 for such he esteemed him — that he slipped a guinea into his hand on 
 parting — an unheard-of piece of generosity on his part. Lord Melton 
 came attended by a couple of grooms and a couple of race- 
 horses, Comus and Gaylass — he was going on to the Spring 
 Meeting at Newmarket — and Nat Mist and Jack Brassey brought 
 each a servant with him. There were several other guests in 
 the house — mostly country gentlemen— who had stayed on after 
 the great rejoicings, to which half the county had been invited, so 
 that the place was pretty full ; and a large party was assembled daily 
 in the servants' hall, at which Messrs. Tibbits and Trickett cut a 
 conspicuous figure, and discoursed of town life and town pleasures, 
 Vauxhall, Ranelagh, and Marylebone Gardens, masquerades, routs, 
 and ridottos, to the delight and bewilderment of the cook and the 
 upper housemaids, who longed to participate in such amusements. 
 To be sure they had heard something of the kind from Mr. Bellairs, 
 young master's valet, but never such piquant details as were now 
 given, which made them blush and giggle at the same time; — 
 and then Mr. Bellairs was too consequential, and kept himself too 
 much to himself; and they couldn't very well understand the foreign 
 lingo of Monsieur Silvain Chassemouche, the French valet, whom 
 young master had picked up in Paris — a smart gentleman enough, 
 with a powdered peruke, and a prodigiously long plaited queue^ 
 reaching down to the middle of his back, but not much accus- 
 tomed to English ways. Mr. Pudsey, the butler, was mightily 
 pleased with the new comers, and invited them to spend the 
 evening with him in his room, where they sat down, five of 
 'em, including Bellairs and Chassemouche, to a few bottles of old 
 Squire Warwick's best Burgundy, pronounced exquisite by Sil- 
 vain. After that, the table was cleared for a game at piquet, 
 from which Mr. Trickett, as usual, came off" a winner. At social 
 
THE SPEKDTHEIFT. 15 
 
 and friendly meetings like these, their masters' characters were freely 
 discussed, and Mr. Bellairs did not hesitate to give his opinion 
 tliat the young Squire would run through his property pretty 
 quickly — an opinion which was backed by Pudsey and Clmssemouche^ 
 the latter of whom said that the young gentleman had been joliment 
 fourbe at Paris — and was sure to be diablement trompe a Londres. 
 Mr. Tibbits and Mr. Trickett both entirely concurred in this view 
 of the case, and affirmed that their masters were not the men to let 
 such an easy dupe slip through their fingers. '* Brice Bunbury 
 has his eye upon him, I can see," Mr. Trickett added. " I shall 
 have an eye upon master, too, gentlemen," Mr. Pudsey said — " and 
 shall take care of myself as iar as I can ; but between you and me, 
 for I shouldn't like it to go no further, I'll tell you who'll make 
 most out of him." 
 
 " Mr. Fairlie you mean," Mr. Bellairs remarked. " I know he 
 will. He has made a good deal already." 
 
 " Nothing to what he icill make," the butler rejoined. " You'll 
 see what he'll do. And yet, as you say, Bellairs, he has done pretty 
 well in two years. What do you think he has pocketed, Mr* 
 Trickett?" 
 
 " I can't say, sir, I'm sure — a thousand, perhaps." 
 
 " Nearer twelve thousand, Mr. Trickett — nearer twelve. I know 
 it for a fact, sir, — and could prove it if I chose. Remember, we're 
 speaking within four walls — nothing goes out of this room. Why 
 he wanted to marry his daughter to the young Squire." 
 
 "Unheard of impudence!" Mr. Trickett exclaimed. ''How the 
 deuce did he hope to persuade your young gentleman to such folly?" 
 
 " Our young gentleman required no persuasion," Mr. Pudsey re- 
 joined. " He was quite ready to put his head into the noose — that is, 
 if tliere had been a noose ; but the young lady declined to execute him," 
 
 " 'Shfe! you don't mean to say she refused liim?" 
 
 *' Yes, Mr. Trickett — that's exactly what I mean, sir." 
 
 ^ Egad 1 she must be a girl of spirit," Mr. Tibbits remarked — 
 " another attachment most likely?" 
 
 " I don't think she has, sir,'* Mr. Bellairs observed. " Her maid 
 Letty liougham tells me she's dying of love for the young Squire." 
 
 " Then why not cure herself if that be the case?" Mr. Trickett 
 inquired, facetiously. 
 
16 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Sapristi ! the remedy is in her own hands," Silvain said, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 " True," Mr. Bellairs rejoined. " Letty declared she cried the 
 whole night after she had refused him, but though the good-natured 
 lass tried to reason with her, she wasn't to be brought to change her 
 mind. And what do you suppose was the reason she gave Letty 
 for refusing our young master ?" 
 
 " Faith, I can't say," Mr. Tibbits replied. " A woman's reasons 
 always pass my comprehension." 
 
 *' She said he was too much of a rake — he was sure to neglect her 
 —ha! ha!" 
 
 ** A strange reason, egad!" quoth Tibbits. "Women generally 
 like rakes — eh, Mounseer Shassy ?" 
 
 " Ma foi ! oui — en France surtout," Silvain replied. " They 
 prafare always the roue to the man bien regie." 
 
 " Well, I must say it for her, Clare Fairlie is very different from 
 her father," Mr. Pudsey observed. 
 
 " And very different from most other young women, I should 
 think," Mr. Trickett said. " O' my conscience ! she has lost a good 
 chance. And that reminds me that I must give you a chance of 
 winning back your money, Mr. Pudsey. Shall we have a game at 
 Gleek? You don't understand it — eh? I'll soon teach you. Only 
 three persons can play, so you and I and Mr. Bellairs will sit down. 
 Cut the pack, and I'll deal. Four cards each at first. Now mark. 
 In this game, an ace is called Tib, a knave Tom, and the four of 
 trumps Tiddy. Tib counts for fifteen in hand and eighteen in play 
 — Tom is nine — and Tiddy four. You understand. If you win 
 nothing but the cards dealt you, you lose ten. If you have 
 neither Tib, Tom, Tiddy, Queen, Mournival, nor Gleek — as is my 
 case just now — you lose; but if you have Tib, Tom, King, and 
 Queen of Trumps in your hand, as I see you have, you have thirty 
 by honours, besides the cards you are likely to win by them at play. 
 But I'll explain it more fully as we go on. You'll soon understand 
 it. 'Tis Sir Randal's favourite game." 
 
 While they were playing, the others looked on and hazarded a 
 bet now and then, and by-and-by the company was increased by 
 the entrance of Lord Melton's two jockeys with Nat Mist's and 
 Jack Brassey's servants. Mr. Trickett could deal exactly what 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 17 
 
 cards he pleased, but he chose to let Mr. Pudsey win on this occa- 
 sion, and the butler was delighted with his proficiency at Gleek. 
 The evening concluded with a round game, to which all the party 
 sat down. 
 
 The next morning, the butler was summoned to Mr. Fairlie's 
 room. He saw in an instant that something was wrong. 
 
 " You are tired of your place, I presume, Mr. Pudsey ?" Mr. 
 Fairlie said, drily. "I judge so from your indiscreet remarks last 
 night, the whole of which have been reported to me. I am con- 
 tent to overlook the offence this once, but any repetition of it — you 
 know to what I allude, sir — will be followed by your immediate 
 dismissal." 
 
 " I thought Mr. Monthermer was master here now," the butler 
 stammered, trying to brave it out. 
 
 " You will find I am still master here, Mr. Pudsey," the other 
 rejoined, quietly. *^ I have cautioned you. Now you may go." 
 
 " Plague take it, who can have told him ?" the butler muttered, 
 as he left the room in confusion. *' It must be that double-faced 
 Bellairs. But I'll be even with him." 
 
 On being taxed with his treachery, the chief valet indignantly 
 denied the accusation. He betray a fellow-servant ! He scorned 
 the imputation ! So far from it, he himself had received a similar 
 caution from Mr. Fairlie. Who could it be ? Their suspicions 
 fell upon Chassemouche, and they determined to be revenged upon 
 him. 
 
 uj 
 
18 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 in. 
 
 THE BEACON HILL. 
 
 On the day after their arrival, Gage conducted his giiests over 
 the Castle, and was rather disappointed that some of them did not ad- 
 mire the place as much as he expected. Beau Freke and Sir Randal 
 thought it much too gloomy and antiquated, and recommended 
 him to pull it down, and build another mansion on its site in the 
 Palladian style, with stone porticos and an octagonal hall ivith a 
 gallery round it. Gage admitted this might be much handsomer, 
 but he was pretty well satisfied with the house as it stood, and as he 
 didn't think he should spend a great deal of time in it, it might 
 perhaps do — at all events, for the present. 
 
 " Do ! — I tliink it will do very well," Brice Bunbury exclaimed. 
 " I only wish I owned it. By Jove ! it's splendid — magnificent. 
 I'm sorry to difier with a gentleman of such consummate taste as 
 Mr. Freke, but I really must say I don't find it gloomy at all. On 
 the contrary, I think it remarkably cheerful and comfortable ; and I 
 never saw a finer staircase, nor a better dining-room. And as to 
 this long gallery, surely you must admit it to be grand — sur- 
 prisingly grand, Sir Randal ?" 
 
 " The pictures are very good, no doubt," Meschines replied ; 
 " but they might be better placed; and I detest old oak furniture, 
 and deeply-embayed windows, with small panes of stained glass. Give 
 me light modern French casements — pictures by Watteau — painted 
 ceilings — Sevres china — gilt clocks — large mirrors — satin couches 
 — and all the et ceteras of an apartment in the style of his Majesty 
 Louis Quinze. I have an old hall in Cheshire, full of black 
 antediluvian furniture, high-backed chairs on which it is im- 
 possible to sit, great oak tables so heavy no one can move them, 
 mirrors so dim they make you appear like a ghost, and portraits of 
 
THE SmaiDTimiFT. 19 
 
 iny ancestors, one of whom was Earl of Chester, so fierce and forbid- 
 ding, that they freeze one's blood to look at them. I shall do what 
 I recommend Monthermer to do with his castle — pull that old hall 
 down, burn its old furniture and pictures, and build myself a hand- 
 some modern mansion, when I can afford it." 
 
 "You can afford to build just as well as I can, Sir Randal," 
 Gage observed, laughing. '^ I've no money to throw away on bricks 
 and mortar. Have I, FairMe ?" he appealed to the steward, who 
 was accompanying them over the hofuse. 
 
 '^ I certainly tliink your money might be better employed than 
 in building, or even improvements at present, sir," the other returned. 
 ** Better sell .the Castle than pull it down, I think," 
 
 "Sell the Castle I" Monthermer exclaimed. "I'd as soon sell 
 myself to Old Harry, What ! part with the seat of my ancestors ! 
 I should expect them all to issue from their vaults to reproach me. 
 I'm surprised you should propose such a thing, Fairlie." 
 
 " You mistake me, sir. I did not mean to propose it ; but I am 
 glad my observation has elicited such sentiments fi:om you. My 
 advice to you is not to alter the place at all, till you have fairly 
 tried it. As to selling it, that was merely a jest. Were it mine, I 
 would never part with it." 
 
 " Egad, I would sell every acre I have, if it had belonged to my 
 family since the Conquest, if I wanted to raise the wind," Bean 
 Freke said. " Keep the house as it is, if you will — but if you love 
 me, pull down those unsightly old ruins." 
 
 "What! pull down the remains of the old Castle, erected by 
 Radulphus de Monthermer — I forget in wliose reign," Gage cried. 
 " It would be absolute sacrilege !" 
 
 "Pull them down, and build a sumTner-house in their place," 
 Meschines said. 
 
 ^' Or stables, and a kennel for liounds," Lord Melton suggested. 
 
 "Or level the mound, and lay out the spot as a bowling-green,** 
 Jaek Brassey xemarked. 
 
 "I shaU do nothing of the kind, gentlemen," Gage rgoined. 
 " I love those memorials of bygone days, and shall do my best to 
 preserve them." 
 
 " A Tery praiseworthy resolution, Mr. Monthermer," Brice Bun- 
 
 C 2 
 
20 THE SPENDTHKIFT 
 
 bury remarked; ''and for my part I think the ruins exceedingly 
 picturesque, and a great ornament to the grounds." 
 
 " They are generally considered so," Mr. Fairlie said. 
 
 " All this is matter of taste," Beau Freke observed ; " and if 
 Monthermer prefers antiquity to beauty, I have nothing more to say. 
 I should no more think of preserving those mouldering walls, than 
 I should of keeping an ugly old woman about my premises. But 
 you say you can't afford to build, Monthermer? With twenty 
 thousand a year a man may do anything." 
 
 " But I haven't twenty thousand this year. Ask Mr. Fairlie, my 
 late guardian, and he'll tell you I haven't half the amount." 
 
 "Since you force me to speak, sir," Mr. Fairlie replied, upon 
 whom all eyes were directed, " I must explain to your friends — 
 though I fancy the information will occasion them no great surprise 
 — that you have anticipated your income by a few thousand pounds ; 
 but I needn't add, you can command any money you please." 
 
 " That hint shan't be lost on me," the Beau muttered. 
 
 "Nor on me," Meschines said, in the same tone. 
 
 "Mr. Fairlie seems very obliging," Brice mused. "I dare say 
 he would lend one a trifle. When an opportunity occurs, I'll try 
 him." 
 
 Having sufficiently examined the house, the party adjourned to 
 the stables, where Lord Melton began to depreciate the stud, just 
 as much as Beau Freke had cried down the habitation. There was 
 not a horse worth mounting, he declared; and his two jockeys, who 
 were standing by, confirmed his opinion. Distrusting his own 
 judgment, and thinking his noble friend must be right, Gage 
 ended by buying Comus and Gaylass. These matchless animals 
 were to do wonders at Newmarket, and enable Gage, as their 
 owner, to make a brilHant entry on the turf. As may be sup- 
 posed, the young gentleman paid a good price for them ; but 
 not so much as he would have done, if he had not thrown a 
 couple of hunters, selected by Lord Melton from his stud, into 
 the scale. Beau Freke and Sir Randal smiled at this trans- 
 action, as they well knew the young man was bitten — and so, 
 indeed, did all the others — but there seemed to be a tacit under- 
 standing among them that no one was to interfere with his 
 neighbour's game. Even Mr. Fairlie did not offer the slightest 
 
HiU.— p. -21- 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 21 
 
 opposition to the arrangement, but congratulated Gage on his bar- 
 gain, and by this means completely established himself in Lord 
 Melton's good graces. 
 
 Grage next proposed a ride, and steeds being provided for the 
 whole party, they set oflf into the park. It was a lovely spring 
 day, and the woods, either bursting into leaf, or covered with 
 foliage of the tenderest green, were vocal with the melodies of 
 the birds. The long glades were chequered with glancing shadows 
 — the rooks were busy with their nests amid the tall elm-trees — the 
 heron was winging her flight to the marshes — nothing could be 
 more delightful than a gallop over the elastic sod of the park on 
 such a morning — but Gage had an object in taking his friends beyond 
 its limits, and accordingly, after crossing it in a westerly direction, he 
 passed through a lodge-gate, and entering a lane, led the way along 
 it for about a couple of miles, when they arrived at the foot of a 
 considerable eminence, covered with furze and occasional brush- 
 wood. A narrow bridle-road led towards its summit, and tracking 
 this they soon reached a bare piece of ground, with nothing upon 
 it but a small circular stone structure, whence an extensive view 
 was obtained. On one side lay the noble park, which they had 
 just quitted, with its ancient mansion, and still more ancient ruins, 
 distinguishable through the trees. On the other, a fair and fertile 
 country, with a river winding through it on its way to the sea 
 — numerous scattered farm-houses — and here and there a village, 
 with a grey old church, contiguous to it. A range of hills, about 
 six miles off, bounded the inland prospect, and other high land, 
 about equidistant in the opposite direction, cut off a view of the 
 sea, which would otherwise have been visible. The hill, on 
 which the party were standing, seemed to rise up in the midst of a 
 large vale of some twenty miles in circumference, and indeed there 
 was no corresponding eminence near it except that part of the 
 park on which the mansion and the old castle were situated. 
 
 '*This is called Beacon Hill, gentlemen," Gage said. "What 
 think you of the view ?" 
 
 " By Jove ! I think it remarkably fine," Brice replied. " I never 
 saw anything to equal it — never, upon my veracity.'* 
 
 " I have brought you here," Gage continued, with a smile 
 of pride, " because all you behold from this point is my property." 
 
22 THE SPENDTHRIFT 
 
 "Bj Jove! you don't say so?" Brice exclaimed. "What! all 
 those villages — stop! let's count — one, two, three, four — and in- 
 numerable cottages — all those yours, Monthermer, eh?' 
 
 " Every house — every cottage — every tree is mine," Gage 
 answered. " I confess I feel some pride in surveying my possessions. 
 My father used often to bring me here to look at them, and the very 
 last time we were together on this spot, he said to me, ' All below 
 us will one day be yours, my boy, and when you are master of the 
 property, take care of it.' " 
 
 " Deuced good advice on the old gentleman's part," Brice said. 
 At which remark there was a general laugh. 
 
 " I do not wish to check your merriment, gentlemen," Gage ob- 
 served, *^ but I cannot join in it ; and you will understand why I 
 cannot, when I tell you it was at the foot of this very hill that my 
 poor father met his death." 
 
 " Near yonder pollard willow, by the brook," Mr. Fairlie said. 
 " His horse fell with him while jumping the hedge. I will show 
 you the exact spot, if you please." 
 
 Hereupon, the party slowly and silently descended the hill, and 
 they were approaching the scene of the catastrophe, when a tall, 
 powerfully-made man, of middle age, and in the garb of a farmer, 
 suddenly appeared from behind a haystack, and made his way to- 
 wards Gage. As he neared the young Squire the man took off 
 his hat, evidently meaning to address him. Mr. Fairlie, however, 
 angrily motioned him with his hunting-whip to stand back. 
 
 *' The Squire can't speak to you now, Mark Rougham," he 
 cried. " Don't you see he's engaged? Another time." 
 
 ^' I must speak when I can," Rougham rejoined; " and if there 
 be one spot in the whole country where I ought to be listened to by 
 t' Squire, it be this — seeing it were here I lifted up his father when 
 he fell, and tended him till assistance were brought. The worthy 
 gentleman thanked me wi' his eyes, though he could not thank me 
 wi' his lips." 
 
 '^Indeed, I was never told of this till now, Rougham," Gage 
 said. " Speak out, my good man. What can I do for you?' 
 
 " You had better not trouble the Squire, I tell you, Rougham," 
 Mr. Fairlie interposed. " Come up to the Castle to-morrow 
 morning."^ 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 23 
 
 " No, I'll speak now, since his honour be willing to listen to me," 
 Mark said, stoutly. "Be I to quit Cowbridge Farm, sir, which 
 I've held for twenty years myself, and which my father and his father 
 held for nigh a century before me?" 
 
 " Quit your farm, Rougham ! Certainly* not." 
 
 *' I knew your honour wouldn't do it," Mark cried, in a broken 
 voice. " I told Mr. FairHe so, sir." 
 
 ^' I'll explain all to you afterwards, sir," Fairlie said. " This man 
 has to blame himself for being ejected." 
 
 "Good gracious! Mr. Fairlie — ^3rou don't mean to say' you have 
 ejected him from the house in which he was bom and bred? He 
 must have it again — together with the farm, and at a lower rent." 
 
 " I only want it at the old rent, sir," Rougham interposed. 
 
 " What ! has his rent been raised?" Gage exclaimed. " Oh ! Mr. 
 Fairlie." 
 
 " You dog, I'll make you pay for this," the steward muttered 
 between his ground teeth ; but he said aloud, ** Very well, sir. 
 The man shall be reinstated in Cowbridge Farm, and his rent 
 lowered, as you desire.'^ 
 
 "Heaven's blessings qji your head, sir!" Mark ejaculated fer- 
 vently, regarding Gage gratefully with eyes to which tears had 
 sprung. " You ha* done a good deed, and one I be certain your 
 worthy father would have approved of" 
 
 Gage made no reply, for his breast was too full, and he rode off, 
 attended by the others. As Mr. Fairlie followed them somewhat 
 more slowly, Wc cast a vindictive glance towards Rougham, and 
 shook his whip at him. 
 
 " Ah ! you'd lay it across my shoulders, I make no doubt, sir, if 
 you dared," Mark ejaculated. "Poor young gentleman, how kind- 
 hearted he be ! He be in bad hands, I misdoubt. Lucky for me I 
 caught sight of him on the Beacon Hill. There be an old saying that 
 one of the Monthermers should lose his fortune by this hill, and 
 another win it. One part of the prophecy seems to have been ful- 
 filled in the case of Squire Warwick. How it may be as to t'other 
 we shall see." 
 
 A momentary impression was produced upon Gage by the fore- 
 going occurrence, but it was speedily eflfaced. He had a vague 
 notion that others of his tenants might have been treated in the 
 
24 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 same way as Mark Rougham, and he internally resolved to inquire 
 into the matter on the first opportunity. But the opportunity never 
 came. With a really kind heart and good disposition, he was so 
 etigrossed by pleasure, and so averse to trouble of any kind, that 
 he was sure to let things take their course, even though aware that 
 it was in a wrong direction. Besides, he stood in great awe of 
 Mr. Fairlie, and it was only very rarely that he ventured to differ 
 with him in opinion, for though seemingly easy and complying, the 
 steward made it evident by his manner that he did not like 
 interference. In regard to Mark Rougham, Mr. Fairlie volun- 
 teered an explanation to Gage as they rode home, which appeared 
 to satisfy the young gentleman. For his own part, the steward 
 declared, he was glad Mr. Monthermer had reinstated Mark, for 
 though a thick-headed dolt, and as obstinate as one of his own hogs, 
 he believed him to be a well-meaning fellow in the main. He 
 could well afford to pay an increased rent for Cowbridge Farm, 
 but did not choose to do so. He had been often latterly in 
 arrear. Other people were ready and willing to take the farm at a 
 higher rent. In fulfilment of his duty to Mr. Monthermer, he 
 (Mr. Fairlie) did not conceive he had any option but to act as he 
 had done towards Rougham, and turn him out ; though the pro- 
 ceeding might appear harsh, and was decidedly against his own 
 inchnations. 
 
 " It won't do to listen to the complaints of these people, I as- 
 sure you, sir," he concluded. " They will impose upon your good- 
 nature if they cap. The less you see of them the better — till you 
 understand how to deal with them." 
 
 ** I will never be a hard landlord, Fairlie," Gage said. 
 
 " No fear of that, sir," the other rejoined with a smile, " or you 
 are not your father's son. But you must not err on the other side, 
 and be too yielding, or there will be no end to their demands. 
 Leave them to me." 
 
 This was all that passed on the subject. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 26 
 
 IV. 
 
 HOW SIR RANDAL DE MESCHINES PROPOSED TO CURE GAGE OF HIS PASSION. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie got on very well witTi the visitors, and the visitors 
 got on very well with Mr. Fairlie. They met each other half-way. 
 At first, the new comers, not knowing their man, regarded the 
 steward with dislike, as a probable bar to their projects, but tKey 
 soon found out that he was anything but unfavourably disposed 
 towards them. A race in the park, between Comus and Gaylass, 
 proposed by Lord Melton, was warmly supported by Mr. Fairlie 
 — and he only laughed when Gage, who backed the mare, lost a 
 heavy bet upon her to the noble lord. He might well laugh, for 
 he had gone halves with the titled blackleg. Brice Bunbury 
 borrowed a trifle from him, and was told by Fairlie, who acted as 
 paymaster, he might make free with the liberal young gentleman's 
 purse. Fairlie, we may be sure, didn't mean to supply him in 
 this way for nothing. Nat Mist and Jack Brassey were more 
 easily won over, being accessible on the side of good living. 
 The most sumptuous repasts were daily prepared, and the cellar 
 was ransacked for its choicest wines. Some port as old as 
 Charles the Second's time was produced, and much admired, espe- 
 cially by Nat Mist ; so Mr. Fairlie took care a bottle of it should 
 ever after be set before him. Jack Brassey was a great gourmand, 
 and his tastes in this particular were carefully studied. The cook 
 achieved wonders, and Jack did ample justice to her performances. 
 Cards and dice were introduced each evening, without the slightest 
 opposition from Mr. Fairlie, though he could not be unaware of the 
 full extent of Gage's losings, since he was chancellor of the exche- 
 quer. It seemed a positive pleasure to him to hand over a hundred 
 or two of a morning to Beau Freke or Sir Randal. Thus en- 
 couraged, the two latter gentlemen began to meditate a bolder 
 
96 THE SPENDTHBIPT. 
 
 stroke, and though they hardly breathed a word of their inten- 
 tions to each other, it would almost seem that their secret thoughts 
 were divined by Mr. Fairlie, for, one day, while discharging Gage's 
 debts of honour as usual, he remarked to them, with a significance 
 not to be misunderstood, " You are so lucky, gentlemen, that out 
 of consideration for my young friend, I ought to check his ten- 
 dency to play, or bid him select less skilful opponents. However, 
 he must buy his experience — I am quite aware of that. I only 
 wish I could go shares with you, for then, if you happened to 
 make a hit — a good hit, mind — I might chance to come in for a 
 thousand myself" 
 
 "Foregad! Mr. Fairlie," Beau Freke cried, "you would seem 
 to insinuate that we ought to win three thousand pounds." 
 
 " I insinuate nothing, sir, but if you do win that amount " 
 
 " You will expect a third of it," Sir Randal said, concluding 
 the sentence. *' Agreed, Mr. Fairlie. Henceforth, you are asso- 
 ciated with us. Our winnings are your winnings. — A precious 
 rascal ! But we must have him with us," he added to the Beau, as 
 they left the room, " or he'll spoil our play — that's certain." 
 
 It will not be supposed that a youth of Gage's confiding disposi- 
 tion would hesitate to disclose his secret griefs to his friends, espe- 
 cially to such of them as he fancied would sympathise witli him ; 
 but he chose an odd time for making the revelation, and did it in 
 an odd way. One morning, while under the hands of Chasse- 
 mouche, and while Beau Freke and Sir Randal were sipping 
 their chocolate beside him, he suddenly started up, and breaking 
 away from the astonished coiffeur, who stood staring at him, open- 
 mouthed, with comb and curling-irons uplifted, and with his queue 
 almost erect with astonishment, uttered a few frantic and unin- 
 telligible ejaculations, and proceeded to describe himself as the un- 
 luckiest dog in the whole world. 
 
 * 'What's the matter?" the Beau inquired, tranquilly regarding hini. 
 
 " I cannot chase her image from my breast," Gage pursued. " I'm 
 wretched — distracted." 
 
 " Whose image?" Sir Randal demanded. " I thought you had 
 long since forgotten Colombo Mirepoix?" 
 
 " I heard there was a little milliner in St. James's-street whom 
 you cast eyes on," Beau Freke said. " Is she the cause of your 
 affliction? If so, egad, we'll send Brice for her at once." 
 
I 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT, 27 
 
 " This is a vraie affaire de coeur, messieurs," Chassemouche said. 
 " Mon maitre est eperdument amoureux — I tell him he shall console 
 himself— but he will not believe me. He fret — pauvre monsieur, 
 how he fret — he break his heart — and about what? — a prude.*^ 
 
 '"Pieace, Chassemouche. Clare is not a prude." 
 
 ** Soh ! we have learnt her name, at all events," Sir Rjmdal said. 
 
 " Messieurs, I appeal to you," Chassemouche cried. " Am I wrong 
 to style that demoiselle a prude, who shall refuse un si bon parti 
 comme raon maitre — refuse him when he kneel at her feet, and offer 
 her his hand? — and she not his equal, messieurs, who ought to feel 
 flattee — honoree by his notice." 
 
 " Silence, I say, Chassemouche," Gage roared. 
 
 " Pardon, monsieur. My devotion make me speak. It is 
 Mademoiselle Clare Fairlie of whom monsieur est si amoureux. 
 Jugez, messieurs, if I am wrong in saying she ought to be fi^re of 
 the admiration of such a one as my master." 
 
 " Once more I bid you hold your peace, Chassemouche." 
 
 " Is it possible you can have offered this girl marriage, Mon- 
 thermer?" Beau Freke asked. 
 
 " Monsieur, you juge it impossible — but it is perfectly true, 
 parole d'honneur !" Chassemouche replied. 
 
 " You do not contradict him, Montherraer, and I must therefore 
 conclude Chassemouche is right. 'Sdeath ! what could put such a 
 thought into your head? You must be bewitched. Marry at your 
 time of life — with your fortune — your position. Marry Fairlie's 
 daughter! Bah!" 
 
 " Exactly what I say to monsieur," Chassemouche interposed. 
 
 "- Ten — twen:ty years hence, it will be time enough to think of a 
 wiie,"^ the Beau pursued. " It were madness now.** 
 
 ** Word for word what I tell him," Chassemouche said. " Monsieur 
 doit prendre une femme quand il a jete le premier feu de sa jeunesse. 
 He wiU tire of Mademoiselle Clare in a month." 
 
 " Chassemouche, I'll strangle you, if you go on thuff," Gage cried, 
 furiously. 
 
 " Faith r you've had a narrow escape, Monthermer/' Sir Randal 
 said; "and I congratulate you upon it. It is Dot erery woman who 
 would have let you off so easily." 
 
 " I tell him that too," the loquacious valet remarked. 
 
28 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " But what can be her motive for refusing you?" the young 
 baronet pursued. 
 
 '* She say he is too much of a rake," Chassemouche replied, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 " Poh ! poh ! an idle reason. She must have another. Of course, 
 she's handsome, or you wouldn't be in love with her, Monther- 
 mer." 
 
 " She's a divinity," Gage cried, rapturously. 
 
 "And the goddess inhabits this paradise? Strange she h-as not 
 dazzled us with her presence. Her father locks her up, I suppose?' 
 
 " Mais non, monsieur," Chassemouche replied. " Mr. Fairlie scold 
 — no matter — she not leave her room." 
 
 " My curiosity is piqued," Meschines cried. '* I must contrive to 
 see her. She may listen to me, though she won't to you, Monther- 
 mer." 
 
 " Sir Randal, I will not permit this," Gage cried, sternly. 
 
 " Let him alone," Beau Freke said. " Cost what it will, you 
 must be cured of this foolish passion." " 
 
 " But, my good fellow, I shall die under the operation." 
 
 " Die ! pshaw ! You will live to laugh at your infatuation." 
 
 '^ After all, there is no risk. Her heart is as hard as marble. Try 
 her, if you like, Meschines." 
 
 " I mean to do so," the young baronet replied. 
 
 '^Zounds!" Gage cried, with a sudden pang, "I was wrong in 
 giving you permission. I recal it." 
 
 " It is too late," Sir Randal replied, with a laugh. " Why fear, if 
 you think she is proof against me?" 
 
 " Oui, n'ayez pas peur, monsieur," Chassemouche said, with a 
 grin. " Asseyez-vous, je vous en prie, et laissez-moi finir de vous 
 coiffer." 
 
 His master's toilette completed, Chassemouche quitted the room. 
 On the landing-place he was met by Bellairs, who informed him 
 Mr. Fairlie desired to speak with him. 
 
 " Corbleu ! What about?" the Frenchman demanded. 
 
 " Can't say," the valet replied; *^but he seems in a terrible fume." 
 
 And the trembling coiffeur bent his steps towards the steward's 
 apartments. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 29 
 
 INTKODTJCING AUTHUR POYNENGS OF REEDHAM AND HIS SISTER LUCY— A LETTER 
 FROM CLARE FAIRLIE. 
 
 Sir Hugh Poynings of Reedham was one of Warwick de 
 Monthermer's oldest and most valued friends ; and if things had 
 turned out as they ought (which they rarely do), the two worthy 
 gentlemen would have been united by ties stronger than those of 
 mere regard — namely, by a family alliance. Lucy Poynings was 
 destined by her father for Gage, and showed no inclination to 
 thwart the old gentleman's designs. Squire Warwick was equally 
 desirous of the match ; but his son could not be induced to be- 
 come a consenting party to the plan. 
 
 Very pretty, very amiable and accomplished was Lucy, and cal- 
 culated, it would seem, in all respects to make the young fellow 
 happy — only he could not be brought to think so. He liked her 
 well enough ; but she did not interest him in the least. When a 
 boy, he used to call her his "little wife," but he dropped the tender 
 appellation as he advanced in years and began to understand its im- 
 port. Lucy played charmingly on the harpsichord, and sang some 
 of Dr. Arne's and Dr. Pepuch's airs very sweetly ; but he cared 
 not to listen to her music or singing. Any one else pleased 
 him just as well as Lucy as a partner in a minuet or a jig, though 
 she was accounted a most graceful dancer. She had the softest 
 blue eyes imaginable, and the fairest skin : unluckily, the eyes that 
 did most execution with Gage were of the opposite hue, and the 
 complexion he chiefly admired was that of a brunette. So Lucy, 
 not being wanting in discernment, nor destitute of proper spirit, 
 declared to her father (though her tearful eyes contradicted the 
 assertion) that she could never think of Gage as a husband. Sir 
 Hugh laughed at her, and said she didn't know her own mind. 
 
30 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 and would change it before she was a year older — she must 
 leave him to judge what was best for her — he should dispose of 
 her as he saw fit, and so forth. But he came round to her opinion 
 in the end. Squire Warwick, also, perceiving it would be useless 
 to argue the matter with his son, though surprised and vexed at 
 the lad's insensibility to so fine a girl as Lucy, gave up the che- 
 rished idea of Gage's marriage with the daughter of his old friend 
 — not without considerable regret. 
 
 Lucy Poynings had a brother, Arthur, about two years older 
 than herself who had been Gage's constant playmate during boy- 
 hood ; and at this pleasant period of life the two lads were never 
 happy apart, and little dreamed that their friendship could be 
 interrupted. But as their respective characters began to be deve- 
 loped, and very opposite qualities and tastes in each to be dis- 
 played, the warmth of their feelings rapidly cooled down, and 
 from being inseparable, they were rarely together, 
 
 A fine high-spirited youth was Arthur Poynings — handsome 
 withal, well-made, well-grown, fair-haired, and with light blue eyes 
 like those of his sister. But he liad notliing of the fop .about 
 him. He excelled in all manly exercises, and even as a lad was 
 considered the most straightforward rider in Suffolk. He thought 
 Gage too much of a coxcomb and a Sybarite; while Gage thought 
 him rustic, ill-dressed, ill-bred, and only one degree better than a 
 clown. A sort of rivalry sprang up between the lads in the hunting- 
 field, and they had frequent disputes as to which was the best horse- 
 man ; till these were settled by yomig Poynings, who performed an 
 extraordinary feat, which Gage dared not undertake. Our two 
 youths were next.at Oxford together^ but little intimacy was kept up 
 between them there; especially after Squire Warwick's death, when 
 Gage launched out into such extravagance and folly, Arthur did 
 not read very hard it is true ;; but neither did he drink, game, or 
 riot, and he was therefore styled a milksop, a hypocrite, and a 
 sneak, by Gage's associates, though you may be sure none of these 
 opprobrious epithets could be justly applied to him. Jack Brassey 
 even went so far as to molest him, but he liad reason to repent his 
 rashness ; and the severe chastisemeiLt .he rejceived operated .as a 
 wholesome lesson to the others. Arthur was not annoyed afterwards. 
 
 Sir Hugh iind Lady Poynings with theijc family had been bidden 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 31 
 
 to the festivities at Monthermer Castle, when its young lord attained 
 his majority, but they coldly declined the invitation; for, in fact, 
 the old baronet disapproved so much of Gage's scandalous proceed- 
 ings, and was so incensed against him for his folly and the little 
 respect he displayed for his father's memory, that he coidd scarcely 
 bear to hear his name mentioned. Sir Hugh declared he would 
 not countenance such goings on by his presence ; nor should any 
 one belonging to him enter the young rake's disorderly house, 
 much less Lady Poynings, or Lucy. The latter alone attempted 
 to defend the young man, for whom she still nourished a 
 strong affection. He was very young, she said, and might 
 reform — nay, he was sure to reform, and make a shining cha- 
 racter in time. Sir Hugh angrily bade her hold her tongue — she 
 knew nothing about rakes — they never reformed till ruined in 
 health and estate — she had had a lucky escape. It was well 
 Squire Warwick was in his grave — or his son's misconduct would 
 have hurried him there. Poor Lucy heaved a sigh, and thought 
 she would take Gage with all his faults. Young women are more 
 lenient towards our indiscretions, and more hopeful of our amend- 
 ment, than flinty-hearted seniors, who judge of us by themselves. 
 
 However, there was another circumstance connected with Mon- 
 thermer Castle and its inmates of which Sir Hugh was ignorant; 
 but if he had been aware of it, it would have been sufficient in 
 itself to deter him from going there — or allowing his son to 
 go there. The old baronet was one of those who had early seen 
 through Felix Fairlie, and he had determined to expose him 
 to the master he was sure he was wronging ; but, unluckily, he 
 postponed his intention until too late. He thought the steward a 
 consummate rascal and hypocrite ; and all FairHe's subsequent ac- 
 tions convinced him of the correctness of his opinion. Judge, then, 
 what would have been his rage and mortification, if he had known 
 that his son — his only son — the heir to his title — should have 
 dreamed of uniting himself to FairUe's daughter. Yet such was 
 the case, as we shall see presently. Sir Hugh was exceedingly 
 proud, and if Fairlie had been an honest man, he would have 
 deemed the connexion a misalliance: as it was, he would have 
 held it to be utterly disgraceful and dishonouring to his son, and 
 never to be forgiven on his own pari. 
 
32 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Arthur Poynings did not think of this when he fell in love 
 with Clare Fairlie; or rather, he was over head and ears in love 
 with her before he thought of his father's opinion at all. When 
 fairly in the scrape, he began to consider how to get out of it. 
 Sir Hugh, he felt, would be very angry at first, but he was sure to 
 relent in time; and Clare was so sweet a creature she could not 
 fail to win hirn over. Thus he argued, as lovers always argue, 
 when similarly circumstanced. Luckily, Sir Hugh was not tried. 
 
 And now for the history of Arthur's passion. 
 
 Lucy Poynings had been long acquainted with Clare Fairlie, 
 and thinking her the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, as 
 well as the most amiable, she spoke of her in such rapturous terms 
 to Arthur, that she naturally roused his curiosity to behold the 
 marvel. The desire was not long ungratified, and the young man 
 owned that his sister had good reason for her commendation. 
 In brief, he fell in love with Clare — violently in love — and 
 made Lucy the confidante of his passion. The heedless girl 
 did not discourage him, for she thought as little of the conse- 
 quences as he did himself, and never stopped to reflect whether 
 Sir Hugh and Lady Poynings might like the match or not. 
 She only considered how delightful it would be to have such 
 a charming sister-in-law as Clare ; and when matters, as she 
 conceived, had made sufficient progress — for Arthur and the 
 steward's daughter frequently met, and the young man fancied his 
 attentions were not disagreeable to the object of his affections — 
 she willingly consented to speak to Clare on his behalf, and to 
 plead his cause with her, if it required pleading, which she did 
 not anticipate. 
 
 Imagine her distress on finding Arthur's suit hopeless, and Clare 
 her own rival. 
 
 Though the flame of jealousy was kindled in her bosom on 
 making the discovery, it was quickly extinguished when she learnt 
 Clare's determination in regard to Gage. Lucy was too much in 
 love herself not to know the cost of the sacrifice which the other 
 was prepared to make ; nor could she refuse her her profoundest 
 sympathies. They mingled their tears together for a brief space, 
 those two unhappy maidens, unable to afford each other any solace; 
 and then separated, with sentiments of increased mutual regard. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 33 
 
 The intelligence conveyed to him by his sister filled Arthur with 
 bit^r disappointment, and drove him almost to despair. Till then, 
 he had not known how deeply he loved. He became moody 
 and unsociable, neglected the exercises of which he had been 
 hitherto so fond, and execrated Gage as the cause of his misery. 
 So changed was he in manner and appearance, that Sir Hugh 
 could not help noticing the alteration, and wondering what could 
 be the matter with him — half suspecting, as he told Lady Poynings, 
 that the lad must be in love, and have met with some disappoint- 
 ment. Yet who could refuse his son — the future Sir Arthur 
 Poynings ? So handsome too, — the girls were all dying for him. 
 Could it be that proud little minx, Lady Alicia Man vers? — Lady 
 Poynings did not choose to enlighten him, though she was in the 
 secret. 
 
 But a still harder trial was reserved for Arthur, as we shall 
 proceed to show. A few days after Beau Freke and the others 
 had arrived at Mon therm er Castle, a letter was secretly delivered 
 to Lucy. It was from Clare Fairlie, and ran as follows: 
 
 " We must preserve him from ruin — yes, from ruin, Lucy. 
 The danger is imminent. He is surrounded by a set of gamblers, 
 who are daily winning large sums of money from him, and who, 
 it is quite evident, will never leave him so long as he has anything 
 to lose. 
 
 " You will wonder at his infatuation, and, indeed, it is incon- 
 ceivable, for he can scarcely be blind to their designs. Yet such 
 is the singular irresolution — what shall I call it ? — weakness of his 
 character, that, once caught in toils like these, he will not make 
 an effort to escape from them ; though the silken meshes might 
 be burst in a moment. 
 
 *' He must be freed, Lucy, or he is lost. But how ? 
 
 *' I cannot help him — and I will tell you why — though the 
 avowal is made with pain and shame, and is only wrung from mc 
 by circumstances. He I am bound to love, revere, and obey, 
 is, I fear, in some way a party to the schemes of these wicked 
 persons. I judge so from many reasons; but chiefly, because 
 he stands by, an apparently calm spectator, while his former 
 ward, whom he ought to counsel and protect, is shamefully 
 
 D 
 
 / 
 
34 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 plundered in the way I have described. He is sharp-sighted 
 enough, and must know these men are little better than shar|jers 
 — ^yet not a word of remonstrance from him. He seems to like 
 them, and willingly enters into all their plans. Cards and dice 
 are introduced every evening, and the company remain at play 
 till a late hour — with invariably the same results, so far as Gage is 
 concerned. He never wins. But in spite of his constant ill-luck, 
 he perseveres, and, as I am told, doubles his stakes. You will per- 
 ceive how this must end. 
 
 "I have told my father what I think ; and I never knew him 
 so greatly offended with me as upon this occasion. He spoke so 
 harshly, that I really dare not mention the subject to him 
 again. He asked me how I ventured to meddle with matters 
 in which I had no concern ! What business was it of mine if 
 Mr. Monthermer played ! Mr. Monthermer was his own master ; 
 could do as he pleased ; and would naturally resent any improper 
 control over his actions — and such he should never attempt — and 
 he would advise no one else to attempt it. If I had been his 
 wife — (O, Lucy, he knew how those words would wound me, but 
 he did not heed my anguish) — I might have had a right to interfere 
 — but now, having thrown away my chance, I had none. He had 
 already affirmed that Gage's destiny for good or evil rested with 
 me ; and if I chose to cast him off, and the young man fell into 
 bad courses, I must bear the blame, and not repine. (O, Lucy, I 
 felt there might be truth in this — ^but I could not — could not — 
 marry him !) As to the apprehensions I appeared to entertain of 
 Gage's ruin, they were idle. He would take care he did not go 
 too far. But he must be taught prudence, at any cost. Experience 
 was a dear schoolmistress, but the only one in his case. (This 
 sounded well, but I felt little confidence in the sincerity of the 
 observation.) 
 
 '•' My father then went on to say that the gentlemen who were 
 staying in the house, and whom I had chosen to designate as 
 sharpers, were, most of them, young men of the first rank and 
 fashion, of high honour, and incapable of resorting to any tricks 
 at play such as I had hinted at. If he had suspected any such mal- 
 practices, he would have been the first to denounce them ; but I 
 might rest assured I was mistaken. (But no, — I am not mistaken, 
 Lucy.) 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 35 
 
 " My information must have been derived from my maid, Lettice 
 (my father continued), and he was surprised I should listen to silly 
 tittle-tattle from the servants'-hall. Servants always calumniate 
 their masters, and attribute the worst motives to their actions. Ac- 
 cording to this class of persons, there is no respectability of character 
 out of livery. Servants never cheat at cards, nor use false dice — 
 not they ! — but their masters invariably do. If Beau Freke and 
 Sir Randal Meschines are sharpers, and their valets know it, why 
 do they stay with them? There had been much mischievous talk 
 of late below stairs (my father added), and he had found it necessary 
 to give some of the offending parties a caution ; and he fancied they 
 would be more on their guard in future. He hoped he should 
 not have to give Lettice a similar lesson; for retailers of falsehood 
 and scandal were just as bad as the originators. And so our con- 
 versation ended. 
 
 " And here I must remark, Lucy, that my maid was not my sole 
 informant, though I can depend upon her, for Lettice, though a little 
 giddy, is a good girl, and much attached to me. She is daughter 
 of Mark Rougham, whom you must know. My opinion of the 
 ' gentlemen^ remained unshaken, notwithstanding all my father's 
 assertions ; and I have since had personal reason to complain 
 of one of them — Sir Randal Meschines. On two or three oc- 
 casions, latterly, this coxcomb has contrived to throw himself 
 in my way, though I have done my best to avoid meeting any 
 of Mr. Monthermer's guests; and he has greatly annoyed me 
 with liis impertinence and adulation, and his professions of a 
 violent passion for me, which I am certain he cannot feel. He ia 
 so daring in his manner that he quite terrifies me. I kept my 
 room yesterday to avoid him, but he managed to send me, by 
 Gage's French valet, Chassemouche, a note, full of flaming non- 
 sense, which I returned immediately by the bearer. I could laugh at 
 what this silly fop says, but I am in no mood for mirth just now ; 
 and, sooth to say, his attentions alarm me. He is not like Gage, 
 or your brother Arthur — but has a bold, insolent tone, which is 
 quite intolerable. He says he will kill himself, if I do not take pity 
 on him, and I almost wish he would put his threat into execution. 
 
 I" But I must check myself, Lucy. I meant only to send you a 
 few lines, praying you to help one dear to us both, and I find 
 d2 
 
56 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 myself writing about my own troubles. My lengthy narrative will, 
 at all events, serve to let you know how I am circumstanced, and 
 how impossible it is for me to aid Gage in what I believe to be a 
 most critical position. I apply to you, Lucy, because, with all his 
 faults, I know you still love him ; and I would fain hope, if he can 
 be rescued from' the perils and temptations now environing him, 
 that he may one day requite your devotion. 
 
 " He is in need of a true friend, Lucy. Will your brother be 
 that friend? " Clare." 
 
 Of course, there was a postscript. No young lady's letter, how- 
 ever voluminous, would be complete without one. It was to this 
 effect : 
 
 " I have just heard that some new scheme is on foot, and that 
 the planners of it expect to win a larger sum than usual from Gage. 
 Will Arthur come over this evening? Pray of him to do so, Lucy. 
 I must see him first, and will meet him at nine o'clock at the Ivy 
 Tower adjoining the ruins of the old Castle. He may recollect the 
 spot, for he once spoke to me there. Do not think this proposal 
 wrong, Lucy. I shall have Letty Rougham with me. You will 
 persuade Arthur to come, will you not, Lucy? Another note has 
 just been brought to me from that impertinent coxcomb Sir Randal. 
 I have burnt it unread. " C." 
 
 *^And she would have me save the man I hate?" Arthur 
 cried, in a fury, when this letter was shown to him by his sister. 
 " He may go to perdition for aught I care. What is it to me if 
 he is surrounded by sharpers and rakes? What matter if they 
 ruin him ? What matter if Fairlie lends them a helping hand ? 
 The idiot must pay the penalty of his folly and vice. I can't help 
 him, and I wouldn't if I could." 
 
 "Yes, you can and will — for my sake, Arthur," Lucy said, 
 imploringly. "At all events, go and see Clare, that's a dear, 
 kind, good fellow, and hear what she has to say." 
 
 " No, I daren't trust myself with her. She would make a fool 
 of me." 
 
 '^ Nonsense. Only think, if you should be the means of rescuing 
 Gage from the snares that beset him, how grateful he would be." 
 
 " And as a matter of course throw himself at your feet, Lucy, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 37 
 
 and offer you his hand as a recompense. By my faith, he would 
 do us great honour." 
 
 *' If he did, and I accepted him, wouid not that remove a dif- 
 ficulty from your way, sir? Would not Clare then be quite free — 
 and might not all be happily arranged? I'm sure if you only prove 
 yourself his friend, as Clare says, all will come right." 
 
 " But don't you see, Lucy, that she is not thinking of me at all 
 m the matter, but only of him. I am only a secondary considera- 
 tion with her — scarcely considered at all. You yourself are just as 
 selfish, and display as little regard for me. You care only for 
 Gage. He is in a scrape, from which he cannot disentangle him- 
 self. * Save him — or he is lost,' you both of you cry out. What 
 is it to me, if he is lost? A gain rather than otherwise. If I 
 felt that Clare despised him as I despise him — if she expressed a 
 quarter of the affection for me that she expresses in every line of 
 that letter for hirriy I would obey her slightest behest, and deliver 
 him at the hazard of my life. But it is too much to expect me 
 to aid a successful rival." 
 
 ** Nothing is too much to expect from a generous nature like 
 yours, Arthur. Even as revenge, your interposition at this junc- 
 ture would be noble : but do not view it in that light. Rather 
 look back to the days of your affectionate intercourse with Gage — 
 when you were boys together — shared everything in common, and 
 would have defended each other against any attack — when no 
 rivalry existed in your breasts. Look back to that time, Arthur, ' 
 and for the sake of your early regard, render him an important 
 service, which no one is able to perform but yourself. For consider, 
 lie has no true friend. All those calling themselves such, and 
 supposed such by him, are his worst enemies. I do not believe 
 Gage to be so bad — so depraved as he is represented. There 
 is much good in him, I believe, though it is sadly overclouded; 
 and the very tastes and qualities which now lead him into such 
 extravagances and follies — such excesses if you will — might, if pro- 
 perly directed and controlled, render him an ornament to society. 
 Such, through your friendly agency, he may become. And what a re- 
 flection this will be to you hereafter, Arthur ! — what a consolation !" 
 
 " I am scarcely convinced by your reasoning, Lucy," her brother 
 replied, sadly; " but I will act as you desire, and I trust good may 
 
38 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 come of it. As a boy, I always liked Gage — better, indeed, than 
 any one else ; and one cannot quite forget early friendship. Lat- 
 terly, I have hated him." 
 
 " O, do not say so, Arthur I" 
 
 *' I have hated him, I repeat, Lucy, and with good cause. A 
 man cannot love as I love, and not detest his rival. Nevertheless, I 
 will serve him, for the sake of old tunes, and for your sake, Lucy. 
 I despair of success — but the effort shall be made." 
 
 " Have no misgivings, Arthur. Your cause is good, and Heaven 
 will prosper it." 
 
 Accordingly, an answer was sent back to Clare by her mes- 
 senger that Arthur would keep the appointment she had made. 
 
 On that evening, the young man rode, unattended, towards Mon- 
 thermer Castle, and when within a mile or so of his destination, began 
 to consider where he should leave his horse, as he did not intend to 
 announce himself to Gage until after his interview with Clare — 
 resolving to be governed in what he did by her advice ; and while 
 debating this point with himself, he overtook a farmer slowly 
 jogging along, and mounted on a good specimen of that sturdy 
 description of animal known as a Suffolk Punch. As he happened 
 to be acquainted with the man, who was no other than Mark 
 Rougham, he slackened speed to have a few moments' talk with 
 him. He had heard that Mark had been ejected from his farm by 
 Fairlie, but was not aware of his reinstatement, and his first in- 
 quiries were, as to how he was going on? 
 
 " Why, pretty well, thank your honour," Mark replied. '^ I be 
 got back to t' owld house, thanks to t' young Squire ; but how long 
 Fra to remain there t' Lord above only knows ; for Muster Fairlie, 
 I reckon, has more power in his hands than t' young Squire, and 
 will do what he likes, and set all crooked again when t'other's 
 back be turned. He ha' given me to understand as much already, 
 deuce take him ! That man be like t' Unjust Steward we read 
 on i' Scripture. As to t' young Squire, I've nought to say against 
 him, but much to say in his favour. His heart be i' th' right 
 place, I be sure; and he'll do nothin' wrong if let alone — but it be 
 a pity, Muster Arthur, — a great pity, — he do let others do wrong 
 in his name, and abuse his authority — and a greater pity still, if 
 it be true as I hear tell, that he ha' gotten a set o' gambling folk 
 
THE SPEITDTHRIFT. 39 
 
 stayin' wi' him at the Castle, who be preyin' upon him as I've seen 
 a swarm o' wasps feast upon a ripe pear. Ah ! sir, the poor young 
 gentleman is sadly in need of good advice, and wants some one 
 like yourself, or Sir Hugh, to talk to him." 
 
 " It is for that very purpose I am now proceeding to the Castle^' 
 Arthur rejoined. " I am glad to have met you, Mark, for what 
 you say about Mr. Montherraer gives me better hopes of success 
 than I previously entertained. I hope I may be able to chase 
 away those greedy insects." 
 
 '* Take care you don't get stung yourself while doin* it, sir," 
 Mark observed. " They'll fight for the prize, you may rely on it. 
 Ah, sir, if you could only free him from Muster Fairlie, you would 
 render him a service indeed !" 
 
 " That, I fear, is beyond my power, Mark. Besides " And 
 
 he hesitated. 
 
 *' I fear I've said what I ought not, Muster Arthur, and I ask 
 pardon for my boldness, sir, but it's the custom wi' us Suffolk 
 yeomen to speak out, as you well know, for you ha' lived among 
 us ; and so hopin' to gi' no offence, for I mean none, I may as 
 well tell the truth, and confess that I know your honour has been a 
 little bit smitten wi' Mistress Clare — more than a little bit, mayhap. 
 My daughter Letty be her maid, and she ha' dropped a word or 
 two to her mother concemin' it, and the good dame of course 
 couldn't keep the secret, but must needs blab it to me. Havin* 
 confessed this, I must add — always without offence — that a tidier 
 lass, or a sweeter or prettier lass, or, what is more, a better lass — 
 though she do ca' owld FeHx her father — is not to be found in the 
 whole county, than Mistress Clare ; and though some folk might 
 turn up their noses, and say you were demeanin' of yourself by 
 such a marriage, Muster Arthur — always without offence, sir — I 
 think you'd do well: for a virtuous woman, as we're told by them 
 as knew what they said, is a jewel above price, and such a one I 
 believe Mistress Clare Fairlie to be. You be not offended wi' my 
 freedom, I hope, sir?" 
 
 "Not in the least, ray good fellow," Arthur replied; ** and to 
 prove I am not, I will take you into my confidence, and tell 
 you I am about to meet Clare privately in the garden near the 
 Ivy Tower, to concert measures with her for " 
 
40 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " For runnin' away wi' her fro' t' owd chap," Mark interrupted, 
 delightedly. ** The best thing you can do, sir. I'll help you wi' 
 all my heart. Only tell me what to do." 
 
 *' Much obliged to you, Mark, but I'm not exactly bent upon 
 4lie enterprise you suppose. Indeed, to tell you the truth, I don't 
 think the young lady would run away with me. My sole object 
 is to consult with her as to the best means of freeing Mr. Mon- 
 thermer from the harpies who are draining his life-blood from him." 
 
 " And be she the best person to consult wi' on such a matter, 
 do you think, sir ? — However, it's no business of mine", and I begs 
 pardon for my freedom. If I were you, I'd go at 'em at once. 
 Show 'em up in their true colours. Pll back you up, if you want 
 any one to stand by you." 
 
 " Again I thank you, Mark, but I trust I am equal to the dis- 
 agreeable task I have imposed upon myself. However, since 
 you volunteer your services, I will take advantage of the offer to 
 this extent. I am to meet Clare at nine o'clock, as I have told 
 you. You shall go with me, and remain within call." 
 
 " That I will, sir, wi' pleasure. And I shall be quite ready, in 
 case you should follow out my notion — supposin' the young lady 
 should be agreeable to it." 
 
 " No fear of that, Mark. But perhaps I may have to send a mes- 
 sage by you to my sister. That is why I want you to accompany me." 
 
 " I'll do whatever you tell me. Muster Arthur ; and I only 
 hope I may have somethin' better to do than take a message — 
 unless it be a message to say you're off wi' Mistress Clare — no 
 offence, sir. But as there be a good hour and a half betwixt 
 this and nine o'clock, perhaps you'll ride on wi' me to Cowbridge 
 Farm, and put up your horse there. We can then start for the 
 Castle a-foot when you think proper." 
 
 Arthur agreed to this proposal, and accordingly they proceeded 
 to the farm, where they dismounted, and on entering the dwelling, 
 which looked a snug tenement — though it was scarcely got into 
 thorough order after its recent disarrangement — the young gentle- 
 man was heartily welcomed by the honest yeoman's buxom spouse. 
 Three or four children crowded round Mark's leather-cased legs, and 
 struggled for a caress, but he took a crowing infant from the arms 
 of his wife, and holding it towards Arthur, exclaimed: '^Here's 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 41 
 
 wishin* you well married, sir, and as fine a babby as this to bless 
 you — meanin' no ofience, sir" — and then suddenly changing his 
 tone, and patting the curly heads of his other children, he added, 
 "Muster Fairlie thought little of these poor things when he 
 turned us all out of doors. However, I won't speak of it. Come, 
 bestir thyself, dame, and get us somethin' to eat and drink. We 
 must be off soon. Young Squire Poynings and I have some busi- 
 ness to do up at the Castle. We may chance to bring a young 
 lady back wi' us. Don't stare, dame, but draw a jug o' beer. 
 Sit ye down. Muster Arthur — do sit ye down, sir. Get away 
 childer, and make less din." 
 
 Half an hour after this, Arthur and his companion set out on 
 their expedition. Leaping the park palings, they took their way 
 silently and at a quick pace over the elastic sod. 
 
 Every inch of these broad and beautiful domains was known to 
 Mark, so no better guide could have been found than he. It was 
 a bright starlight night, and by the time they reached the ruins the 
 moon would have risen, Mark said, though he didn't know whether 
 Muster Arthur would be pleased or not at the circumstance. 
 
 At length, on emerging from out a dense grove of trees into which 
 they had plunged, they beheld a vast, black, jagged mass before 
 them. It was the ruined Castle, and as they drew near the 
 venerable structure, one tall tower, partially overgrown with ivy, 
 and tipped by the crescent moon, began to detach itself from the 
 rest of the hoary pile. 
 
 Presently they came to an iron railing, surrounding the garden, 
 and leaving Mark near a tree, Arthur sprang over this slight fence, 
 and approached the place of rendezvous alone. 
 
42 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 VI. 
 
 IN WHICH IiETTICE EOTTGHAM DISPLAYS A HEADY WTI. 
 
 Clare Fairlie had the highest opinion of Arthur Poynings. 
 She did not love him, but she esteemed him for his many excel- 
 lent qualities, and could not help admiring his manly appearance. 
 What her feelings might have been towards him, if she had 
 known him earlier, when her afibctions were disengaged, we need 
 not inquire. Perhaps, she herself might regret not having a heart 
 to bestow upon a youth so deserving. Be this as it may, he was 
 the first person she turned to in her trouble. It was rather hard to 
 put his generosity to so severe a test as to call upon him to aid a 
 rival; but Gage's danger (it appeared to her) did not admit of hesi- 
 tation. Scarcely, however, was the letter to Lucy gone, than Clare 
 repented her boldness, and would have recalled it. What would 
 Arthur think of her ? He might be angry, but he would come. 
 She knew the influence she had over him — but had she any right 
 to exert it? — Yes, yes, she was bound to do everything she could 
 to save Gage. So easily do we find excuses for our actions when 
 love is the prompter. 
 
 At last, Clare's suspense was relieved by Lucy's reply, which 
 was brought her by Lettice Rougham. O, how cheered she was 
 by the dear girl's expressions of sympathy ! Lucy was quite as 
 anxious as herself about Gage — just as eager to serve him. 
 Arthur, too, would obey her summons. O, how kind, how 
 generous in him to come ! But she knew he would. 
 
 Little Lettice Rougham, who had been watching her as she read 
 the letter, and saw it contained some satisfactory intelligence, now 
 threw in a word. But before we attend to her, let us see what 
 Lettice was like. This then is her picture. Small in stature, 
 plump as a partridge, rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, rising nineteen. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 43 
 
 — she was altogether a very merry, coquettish, engaging little 
 creature. The exuberance of her person was carefully restrained by 
 tightly-fitting bodice, crossed outside with pink ribbons ; her fair 
 hair was taken back from her smooth forehead, and rolled under a 
 very becoming little cap ; and her scarlet grogram petticoat, with 
 the chintz dress looped up above it, was luckily not long enough 
 to hide the smallest feet and the neatest ankles to .be seen at 
 Month ermer Castle. 
 
 Little Lettice had just been adding an inch or two to her 
 height, by standing on tiptoe, and trying to peep at the letter 
 over her young lady's shoulder ; but finding she could discover 
 nothing in this way, and that she was not likely to gain much infor- 
 mation by remaining silent, she began the discourse by inquiring 
 whether Clare had any orders for her ? 
 
 " No, Lettice," the other replied; but after a moment's hesitation, 
 she added, blushing sHghtly as she spoke, " I sliall want you to 
 accompany me to the Ivy Tower at nine o'clock this evening." 
 
 ** What, to see the moon rise, miss — or hear the nightingales 
 sing? I don't think they've begun yet. Won't it be very cold ? 
 I declare it makes me quite shiver at the idea of a solitary walk 
 at such an hour. And then somebody may be hidden in the 
 ruins — and may rush out upon us, and frighten us — and we should 
 be so far away from the house, that our screams couldn't be 
 heard." 
 
 " Don't be afraid, Lettice. No harm will befal us." 
 
 *' I don't know that, miss. Strange things have been seen in 
 those old ruins. I'm not very fond of going there alone, even 
 in the daytime ; and ai night the owls make such a noise in the 
 towers, and puff and whoop so angrily, and the jars scream so, as 
 if they didn't desire one's company, and the bats wheel about so 
 awsomcly overhead, that they quite scare me; and — and — with 
 your leave, miss, I should prefer supper in the servants'-hall. An 
 evening stroll may be very well, if it's to meet somebody." 
 
 ** Well, Lettice, to satisfy you that I do not mean to go out 
 merely to see the moon rise, or hear the nightingales sing ; and to 
 prove that we shall have some company among the ruins besides 
 the owls and bats, I will tell you that I do expect to meet somebody 
 there — a young gentleman." 
 
44 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Law, miss, you don't say so ! You so very particular, meet 
 a young gentleman in tKe ruins ! Everybody calls me a silly girl, 
 and if I were to do such a thing, it wouldn't be surprising — but 
 you ! — I should never have expected it." 
 
 " I don't wonder you disapprove of the step, Lettice ; and, in- 
 deed, I can scarcely reconcile it to my own notions of propriety. 
 But it is necessary I should see Mr. Arthur Poynings alone, and 
 unobserved, before he enters the house." 
 
 ** Is Mr. Arthur the gentleman you expect to meet, miss ? If 
 I'd known that, I wouldn't have said a word against it — not 
 I ! I'm quite ready to go. Never mind the moon, or the 
 owls, or the bats. I don't care, if it should be as dark as pitch. 
 Bless me ! how things do come round, to be sure. They say 
 it's not easy to whistle a lost lover back again, but you seem to 
 have found out the way, miss ; and very glad I am of it. You'll 
 excuse me — I'm free-spoken, like my father — and I may say now, 
 that I always thought you very cruel to Mr. Arthur. I couldn't 
 have been so hard-hearted to so nice a young gentleman." 
 
 " You would have acted precisely as I have done, if your affec- 
 tions had been engaged, Lettice. But I must set you right as to 
 the cause of Mr. Arthur's visit. He comes here at my request, it 
 is true, but his errand does not relate to me at all, as you will 
 learn, for you will be present at our interview." 
 
 " O, don't be afraid of me, miss ! I shall shut my eyes, and 
 stop my ears, all the time you're together, I can promise you." 
 
 '^ I beg you will do no such thing, Lettice. I have nothing 
 to conceal from you, and I dare say your assistance will be 
 required in my project, should it be carijed out. You're dying 
 to know what it is I perceive, but your curiosity cannot be in- 
 dulged till the proper time. And now, Lettice, a word of advice, 
 in return for your disapproval of my behaviour to Mr. Arthur 
 Poynings. As you well know, I love another, and therefore I could 
 not encourage Mr. Arthur's suit. But are you not similarly cir- 
 cumstanced, let me ask, Lettice? Is not the son of an honest 
 yeoman in love with you? Have you not plighted your troth 
 to Joyce Wilford?" 
 
 Lettice made no reply, but hung down her head. 
 
 " You do not contradict me, and therefore admit that I am 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 45 
 
 right. Then how can you allow other young men to pay you 
 attention? Such levity is highly improper, and very unfair to 
 Joyce; and if he hears of it, he is certain to resent it. If you 
 lose him you will be very sorry; but no one will be sorry for 
 you, Lettice, for they will say you were rightly served." 
 
 "I don't care what folks say of me, miss," Lettice replied, 
 pouting; "and if Joyce chooses to turn his back on me, he is 
 quite welcome. I shan't break my heart about him, I can tell him. 
 I don't like to be rude to young men, and if they're polite to me, 
 I'm civil to them — that's my way." 
 
 " And a very silly way it is, and extremely reprehensible. You 
 are sadly too fond of flattery and admiration, Lettice." 
 
 '* Why, if men will pay one compliments, miss, what is one to 
 do? Looking cross won't check 'em; besides, I carCt look cross 
 for the life of me, if anybody compliments me, and says I'm good- 
 looking." 
 
 " But you can help trying to attract attention, you giddy 
 creature !" 
 
 " I don't try to attract it, miss ; it comes naturally. Men 
 show me attention whether I like it or not. There's Mr. Bellairs, 
 he's always teasing me with his nonsense, though I do my best to 
 keep him at a distance, — and that grinning Frenchman, Mounseer 
 Shassymouse, who tells me I'm so jolly and so bell, — I'm sure I 
 don't encourage him, for I can't abide him. Then there's the two 
 fine gentlemen from Lunnon — the two valets, I mean — Mr. Tibbits 
 and Mr. Trickett, — I must say they're the forrardest of all, 
 though I can't but allow they're the best-looking and gentcclest, 
 and I shouldn't object to their company, if they weren't quite 
 so familiar. Would you believe it, miss, it was only yesterday 
 that Mr. Trickett squeezed my hand, and the night before Mr. 
 Tibbits tried to kiss me ! — he did indeed, miss. These two im- 
 pudent fellows are just as troublesome to me as Sir Randal is to you. 
 I told 'em I was engaged to an honest young man, and couldn't 
 listen to any one else; and would you believe it, they burst out 
 laughing, and said that didn't signify in the least, they'd soon 
 got rid of young Clodpole — though I don't think they'd find 
 it such easy work as they fancy, for Joyce is a broad-shouldered 
 fellow, and knows how to use his fists — and as to me, I might 
 
46 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 have whichever of 'em 1 pleased for a husband, and when I got 
 to Lunnon I should ride in a gilt coach like a grand lady." 
 
 " Don't let your head be turned by any such nonsense, Lettice. 
 These two valets are rakes and gamblers like their masters, and 
 equally dangerous and designing. You cannot be too careful with 
 them." 
 
 " I'm sure of it, miss. I didn't believe what they said at the 
 time, and it proved to be all stuff, for Mr. Tibbits whispered in my 
 ear that Mr. Trickett was married already, and soon afterwards 
 Mr. Trickett told me the same thing of Mr. Tibbits ; so as you say, 
 miss, they're a couple of arrant deceivers." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by a tap at the door. 
 Without waiting for permission to enter, the person who knocked 
 opened it, and came in. It was Chassemouche. Advancing a 
 few paces towards Clare, and making an obsequious congee at each 
 step, the French valet held out with the points of his fingers a 
 little note, enclosed in an envelope of satin paper, with a broad 
 silver border, and highly perfumed. 
 
 " Encore un billet pour mademoiselle," he said, throwing him- 
 self into a pose like a dancing-master, " de la part de Sir Randal 
 de Meschines." 
 
 ^' This is intolerable," Clare exclaimed, her cheek flushing with 
 indignation, and her eyes lighting up. " How dare you present 
 yourself again to me, sirrah ? I have already told you I will re- 
 ceive no communication whatever from Sir Randal. If he is a 
 gentleman he will desist from annoying me in this w^ay. Take 
 back the note to him. I will not touch it." 
 
 " I have convey your pleasure to Sir Randal, mademoiselle — 
 once, twice, tree time — but he no mind. He love you, mademoi- 
 selle — si furieusement — he not listen to reason. II est ensorcele 
 jusqu'a la folie. Ma foi ! he draw his sword just now, and placing 
 its point at my poitrine, he swear a grand juron to run me through 
 de gizzard, unless I take dis billet to you, and bring him back 
 une reponse favorable." 
 
 ^' Say to him I have none," Clare cried. " If I am further 
 annoyed in this way, I shall appeal for protection to Mr. Mon- 
 thermer." 
 
 But Chassemouche grinned, and stood his ground. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 47 
 
 " Pardon me, mademoiselle, gi je suis plus 6claire que vous sur 
 les desseins de men maitre. He has resign his pretensions to you 
 in favour of his particular friend Sir Randal." 
 
 ^* What does he say, miss?" Lettice inquired. "Does the 
 wicked wretch mean to insinuate that. Squire Gage has given you 
 up?" 
 
 " Exactly what you say, coquine," Chassemouche replied, grin- 
 ning. '^ Mon maitre retire from de field, and leave it open to Sir 
 Randal." 
 
 " Don't believe the vile monster, miss," Lettice said. " It's 
 false ! Squire Gage couldn't be capable of such conduct." 
 . *' If mademoiselle will condescend to peruse dis billet she will 
 have proof dat I assert de naked truth," Chassemouche rejoined. 
 
 Clare looked for a moment irresolute, but quickly overcoming 
 the feeling of curiosity, she said — " No, I will not be tempted. 
 Take back the letter. I do not desire to know its contents." 
 
 " Eh bien I" the French valet exclaimed, shrugging his slioulders, 
 "I must perforce return, and leave my mission inachevd. If 
 Sir Randal fulfil his threat, and kill me, I claim one tear of pity 
 for my sad fate from les beaux yeux de mademoiselle. You laugh, 
 friponne," he added, shaking his hand at Lettice, " but you know 
 not what a man will do when under de influence of de grande 
 passion. You almost drive me mad, yourself, wid your bewitching 
 caprices. Adieu, mademoiselle !" with a profound obeisance to 
 Clare ; " I depose my respectful homage at your foot. If you hear 
 of my sudden decease, you will know at whose door to lay it." 
 
 '* O gemini, miss 1" Lettice interposed, " if you think Sir 
 Randal really will kill him, you had better not let him go. 1 
 don't care a pin for Mounseer Shassymouse, but I shouldn't wish 
 him to be spitted like a calf Wouldn't you like just to look 
 at the letter, and see what it says about Squire Gage? There 
 may be something in it to set your mind at rest- You can tear 
 it up, you know, when youVe read it, as you did the first note." 
 
 Chassemouche, thinking his chance not quite over, still lingered, 
 and now interposed a remark. 
 
 " Perhaps mademoiselle will permit me to recite de contents of 
 de billet. I know dem by heart — since I hear it read to my master." 
 
 '' Impossible !" Clare indignantly exclaimed. " If aware of the 
 
 h 
 
40 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 purport of that letter, Mr. Monthermer would never sanction its 
 delivery to me. You are asserting more than you have any war- 
 rant for, sirrah ; and when your master learns — as he shall learn — 
 how you have dared to traduce him to me, you will have reason 
 to regret your impertinence." 
 
 " I have no fears on that score, mademoiselle," the Frenchman 
 replied, apparently unmoved by the threat. '' Mon maitre et le 
 Sieur Freke hear de billet read, and dey both approve it — and 
 Mr. Monthermer bid me give it into your own hands. I hesitate 
 to obey — when Sir Randal menace my life, as I before narrate. 
 Sapristi ! how de two oder gentlemen laugh. Dey tink it a bonne 
 plaisanterie — but I find it no joke." * 
 
 *' More shame for 'em for laughing," Lettice cried. "Do let 
 him tell us what's inside the note, miss." 
 
 Clare was too much agitated to speak at the moment, and 
 Chassemouche did not wait for her permission, but went on. 
 
 *' Sir Randal profess de most violent regard for you, mademoi- 
 selle," he said. '* Dat you comprehend; but yoii not comprehend 
 I'excessif ardeur de sa devotion — unless you read his letter. Mais, 
 n'en parlous plus. He implore you to grant him an interview dis 
 evening." 
 
 " Bless me, miss, how strange !" Lettice exclaimed. 
 
 " Sir Randal next take leave to fix de hour and de place of 
 rendezvous, mademoiselle." 
 
 '* Well, tell us what he says without more ado?" the impatient 
 handmaiden cried. 
 
 ^' Doucement, coquine. If you will accompany your jeune 
 maitresse, I will be dere too. De place, mademoiselle, is de petit 
 jardin near de ruins of de old chateau — de Ivy Tower, mon maitre 
 tell Sir Randal to call it — de hour is nine o'clock precise. You 
 not forget dat, pretty Mistress Lettice, and come wid your young 
 lady. You shall find me, and I will tell you something you like 
 to hear." 
 
 ** My stars, miss! was there ever anything so strange ?" Let- 
 tice almost screamed. *^ What shall we do ?" 
 
 Clare imposed silence by a look. 
 
 "I tell Sir Randal you come, mademoiselle," Chassemouche 
 said, bowing and backing hastily towards the door. ^' Au revoir, 
 pretty Mistress Lettice ! I expect you." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 49 
 
 '* O no ! — you're not to expect either of us. Stop a minute !" 
 
 But before she could prevent him, the Frenchman was gone. 
 
 " Mercy on us, miss !" Lettice exclaimed, running back to her 
 young lady, as Chassemouche disappeared. '* Here's a pretty 
 business ! Only think this troublesome Sir Randal should fix 
 the exact spot and the exact hour that you have appointed with 
 Mr. Arthur." 
 
 "It cannot be accidental," Clare remarked. *'He must have 
 learnt my intention, in some way or other — but how?" 
 
 " Yes, miss, that's just it. How can he have discovered what 
 you meant to do ? Even / didn't know it." 
 
 '* Nor any one else that I am aware of, except Mr. Arthur and 
 his sister. Can my letter to Lucy, or hers to me, have been 
 tampered with ? I thought the messenger trusty." 
 
 ** Ned Clinch ! he's trusty enough for a groom, but I'm afraid a 
 guinea might tempt him. Most likely the letters have been 
 opened." 
 
 " But if such should unluckily be the case, my object would be 
 defeated," Clare cried. 
 
 '* We can't be quite sure, miss, but it's better to be prepared 
 for the worst and think so. I'd try and get it out of Ned, but he'd 
 be cunning enough to keep his own counsel. What do you pro- 
 pose to do? Mr. Arthur, I suppose, is sure to come?" 
 
 *' Quite sure, Lettice. And I see no means of informing him of 
 the difficulty in which I am placed." 
 
 *' It's very perplexing indeed. I wish I could think of a plan 
 — but I'm quite at my wits' end. Stay, miss — I have it — shall I 
 go in your place?" 
 
 "But are you not afraid to do so, Lettice?" Clare observed, 
 evidently much relieved by the suggestion. 
 
 " Not a bit, miss. You can tell me what to say to Mr. Arthur, 
 and I shan't mind Sir Randal in the least. It'll be good fun to 
 laugh at him. He won't find out who it is just at first in the 
 dark. You must lend me your manteau and hat, and though I'm 
 not quite so tall as you, I dare say if I walk on the points of my 
 feet in this way. Sir Randal won't notice the difierence." 
 
 '*If you can only warn Mr. Arthur of Sir Randal's proximity 
 before the latter can surprise him. it will be sufficient, Lettice, and 
 
 £ 
 
50 THE 8PEXDTHKIPT. 
 
 may prevent a quarrel between tKe two gentlemen. I shall never 
 forgive myself if Arthur should suffer on my acconnt. But you 
 must not go alone. I will be within caU.** 
 
 ** Wby can't you put on my red camlet cloak, miss, and draw the 
 bood over your face, and then you may pass very well for me, and 
 may find an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Arthur, while I en- 
 gage the other's attention." 
 
 " You are very adroit I must say, Lettice, and seem to have 
 quite a talent for an affair of this kind. But you must now leave 
 me. I wiU try to collect my scattered thoughts, and consider 
 what is best to be done under the circumstances. I think I shall 
 adopt your plan, though it is not altogether to my taste. Come 
 to me by-and-by." 
 
 " Don't hesitate, miss. It will be turning the tables nicely on 
 Sir RandaL For my part, I'm so eager for the tolic that I wish 
 it only wanted a quarter to nine, and we were on our way to the 
 Ivy Tower — ^you in my camlet cloak, and I in your silk manteau." 
 
 And she quitted the room, leaving Clare to her meditations. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 51 
 
 VII. 
 
 WHENCE MS. PATKLTE OBTAINED INTELLIGENCB, AND HOW HE PAH) P0» IT. 
 
 Instead of at once returning, as might naturally have been ex- 
 pected, to the young baronet, whose emissary he professed to be, 
 Monsieur Chassemouche, on quitting Clare's presence, betook him- 
 self to a room on the ground-floor which Mr. Fairlie claimed as his 
 own, and in which he usually transacted business. Tapping against 
 the door, the Frenchman, in tliis instance, did pause, and it 
 was not until he had knocked twice that he was admitted. It 
 then appeared that the steward was just dismissing Ned Clinch, 
 the groom. The latter was grinning and thrusting a coin into his 
 waistcoat-pocket, which the quick eyes of the Frenchman detected 
 as a piece of gold; and as Ned passed out he bestowed a knowing 
 wink upon his fellow-servant, and probable accomplice. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, I\Ir. Fairlie, who was seated at a 
 table with writing materials before him, and with one of those big 
 account-books, which were Gage's especial aversion, close at hand, 
 proceeded to set Chassemouche's tongue at liberty, and haying 
 done so, speedily learnt all that the Frenchman had to impart 
 concerning his recent interview with Clare. Mr. Fairlie seemed 
 vexed that his daughter could not be prevailed upon to open the 
 billet, whicli Chassemouche laid upon the table beside him, and 
 which lie presently took up and placed in a drawer ; but he 
 compUmented the Frenchman upon hlg address in contriving to 
 make her aware of its contents, wliich he said would do just as 
 well as if she had read the letter. This recital over, Mr. Fairlie 
 seemed to be occupied a few minutes in reflection, dui'ing which 
 he kept turning the key in the lock of the drawer, heedless that 
 his movements were keenly watched by Cliassemouche. At last, 
 as with an eflbrt, be took oat a guinea ixom a small wooden bowl, 
 
 £2 
 
62 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 half full of such glittering coin, carefully locked the drawer, and 
 gave the money to the Frenchman, who received it with his usual 
 obsequious bow. 
 
 " Secret service costs one a good deal, Chassemouche," he re- 
 marked. " This is the third guinea I've parted with on that 
 account to-day. I've just paid Ned Clinch for bringing me the 
 letter he received from Miss Poynings, in answer to my daughter's 
 communication, which he laid before me in like manner previously 
 to setting out on his errand. Two letters, two guineas, Chasse- 
 mouche. The fellow will get rich, if he goes on at this rate. 
 It will be your own fault, if you don't get rich in the same 
 way. I'm always ready to pay for intelligence — in proportion to 
 its value, Chassemouche. I like to know what is going on in 
 every part of the house — what is said, as well as done, by the 
 servants, where they go, and whom they see. There are fine doings 
 just now in the butler's pantry. Pudsey and Bellairs, I hear, 
 have lost a great deal of money at gleek and other games to 
 Sir Randal's valet, Trickett. Mr. Freke's servant, Tibbits, is also, 
 I'm told, a considerable mnner. You play a little yourself, I 
 know — nay, no excuses, I'm not going to take you to task — I wash 
 to put you on your guard against that rascal Trickett, — a regular 
 sharper, who will never rest till he has fleeced Pudsey and Bellairs 
 of every farthing they possess." 
 
 *' Ma foi, monsieur," Chassemouche replied, with a grin, ** dat 
 is done already. Deir pockets were quite cleaned out last night. 
 Corbleu ! dey both owe money to Trickett, and dey give him deir 
 paroles d'honneur to pay him dis evening. Poor Pussey lose a 
 great deal — more den I like to mention, monsieur, — and it puzzle 
 me to tink how he shall get out of de scrape — ha ! ha ! Bellairs 
 want to borrow money from me — but I not lend him one sou. He 
 may go hang — le maudit chien — for vat I care — he ! he I" 
 
 '* Just as I could wish," Fairlie muttered — " then they are sure 
 to apply to me. Now go to Sir Randal, and tell him you have 
 succeeded this time." 
 
 " Mais, monsieur — I fear he not credit me." 
 
 *' Yes — yes — he will. The coxcomb will believe anything that 
 flatters his vanity. Do as I bid you. Tell him the young lady 
 received his note, and though she didn't say so, she looked consent. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 53 
 
 That will be sufficient for him. Such good tidings ought to be 
 worth another guinea to you." 
 
 " Assez, monsieur — I shall swear to him she will come." 
 
 '* About it at once, then," Fairlie cried. 
 
 The Frenchman had not been gone many minutes when his 
 place was supplied by Mr. Bellairs. The usually smirking valet 
 wore rather a hang-dog look. Mr. Fairlie perfectly understood the 
 cause of his trouble, but choosing to feign ignorance, he inquired 
 whether anything was amiss ? 
 
 "Why yes, sir," Mr. Bellairs replied — "I am a little incon- 
 venienced, that's the truth of it. I've a debt of honour, which 
 must be paid to-day, and I don't know how to meet it, unless 
 you will be so very obleeging as to advance me a quarter's wages." 
 
 ** Why, youVe been gambling, rascal !" 
 
 " I've only followed my master's example, sir. The gentlemen 
 are always at play iip-stairs, and there's something so enticing in 
 the rattling of a dice-box, or the dealing of a pack of cards, that 
 I*m sure to sit down to a game if there's a place at table." 
 
 " And equally sure to lose when you have sat down, I fancy, 
 Bellairs, — especially if Mr. Trickett should happen to be your 
 adversary. However, that's your own affair. I'm not going to point 
 out to you the folly of your conduct. I'm not a moralist, Bellairs." 
 
 " I should think not," the valet mentally ejaculated. 
 
 ** By-the-way, Bellairs," Mr. Fairlie pursued, " you are a great 
 deal about your master, and very much in his confidence. Ho 
 may sometimes make remarks about me which it is desirable 
 I should know." 
 
 " O yes, sir," the valet replied, ^t once taking the hint. *' He 
 often converses with me about you." 
 
 ** Well, what does he say, Bellairs ? — what does he say ?" 
 
 " Excuse me — but I've a very bad memory, sir." 
 
 " You want it refreshing — eh ?" 
 
 '* Why yes, sir; I should like to know whether I am to have the 
 
 larter's wages ?" 
 " You shall have them provided I am sure you will earn them. 
 
 [ark ye, Bellairs — there's no use in beating about the bush when 
 
 re can come to the point. You may be useful to me in bringing 
 
64 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 me early intelligence about your master — ^as to his plans and move- 
 ments — what he says and what he does " 
 
 *' In a word, to betray him, sir. I can't do it," Bellairs said, 
 placing his hand upon his heart — " I can't, upon my honour." 
 
 " Pshaw, fellow ! this affectation won't pass with me. You want 
 to be bought. Well, make yourself useful, and you shall have no 
 reason to complain. You can play the spy as well as another, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 *' I should hope I can, sir, but I object to the appellation. It*s 
 a low term, and not in use now-a-days amongst gentlemen." 
 
 " I perceive we understand each other, Bellairs, and so you 
 shall have the sum you require. Forty pounds a year — that's ten 
 pounds the quarter," Fairlie said, taking money from the drawer, 
 and opening a small book in which he entered the amount, 
 he handed it to the valet, bidding him write a receipt. 
 
 This done, and while pocketing the money, Bellairs observed : 
 
 " I hope you don't trust that Frenchman, sir — a double-dealing 
 scoundrel who will be certain to betray you." 
 
 "I've no great opinion of him, Bellairs, and if I catch him 
 tripping, I shall pack him off. Keep an eye upon him. I rely 
 on your discretion." 
 
 Just at this moment another tap was heard at the door, and Mr. 
 Pudsey came in. The butler stared at the valet, and the valet 
 stared at the butler, but neither spoke. At a sign from Mr. 
 Fairlie, Bellairs withdrew, but he remained outside, with his ear 
 to the keyhole. 
 
 " Soil, Pudsey, you are come on the same errand as Bellairs — 
 eh?" Mr. Fairlie began. *' You have been gaming like him, and 
 lost your money, eh ? I read an answer in your face. How 
 much do you want ?" 
 
 " Really, sir, I didn't expect you to oblige me so readily " 
 
 " I haven't said I would oblige you, Pudsey. I make no pro- 
 mises. But I again ask how much you require?" 
 
 " Why, sir, since it must out, I should be glad of fifty pounds." 
 
 "I dare saw you would, Pudsey; but you won't get it from me. 
 I admire your assurance in preferring the request. It does you 
 infinite credit — ha ! ha ! Why, Bellairs was content with ten." 
 
 " That may be, sir, but my losses have been greater than his. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 55 
 
 Besides, I stand on wholly different ground from Bellairs, and am 
 able to make better terms. You pay kim for intelligence — you must 
 pay me to be silent." 
 
 "Pay you to be silent! What do you mean?" Fairlie de- 
 manded, knitting his brows. 
 
 " I mean this, sir — that I want mone^ and must have it. You 
 will make a better bargain with me than you would have done, if 
 I hadn't been in this strait, and may therefore congratulate your- 
 self upon the smallness of my demand. It was my intention to ask 
 — ay, and to have — as many hundreds, as I now require pounds." 
 
 ^' Having explained why you so modestly limit your demand, 
 Pudsey, you will next, perhaps, have the goodness to inform me 
 how it is you venture to make any demand at all ?" 
 
 " Readily, sir. A pocket-book was dropped in the dining-room 
 yesterday. I picked it up, and on inspection discovered it to 
 belong to Sir Randal de Meschines, as his name is stamped upon 
 it. It contains nothing of importance — nothing valuable, I mean — 
 except certain entries of sums of money won at play from my 
 master. These sums are divided among three parties: one share 
 being allotted to the young baronet himself — another to Mr. Freke 
 — and the third to you." 
 
 " Zounds !"• ejaculated Fairlie, unable to repress his anger. 
 
 "That these memoranda refer to you," Pudsey pursued, "is 
 confirmed by two notes from Mr. Freke, enclosed in the pocket- 
 book, in which your name is alluded to, in no very compHmentary 
 terms, as their partner." 
 
 ^^ I believe you are lying, Pudsey. I dare you to produce that 
 pocket-book." 
 
 " Nothing more easy, sir ; and depend upon it, if we cannot 
 come to a right understanding, which for your own sake is most 
 desirable, it shall be laid before my master." 
 
 " And you want to borrow fifty pounds from me?" 
 
 " No, sir, I require that sum ; but I have no intention of return- 
 ing it." 
 
 " It must be a loan on ray part, unless you deliver up the pocket- 
 book. I will lend you the money, and you shall sign a memoran- 
 dum, which I will give up to you when you bring me the book 
 and the letters." 
 
66 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " I am quite content with that arrangement, sir. You may trust 
 to my honour to deliver them to you." 
 
 " Rather a poor security, I fear, Pudsey. Nevertheless, I will 
 trust you." 
 
 " Because you can't help yourself," the cunning butler thought, 
 as the other drew up the memorandum. 
 
 It did not take Mr. Fairlie long to write it out, after which 
 Pudsey signed the paper without troubling himself to read it, and 
 then received the money, which he took care to count. 
 
 *' All right, sir," he observed, after going through this agreeable 
 ceremonial; "you may depend upon it I'll deal with you on the 
 square. To-morrow your mind shall be made easy as to the pocket- 
 book and its contents." 
 
 "Before then, I trust," Mr. Fairlie cried, as the butler took his 
 departure. " An hour shall not elapse before I have them in my 
 possession. By Heaven ! I should like to hang the villain. I'll 
 have his boxes instantly searched." 
 
 While he was considering how he should set about this business, 
 Mr. Bellairs suddenly stood before him. 
 
 " Behold the man you want !" the valet said, with his customary 
 confidence. 
 
 Fairlie regarded him inquiringly. 
 
 " I have overheard what has just passed between you and Pudsey, 
 sir," Bellairs continued, " and I can assist you. I know where he 
 has hidden this pocket-book, and will bring it to you." 
 
 " Do so, and you shall not find me ungrateful." 
 
 " Better reduce your gratitude to figures, sir. You must give 
 me as much as you have just given Pudsey." 
 
 " Agreed." 
 
 " In ten minutes you shall have what you require. I watched 
 Pudsey go down stairs — the rogue was laughing to himself — I'll 
 steal up to his room at once." 
 
 " Take care to bring both the letters." 
 
 "Never fear, sir; I'll leave nothing behind. I wish I'd asked 
 a hundred. He would have given it just as readily as fifty," the 
 valet muttered as he left the room. 
 
 ** How excessively incautious in Sir Randal to make those 
 entries, and to preserve Mr. Freke's letters!" FairHe cried as 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 57 
 
 he was left alone. " I shall lose a hundred pounds, but I shall get 
 rid of these damnatory proofs, and Pudsey will then be fifty pounds 
 in my debt, and consequently in my power." 
 
 Mr. Fairlie was not long left to his ruminations, whatever they 
 might be. Voices and loud laughter resounding in the passage 
 informed him that some persons were approaching his retreat, and 
 presently afterwards the door opened, and Gage entered, accom- 
 panied by Beau Freke, Sir Randal, Lord Melton, and Brice 
 Bunbury. The whole party seemed in high spirits, and did not 
 cease laughing as they took possession of the room, throwing 
 themselves into lounging attitudes, wherever they could find a 
 seat — some on chairs, and the others on the edge of the steward's 
 table. Amongst the latter were Gage and the young baronet. 
 
 " Well, FairHe," Sir Randal began, patting his shapely leg, 
 encased in a silken stocking to the finest web, embroidered with 
 golden clocks, " I have come to tell you I shall win my wager. 
 You betted me a hundred pounds, and Monthermer did the same, 
 that your daughter never would consent to meet me." 
 
 " We betted that she would not meet you at the Ivy Tower at 
 nine o'clock this evening. Pray be particular, Sir Randal." 
 
 "Yes, that was our bet, and I think it pretty safe, Fairlie, eh?" 
 Gage remarked, laughing. '* It was made at your suggestion, for 
 I should never have thought of such a strange proposal, which I 
 look upon as an affront to the young lady. However, if it is so, 
 you are bound to resent it, not T, Fairlie." 
 
 " I look upon the affair as a mere jest — a jest at my own ex- 
 pense, perhaps — but still I can afford to laugh at it ; and, therefore, 
 I see nothing to resent," Fairlie replied. " Sir Randal offered to 
 lay me a hundred pounds that my daughter would meet him, 
 leaving it to me to fix the time and the place of rendezvous. 
 I took the bet — naming the most unlikely spot, and the most 
 unlikely hour — and I shall win his money." 
 
 "And so shall I," Gage cried. "Notwithstanding what he 
 affirms, I would make it a thousand she don't come." 
 
 " Done !" Sir Randal exclaimed. " A thousand be it. I only 
 wish you would say ten. Are you disposed to increase your bet to 
 the same amount, Fairlie ?" 
 
 " I should feel perfect security in doing so. Sir Randal," the 
 
58 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 otiier replied, " but I do not wish to gain so large a sum of money 
 in sucii a way. I will rest content with the hundred." 
 
 " We must all be present. We must see fair play," Beau Freke 
 cried. 
 
 "You must keep out of sight, then," Sir Randal rejoined. 
 ^' I will allow no interference." 
 
 " I won't answer for myself if she does come !" Grage exclaimed ; 
 " but that is wholly impossible." 
 
 "Not quite so impossible as you fancy," the young baronet 
 rejoined. " When you are satisfied that it is the young lady — as 
 you shall be — I call upon you as men of honour to withdraw." 
 
 '^ O yes, we'll retire," all the young men replied, laughing, 
 except Gage. 
 
 " And we'll take Monthermer along with us/' Beau Freke said. 
 " Your interview shan't be interrupted." 
 
 "'Sdeath! if I thought there would be an interview I'd spoil 
 it," Gage cried. 
 
 " Poh ! poh ! let things take their course," Beau Freke whis- 
 pered. " If she meets him, it will cure your silly passion for 
 her. If not, you will win a thousand pounds. Either way you 
 are benefited." 
 
 Gage was not quite convinced by this reasoning, but he suffered 
 himself to be tranquillised by it. 
 
 Just then the door suddenly burst open, and Bellairs rushed 
 in with a small packet in his hand, exclaiming — ^'IVe got it! 
 here it is, sir !" 
 
 Aghast at the sight of the assemblage, he let the packet fall, and 
 would have beaten a hasty retreat, had not Gage commanded him 
 to stay. 
 
 " What have you dropped there, sirrah ?" the young gentleman 
 demanded. " Give it to me." 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," the valet replied, tremblingly handing him 
 the packet. " I didn't know Mr. Fairlie was engaged, or I wouldn't 
 have intruded in this way." 
 
 " Your master will excuse you, I am persuaded, when he learns 
 that you have come on urgent business," Mr. Fairlie remarked, 
 not at all disconcerted. " Here, take this money," he added, giving 
 him a bank-note, "to the person who is waiting for it, and bring 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 69 
 
 me a receipt." And as the valet joyfully retired, lie observed 
 with admirable self-possession to Montliermer — " I don't think you 
 need open that packet, sir. It won't interest you much. It con- 
 sists merely of a heap of old bills which have been accidentally 
 mislaid." 
 
 *' Why didn't you tell me so at first, Fairlie, and then I would 
 never have touched it?" Gage cried, tossing the packet to him 
 in supreme disgust. "Bills! faugh] nothing disgusts me so much 
 as a biU." 
 
 ^' Pm quite of your opinion, Monthermer," Brice Bunbury ex- 
 claimed. "Nothing is so intolerably annoying as a bill. By 
 Jove 1 I can't bear the sight of one." 
 
 " Then you shan't be further troubled by these," Fairlie observed, 
 locking up the packet. 
 
 " Hark ! the dinner-bell, gentlemen," Gage exclaimed ; "I 
 hope your appetites will not fail you." 
 
 " Most assuredly mine will not, for I never felt in better cue," 
 Brice replied. " I shall do justice to all the good things, and 
 not flinch from the burgundy. By Jove ! that clos-de-vougeot is 
 magnificent, Monthermer." 
 
 " Enchanted you like it. Allons, messieurs," Gage said, leading 
 the way. 
 
 Beau Freke and Sir Randal lingered for a moment behind the 
 others. 
 
 " We've had a narrow escape. What do you think that packet 
 contained. Sir Randal?" Fairlie remarked. 
 
 " I guess — my lost pocket-book. I at once suspected the truth, 
 and was terribly afraid lest Monthermer should open it. Bum it, 
 Fairlie. I shall be more careful in future what I put down — and 
 what letters I keep." 
 
 " Ay, you were highly imprudent, as I told you, to keep mine, 
 and I'm very angry with you for doing so," Beau Freke observed. 
 " However, we've no time to talk now. The grand coup will be 
 made this evening, Fairlie. We shall ply him with wine as much 
 as we can.'' 
 
 "He wants little persuasion to drink," the steward replied; 
 "and I have 'told the butler to put out some of his favourite 
 claret. It will fire his veins." 
 
60 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " We shall have no difficulty then," Sir Randal remarked. 
 " Egad ! Fairlie, I must say this is a clever contrivance of yours to 
 get rid of young Poynings, who, if he had obtained admittance to 
 the house, might have given us trouble. We shall now be able 
 to fasten a quarrel upon him before he has an opportunity of 
 explanation." 
 
 " An admirable device, o' my conscience," Beau Freke said; 
 ^' but all Fairlie's schemes are admirable. But we must go. Do 
 you not dine with us, Fairlie ?" 
 
 "No; these late dinners do not suit me," the steward replied. 
 ** I must keep a clear head, I will join you before you begin 
 to play." 
 
 Hereupon the two gentlemen withdrew, and the steward was 
 once more left alone. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 61 
 
 VIII. 
 
 HOW GAGE LOST A FEW THOUSANDS AT BASSET. 
 
 A BETTER dinner could not be than that to which Gage and 
 his friends sat down. Just the sort of easy unceremonious enter- 
 tainment that the hard-drinking bloods of the last century de- 
 lighted in ; and that might have found favour even with some of 
 the fast young men of the present generation. Restraint was 
 banished from that festive board. No need for the host to bid 
 his guests make themselves at home. A week's experience of his 
 princely hospitality had taught them they might do so ; and this 
 was just what they liked. 
 
 But though there was no restraint, it must not be imagined 
 there was no display. On the contrary, the dinner was magnifi- 
 cently served, entirely on plate of silver, and the sideboard was 
 gorgeously arrayed. A crowd of lacqueys in rich liveries were in 
 attendance, marshalled by Pudsey and Bellairs. Delicacies the most 
 refined, wines the most exquisite, furnished forth the banquet. The 
 seasons were anticipated ; and though it was still early spring, the 
 richest fruits of summer regaled the guests. 
 
 Habitual self-indulgence had made Gage an epicure, and a 
 simple diet would have been as distasteful to him as it would 
 have been to LucuUus. He enjoyed eatables for their costliness 
 and rarity as much as for any other quality ; a new dish was a new 
 pleasure to him ; and he cared not what expense he incurred in 
 gratifying his palate. On this occasion some highly-seasoned 
 Spanish ragouts, described by Beau Freke, made their first ap- 
 pearance, and were much admired, — especially by the young 
 Amphitryon — only they made him thirsty, and induced him to 
 
62 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 drink an unusual quantity of claret : thus probably accomplishing 
 the main object of their introduction. 
 
 If there was not a great deal of wit among the company, there was 
 infinite merriment ; and Gage, at all events, thought his friends 
 exceedingly pleasant fellows. Their jests, it must be owned, were 
 a little free, and they talked overmuch of their gallantries ; but 
 they one and all agreed that Monthermer was the best fellow 
 breathing, and confidently predicted that he would attain the 
 highest pinnacle of fashionable distinction, and become the theme 
 of general admiration ; that pleasures and successes of every kind 
 awaited him on his return to town; and that his conquests amongst 
 the fair sex would be numberless. All this adulation was swallowed 
 by Gage as readily as the claret, and it produced much the same 
 inebriating efiect upon him. He really believed himself the 
 irresistible hero described, little dreaming how his guests were 
 laughing at him in their sleeve, and wliat schemes they were con- 
 triving against him. 
 
 Taking advantage of his excitement, Lord Melton so dazzled 
 him with tke notion of the vast sums to be won at Newmarket 
 and elsewhere by racing, that he commissioned the noble blackleg 
 to buy him half a dozen more horses, and to engage him a couple 
 of jockeys; and his accommodating lordship, we may be sure, 
 consented to help in these respects, with all the pleasure in life. 
 
 Meanwhile, the glasses were constantly replenished by the ever- 
 attentive Pudsey. Jack Brassey and Nat Mist, confirmed topers 
 both, took their wine kindly. Brice Bunbury found the clos-de- 
 vougeot delicious — magnificent, by Jove ! — and stuck to it. What 
 a head Brice must have had I His veins were boiling with 
 Burgundy, yet he looked quite steady. Beau Freke and Sir 
 Bandal, as we know, had work to do, and therefore fought shy 
 of the claret, though it was of a renowned vintage, and in perfect 
 order. 
 
 But it had now become quite evident tliat Gage had had enough 
 for their purpose. If he drank more, he would be too far gone. 
 An immediate move must be made, and the Beau accordingly rose, 
 and proposed an adjournment to the drawing-room. 
 
 Some of the others would have willingly tarried a little longer, 
 but Crage was completely under Mr. Freke'a control, and always 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 63 
 
 ready to obey his behests. So the whole party went up-stairs — 
 three or four of them with rather uncertain steps. 
 
 The drawing-rooms were brilliantly lighted up, as if for a much 
 larger assemblage than the present, and card-tables were set out. 
 Coffee served, after a brief chat they sat down to basset; Sir 
 Randal acting as tailleur, and Brice Bunbury as croupier. Un- 
 luckily, Brice had no money, so Gage threw him his purse; 
 but the twenty guineas it contained, being laid upon the tapis, 
 were almost instantly afterwards swept off by Beau Freke. 
 Gage's usual ill-luck attended him, and being heated with wine, 
 he played recklessly, constantly doubling his stakes. Mr. Fairlie, 
 who had joined the party in the drawing-room, and who, 
 as the young man's cashier, made a note of his losses in his 
 tablettes, warned him to desist — but this only inflamed him the 
 more. He would go on. What was the loss of a few thousands 
 to him ? And, strange to say, from that moment the capricious 
 goddess of chance deigned to cast a few smiles upon him. In an 
 astonishingly short time he won back his losses, and exulted in 
 the superiority of his own judgment over that of Fairlie. It had 
 been well for him if he had stored at this point. But he was 
 now clearly in the vein, and must win. And so he did. He 
 staked two hundred and fifty pounds and gained it. Bending the 
 comer of his card, he went on, cried " A paroli, — sept, et le va !" 
 and the winning card coming up again, made his gains seven 
 hundred. Quinze-et-le-va followed, and gave him 1500Z. Now 
 he glanced triumphantly at Fairlie, but the latter merely shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 Everybody seemed excited by the progress of the game — every- 
 body, except Sir Randal and Beau Freke, the former of whom 
 held the bank. Gage turned down the third corner of his card. 
 " A paroli, — trente, et le va." He was a winner of 3000/. 
 
 '^ Ha ! ha ! ha ! who was in the right, you or I, Fairhe ?" he 
 cried, in tipsy tones. '* Shall I go on, eh ?" 
 
 " Just as you please, sir," the steward replied, evasively. *' You 
 had better not appeal to me. You don't heed what I say." 
 
 ** Then, by heaven, I won't hesitate !" the young man exclaimed, 
 bending the fourth corner of his card. " A paroli, soixante, et 
 leval" 
 
64 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 This was the highest stake that could be made according to the 
 rules of the game. 
 
 All looked at Sir Randal as he dealt the cards — quietly, grace- 
 fully, as if nothing at all depended on the turn of his fingers. 
 Most of them knew what would occur, but still they liked to see 
 it done, and Brice Bunbury, who was up to a trick or two, 
 fancied he could see the cards shifted in the skilful dealer's hands. 
 Gage appeared quite confident, and was preparing to deride Fairlie 
 again, when suddenly his countenance fell. 
 
 Luck had deserted him. A knave came up. He had lost 
 6000Z. 
 
 Without displaying the slightest excitement, Sir Randal stated 
 the amount to Fairlie, who jotted it down in his book, and 
 then, turning to Monthermer, the young baronet asked him if he 
 wished to go on. 
 
 " No, I have had enough of this," Gage cried. " Confound it ! 
 the cards are always against me." 
 
 " You had better have been content with your first losses, sir,*' 
 Mr. Fairlie drily remarked. 
 
 " Sir Randal ought to give you your revenge, Monthermer," 
 Beau Freke interposed. " If you are tired of basset, we will try 
 lansquenet or Spanish whist." 
 
 "■ No, no — let us play piquet," Gage rejoined. " I am luckier at 
 that game than at any other." 
 
 " I am for Pope Joan," Brice Bunbury cried. " If Mr. Fairlie 
 will lend me ten guineas, I will pay him out of my first win- 
 nings." 
 
 " Bad security, Mr. Bunbury. Shall I let him have the money, 
 sir?" the steward inquired of Gage. 
 
 " Oh ! of course," the good-natured young man returned. 
 
 And Brice became the possessor of a second purse. 
 
 ^' I'm for bankafalet, or grand trick-track," Lord Melton said. 
 '^ Sit down De Meschines." 
 
 " Ay, sit down, Sir Randal," Gage cried. '* You shan't desert 
 us. We'll play at piquet, bankafalet, or what you please." 
 
 " I'm sorry to baulk your humour, Monthermer," Sir Randal 
 replied, glancing at his watch. " But remember, I have to meet a 
 young lady. It only wants a few minutes to the appointed hour." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 65 
 
 "You may as well stay where you are," Gage rejoined, with a 
 derisive laugh. " She won't come." 
 
 " You will alter your opinion, if you choose to accompany me. 
 Though you failed, there is no reason why another should not be 
 successful." 
 
 " Especially a person of such irresistible attraction as Sir 
 Randal de Meschines," Gage rejoined, somewhat piqued. 
 
 *^ Pshaw! don't quarrel about a woman," Beau Freke inter- 
 posed. *' We are all going with you. Sir Randal." 
 
 *' To assist at my triumph," the young baronet said. 
 
 " Rather to witness your disappointment," Gage returned. 
 
 " Before you go, let me make one observation, gentlemen," Mr. 
 Fairlie said. " I have changed my opinion. I have reason to think 
 my daughter will go to the Ivy Tower." 
 
 " To be sure she will !" Sir Randal exclaimed, triumphantly, 
 '^ I told you I should win my wager." 
 
 '* You are mistaken. Sir Randal," Fairlie said. " You will not 
 win it. Her object is not to meet you." 
 
 "'Sdeath! sir — what do you mean? Has any one dared to 
 Interfere with my appointment ?" 
 
 '^ You will allow the young lady to choose for herself, I pre- 
 sume. Sir Randal," Gage remarked. " If she prefers some one 
 else to you, it cannot be helped — ha ! ha !" 
 
 " May I ask who is the favoured individual?" Beau Freke in- 
 quired. 
 
 " If I am rightly informed, and I believe my intelligence to be 
 correct, it is Mr. Arthur Paynings," Fairlie answered. 
 
 The mention of this name produced an instantaneous effect upon 
 Gage, rousing him to sudden anger. 
 
 '* Arthur Poynings !" he exclaimed. *« Does he presume to 
 come hither ? But the thing appears incredible. How should an 
 appointment have been made with him ?" 
 
 " Clare, I regret to say, has written to his sister Lucy, express- 
 ing a wish to have an interview with Arthur this evening, at the 
 very spot and hour appointed by Sir Randal. I have seen the 
 messenger who brought back an answer from Miss Poynings stating 
 that her brother would come." 
 
 p 
 
M THE SPENDTHEIET. 
 
 "If this be true, he sliall havejceason to regret .the visit/' .Gage 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Let .us go, or I. shall be late," Sir Randal ^aid. "I -must 
 not. keep a lady .waiting. This. is my affair, Monthermer." 
 
 " No, it is mine," the other rejoined. " I will yield my. right 
 of quarrel to no. man. The affront is to me, if this puppy presumes 
 to come here uninvited, and he shall render me .an .account of his 
 conduct." 
 
 " The real aflS:ont.is.to.me,.sir," Fairlie remarked ; ".and Istrust 
 you will allow me to settle the afiair in: my own way." 
 
 " By ordering him off the premises, eh? Very business-like 
 and proper, no doubt, Fairlie, but scarcely consistent with my 
 notions as a gentleman. No, no ; , I shall pursue a different course. 
 Either Arthur Poynings shall apologise for his intrusion, or we 
 cross swords. No. interference, De Meschines. .lam master here. 
 AUons, messieurs. To the Ivy Tower !" 
 
 .On this, the whole party hurried down the great staircase, and 
 snatching up their hats, canes, and swords in the hall, issued. forth 
 into the open air, pursuing their way in silence over lawns as soft 
 as velvet, in the direction of the ruins of the old Castle. 
 
THE fiPF-NnTHRTFTt 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE IVY TOWER. 
 
 The Ivy Tower, towards which 'the several personages con- 
 nected with this history appear to be tending, had been the keep 
 of the ancient Castle, standing at the south-east angle of the vast 
 pentagonal structure; but the intervening walls having long since 
 disappeared, it was now left alone. Circular in form, loftier, and 
 of greater dimensions than the other square towers flanking the 
 sides of :the Castle, it presented an exceedingly picturesque ap- 
 pearance, with its embattled and :machiolated summit, its narrow 
 sHts of windows, its hoary masonry relieved by the bright green of 
 the ivy, whose folds encircled it like :the coils of a gigantic boa- 
 constrictor, and the brushwood allowed to grow near its base. 
 Some of its chambers were in tolerable preservation, and had been 
 occasionally used for festive purposes by the late lord of the man- 
 sion; and beneath it, hewn out of the solid rock, were profound and 
 gloomy vaults, kept constantly closed, and connected with which were 
 many -dismal legends of captivity and torture in the olden time* 
 Common rumour, indeed, affirmed the tower to be haunted; and if 
 old wives' stories were to be credited, many terrible crimes had 
 been committed in its subterranean chambers; so no wonder 
 apparitions were seen there. Wiser folk, however, knew that 
 these spirits had a good deal to do with the sea-coast, and certain 
 Dutch luggers which landed kegs of brandy and hollands, or 
 other contraband articles, on dark nights. Squire Warwick 
 laughed at the ghost- stories, and gave little heed to them; but 
 Gage, when a boy, shared in the popular belief, and never could 
 be prevailed upon to visit the ruins after nightfall. Terrace- walks, 
 commanding lovely views of the park and the surrounding country, 
 
 f2 
 
68 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 had been laid down on tKe crest of the scarps on either side of the 
 ancient keep, while these steep slopes, rugged in places with project- 
 ing rocks, were mostly covered with hazels, alders, and briars. The 
 level space, planed by the builder of the castle to form an inner 
 court, had been long since converted into a garden, compassed on 
 two sides by grey and mouldering walls, with here and there a 
 tree springing from out them, and still flanked at each angle by 
 an old square ruinous tower. The principal approach to this 
 garden w^as by means of a flight of stone steps, mounting by easy 
 gradations from the lower grounds; but there were other and 
 readier, though steeper, paths for those who chose to avail them- 
 selves of them. At the foot of the eminence, on which the 
 ancient Castle was situated, the park spread out in all the beauty 
 and the pomp of lengthening avenues, sweeping glades, and vene- 
 rable and majestic groves. 
 
 It was by a side-path, cut through the brushwood and dwarf 
 timber covering the most precipitous part of the slopes, that Arthur 
 Poynings, after quitting Mark Rougham, and entering the lower 
 garden, as already described, ascended, with an agile step, to the 
 terrace- walk leading to the Ivy Tower. He looked around, but 
 no one was visible. How beautiful was the scene before him ! — 
 how soothing, how calm ! How solemn seemed the brown woods 
 below, with the grey park beyond them, the more distant objects 
 lost in obscurity and mist, but all hushed in deep repose ! How 
 reverend appeared the ruins close at hand ! Yet he involuntarily 
 turned from the contemplation of this tranquillising scene to- 
 wards the adjoining mansion, the sight of which at once changed 
 the current of his thoughts, and troubled them anew. Its win- 
 dows were brilliantly illuminated, showing that its young lord was 
 holding his customary revels within. Folly and vice there held 
 court, and unless they could be banished, the ruin of the reckless 
 youth was certain. That proud structure, with its rich domains, 
 held by his family for centuries, would pass away from him. 
 But what was he to Arthur, that Arthur should put forth his 
 hand and save him ? — A friend — no ! A rival, — ay ! Let him 
 perish. He deserved his fate. But again Lucy's gentle intercessions 
 came to mind, and the young man's better feehngs prevailed. 
 
 Just then, nine o'clock was struck by a clock in a building at 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 69 
 
 the left of the mansion, and presently afterwards two female 
 figures could be descried at the head of the steps communicating 
 with the terrace. Arthur instantly flew towards them, but as he 
 drew near he was puzzled by their appearance, and hardly knew 
 which of the two was Clare, until her well-known accents dispelled 
 his doubts. 
 
 ** You do not recognise me, I perceive," she said, with a slight 
 laugh, and removing the hood which concealed her features; " the 
 truth is, I have disguised myself in Lettice Rougham's cloak, and 
 have given her my manteau and hat to wear." 
 
 " And very well they become me, I'm sure, miss," Lettice inter- 
 posed; " and I declare you never looked better than you do in my 
 village- cloak. Joyce Wilford used to call me little Red Riding- 
 Hood, when I first put it on. You recollect Joyce, Mr. Arthur?" 
 
 '* What is the meaning of this masquerading ?" Arthur in- 
 quired, without noticing Lettice's question. 
 
 " You shall learn in a moment," Clare replied ; "but tell me! 
 — have you seen any one here ?' 
 
 " Did you expect some one besides myself?" Arthur rejoined, in 
 surprise. " Explain yourself, quickly, I beseech you, Clare." 
 
 " You are very impatient ; but indeed I must give you an ex- 
 planation, and I am glad to be able to do so without interruption. 
 In my letter to Lucy I mentioned the annoyance I have expe- 
 rienced from an impertinent coxcomb, Sir Randal de Meschines. 
 He has had the audacity to make an appointment with me here 
 this evening." 
 
 " Here ! You amaze me !" 
 
 " And at this very hour, Mr. Arthur," Lettice remarked. " Isn't 
 it odd ? We were afraid you two gentlemen might meet, and a 
 quarrel ensue, and then we should have enough to do to separate 
 you." 
 
 " How can Sir Randal have dared to make such an appointment 
 with you, Clare, — unless ?" 
 
 ** I forgive you the unjust suspicion, Arthur, because you do 
 not know Sir Randal." 
 
 '" Yes, you don't know Sir Randal at all, Mr. Arthur," Lettice 
 interposed, "or you wouldn't wonder at his assurance. Mr. 
 Trickctt is nothing to him." 
 
70 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 ^' Don't stay here, Arthur," Clare said, " or we may be observed. 
 Let us go on to the tower, Lettice will keep watch. Don't be 
 disquieted, but come along." 
 
 " You quite, perplex me, Clare," the yoting man replied, follow- 
 ing her as she tripped along, ever and anon casting a glance over 
 her shoulders. Just as they gained the screen of the dwarf trees 
 heretofore described as growing at the base of the tower, the 
 slender and graceful figure: of Sir Randal could be distinguished at 
 the head of the step».. 
 
 " Answer me, Clare," Arthur cried, not altogether satisfied — 
 " are you interested in this young man ?" 
 
 " In Sir Randal — not in the least. My desire is to effect his 
 expulsion from this house, and I trust I may never behold him 
 again." 
 
 " Then remain where you are, and let me have a few words 
 with him." 
 
 "Not unless you promise me not to proroke him, or to treat 
 what he may say with the contempt and indifference it deserves." 
 *' You now ask more of me than I can fulfil, Clare. An op- 
 portunity unexpectedly offers of getting rid of one of the most 
 dangerous of these schemers, and I must not let it slip. Let me 
 go, I pray of you." 
 
 " This is what. I dreaded. Arthur, I beseech you not to expose 
 yourself. I shall be wretched if anything happens to you." ' 
 
 "Why you have brought me here for this express purpose, 
 Clare, and now you would have me turn aside at the first show 
 of risk. What is there in this coxcomb so formidable that I should 
 fear him ? Let me confront him." 
 
 "Not yet^not yet! till I have spoken," she cried," laying her 
 hand upon his arm to detain him. 
 
 But before proceeding further, let us see how little Lettice" 
 Rougham played her part. On drawing near, Sir Randal com- 
 menced in a very impassioned strain, but could not elicit a word 
 from her in reply, for though she longed to talk, she feared to 
 betray herself. At last, however, the impulse was too strong,, and 
 she hazarded a whii^er. There-' Was little in it, but the little there, 
 was gave the young rake encouragement, and he became more, 
 ardent than ever. His feigned passion was not without effect on 
 
THE SPENDTHEIET. T£ 
 
 the poor girl's susceptible bosom, and she secretly confessed that 
 the. tenderness of his accents would melt a heart of stone. When 
 he took her hand, she did not attempt to withdraw it Her face 
 was averted from him, but she felt a great inclination to look 
 round. 
 
 " Am I to interpret your silence as favourable to my hopes?" 
 Sic. liandal. said. " Unless I have a distinct disavowal from your 
 own lips, I shall beheve you share the passion you have inspired." 
 
 " How very pretty," Lettice. thought — '^ Joyce couldn't talk so. 
 Heighal!' 
 
 " Your sighs confess it. Speak ! speak, my charmer, and make 
 me the happiest of mortals/ 
 
 "What must I say?" Lettice murmured, in very subdued tones. 
 
 " Say you love me — say you love no one else." 
 
 "But I. can't say that," Lettice rerjoined, still in a whisper, 
 " because it wouldn't be true." 
 
 " What do I hear? Surely you cannot nourish any regard for 
 that clownish Artliur Poynings?" 
 
 " Hush ! not so loud. You may be overheard." 
 
 "Overheard! Are there eavesdroppers near us? — Ah! I com- 
 prehend.. The impudent puppy is at hand — concealed near yonder 
 tower. Come with me, and you shall see how I will treat him." 
 
 " Oh ! nor— not there — don't take me there. I won't go. You 
 mustn't fight. Indeed, you mustn't," Lettice cried, vainly attempt- 
 ing to hold back, as he dragged her along. 
 
 Just then, a loud burst of laughter was heard, and several 
 persons were seen emerging from, the covert on the side of the 
 lopes.. This merry crew had evidently gained the terrace by the 
 same path, as Arthur. . 
 
 "Mercy on us!" Lettice exclaimed,- "that^ Mr. Monthermer's 
 voice. I wouldn^t for the universe.he found me here. Do let me 
 go, sir, I beg of you." 
 
 "Excuse me if I detain you a moment longer^ my angel," Sir 
 Randal repliisd, still, keeping fast hold of her. " I happen to have a 
 wager dependent upon our meeting, and Mr, Monthermer and the 
 other gentlemen must be satisfied, that you have really been con- 
 descending enough to grant me an interview." 
 
 " And what was the wager, may I ask ?" Lettice said. 
 
72 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 '^Oh! a mere trifle. But I felt so certain you would not dis- 
 appoint me, that I would have hazarded thousands upon the issue," 
 Sir Randal replied. *' I betted that you, MissFairlie, would meet 
 me here, according to my appointment — and I have won." 
 
 ^' Ha ! ha ! ha !" Lettice broke out, unable to refrain from 
 laughter. 
 
 *' You appear diverted by what I have told you," Sir Randal 
 remarked. 
 
 *' I am indeed — excessively diverted," Lettice rejoined, laughing 
 more heartily than ever. " How very droll it is, to be sure — ha! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 "I see nothing so very droll in it," Sir Randal observed; " but 
 I am glad you are amused." 
 
 *' There must be some mistake here," Gage cried, hastening to- 
 wards them. " I can never believe Clare Fairlie would conduct 
 herself with so much levity. Ah! 'tis as I suspected. You are 
 duped, Sir Randal — duped !" 
 
 '^ Duped! — impossible! — Nay, madam, I must insist upon be- 
 holding your face." 
 
 ^' Wellj if I must, it can't be helped," Lettice rejoined, taking 
 off her hat, and fully disclosing her pretty features ; '^ I never told 
 you I was Miss Fairlie, sir." 
 
 "No, but you led me to believe as much," Sir Randal rejoined. 
 " As I live, a very pretty girl. I don't know that I haven't gained 
 by the exchange. Who the deuce is she ?" 
 
 " INIiss Fairlie's lady's maid, Lettice, sir, at your service," the 
 little soubrette replied, with a curtsey. 
 
 This announcement occasioned shouts of laughter at the young 
 baronet's expense. The merriment was rather increased than dimi- 
 nished as a stalwart personage, who had drawn near the group 
 unperceived, now stepped forward, and claiming the damsel as his 
 daughter, demanded rather gruffly what she was doing there ? On 
 seeing him, Lettice looked a good deal surprised, but nowise dis- 
 concerted, and in reply to his inquiry, said rather saucily, 
 
 "What are you doing here, father?" 
 
 "You shall laarn that presently, mistress," Mark replied. 
 " Meanwhile, please to come wi' me. You ha' stayed ower long 
 i' this disorderly house." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 73 
 
 *• No such hurry, father ! I'm quite as good a judge as you 
 what's right and what's wrong. I shall please myself about accom- 
 panying you, and I've no such intention at present, I can promise 
 you." 
 
 "Egad! the lass has a rare spirit!" Sir Randal cried, ap- 
 provingly. "You perceive, my good friend, that your presence 
 is altogether unnecessary, and I would recommend your imme- 
 diate retirement." 
 
 " Not without my daughter," Mark rejoined, in a determined 
 tone. "It is from such roarin' lions as you I desire to guard 
 her. And if any one attempts to detain her after this notice, 
 let him look to hisself," he added, striking the ground with his 
 knotty buckthorn stick. 
 
 '^Your challenge is accepted, friend," Sir Randal replieu. 
 " Your daughter is a charming creature, and shall stay with me as 
 long as she thinks proper." 
 
 " Now then, Lettice, be ye comin', wench ?" Mark cried. 
 
 " A moment, father, and I will come," said the damsel, in a tone 
 calculated to appease the angry yeoman; adding in a whisper, 
 '* that is, if you hold to your mind about taking me with you. 
 What are you thinking about to go on so ? You seem to have 
 taken leave of your senses, jou silly man. Can't you trust me if 
 Miss Clare trusts me ?" 
 
 "Oh! she put ye up to this work, eh?" Mark said, rather 
 confused. 
 
 *' To be sure ! and you'll spoil all, if you don't take care. Why, 
 if there isn't Mr. Fairlie coming up to have a word with you." 
 
 "Nay, if he be here, I'd better make myself scarce, that's 
 sartin," Mark rejoined. 
 
 But it was too late. The steward was upon him before he could 
 move off. 
 
 " Good even to you, Rougham. Be pleased to let us know 
 what business has brought you here?" the steward said. 
 
 " I will explain my business to the Squire, Muster Fairlie, but 
 not to you," the yeoman rejoined. 
 
 " O, dear father, don't answer him so," Lettice whispered. 
 *' Moderate your speech." 
 
 " Tut, lass, I'm not afeard on him." 
 
74' THI? SPENDTinirPT. 
 
 "The Squire will see how his kindness^ta you: has beeii abnsed, 
 when- he finds you have come^ here with Mr. Arthur Poynings;" 
 Fairlie remarked. 
 
 " If this is true, Mark, I shall indeed be deeply offended with, 
 you," Gtige said^ 
 
 *^ Offended or not, your honour, Ixjannot deny it," Mark replied. 
 ** I did come wi' him;" 
 
 ^' He avows it, you see, sir," Fairlie cried, turning to. Gage.; 
 "he glories in his ill conduct:^' 
 
 " Tm right glad to ha' come hereto-night, if you mean that. 
 Muster Fairlie, becos it gies me an opportunity o' tellin^ his honour 
 that he hasn't a better friend, nor: one os '11 stand by him. more, 
 stoutly through thick and thin, than Muster Artliur." 
 
 '* And where may my good friend: be?" Gage demanded. " I 
 look for him in vain;" 
 
 "I dunnot doubt but he'll show hisself at the proper time," 
 Mark replied; "and when he doesj I trust your honour wunnot 
 turn' a deaf ear to him; You may be quite sure he. has your true 
 welfare at 'eart." 
 
 ^'^Oh ! I'm* quite sureof it," Gage rejoined,, ironically. " I'm 
 infinitely obliged to him fori the trouble hahas^taken on. my ac- 
 count, and shall not fail to diank him;" 
 
 " If you would like to speak to him, sir," Eettice. said, taking his 
 words literally, "you'll find him near the. tower.,, with my young 
 lady. I'm quite certain they're only talking about you, sir- — only 
 about you." 
 
 "They do me great honour, I. must say,, and I shall be sorry to 
 interrupt their pleasant discourse, be it about whom or what it may; 
 but as I wish to have a few words with Mr. Arthur Poynings, I 
 must crave your pardon for a fewmoments' absence, gentlemen." 
 
 " Will you not allow me to go with you, Monthermer?" Sir 
 Randal said. 
 
 " Or me?" Beau Freke added.. 
 
 " Neither, I thank you," Gage rejoined^ in. a tone, that did not 
 admit of dispute. 
 
 But, in spite of his- expressed, wishes; to the. contrary, Fairlie 
 made a movement to accompany him, but the young man impa- 
 tiently waved him back, and proceeded. towards the tower alone. 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 79 
 
 GOOD AimCBTHEOWlT AWAY. — GAGE PKEFEES TKlVEUUrff POST-HXSTB ALONG 
 THE EOAD. TO RUIN. - 
 
 As Gage approached tHe tower, Arthur, wHo was standing near 
 the entrance with Clare, came forward, and greeting him cour- 
 teously; put forth his hand; but Gage refused to take it, and 
 haughtily returning the other's salutation, drew himself up, and 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt this tete-a-tete, but having accidentally 
 heard that Mr: Arthur Poynings was here, I wished to satisfy 
 mjrself of the correctness of the information. I scarcely believed 
 it, for I did not think it possible that a gentleman would voluntarily 
 intrude himself upon the privacy of another, when no intimacy 
 subsisted between them to warrant the liberty. I have not for- 
 gotten the answer I received from Sir Hugh Po3mings when I did 
 myself the honour to invite him and his family to visit me on 
 my return Home; and after the insulting message then sent, and 
 which nothing but Sir Hugh's age caused me to overlook, I little 
 expected that the first time I should see his son would be in the 
 character of "a nocturnal intruder upon- my domains'."' 
 
 "I excuse your rudeness. Gage," Arthur replied, "and I trust 
 you will permit me to explain the motive for my apparent in- 
 trusion." 
 
 "If an apology ik necessary, it is due from me," Clare interposed, 
 
 ^ "since it was by my invitation that Arthur came hither." 
 
 ^ " Enough," Gage rejoined, bowing stiffly. *' You exercise full 
 
 control here, Miss Fairlic; and consequently, your friend is quite 
 
 welcome to remain as long as his company may be agreeable to 
 
 you. I have only to express my regrets at disturbing you, but 
 
 kyou may rely upon it you shall experience no further annoyance." 
 
76 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 "Stay, Gage," Clare cried; *'you must not go till you have 
 heard what we have to say. You are under an entire misappre- 
 hension as to the object of this meeting between Arthur and 
 myself. No change whatever has taken place in my sentiments 
 towards him ; but, as an honourable gentleman and a true friend, 
 he consented, at my instance, to come here for the purpose of aiding 
 me with his counsel." 
 
 " Had I not heard this from her own lips, I should not have 
 thought it possible Miss Fairlie could need advice," Gage rejoined, 
 sarcastically; "but as she affirms it^ doubtless it is so; and if a 
 counsellor must be chosen, none could be better qualified by age 
 and experience for the office than Mr. Arthur Poynings." 
 
 "None could be better qualified than he by old friendship for 
 the person I desire to serve," Clare said. " He has known him 
 and loved him from infancy — loves him still, though their friend- 
 ship has been overclouded. Arthur and he were brought up toge- 
 ther, Gage, and were once like brothers — nay, I have heard that, 
 in years gone by — happy, innocent years — they sported together, 
 in gamesome childhood, on these very terraces, and chased each 
 other amongst yonder ruins. It may be you remember such days, 
 Gage. If you have forgotten them, Arthur has not. He sees the 
 boy he loved become a man — unhappily estranged from him, but 
 not less dear. He sees him surrounded by false friends — by masked 
 enemies, by sharpers, parasites — all such creatures as make rich 
 men, who submit to their practices, their prey. He sees his friend 
 in danger, and heedless of their present coldness, thinking only of 
 the past, fl.ies, at the first summons, to his assistance." 
 
 "This is true. Gage," Arthur said. "Every word Clare has 
 uttered reflects a sentiment of mine. You are the friend I have 
 come to serve." 
 
 " Upon my word, I ought to feel greatly obliged by the 
 exhibition of so much zeal — so totally unmerited on my part," 
 Gage rejoined; "but my satisfaction is somewhat tempered by the 
 reflection that no such officious interference was necessary in my 
 behalf; and I am therefore inclined to think it unwarrantable. I 
 am not in the habit of meddling with other people's concerns, and 
 I therefore conceive myself entitled to the privilege of being let 
 alone." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 77 
 
 " You view the matter in a wrong light, Gage," Clare said, 
 " and do not give Arthur and myself credit for the motives that 
 actuate us. Having spoken for him, let me speak now for myself". 
 You have never had reason to doubt my sincerity, and on this 
 occasion, more than any other, ought not to question it. My 
 desire to serve you makes me bold — and has induced me to 
 transgress certain limits of decorum which I ought not to have 
 passed. Otherwise this meeting between Arthur and myself would 
 not have taken place. But it was appointed by me to devise some 
 scheme for your deliverance !" 
 
 " My deliverance !" Gage exclaimed, with a bitter laugh. *' One 
 would think I was a wild beast caught in the hunter's toils. On 
 my soul, I was not aware I was so entrapped." 
 
 '* It is the very unconsciousness that increases the danger by 
 which you are menaced," Clare rejoined. " If your eyes can be 
 opened to it, there will be nothing to apprehend. By all the affec- 
 tion you have professed for me — by any feelings you may still 
 entertain for me — I beseech you to pause in your headlong career, 
 which, if pursued, can only lead to destruction. Be worthy of 
 him from whom you sprung, and of your ancient race, and do not 
 be the first Monthermer to dishonour the name." 
 
 A pause ensued, during which it was evident the young man 
 was struggling with his feelings. At last, he broke out with fresli 
 impatience: " I will not be tutored thus by man or woman. I will 
 not give up my friends at the bidding of any one. You have 
 an answer, Clare. As to Mr. Arthur Poynings, I have nothing 
 more to say to him." 
 
 " O, Gage, I had hoped better of you," Clare cried, reproach- 
 fully. " Reflect! this may be the turning-point of your career." 
 
 ** Listen to your good angel," Arthur said. 
 
 " I will listen to no one, so enjoined," Gage retorted. " If I am 
 a degenerate Monthermer, at least no one shall command me here." 
 
 " Gage ! Gage ! for the last time I implore you to listen to me," 
 Clare cried. 
 
 '* Change the subject of your discourse, and I will listen to you 
 with pleasure; but you keep too much upon one theme to be 
 altogether agreeable." 
 
 " Clare, I can be of no further use to you," Arthur cried. " This 
 
78 THEBPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 besotted young'mBn does notd^serve the interest" you take in Mm. 
 If there 'had been any good in him, lit must have been roused by 
 your zealous kindness. Leave himto his ifoithless associates, and 
 to 'the ruin and disgrace * they will infeUibly bring upon him." 
 
 ■''You talk of concealed enemies, ^sir,"' Gage said; "lam glad 
 you yourself have at last thrown off the mask, and displayed your 
 features ' in their ' true light. I like 'you better as a foe than friend, 
 and though I leave you now, it ivill not be Jjong, J 'hope, tjere 
 another meeting shall be arranged between us." 
 
 " When and where you please, sir," Arthur rejoined. 
 
 'The tone of defiance in which these words were spoken could 
 not be misunderstood; and Clare saw that a duel between the two 
 young men was imminent. She almost despaired of preventing 
 it, but an effort must be made. 
 
 '^Arthur, for my sake, do not let this quarrel proceed," she 
 cried. "Gage, I entreat of you to be reconciled to your old friend. 
 If I fail in all else, let me accomplish thus much." 
 
 " My friends await me, madam," Monthermer rejoined, coldly. 
 " I have already trespassed too much upon their patience." 
 
 "Do not detain him longer, I beg of you, Clare," Arthur said. 
 " It were a pity not to give his ' friends' the opportunity they 
 desire of fleecing him. On my faith, I never saw so willing a 
 victim." 
 
 "Then spare him," Clare cried — ^*' spare him these bitter taunts, 
 which wound me more than they do him." 
 
 '"'Harkye, Mr. Arthur Poynings," Gage said ; " you talk fiercely 
 and freely enough in the presence of a lady. Will it please you to 
 accompany me, and repeat some of the choice epithets you have 
 so liberally bestowed upon^my friends in their hearing?" 
 
 '^ Willingly," the young man replied. 
 
 " You shall not stir, Arthur," Clare cried. 
 
 '^^^He'need not givehimself the trouble," Gage said, "for iheie 
 they come. They are tired of waiting for me, I suppose. — Just in 
 time, gentlemen," he added, as the others drew near. 
 
 ^' Just in time for what?" Sir iRandal demanded, who was; a little 
 in advance ' of his companions. 
 
 " To hear your praises sung by this young gentleman," Gage 
 replied. 
 
 i 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. '4S9 
 
 " I will endeavour not to disappoint your expectations, gentle- 
 men," Arthur said ; *' but before any further remarks are made, 
 I must request Mr. Fairlie, whom 1 see amongst you, to take 
 charge of his daughter, and remove her from a scene which must 
 be distressing to her." 
 
 " O, Arthur, forgive me for bringing you into this great peril," 
 Clare tremblingly murmured. 
 
 " Have no fears for me," the young man rejoined. ^' Take her 
 hence, and quickly, sir," he said, consigning her to Fairlie, who 
 led her away. 
 
 On seeing her mistress depart in this way, Lettice instantly 
 quitted her father, and followed Clare towards the house. If 
 truth must be told, Mark was by no means sorry to be rid of her, 
 as, in spite of his. anger and frowns, she had been coquetting with 
 some of the gentlemen near her, and her absence enabled the 
 honest yeoman to .take up a ipost beside Arthur. 
 
80 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XI, 
 
 IN "WHICH SIR RANDAL PROVES HIMSELF AS EXPERT AT SWORD-PLAY AS AT 
 
 CARDS. 
 
 All altercations were suspended till Clare was out of hearing. 
 When this was understood to be the case, Sir Randal remarked 
 to Arthur, who was standing at a little distance from them, con- 
 versing in a low tone with Mark Rougham : 
 
 "Now, sir, you promised to treat us to something amusing. 
 We await it with impatience." 
 
 " I shall come to the point at once," Arthur rejoined. " I de- 
 nounce you all as a pack of gamblers and sharpers. Mr. Mon- 
 thermer best knows what his losses have been ; but he does not 
 know that he has been unfairly dealt with — plundered, in fact, 
 by a set of rooks." 
 
 Great was the tumult that ensued on this address. Oaths and 
 denunciations of vengeance against the speaker exploded on all 
 sides. Canes were flourished, and many a blow must have fallen 
 upon him if he had not been shielded by the stout arm and buck- 
 thorn stick of Mark Rougham, who kept the assailants at bay.* 
 Arthur, however, did not flinch for a moment, but manfully kept 
 his ground, till Gage took upon him to quell the disturbance. 
 
 " One at a time, gentlemen, if you mean to attack him, or I 
 shall be compelled to take his part," he cried ; " he must have 
 fair play." 
 
 " You do not believe this foul-mouthed slanderer's assertions, 
 Gage ?" Sir Randal exclaimed. " For my own part, I hurl them 
 back in his teeth — and give him the lie direct." 
 
 " And so do I," Beau Freke added. "If he has courage 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 81 
 
 enough to stand by his word, he will have enough to do before 
 morning. This affair must not cool on our hands." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, gentlemen," Arthur rejoined. " I am 
 ready for one or all of you." 
 
 " Ay, let 'em come on," Mark roared, making his stick whistle 
 round his head; " we'll show 'em sport, I'll warrant 'em. They're 
 three to one ; but three such puny creaters as them ben't equal 
 to one man, so the odds be in our favour — and besides that, we've 
 right o' our side. Take that, you dotterel," he added, striking 
 Brice's sword out of his grasp, and dealing him a rap on the 
 sconce which made him reel backwards, " and see how you like 
 the taste of a stout Suffolk cudgel." 
 
 "If I have any authority here," Gage cried, "I command an 
 instant cessation of hostilities on both sides. My words ought at 
 least to have weight with you, Mark, and I order you to be quiet. 
 You have broken poor Mr. Bunbury's head." 
 
 ^' Nay, your honour," the yeoman replied, with a laugh, " I 
 think it be too thick to be so easily broken ; and if he loses a little 
 blood, it'll save the expense of calling in a barber-surgeon." 
 
 ^' A truce to your ill-timed jests. Mr. Arthur Poynings, you 
 have brought most serious charges against my friends." 
 
 " Do you still style them ' friends' after what I have stated?" 
 Arthur rejoined. 
 
 *' You have heard me, and will therefore understand the im- 
 portance I attach to your slander." 
 
 " I am indeed amazed," Arthur said. *' I could not have be- 
 lieved in such blind infatuation without this proof of it." 
 
 *' It be enough to make his father rise from the grave," Mark 
 groaned. " I be out o' a' patience wi' him." 
 
 '^ You are a noble fellow, Monthermer," Beau Freke said, press- 
 ing his hand, while the others were equally warm in their expres- 
 sions of regard, *' and only do us justice. Our characters as gen- 
 tlemen, methinks, should have saved us from such imputations as 
 have been thrown out against us by this meddlesome and crazy 
 fellow — for crazy he must be to act in such a way. Nevertheless, 
 his folly and insolence must be punished." 
 
 " It must and shall be," Sir Randal cried. " I claim the right to 
 chastise him. His malice seemed chicflv directed asrainst me." 
 
HZ THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 ''You do isrell to appropriate tke sting of my remarks, sir,'' 
 Arthur remarked. " If I made any distinction among you, it 
 was that you, Sir Randal, had attained greater proficiency in your 
 nefarious practices than your companions, and are therefore entitled 
 to rank as leader." 
 
 " Look to yourself, sir," Sir Randal cried, foaming with rage. 
 and drawing his sword. " Stand aside, fellow." 
 
 " Not a step nearer, sir, as you value a whole skin," Mark said; 
 *' you saw how neatly I sarved your friend just now, and I can 
 disable you, as you'll find, before you can touch me ; so stand back, 
 or I be down upon you like a hammer." 
 
 " Sir Randal, you must give place to me in this afiair," Gage 
 said; "your turn may come by-and-by. I demand an apology 
 from Mr. Arthur Poynings for his intrusion, and a retractation 
 of the calumnies he has uttered against my friends." 
 
 " You shall have neither one nor the other, sir," Arthur re- 
 joined. "I came here to serve you; and as to what I have said of 
 your friends, so far from withdrawing the charges, I reiterate them 
 with greater force than before." 
 
 " Well done !" Mark exclaimed — " that be plain speakin', at all 
 events." 
 
 "1^0 more ivords need be wasted," Grage cried. " Our present 
 appeal must be made to our swords." 
 
 " To it, then," Sir Randal cried; " I am impatient to be at bim. 
 I would give a hundred pounds for your chance." 
 
 *' You should not have it for two hundred," Gage replied, with 
 a laugh. " But we must proceed like men of honour. Lord Mel- 
 ton, will you do me the favour to act as second to Mr. Arthur 
 Poynings?" 
 
 *' WilKngly," his lordship replied, "on the understanding that 
 if no one else manages to slit his weasand, I may have that plea- 
 sure myself." 
 
 Upon this he moved round to Arthur, and bowing to the young 
 man, who ceremoniously returned the salutation, profiered his 
 services as second, which were of course accepted. With some 
 difficulty, Mark Rougham was induced to stand aside, and as he 
 quitted his post he said to Gage, — " He wished Iiis honour and 
 Master Ai-thur could shake hands, and agree, and leave him to 
 fight it out wi' the rest of 'em." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. Ji3 
 
 In a few moments more the combatants had made the requi- 
 site preparations, and having taken up a position, made their 
 appeals, saluted each other, and stood on guard. The crescent 
 moon j-ode high in the cloudless sky, affording light enough for 
 their purpose. Gage was a very skilful swordsman, but being 
 heated with the wine he had drunk, he did not observe proper mea- 
 sure and distance, and therefore more than once exposed himself, if 
 Arthur had desired to take advantage of his indiscretion. But it 
 was obviously the young man's wish to disarm him, and he con- 
 tented himself for some time with parrying all Gage's feints and 
 thrusts without making a. reply. At length, he succeeded in his 
 design; and battering Gage's point as the latter recovered with a 
 stretched guard, flung down his sword. 
 
 "J own myself defeated," Monthermer cried. "You are a 
 gallant enemy, Arthur, and I wish the quarrel might terminate 
 hflie." 
 
 *' Impossible !" Sir Randal exclaimed, '* unless Mr. Poynings 
 will admit he has spoken falsely and calumniously of us." 
 
 "That I will never do," Arthur rejoined; " and I .am as imxious 
 as yourself. Sir Eandal, that the afiair should prooeed." 
 
 *'.Be it so," the young baronet said. 
 
 The same forms were gone through as in the first encounter ; 
 but, before saluting. Sir Randal measured with his eye his adver- 
 sary's height and the length of his sword, and took up a distance 
 accordingly. When the conflict began, he tried Arthur witli 
 appeals, beatings, disengages, and extensions, in order to judge 
 of the thrusts he might deliver; but his designs were bafilcd by the 
 dexterity with which all his feints were parried. Never for a 
 moment did Arthur quit his adversary's blade — never for & 
 moment did his prudence or firmness desert him — -nor did he sufier 
 a glance or a movement to betray his own designs. The com- 
 batants were so well matched, and both so wary, that it seemed 
 impossible to foresee the issue of the strife. Cunning at length 
 decided it. Sir Randal laid a snare for his opponent, pressing 
 upon his blade, and turning his hand, as if about to parry 
 the half circle, while Arthur sought to seize his blade inside. 
 He then suddenly disengaged, and lounged over the arm. The 
 
 g2 
 
84 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 point of his weapon entered Arthur's breast, glancing along his 
 side, and the latter, feeling himself wounded and unable to con- 
 tinue the conflict, lowered the point of his sword. 
 
 " You are hurt, Arthur," Gage cried, rushing up, and catching 
 him ere he fell. 
 
 " Not much," the young man replied, in a faint voice, and try- 
 ing to stanch the blood which was flowing from his side. " Give 
 me your arm, Mark Rougham ; I can manage to reach your farm- 
 house." 
 
 *' You mustn't think of it, Arthur," Gage replied. " You shall 
 be conveyed to the Castle, where instant assistance shall be pro- 
 cured, and every care taken of you. Lean on me." 
 
 " No arm but Mark's shall support me," the young man cried, 
 '' and I will not be removed to your polluted dwelling. I would 
 rather die on the road." 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered, when a mortal faintness seized 
 him, and he sank to the ground insensible. 
 
 " Bear him to the Castle," Gage cried. 
 
 *' Not so, your honour," Mark rejoined. " I am bound to see 
 his wishes fulfilled, and he shall not be taken there." 
 
 "Then do what you will with him, you obstinate fool," 
 Monthermer rejoined. " Stay," he added; " I cannot suffer him 
 to perish thus. Take him into the tower, and attend to him there 
 till assistance is procured, and some means of transporting him to 
 Reedham can be obtained." 
 
 To this compromise Mark saw no objection, and accordingly, 
 with the help of Pudsey and Bellairs, who by this time had 
 approached the scene of action, the wounded young man, still in 
 the same inanimate condition, was borne to the interior of the 
 tower and carefully laid upon an old couch, which, with a few oak 
 chairs, formed the sole furniture of the chamber. 
 
 This done, Gage and his friends returned to the Castle. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 85 
 
 XII. 
 
 NEWMAEKET. 
 
 A PEW days after the occurrences last narrated, the party 
 assembled at Monthermer Castle broke up; and Beau Freke and 
 Sir Randal, perfectly satisfied with the result of their expedition 
 into Suffolk, returned to their customary haunts in Saint James's, 
 — richer by some thousands than when they left town a fortnight 
 before. Though they had plucked the pigeon pretty handsomely, 
 they had not done with him. Gage was to join them in London 
 very shortly, when they counted on fleecing him far more ex- 
 tensively. Meanwhile, they committed him to the tutelage of 
 Lord Melton, under whose auspices he was to make his entrance on 
 the turf. 
 
 We have already said that the honourable personages, whom 
 we have described as combining together for the purpose of plun- 
 dering our thoughtless young hero, made it a rule not to interfere 
 with each other's projects; not from friendship, but from a whole- 
 some dread of retaliation and exposure. Thus the two principal 
 schemers were forced to relinquish their prey for awhile, because 
 it was a comrade's turn to deal with him; and the noble blackleg 
 was allowed to carry off his prize to Newmarket without hin- 
 drance ; while the rest — with the exception of Brice Bunbury — 
 quitted the scene of action. 
 
 The arrangement met with no opposition from Mr. Fairlie, and 
 for an especial good reason — all Lord Melton's secret gains, it was 
 understood were to be shared with him. 
 
 No beneficial effect was produced upon Gage by Arthur Poyn- 
 
86 THE SPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 ing's futile attempt to serve him. The infatuated young man felt 
 incensed rather than obliged. While admitting that Arthur had 
 displayed great courage, and somewhat reproaching himself for his 
 conduct towards one who professed so much zeal for him, and for 
 whom he himself had formerly entertained strong sentiments of 
 regard, he still could not forgive the liberty taken with him. 
 Neither did he attach the slightest credit to Arthur's statements. 
 We must, however, do him the justice to say that his mind was 
 much relieved when he learnt from the surgeon, who was hastily 
 summoned to attend the young man, that the sufferer's wound, 
 though severe, was not dangerous, and that in all probability he 
 would be perfectly recovered within a month. 
 
 As to Arthur, during the whole of the night succeeding his 
 duel with Sir Randal, he remained within the chamber of the Ivy 
 Tower; and after his hurt had been dressed, a further balm to his 
 anguish was afforded by the soothing attentions of Clare, whose 
 solicitude led her to viat him. In company with Mark Eougham 
 and Lettice, she continued to watch by him till morning. She, 
 knew that her conduct might be misconstrued, but her feelings 
 of humanity overcame all scruples. Besides, she. could not 
 conceal from herself that she had been tke cause of Arthur's disaster. 
 Ought she not, therefore, to tend him like a sister? Ought she 
 not to make any sacrifice for one who had jeopardised his life for 
 her sake? 
 
 The next morning a litter was provided, and the wounded man. 
 was safisly transported to Eeedam, where we. must, leave him &r 
 the present. 
 
 Nowise discouraged by what had takea place, and ever confident 
 in his own powers of pleasing, Sir Randal persisted to the last in 
 pressing his attentions upon Glare, and after, many unsuccessful, 
 attempts to obtain another interview with her, succeeded upon one 
 occasion in momentarily barring her way as she traversed a corridor. 
 But she repelled him with so much loftiness and scorn that even he 
 felt abashed, and was forced to retire, amid the derisive laughter of 
 those who witnessed the scene. 
 
 Gage saw nothing more of her; and left the Castle without even 
 bidding her adieu. His good angel had deserted him — ^just at a 
 time when her presence was most needed. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 87 
 
 A new temptation awaited him: the same which assailed Saint 
 Anthony, and which that devout personage himself had scarcely 
 power to resist. 
 
 Owner of four, race-horses, for each of which he had given a Icmg 
 price, master- of two jockeys, reputed the cleverest of their classy 
 and attended by a whole retinue of servants, our young hero arrived 
 at Newmarket, eager to play a new part on the stage of life. He 
 was accompanied by Lord Melton and Brice Bunbury, the latter 
 of whom stuck to him like a leech. GsLge'a dSut on the turf was 
 r.s brilliant as could be desired. It was the policy of the sporting 
 peer to lureJiis dupe on by slight successes, till he was too far "in" 
 to retreat. Grage liked the excitement of racing, and the reckless 
 society he met amused him. He thought the members of the 
 Jockey Glub, who gladly admitted him amongst them, amazingly 
 fine fellows. They drank hard; betted deeply; and swore lustily, 
 whether they lost or won ; and Grage followed the fashion, drinking, 
 betting, and swearing like the rest.. 
 
 In those days the habitual frequenters of horse-races were pretty 
 raucli what they are at present — ^unprincipled, and unscrupulous, 
 enough; but generally, much more roguery was practised then 
 than now. The jockeys were notoriously to be bought, and the 
 trainers up to all sorts of tricks. Indeed, unless report belies them, 
 these gentry are not yet entirely free from suspicion. But let'. 
 this pass. Our business is with a time when the regulations 
 of the turf was not so strict as at present, and. though no doubt 
 even then there were honourable exceptions, the majority of 
 sporting men were sharpers and cheats. By this pack of scoundrels 
 the appearance of Gage was hg,iled like a wealthy galleonby pirates, 
 on the Spanish Main. All were anxious to board him, and ease 
 him of his treasure. But they were kept off for a time by 
 Lord Melton, who had no idea of parting with even a modicum of 
 his booty. 
 |h It was the first Spring Meeting, and Newmarket was exceed- 
 ^ io-gly full — for though there were then no express trains, and 
 scarcely any stage-coaches, people over whom the sporting mania 
 was strong, rode almost incredible distances to witness a race. The 
 ^.. two coffee-rooms in the town, where betters resorted, were daily 
 Hl crowded, and, a tumultuous throng on horseback gathered outside 
 
 I 
 
88 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 the doors and open windows, vociferating to each other, or oflfering 
 odds, in stentorian tones, to those inside. 
 
 Whenever Gage showed himself in these places he was eagerly 
 beset by a swarm of these locusts, and tempted by all sorts of offers, 
 but as Lord Melton kept constantly at his elbow, he managed to 
 brush them off. The bgtting crew, as may be supposed, were indig- 
 nant at such treatment, but they did not dare to resent it — hoping 
 to make their game at some more favourable opportunity, when 
 Lord Melton should have other fish to fry, and be less vigilant. 
 
 Everybody is aware there is no race-course like Newmarket, no 
 turf so fine, or so favourable to all purposes of horsemanship, whe- 
 ther as regards the steed and his rider, or the spectators of the 
 contest. It is a jockey's own fault, if he is fairly mounted, and doe? 
 not ride well upon that wonderful heath, while the looker-on can 
 scarcely place himself in such a position as not to command what is 
 going on. Racing is racing at Newmarket. It is the business 
 of the place. The people who flock thither are all sporting 
 characters. Young or old, they belong to the same class. You 
 almost trace a resemblance in feature amongst them — certainly a 
 similarity of manner and deportment, while a particular expression 
 of countenance is common to all. The freshman from Cambridge 
 the greenhorn from Bury St. Edmund's, the smart young buck 
 from Ely, on his bit of blood, all look alike. So it was at the 
 time of which we write — so it is now. Epsom and Ascot, with 
 their vast assemblages, have a hundred different attractions, and to 
 half the concourse even the Derby or the Cup may be a secondary 
 consideration. But at Newmarket the race is the thing people 
 come to see — and nothing else. 
 
 Hurrah then for Newmarket, and its incomparable course. 
 
 On a fresh spring morning, full of confidence and spirit, and 
 rejoicing in the prospect of a capital day's sport, Gage rode forth 
 from the town. He was splendidly mounted, and cut a gallant 
 figure in his feathered hat and light green riding-dress laced with 
 silver. His handsome features looked unusually animated. This 
 was his third day at Newmarket, and he had already won a plate, 
 a sweepstakes, and a cup — so he had not done amiss, and might 
 well look satisfied. Hundreds of horsemen, on all sorts of animals, 
 from the stout roadster to the thorough-bred hunter, from the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 89 
 
 rough heavy cart-horse to the sturdy punch, were moving in the 
 same direction as himself. Almost all of them were talking loudly, 
 and Gage could hear his own name coupled with that of his horse, 
 Comus, frequently mentioned in terms that seemed to imply he was 
 likely to be a winner. 
 
 To explain this, we must mention that Gage had matched Comus 
 against Captain Dashwood's Lightfoot, for a thousand pounds, and 
 the race was about to come oiF on that day. The match had been 
 made at Lord Melton's suggestion, so of course Gage felt quite 
 safe, and, consequently, had backed his own horse to a large amount. 
 Lord Melton backed him too — at least he so affirmed, and displayed 
 his book in proof of the assertion. Comus was to be ridden by 
 that trump of a jockey Nat Sharp — and Nat had assured his 
 master with an oath that he would win the race for him, wishing 
 " he might break his neck if he didn't do it." 
 
 Gage was accompanied by Lord Melton and the everlasting 
 Brice, and a few minutes placed the trio upon the heath, which 
 spread out before them in every direction for miles. 
 
 The young man, we have said, was in unwonted spirits, laughing 
 and jesting with Brice, who, exhilarated like his patron by the scene, 
 and the fresh air, was equally gleeful — but Lord Melton, who smiled 
 rarely, maintained his customary character for taciturnity. His 
 lordship's hard dry features had little mobility about them — and 
 nothing showed what was passing within but an occasional glance 
 from his keen, quick, grey eye. 
 
 Just as Gage was about to indulge his impatient steed with a 
 gallop across the heath, he was checked by a light gay laugh 
 behind him, and turning at the sound was greeted by the sight of 
 the most lovely creature he had ever beheld. 
 
 Turn away, young man, and gaze not upon her, for this is the 
 temptress you ought to shun. See ! she spreads her wiles for you, 
 and you will not heed the warning, but are already ensnared by 
 her devices. 
 
 The temptress appeared in the guise of a young and exquisitely- 
 beautiful woman, with eyes of tenderest summer blue, fair hair, 
 a complexion of transparent clearness slightly tinged with deli- 
 cate bloom, ripe lips, and teeth of dazzling whiteness. A cer- 
 tain voluptuous character pervaded her countenance, and as she 
 
•0 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 cast a soff • enticing glance at Gage, he felt it penetrate to Lis 
 heart*s core: 
 
 She was richly and becomingly attired^ and wHat could be 
 seen of her figure left little doubt that it corresponded with the 
 extreme beauty of her countenance. She was seated in an open 
 carriage, and was accompanied by an elderly woman in a dark 
 dress, who looked not unlike a duenna, as represented in Spanish 
 comedy. 
 
 Close beside the carriage, and engaged in animated discourse 
 with this bewitching syren, rode a handsome young man in 
 a military dress. It was Gage's adversary in the coming race. 
 The sight of Captain Dash wood, who nodded to him as he passed, 
 at orrce apprised our hero that the lady could be no other than a 
 beautiful actress, by whose matchless charms the gallant gentleman 
 was known to be enthralled. 
 
 " It must be Peg Jenyns !" Gage exclaimed, as soon as the bright 
 vision was gone. "No other woman could be so beautiful! What 
 a happy fellow Dashwood must be." 
 
 ^' He has bonght his happiness pretty dearly, as we all of us 
 must, where pretty actresses are concerned," Brice Bunbury replied. 
 " Peg has got leave of absence from Goodman's Fields, and arrived 
 last night at^ Newmarket — ^just in time to see Dashwood lose his 
 match." 
 
 "Or win it," Gage observed, with a laugh. 
 
 " Little chance of that," Lord Melton observed, drily. 
 
 ^^The thousand won't be Dashwood's only loss," Brice went on. 
 "Feg^ Jenyns is a great gambler, and is sure to back Lightfoot, 
 and the simpleton of course must find money for her bets." 
 
 *' I should like to have a bet with her," Gage cried, eagerly. 
 
 " Nothing more easy," Brice rejoined. '* She'll be delighted' to 
 make your acquaintance, I'm sure. She's an old friend of mine. 
 I knew her when she acted at Tom Gibber's Booth at Bartho- 
 lomew Fair and Southwark, and before her beauty set the town 
 on fire, and drove poor Dashwood and twenty others wild. On 
 second thoughts, I had better not introduce you to such a dangerous 
 syren." 
 
 *' Poh ! nonsense. Let us ride after the carriage. I must have 
 a little talk with her before the race begins." 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. 9l 
 
 xin. 
 
 THE RACE. 
 
 A FAVOURABLE opportunity for Gage's introduction to the 
 beautiful actress soon occurred. Her carriage almost immediately 
 came to a halt, and approaching it, Brice Bunbury begged per- 
 mission of its fair occupant to make known to her his friend, Mr. 
 Monthermer. A gracious assent being accorded, our hero was 
 presented in due form. Captain Dash wood did not look so well 
 pleased as the lady, but just at this juncture receiving a sign from 
 Lord Melton, who had followed hard upon the others, he was 
 obliged to ride off with his' noble friend towards the enclosure where 
 the grooms were exercising the horses. A proficient in the art of 
 love making, our hero exerted all his skill on this occasion. He 
 did not attempt to conceal his admiration, but his eyes spoke far 
 more eloquently than his lips. Mrs. Jenyns must have been 
 inexperienced indeed, if she could not read his feelings in his 
 glances. Poor Dashwood could not help casting a wistful look 
 now and then in the direction- of the carriage, and was evidently 
 ill at ease. 
 
 Finding her new admirer showed na disposition to quit his 
 post, Mrs. Jenyns, though by no means anxious to dismiss him, 
 at length archly inquired j " If he did not mean to see his jockey 
 mount?" 
 
 ^No," Gage replied; "I leave all to Melton. I would rather 
 spend five minutes with you than win the race." 
 
 " Vastly polite indeed. I appreciate the compliment. But no 
 doubt you feel certain of success." 
 
92 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 "Tolerably so. I'm in rather better luck than usual just now. 
 Ten minutes ago, when I came upon the course, my mind was 
 entirely fixed on the issue of the match. Now I am wholly indif- 
 ferent to it." 
 
 *' Well, if you are indifferent, I am not; and I should like to have 
 a stronger interest in it than I feel at present." 
 
 " Shall we have a bet?" 
 
 "With all my heart. You back your own horse of course. 
 What odds will you give me?" 
 
 " Nay, it must be an even bet, for the horses are well matched. 
 A hundred to a hundred, if you please." 
 
 *' Pshaw ! — a mere bagatelle. Such a trifle would afford me no 
 excitement." 
 
 " Make it any sum you please," Gage rejoined, laughing. " I 
 won't refuse your challenge; and to say truth," he added, in a 
 lower and tenderer tone, " I would rather lose than win." 
 
 "I don't believe you," she replied smiling. " The match is for 
 a thousand. Our bet must be for the same amount." 
 
 « Agreed." 
 
 " I'll enter the bet in my book," Brice said. " Hark! the bell 
 rings. By Jove ! the horses are saddled — the jockeys are about 
 to mount. Come along, Monthermer. Lord Melton is beckoning 
 to you." 
 
 *' Well, go and see what he wants," Gage replied — *' I'm too 
 agreeably occupied just now to attend to him." 
 
 " Any message to Nat ?" Brice asked, preparing to start. 
 
 " Tell him to win. I've now another thousand dependent upon 
 the race." 
 
 "No, tell him to lose, Mr. Bunbury. Say Peg Jenyns has 
 betted against him — that will be enough." 
 
 "I'll deliver your message, madam," Brice replied, laughing, 
 and galloping off. 
 
 '* I almost wish Nat may take your hint," Gage said. " Were 
 I in his place, I certainly should." 
 
 To this gallant remark the lady made no reply; but her 
 heightened colour showed it was not lost upon her. 
 
 By this time the two jockeys had come out of the enclosure, and 
 were cantering their horses along the course preparatory to the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 93 
 
 Start. Nat wore a green jacket and white cap, while blue was 
 the colour of Lightfoot's rider. As the two horses went past 
 them, their glossy coats glistening in the sunshine, Comus dis- 
 played so many good points, and looked altogether so well, that 
 Mrs. Jenyns could not help remarking — " Upon my word, Mr. 
 Monthermer, your horse is magnificent. I begin to quake for my 
 money.** 
 
 Gage laughed, and a glance which he caught at the same mo- 
 ment from Nat's keen eye, made him think her apprehensions 
 were not altogether unfounded. The horses now turned, and pre- 
 pared to start. All was anxious expectation amidst the crowd 
 near the ropes, and amongst the persons in the various equipages 
 around. 
 
 In another moment the horses were off 
 
 Off ! and at a good pace, Comus leading, with Lightfoot close 
 behind. Great was the hubbub ; loud the clamour of the betters. 
 Mrs. Jenyns was highly excited. Her cheek was flushed; her 
 eyes were dilated like those of the thorough-bred steeds engaged 
 in the contest. . In her eagerness to obtain a good view, she sprang 
 upon the seat of the carriage, and Gage had now an opportunity 
 of noticing the admirable symmetry of her figure. He gave her 
 his hand to support her in the somewhat dangerous position she 
 had assumed — and her ardent pulsations quivered through his 
 frame. 
 
 No advantage had as yet been gained by either horse. The 
 speed increased, but they were still close together — close — close. 
 
 The crowd shouted, trying to stimulate the jockeys, who, 
 obedient to the calls, flogged and spurred. They were now near 
 at hand, and in another instant flew past the carriage as on the 
 wings of the wind — so swiftly that the beholders could scarcely 
 distinguish their colours. 
 
 But Mrs. Jenyns perceiving that Lightfoot did not gain upon 
 his adversary, and could not repress her agitation. She trembled, 
 and turned pale. Even to please her Gage could not now arrest 
 Nat's headlong course. 
 
 The horses dashed on. Another moment would decide it. 
 They were within a bow-shot of the winning-post — and tremen- 
 dous shouts arose. '* Comus wins ! — Comus ! — Comus !" .Thinking 
 
:iH THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 all lost, Mrs. Jenyns uttered an exclamation of despair, and dropped 
 tlie broidered kerchief slie had been waving to Lightfoot. She 
 almost sank back into Gage's arms. 
 
 A new cry suddenly aroused her— and she was all spirit and 
 vivacity again. It was now " Lightfoot wins — Lightfoot ! — Light- 
 foot !" And this continued till the struggle was decided. 
 
 Dashwood was proclaimed the victor, — his horse having gained 
 the race by a neck. Could Nat have held back, and have given 
 his opponent the chance ? All the losers thought so, arid hooted 
 and upbraided him, while the backers of Lightfoot cheered lustily, 
 .and declared nothing could be fairer .than the race. Huzza! 
 kuzza! 
 
 And Mrs. Jenyns, too, cried " Huzza," as she sank exhausted 
 upon the seat. 
 
 'How did {jagE feel ? JDisappointed, no doubt; but he put a 
 .-very good h^e on. the matter, and with a smile, which, under the 
 circumstances, did him credit, told Mrs. Jenyns he should be 
 quite compensated for losing the race, by the pleasure of paying his 
 .bet. She did not affect to disbelieve him, but.rewarded him witli 
 aJlook which jcompleted her conquest. 
 How much may a look convey! 
 
 O silly young man, to be so easily ensnared ! Think of Clare, 
 or Liiicy, either of whom is worthy of your love, and lesist the 
 allurements of this syren. 
 
 " Wko is the person eyeing us so attentively?" Mrs. Jenyns 
 asked, as slie glanced uround. 
 
 Gage looked in iiie direction .indicated, and to Jiis surprise 
 beheld i'airlie. 
 
 *'It is my late guardian," he replied, "I didn't expect to 
 see him here. Pray icome .forward, Mr. Fairlie," he added to the 
 steward, " and let me make you known to Mrs. Jenyns. .1 have 
 lost some money lo her, and you must act as my paymaster." 
 
 " I shallhave great pleasure. in doing so," the steward rejoined, 
 in his blandest tones. ^^May I ask the amount ?" 
 " Only a thousand pounds," Gage said. 
 
 " Only a tht5usaaMl,'eh!— slt's very well I .came ^tokrably -pro- 
 vided. I thought I might have some drafts upon:mfi. I suppose 
 J shall likewise have an account to settle witii Captain Dashwood ?" 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. 95 
 
 " Exactly — another thousand," Gage rejoined. And as Fairlie 
 bowed and retired, he bent towards Mrs. Jenyns, and in a low 
 impassioned tone said — " Do you really love Dashwood?" 
 
 " What a question, Mr. Monthermer?" 
 
 " The answer is easy — and your reply will influence my future 
 career." 
 
 '^ I will tell you this evening. Come and sup with me at the 
 Greyhound. You must go now. Bring Mr. Fairlie with you 
 to supper* I will invite Lord Melton. Au revoir !" 
 
96 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 HOW MES. JENYNS AND MR. FAIRLIE CAME TO AN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 The supper at the Greyhound was excellent, with all sorts of 
 delicacies, and plenty of well-iced champagne, of which the guests 
 with one exception, drank freely. The exception was Mr. Fairlie, 
 who was abstemious as usual. Lord Melton and Brice Bunbury 
 were likewise of the party and the duenna-like dame in black, who 
 it appeared was a superannuated actress, Mrs. Clive by name — a 
 beauty and a toast in her day — countenanced it with her presence. 
 Intoxicated by his passion, as with the wine. Gage became each 
 moment more enamoured of the fair actress, and paid her the most 
 devoted attentions. On parting, he proposed a drive to Bury 
 St. Edmund's on the morrow, and Mrs. Jenyns assented at once, 
 without deigning to consult Captain Dashwood as to the arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 As soon as the guests were gone, and they were alone together 
 — for he seemed to consider poor Mrs. Clive as nobody — Dash- 
 wood said: 
 
 "I wish you joy of your new bargain, my dear. He is a deuced 
 fine fellow, and enormously rich." 
 
 " Why yes, as you say, Harry, Mr. Monthermer is remarkably 
 handsome — nearly as handsome as you, my pet — and what is still 
 better, he is immensely rich. What a pity it is, Harry, you are so 
 poor!" ^ 
 
 " Who has made me poor, Peg?" he asked bitterly. " I was 
 rich enough before I knew you." 
 
 '* Well, well, never mind," she repHed, with a gay laugh: '* you 
 were fated to be ruined by our sex, and I was the instrument ap- 
 pointed. I couldn't help it, and I executed my commission in the 
 pleasantest manner possible. Let me see, we have just been nine 
 months together — nine months ! — almost an existence, Harry." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 97 
 
 " You may pass double the time with Monthermer." 
 " No, I shan't. I shall tire of him in less than a year. I feel I 
 shall. He's handsome, well-bred, good-natured, but somehow 
 not entirely to my taste. I wonder whether I shall ever really love 
 any man." 
 
 " Then you own you never did love me? Nay, you may deal 
 frankly with me now.'* 
 
 " Well then, frankly, I never did ; but don't distress yourself. 
 I loved you as much as I shall ever love Monthermer." 
 
 "At all events, we part good friends?" 
 
 " I shall always be delighted to see you." 
 
 So saying, she gracefully extended her hand to him. Dashwood 
 pressed it to his lips, and departed without another word. 
 
 Next morning, while Mrs. Jenyns was sitting in an elegant 
 dishabille, sipping her chocolate, Mr. Fairlie was announced. 
 After a few preliminary remarks the steward begged to have a few 
 words in private with her, and Mrs. Clive, at a sign from Peg, 
 withdrew. 
 
 " First of all, madam, let me give you the thousand pound which 
 Mr. Monthermer lost to you yesterday," Mr. Fairhe said, producing 
 a rouleau of notes. 
 
 "Your pardon, sir," the pretty actress said, with a captivating 
 smile, which, if the steward's breast had not been adamant, must 
 have melted it — "you only owe me half that sura." 
 
 " Only half, madam ! — Surely Mr. Monthermer betted a thou- 
 sand pounds with you ?" 
 
 " Very true, Mr. Fairlie, and depend on it, I am not going to 
 let him off. But between you and me the case is different. You 
 have only to pay me five hundred." 
 
 " I don't exactly understand you, madam." 
 
 " Then you are duller than I fancy, Mr. Fairlie. Come, sir — 
 there must be a proper understanding between us. I know you 
 manage Mr. Monthermer's affairs " 
 
 " You are right, madam. He commits them entirely to my 
 direction." 
 
 "You can therefore control his expenses, if you please?" 
 
 " Very likely, madam — if I see occasion." 
 
 " You no doubt comprehend what my relations with Mr. Mon- 
 thermer are likely to be?" 
 
 H 
 
98 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " I have some idea, madam." 
 
 " And you have no objection?" 
 
 "Hum!" 
 
 '* You will have none — you can have none, when you have 
 heard me out. Mr. Monthermer is violently in love with me." 
 
 *' So it appears, madam." 
 
 " He will gratify all my caprices. He will ruin himself for my 
 sake." 
 
 " It must be my care to prevent that consummation, madam ^" 
 
 " I don't think you could prevent it, sir. At all events you 
 won't." 
 
 " Won't, madam?" 
 
 "No; because it will be your interest to act in concert with me. 
 You hold the strings of the young gentleman's purse, and when 
 you open it for me, you can help yourself. In other words, you 
 shall go shares with me." 
 
 " Upon my word, madam, you arrange matters in a most extra- 
 ordinary way, I must own." 
 
 " Don't I?" she cried, laughing. " O, Mr. Fairlie, I see we 
 shall be great friends. I understand your character perfectly. To 
 tell you the truth, I came down to Newmarket — not to see poor 
 Dashwood — ^but to meet Monthermer. I had heard all about him 
 from Sir Randal de Meschines, who has just returned to town — 
 and about you, too, my good sir. Sir Randal said he would in- 
 troduce his friend when he came to town, but I resolved to be 
 beforehand with him. And so I set off at once to Newmarket." 
 
 " Admirably managed, on my faith. But you woman have far 
 more cleverness than we can ever pretend to." 
 
 " Yes, you will find me an efficient ally. Now tell me can- 
 didly, Mr. Fairlie. If I had taken the thousand pounds you 
 offered me just now — and had not made my present proposition — 
 would you not have done your best to defeat my object, and prevent 
 this young man from attaching himself to me?" 
 
 '' You deal in such a straightforward manner, madam, that I 
 should be treating you most unworthily if I did not give a candid 
 answer. I would have prevented the haison. Nay, I will confess 
 still more. Gage would have been with you before this, but I 
 stopped him till I had had an interview with you, by the result of 
 which I meant to be governed." 
 
THE 8PEWDTHRIPT. 99 
 
 " And are you quite satisfied with me now?" 
 
 " Quite, madam." 
 
 " Then send Gage to me. I want to see him. Stay ! you have 
 not given me the five hundred pounds." 
 
 " Here are the notes, madam. Mr. Monthermer shall be with 
 you presently. I have the honour to kiss your hand." 
 
 As soon as the door was closed by the steward, Peg threw 
 herself back in her chair, and burst into an immoderate fit of 
 laughter. 
 
 "Was there ever so consummate a rascal! Sir Randal de- 
 scribed him exactly. But clever and unscrupulous as he is, it 
 shall go hard if I don't outwit him. And now for my poor 
 despairing swain. I must make myself look as captivating as I 
 can." 
 
 With this she summoned Mrs. Clive, and with her aid had just 
 disposed her fair tresses in the most becoming manner, and 
 rearranged her costume, when the door was thrown open, and Gage 
 was at her feet. 
 
 The Temptress had prevailed. 
 
 h2 
 
WJO THE SPENDTKRIPT. 
 
 XV. 
 
 WHEBEIN SEVEKAL PERSONAGES CONNECTED WITH THIS HISTORY FIND THEIR 
 WAY TO THE ANGEL AT BURY ST. EDMUND's. 
 
 Sir Hugh Poynings was one of the proudest men in Suffolk, 
 and his feelings may, therefore, be imagined when he learnt that 
 his son had been secretly attached to Felix Fairlie's daughter, and 
 had even offered her his hand. That Clare was beautiful, ac- 
 complished, irreproachable — all that could be desired in woman, 
 except that she was not well-born — weighed nothing with him. 
 The connexion was degrading — dishonouring — and he would 
 sooner Arthur had fallen by the sword of De Meschines, than 
 have seen him so mated. At least, in the first transports of 
 his rage, he affirmed as much to Lady Poynings, who, when 
 their son was brought home wounded, could conceal nothing 
 from her husband. Remonstrances, at first, appeared unavailing 
 with the indignant old gentleman. All that could be urged in 
 Arthur's behalf by his mother, in her affectionate anxiety to ex- 
 culpate him, served only to inflame Sir Hugh still more. 
 
 " What ! you attempt to defend him, Lady Poynings !" he ex- 
 claimed. " Zounds ! madam, you will drive me distracted. You 
 are as bad as he. Do you suppose for a moment, if you had been 
 in the same sphere of life as this girl, and had owned a 
 knavish steward for sire, instead of a gentleman of a lineage 
 as ancient as my own — if you had been a Fairlie instead of a 
 Bourchier — do you think, under such circumstances, I should ever 
 have married you? I know better what is due to my ancestors. 
 They shall never be disgraced by me. Until now I always 
 thought Arthur shared my sentiments. Undoubtedly, I have some- 
 times regretted an over-familiarity in his manner towards those 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 101 
 
 beneath him, a want of sufficient self-respect, — a want of a little of 
 my dignity, in short ; but I attributed these faults to his excessive 
 good-nature, and never anticipated any ill consequences from his 
 too great condescension. I now see my error. My excuse is, 
 that I could not believe a son of mine — a Poynings — a proud 
 Poynings, as we have been styled for centuries, though we shall 
 probably lose the designation now — I could not believe, I say, that 
 a son of mine could be capable of such folly." 
 
 " You must recollect that the affections are not always under 
 our control. Sir Hugh." 
 
 " Nonsense, madam; my affections were always under proper 
 control, and why should not Arthur's be so? But even if ho 
 were in love with this girl, there is no reason why he should marry 
 her. And to crown the absurdity — to heighten the disgrace — 
 you tell me she has rejected him. A pretty story, forsooth ! Why 
 we shall be the laughing-stock of the whole county. I shall go 
 mad with shame and vexation." 
 
 Lady Poynings thought it best to let her husband's passion 
 evaporate, and as he grew somewhat calmer, she again ventured 
 to refer to Arthur's hurt. 
 
 " Is he severely wounded?" Sir Hugh inquii:ed, with an expres- 
 sion of anxiety which, notwithstanding his efforts, he failed to 
 hide. 
 
 " Not dangerously, I trust ; but he suffers much pain, though he 
 bears it with great fortitude. Peyton is now dressing his wound. 
 You will hear the report presently." And perceiving that the old 
 baronet's heart was rapidly softening, she went on : "I do not say 
 you have not just grounds of anger, my dear, but the turn that 
 affairs have taken, unlucky in some respects, though fortunate in 
 others — at least in your view of the case — may induce you to 
 overlook the past, and extend forgiveness to our poor boy. His 
 love for Clare Fairlie, and his rejection by her, need not surprise 
 you so much. Gage Monthermer was just as much enamoured 
 of her, and equally unsuccessful in his suit." 
 
 " Indeed ! you surprise me, madam. But Gage Monthermer is 
 no rule for our son. Because he is a prodigal and a rake, is it 
 desirable that Arthur should resemble him ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear. But entertaining the poor opinion 
 you do of Clare Fairlie, it is due to her to state that her motives 
 
102 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 for rejecting Gage were disparity of position and unsuitableness 
 of character, while her rejection of Arthur was occasioned by 
 her attachment to Gage." 
 
 " On my soul ! a noble-spirited girl. Her rascally father must 
 have laid a trap for his silly ward. I see it all now. Her conduct 
 is most praiseworthy, and I admit I have wronged her. She can- 
 not have a spice of Fairlie in her composition. I fear Lucy would 
 not have shown so much discretion and self-denial. She would 
 have taken Gage with all his faults, or I am much mistaken." 
 
 " Well, my dear, Lucy might hope to reform him." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Gage will never reform," Sir Hugh exclaimed. 
 " What a pair of madcaps are our children 1 What is to be done 
 with them ?" 
 
 "That must be for after-consideration, Sir Hugh. Our first 
 business is to get Arthur well again, and to ensure this he must 
 have your forgiveness. The certainty that you are not offended 
 will do him more good than the surgeon." 
 
 " Well — well — tell him I am very angry " 
 
 "Nay, I will say you are not angry at all, but much dis- 
 tressed " 
 
 " But, zounds ! madam, I am angry — I am furious. I will rate 
 him soundly when I see him." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the sort, my dear. I know you better. 
 When you see how much our son, suffers, you will use every en- 
 deavour to alleviate his anguish." 
 
 " Well, I can't hold out against your entreaties. I will go to 
 him at once. Pray Heaven his wound be not dangerous. If any- 
 thing happens to him, I'll cut the throat of that sharper — that 
 bravo, De Meschines, myself. Come along, madam." 
 
 It is needless to say, after this, that Arthur was forgiven, and 
 that his father was constant in his attendance upon him. As to 
 Lucy, — reproaching herself as she did with being the cause of her 
 brother's mischance, she could not sufficiently manifest her devotion 
 to him. 
 
 Young Poynings was blessed with a vigorous constitution, and 
 his wound speedily healed. In less than a month the surgeon pro- 
 nounced him cured. Meanwhile, Lucy had been seized with an 
 ardent desire to visit London, and set to work to coax her good- 
 natured papa into compliance with her wishes. Sir Hugh, not 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 103 
 
 perhaps comprehending the real motive that influenced the re- 
 quest, was not unwilling to gratify her, and her brother, though 
 he did nothing to aid the project, would not interfere with it. 
 Accordingly, a visit of the family to town for a couple of months 
 was resolved on, and preparations made for it. All was in readi- 
 ness; and as Arthur had now perfectly recovered, it was not neces- 
 sary to delay the journey on his account. 
 
 On a fine morning in the middle of May, Sir Hugh's cum- 
 brous travelling carriage, with four horses attached to it, and laden 
 like a waggon, with boxes, portmanteaus, and all kinds of luggage, 
 wheeled round in front of the hall. In those days a journey to town 
 was an event to most country gentlemen, and to Sir Hugh Poynings 
 it was an extraordinary event, for he had not been to London for 
 ten years and upwards. He sighed as he took leave of his large 
 and comfortable mansion, and wondered how he could ever have 
 made up his mind to quit it — but there was no help now. The 
 carriage was at the door, and go he must. Lady Poynings, Lucy, 
 and Parson Ched worth, the chaplain, were already deposited in the 
 lumbering vehicle, and Sir Hugh, still groaning dismally, seated 
 himself beside them. Mrs. Pinchbeck, Lucy*s maid, and three other 
 women servants found accommodation behind, and two lacqueys 
 were seated with the fat coachman on the box. Arthur preferred 
 travelling on horseback, and did not start quite so early as the 
 others, but promised to overtake them long before they reached Bury 
 St. Edmund's, which it was fixed should be the limit of the first 
 day's progress. 
 
 Just at starting some little display was made by the coachman, 
 who trotted his horses merrily through the park, two miles of 
 which he had to traverse before he gained the road, and he again 
 urged them on as he approached the village of Reedham — all the 
 inhabitants of which came forth to salute Sir Hugh, my lady, and 
 Miss Lucy, and wish them a pleasant journey and speedy return — 
 but the first pretence of a hill brought the smoking team to a walk, 
 and after that they went on leisurely enough — never exceeding four 
 miles an hour. Indeed, it must be owned that the state of the roads 
 was so abominably bad that rapid travelling was out of the question. 
 More than once the carriage stuck fast in a rut, and great exertions 
 on the part of the two footmen were required to get it out. In this 
 way much time was necessarily lost ; but to such delays people at 
 
104 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 that period were accustomed, and took them as matters of course. 
 Sir Hugh grumbled, but sat still; while Lucy, tired of talking to 
 the prosy chaplain, looked out of the window for Arthur, but 
 could discern nothing of him. 
 
 On setting out, instead of taking the road to Bury St. Edmund's, 
 young Poynings rode in the opposite direction, shaping his course 
 towards Monthermer Castle. Did he intend to bid farewell to 
 Clare ? No : for though she was uppermost in his thoughts, and 
 though he would have given much to catch even a glimpse of her, 
 his purpose was not a stolen visit, which he felt would be a betrayal 
 of his father's renewed confidence. His destination was Cow- 
 bridge Farm. Having heard nothing of Mark Rougham since 
 the worthy yeoman had helped to transport him to Reedham, 
 he wanted to thank him for his services on that occasion. As 
 he rode tolerably fast, and took the shortest road, he was not long 
 in reaching Mark's dwelling, but on entering the yard, he was 
 surprised to perceive a stranger at the door, brought thither by 
 the sound of the horse's footsteps. 
 
 To his inquiries from this personage, whom he recognised as a 
 farmer named Abel Skinner, he was informed that poor Rougham 
 had again been forcibly ejected by Fairlie, and this time, no doubt, 
 with the young Squire's consent. So at least Skinner affirmed, 
 and he declared he had seen the order signed by Gage. Mark 
 had gone away with his family, no one knew whither. 
 
 " Why did he not come to me ?" Arthur exclaimed. ** I would, 
 have given him and his wife a home." 
 
 " I can't say, your honour," Skinner replied ; *' but Mark be 
 self-willed and proud, and most like he ha' gotten some scheme o' 
 his own to carry out — leastways I thinks so." 
 
 " But where is he ? Can he not be found ?" 
 
 " I dare say he can, your honour, if saarch be made for him," 
 Skinner rejoined. " If I should light on him, shan I send him 
 over to Reedham ?" 
 
 ^^ Yes — yes — but stay ! I forget myself. I am going to London, 
 and shall be absent for more than a month. Hark'ee, Skinner, 
 you must find out Mark for me. I will make it worth your while. 
 Bid him go with his family to Reedham, and take up his abode 
 there till I return, or give further directions respecting him. Here 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. lOfil 
 
 is a guinea, and I will add a couple more hereafter, if you do my 
 bidding expeditiously and well." 
 
 " I'll do my best, your honour may rest assured," Skinner re- 
 plied ; ** and at the same time your honour will be pleased to 
 understand that it be no fawt o' mine that poor Mark ha' lost his 
 farm. I be reet sorry for him ; an' I'd turn out to-morrow if he 
 could come back. But that's impossible, as yo' may weel suppose." 
 
 " Ay, ay, I know that. But do not fail to execute my orders." 
 
 " Your honour may depend on me." 
 
 In less than an hour after this, Arthur had gained the high 
 road to Bury, and come in sight of the carriage slowly toiling up 
 a hill. ♦ 
 
 But he contented himself with keeping it in view. If he had 
 been less preoccupied, the ride through this lovely part of Suffolk 
 would have been enchanting. Even as it was, he was not quite 
 insensible to the beauties of the surrounding scenery, but now and 
 then paused for a brief space to look about him. At one of 
 these halts the fair town of Bury St. Edmund's met his eye, 
 crowning a hill, some three miles off, and he was gazing at it 
 admiringly, when he perceived Lucy wave her handkerchief to 
 him. 
 
 Thus summoned, he could no longer tarry behind, and had 
 just ridden up to receive the scolding he so richly merited, when 
 the noise of wheels was heard rapidly approaching. 
 
 In another moment a superb coach, gilded and of the newest 
 mode, dashed by them, drawn by a pair of blood horses of great 
 swiftness. Two persons were inside it : one of these, who sat on 
 the left, and nearest to Lucy, was a lady — young, and of extraor- 
 dinary beauty, but with a certain boldness of expression, noticeable 
 even in a passing glance. She was evidently laughing at the anti- 
 quated travelling carriage, and regarding Lucy with an insolent 
 stare, called her companion's attention to her. 
 
 The other turned round, and as his features became revealed 
 
 I to Lucy, and their eyes met for a moment, she uttered an excla- 
 mation, and fell back in the carriage. 
 *' What's the matter, my dear Lady Poynings cried, anxiously. 
 " Nothing — nothing," Lucy gasped. 
 
106 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 claimed. And the truth flashing upon him, he said no more. Arthur, 
 who was riding on the further side of the carriage, stole a glance at 
 his sister, and saw in her mantling cheeks and confusion how much 
 she was affected. 
 
 After awhile conversation revived, and Lucy in some measure 
 recovered her composure ; but no allusion was made to the incident 
 that had just occurred, or to Gage. Ere long they entered Bury; 
 mounted the steep street leading to the central part of the town ; 
 and crossing a wide open space, drew up in front of the Angel. 
 
 Down the steps of this renowned hotel came the portly landlord, 
 Mr. Briscoe, as fast as his gout would permit him — ^hile servants 
 of all kinds rushed forth to welcome the new comers. 
 
 Sir Hugh thought there was something odd and constrained in 
 the landlord's manner when he announced his intention of putting 
 up at the house for the night, and inquired what he could have for 
 dinner. Mr. Briscoe hemmed and ha'd, bowed and scraped, but 
 gave no direct answer as he ushered the old baronet, the chaplain, 
 and the two ladies into a large room, commanding from its windows 
 a full view of the venerable abbey-gate on the opposite side of the 
 square, and the grey walls and monastic ruins beyond it. 
 
 And now let us see how Gage chanced to be at Bury. 
 
 Thus it was. Instead of returning to town after the meeting 
 at Newmarket, as she originally intended, Mrs. Jen3ms decided upon 
 spending a week or two in the country — with what motive we 
 shall explain presently ; and proceeding to Bury, she took up her 
 quarters at the Angel. Of course Gage accompanied her. The 
 manager of the theatre in Goodman's-fields wrote to the pretty 
 actress in despair, imploring, nay commanding her immediate 
 return, and threatening her with a heavy fine in case of refusal. 
 She laughed at his entreaties and menaces, and replied that she 
 needed repose. She was amusing herself very much at the 
 prettiest and most salubrious town in England — had charming 
 rides and drives every day — and though she was sorry to dis- 
 appoint her numerous admirers, her health must be cared for. 
 She might return in a fortnight — or in a month — or not at all. 
 He might inflict any fine he pleased. Mr. Monthermer would 
 pay it. 
 
 With all her cupidity, Mrs. Jenyns had not managed to enrich 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. lOT 
 
 herself. Excessively extravagant, and vying in her equipages 
 and establishment with a lady of the first quality, she was ever in 
 debt. That she remained on the stage was owing to love of ex- 
 citement and admiration; and besides, the robe of the actress 
 served to turn off the darts of scandal. Her chief failing was 
 love of play. A confirmed gambler, she was almost always 
 unlucky. When a woman games she seldom stops half-way, — and 
 so it was with Peg Jenyns. She came to the gaming-table with 
 hundreds in her pocket, and covered with costly trinkets, and left 
 without a guinea or a ring. In this way she had been frequently 
 reduced to the greatest straits, but somehow or other had always 
 contrived to right herself. 
 
 Amongst those who had won large sums from her was Sir 
 Randal de Meschines ; but then he often lent her money when 
 in difficulties, and there seemed now to be an understanding 
 between them, as he employed her in some of his schemes. 
 By his instigation she undertook the journey to Newmarket, and 
 having succeeded almost beyond her expectations, she was un- 
 willing to concede a share of the spoil. Indeed, as she had to 
 divide with Mr. Fairlie, according to her bargain with the steward, 
 her gains would be terribly diminished by a like process with Sir 
 Randal. She therefore feigned a sudden inclination to stay at 
 Bury, professing to be enchanted with the town and its beautiful 
 environs, and Gage willingly assented to the arrangement. The 
 poor dupe was infatuated by her witcheries, and squandered large 
 suras upon her. Fresh amusements were constantly devised for 
 her, so, time passed on pleasantly enough. Everything Mrs. 
 Jenyns fancied must be procured — no matter at what cost. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival Gage took possession of the whole 
 liotel, and sent for all his servants from the Castle, so the house 
 was just like his own, and he gave large dinners and other enter- 
 tainments daily. But great as were his general expenses, the chief 
 inroads upon Gage's purse were made by play. Though Mrs. 
 Jenyns lost to everybody else, she won from him; and as cards 
 were introduced each evening — merely to pass the time — her 
 gains in the course of a week were considerable. Fairlie could 
 have told how much exactly, for he kept an accurate account. 
 
 But she was not allowed to carry on this game undisturbed. 
 Sir Randal had received a hint as to what was gomg on — pro- 
 
108 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 bably from his ally, Brice Bunbury, who had never quitted Gage — 
 and felt the necessity of immediate interference. Beau Freke quite 
 concurred with him in opinion. If left to herself, Peg Jenyns 
 might outwit them. She had cleverness enough for anything. 
 No time must be lost if they intended to thwart her plans. Brice 
 Bunbury could not be trusted — besides, he was a poor hand, and 
 drank too much. So the confederates set out for Bury at once. 
 
 Gage was surprised to see them, and not over well pleased, 
 though he put a good face on the matter. Mrs. Jenyns "quite 
 understood the cause of their coming, and waited to see what 
 move they would make. 
 
 Thus affairs stood, when the number of guests at the Angel 
 was increased by the unexpected arrival of the party from Reed- 
 ham. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 109 
 
 XVI. 
 
 MBS. PINCHBECK ACCIDBNTALLT DISCOVERS HEE RUNAWAY HUSBAND — ARTHUR MEETS 
 LETTICE ROUGHAM, AND HEARS OF A GRAND MASKED BALL TO BE GIVEN AT THE 
 ANGEL — LUCY TRIES TO PERSUADE HER BROTHER TO TAKE HER TO THE BALL. 
 
 A PRINCE of the blood might have been quartered at the 
 Angel. The inn-yard was crowded with equipages of various 
 kinds, and the stables were full of horses. On this side were 
 trainers from Newmarket and jockeys discussing the respective 
 merits of half a dozen splendid racers which had just been brought 
 home after exercise by the grooms ; on that, cock-masters and 
 breeders were taking their valiant birds out of deep straw baskets 
 or bags, and shielding their spurs with stuffed rolls of leather, in 
 order that they might not hurt themselves while sparring for prac- 
 tice on the straw. Round the latter individuals were collected a 
 host of lacqueys all habited in the richly-laced orange-coloured 
 livery of Monthermer, examining the cocks, and betting with 
 each other as to their prowess in the coming trial of skill ; — this 
 backing a grey, that a ginger, another a red with black breast, and 
 a fourth a pied-pile. Again there were two or three huntsmen in 
 scarlet coats, and as many gamekeepers in dark green jackets — 
 though what these gentry could be doing there it was difficult to 
 coficeive, unless they had been summoned from the Castle, to swell 
 out their lord's already too numerous train. 
 
 At the side door of the inn stood another party, consisting of 
 our old acquaintances, Pud^ey, Bellairs, and Chassemouche, with 
 their sparkish friends, Tibbits and Trickett. The two latter cox- 
 combs had just returned from a stroll through the town, and 
 were regaling Bellairs and the French valet with an account of the 
 conquests they had achieved among the pretty girls of Bury. 
 Tibbits, it appeared, by his own showing, had been eminently 
 
IID THE SPJEJ^DTHKUfT. 
 
 successful. The whole party agreed, however, that Bury was un- 
 commonly dull, and if they had not some amusement in scouring 
 the streets at night with their masters, breaking the lamps, beating 
 the watch, and wrenching off knockers, they should not know 
 how to spend their time. 
 
 The arrival of Sir Hugh Poynings and his family was a source 
 of infinite satisfaction to these amiable personages, because they 
 foresaw that some disturbance must ensue ; and even if the prin- 
 cipals failed to quarrel, which seemed next to impossible, they 
 could get up a little brawl on their own account with the servants 
 from Reedham. With this design, they scarcely made way for 
 Arthur Poynings as he passed them, after dismounting and con- 
 signing his steed to the ostler, and Mr. Tibbits received a cuff 
 on the ear for his especial insolence; an indignity he would 
 have resented if he had dared. But he was too much daunted by 
 Arthur's fierce looks to retaliate, and when the young gentleman 
 shook his whip menacingly at him, he retreated behind his com- 
 panions, who offered him no support. Arthur, however, had no 
 sooner disappeared, than with one accord they began to abuse him^ 
 and Mr. Tibbits swore a great oath that he would be revenged 
 upon him before the morrow. 
 
 Just then Sir Hugh's coachman, Beccles, came into the yard with 
 his horses, and the whole pack instantly set upon him, jeering him, 
 his cattle, and his master, and telling him he should not have a stall 
 in the stable unless he fought for it. Now Beccles was a sturdy 
 fellow, and did not budge an inch. Letting go the bridle of the 
 horse he was leading, he put himself into an attitude of de- 
 fence, and shouted to his fellow-servants, who at once answered 
 the summons, and arranged themselves beside him. As there 
 seemed to be every prospect of a fight, the whole yard was instantly 
 on the alert. The liveried menials deserted the game-cocks in 
 the hope of witnessing a more exciting contest. Trainers, jockeys, 
 cockers, grooms, stable-boys, and ostlers rushed forward, and a 
 ring was speedily formed ; but before a blow could be struck a 
 scream was heard, and with loud cries a female forced her way 
 through the crowd to the combatants. It was Mrs. Pinchbeck 
 At sight of her Tibbits turned pale, and made an effort to slink 
 off. But he was kept in his place by those around, till a pair of 
 arms, flung round his neck, effectually secured him. 
 
L 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT. HI 
 
 From wliat could be collected in the midst of Mrs. Pinchbeck's 
 sobs and hysterical ejaculations, it appeared that the gay and 
 gallant Tibbits had married her some five years ago, at which time 
 she was the young widow — and the very pretty widow too, though 
 she said it, that shouldn't — of an old haberdasher in Cheapside, 
 yclept Duckweed, to whom the insinuating Tibbits had been 
 apprenticed. Having spent all her money, and ruined her 
 business by his gross neglect, the wretch absconded — basely de- 
 serted her — inhuman monster that he was ! — whereupon, having 
 no other resource, she who had once lived in affluence, and had 
 been doted upon by her departed Duckweed — a duck he was, if 
 ever there was one on earth ! — she, who had never even waited 
 upon herself in her dear Ducky's time, was forced to go into ser- 
 vice. (Here a flood of tears drowned her utterance for a moment.) 
 Friends she had in Bungay, — relatives of her dear Ducky, — and 
 they didn't turn their backs on her, notwithstanding her mis- 
 fortunes, but procured her a situation as lady's maid to Lady 
 Poynings — a situation she didn't blush to say — though Tibbits 
 might blush to hear it — that she had filled to her ladyship's entire 
 contentment. Her ladyship and Miss Poynings knew she had once 
 moved in genteel circles, and treated her accordingly. " Pinch- 
 beck, you are not a common domestic," my lady said; " you must 
 have your own room, and your own table." " Pinchbeck, you 
 must come and sit with me," Miss Lucy would often say, ** for 
 I like your society better than that of the noisy fox-hunters 
 down stairs." Pinchbeck, she added in explanation, was her 
 maiden name, and she resumed it, when she was abandoned by 
 Tibbits. Never, since the day he left her, till ffcat moment, had 
 she set eyes on her worthless spouse — never heard a word of him — 
 and she never should have done, she felt quite sure, if she had 
 not accidentally popped upon him ! But she would show him what 
 an injured wife's rights were, unless he arranged matters to her 
 satisfaction — that she would ! 
 
 Leaving the tender couple to adjust their differences as best 
 they could, we may mention that their meeting caused a cessation 
 of hostilities between the adherents of the houses of Monthermer 
 and Poynings. Instead of fighting, the stalwart lads of Reedham 
 shook hands heartily with their lace-bedizened, silken-hosed, pow- 
 dered antagonists of the Castle ; and sundry tankards of strosg ale, 
 
112 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 called for by the chiefs on both sides, completed the amicable un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 If Arthur had looked up at all, when he rode into the inn-yard, 
 instead of occupying himself with matters of infinitely less concern, 
 he must have seen, at an open window on the first floor — -just 
 above the great gilded sign of the Angel — a very pretty face, the 
 owner of which was anxiously, but vainly, striving to attract his 
 attention by slightly coughing, and waving a handkerchief. But 
 as he looked everywhere but in the right direction, the pretty face 
 lost its smile, the red lips pouted, and she who owned them leaned 
 so far out of the casement as almost to endanger her personal 
 safety. How could Mr. Arthur be so stupid? What could he be 
 dreaming about, to keep his eyes constantly fixed on the ground? 
 Perhaps he didn't wish to see her? No, she would never believe 
 that. Come what would, she was determined to have a word with 
 him, so down stairs she darted, and reached the passage leading to 
 the yard-door just as the young gentleman entered by it. No 
 mistake now as to his being glad to see her. He uttered an excla- 
 mation of surprise and delight, and almost caught her in his arms, 
 as she sprang towards him. 
 
 '* So, then, you can see me at last, sir," Lettice Rougham cried. 
 " I thought you wished to avoid me, but I was resolved you 
 shouldn't. Horses and grooms seem to interest you now more 
 than our sex. But don't you know that if you would learn your 
 fortune you should consult the stars. Had you done so just now, 
 you would have beheld " 
 
 " A little angel," Arthur supplied, gallantly. 
 
 "Yes, — paintdd on a signboard," Lettice laughed. "But you 
 have lost your memory as well as your sight, sir. Why don't you 
 inquire about my mistress?" 
 
 " You don't give me time, Lettice. Is she here?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, she is here, or you wouldn't see me. We're staying 
 in the house — but we're confined to our own room, and never stir 
 out of it — that is, very seldom. My mistress wouldn't remain 
 here a minute, if she'd any choice, but her cruel tyrant of a father 
 drags her about like a slave. Of course, I share her captivity. I 
 hope you're come to release us, sir." 
 
 " I don't see how I can help you, Lettice." 
 
 '^ l^ou don't ! Then you're not the brave knight I took you for. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 113 
 
 Perhaps you don't like to run the risk of another wound. And 
 that reminds me that I ought to ask about the hurt you got when 
 you last visited us at the Castle. How are you getting on ? 
 You look tolerably well. Of course, you've heard of the gay 
 doings we're to have here to-night ?" 
 
 "I've heard nothing as yet, Lettice. I've only this moment 
 arrived. What gay doings do you refer to ?" 
 
 " Mr. Montherraer's grand masked ball. It takes place in this 
 house to-night, and as everybody's talking about it, I thought 
 somebody might have mentioned it to you. All the fine folks of 
 Bury are invited, and most of 'em are coming. O, it'll be a splen- 
 did ball ! no expense spared, as you may suppose, since Mr. Mon- 
 thermer gives the entertainment. The long room is adorned with 
 mirrors, and festooned with flowers — the floors are chalked — and 
 there's to be a band of musicians from London in the orchestra. 
 When the company are tired of dancing, they are to sit down to 
 such a supper, sir." 
 
 " Very tempting, no doubt. But I presume your mistress does 
 not mean to attend this ball, Lettice ?" 
 
 " Entirely against her own inclination, sir — entirely. But Mr. 
 Fairlie insists upon it, — and she daren't refuse, poor soul ! You'd 
 better go too, to take care of her. Put on a domino and mask, and 
 no one will find you out. I see you'll do it." 
 
 ** You are always ready to promote mischief, Lettice, and a 
 worse plan than yours might be devised. But I cannot consent 
 to it, for many reasons." 
 
 " I'll dispose of the reasons at once if you'll state them," Let- 
 tice said. 
 
 " Well then, first and foremost, I'm not alone here. Sir Hugh 
 and Lady Poynings are with me — and my sister." 
 
 " Pooh! that's easily settled. The old people will retire to rest 
 before the ball begins, and need never be aware of your pre- 
 sence at it. And why not bring Miss Lucy with you ? I'm sure 
 slie would like it. I'll find her a dress — a perfect disguise." 
 
 '' You arrange matters very readily, Lettice ; but there are dif- 
 ficulties you cannot get over." 
 
 " I see none whatever, sir, unless you create them yourself. Miss 
 Lucy, I'm certain, will be enchanted with the scheme — so will my 
 mistress — so will you — and so shall I — for I must have a share in 
 
 1 
 
114 THE SPEin)THRirT. 
 
 it. But I mustn't stand talking here, or I sKall be noticed. I 
 shall tell ray mistress she may expect to meet you." 
 
 "On no account, Lettice." 
 
 " But I shall — and I shall deliver a great many messages which 
 ■ you ought to have sent her. If you want me, mount to the second 
 floor — the second, mind — walk down the corridor and tap against 
 the last door on the right." 
 
 So saying, she tripped away. 
 
 And just in time, for scarcely was she gone, than Sir Hugh 
 Poynings, whose angry tones had for some moments before been 
 resounding in the hall, now strode down the passage, and met 
 his son. The old baronet was in a towering passion. 
 
 " What's the matter, sir?" Arthur inquired. 
 
 " Why, sir, starvation is the matter — no dinner is the matter — 
 no wine is the matter. We can't have a joint or a roast fowl, 
 or a bottle of claret, unless it pleases Mr. Gage Monthermer. We 
 can't have a bed except in the garret. Mr. Monthermer has taken 
 the whole house — bedrooms, parlours, kitchen, larder, cellars, and 
 stables. It's no longer the Angel, it's the Monthermer Arms; and 
 young Gage — and be hanged to him — is landlord, and not old 
 Briscoe. 'Sdeath ! sir, things are come to a pretty pass, when one 
 can't call for what one likes at an inn, without being told that Mr. 
 Monthermer must be consulted." 
 
 " You amaze me, sir." 
 
 "And well I may — but I shall amaze you still more before I've 
 done. Old Briscoe has just been with me, to explain, with many 
 apologies, how matters stand. He confesses he can scarcely call 
 the house his own. He will do his best to make me com- 
 fortable under the circumstances, and if he fails, he hopes I will ex- 
 cuse him. He was never so perplexed before. His honoured guest 
 and patron, as he styles Gage, pays like a prince — throws about his 
 money, right and left, as if it were of no value — never looks at a bill, 
 but tosses it over to Fairlie — but then he expects to have all his own 
 way, and won't bear the slightest interference. Everything and 
 everybody must bow to him. What he wills is law. No person 
 of inferior quality to himself must enter the house — unless invited. 
 Not a bad rule that, i' faith, if properly carried out. Then, if a 
 guest's looks don't please him, he must go, or the house will be 
 made too hot to hold him. He served Dick Jernigan of Somerly 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 115 
 
 SO yesterday. Dick was obliged to decamp. And the night before 
 last, two maltsters from Woodbridge, with their wives, decent folk 
 enough, had been smuggled into the house without Gage's leave 
 — but the dog heard of 'em, and though they had gone to roost 
 more than an hour, he had 'em out of bed, ay, and into the 
 street, too. Oons ! I can't help laughing when I think on't." 
 
 '* Surely you are jesting, sir, in saying that we can't dine here 
 without Gage's permission ?" 
 
 " Egad ! it's no jesting matter with me, Arthur. I'm as hungry 
 as a hunter after my journey. But I tell ye, sir, old Briscoe 
 daren't serve a dinner in private for the life of him." 
 
 " Well, sir, we must dine in public then — that's all. There's 
 an ordinary in this house — the best in Bury — ^to which all the 
 young gallants in the town resort. We must put up with their 
 company for the sake of the meal. It's about the hour of dinner." 
 
 " Ay, but the ordinary is no longer an ordinary. One person 
 pays all charges instead of each paying for liimself Tlie young 
 gallants you speak of dine here daily — but only as Gage's guests. 
 Unless we choose to be considered in the same light we can have 
 no place at the table. Zounds and the devil ! — I beg your pardon, 
 boy — but it's enough to make a parson swear." 
 
 " Have a little patience, sir." 
 
 *' That's what the chaplain says. As well preach patience to the 
 winds as to an empty stomach. I'm in no humour for it. If I 
 could only stay my appetite with a cold pasty or a chine of pork, I 
 might be patient. But it serves me right," he groaned, " for leav- 
 ing my own comfortable mansion, where I had only to ask and 
 have. I won't remain in this inhospitable hole another minute. 
 The horses shall be put to again at once, and we'll be off to Long 
 Melford, or Sudbury." 
 
 *' Your pardon, sir, — that will never do. We mustn't let Gage 
 and his friends accuse us of poltronery. Remember your own say- 
 ing, which you learnt from your father, and he from his fathei* : — 
 ' No Poynings ever retreated.' " 
 
 "True, i' faith! and as you say, Arthur, our sudden departure 
 wt might be misconstrued. Poltronery ! — zounds I — that's a word must 
 K never be applied to a Po3aiings. No one shall charge us with 
 ■L^want of mettle. Udzooks ! boy, we'll stand our ground in spite of 
 ^Brem. But we are likely to have as little sleep as food. This riotous 
 
 I 
 
116 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 young prodigal gives a masked ball and supper to-night — in this 
 house, sir. He has hired musicians from London — and the devil 
 knows "what besides !" 
 
 "I have heard as much, sir; but as it is not probable he will 
 honour us with an invitation to the ball, we need not concern our- 
 selves about it." 
 
 "I wish I could shut my ears to all the sounds of catgut- 
 scraping, and caper-cutting, certain to assail 'em," Sir Hugh 
 groaned. " It'll be the death of your poor mother, who is troubled 
 with nerves. Then there's Lucy ! — why, zounds ! Arthur, when 
 she heard of this masked ball, she said she should like nothing so 
 much as to be present at it ! I cut the silly jade's longing short, 
 pretty quickly, I can promise you." 
 
 " Girls have strange fancies, sir; and no wonder Lucy, who has 
 seen nothing of the kind, and may have been dazzled by descrip- 
 tions she has heard of such assemblages, should be seized with a 
 transient desire to be present at the ball. But it will pass off, since 
 you have pointed out its impropriety." 
 
 " I trust so ; but at any rate, I'm sure she'll not be sorry at my 
 change of plans. She looked plaguily downcast when I expressed 
 my determination of leaving Bury at once. Oddslife ! she may 
 dance with Pinchbeck to the sound of the fiddles in her own 
 chamber — ha! ha!" 
 
 Arthur joined in his father's lusty laughter, and they repaired 
 to the large room in front of the hotel, to which the old baronet 
 had been conducted on his arrival. Here they found the two 
 ladies and the chaplain, in a state of uncertainty as to their move- 
 ments ; and Sir Hugh having communicated his intention of re- 
 maining where he was, the announcement was favourably received 
 by all, especially by Lucy, who could not restrain her delight. 
 
 " I couldn't bear the thought of quitting Bury so soon !" she 
 cried. " Never mind dinner — or supper — I don't feel hungry in 
 the least — and as to a bed, it doesn't matter — I can sleep very well 
 in the carriage." 
 
 "And see all the folks go to the masked-ball, eh?" Sir Hugh 
 cried. " No — no, Loo, you shall be locked up in your room ; and 
 your mother shall keep the key. — Not a bad notion that of the 
 carriage, though," he mentally ejaculated. " I've a good mind to 
 take possession of it myself. I should be out of hearing of the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. \17 
 
 confounded fiddles. Wrapped up in a blanket, with a nightcap 
 over my ears and a pillow to rest on, I should be just as comfort- 
 able as in my own bed. By Heavens ! I'll do it. But as to dinner 
 and supper, I can dispense with neither. If that silly girl has no 
 appetite, others have — and deuced keen ones, too !" 
 
 Shortly afterwards, and while his father was engaged with the 
 chaplain in planning an assault on the larder, Arthur drew his 
 sister into the recess of a window, and detailed to her his conversa- 
 tion with Lettice. 
 
 '* Oh ! how fortunate that papa has altered his mind !" Lucy ex- 
 claimed. " If I had missed seeing Clare Fairlie I should have 
 gone distracted. And you, Arthur ! are not you delighted at the 
 prospect of meeting her again ? Nay, don't sigh, and put on such 
 a long face — see her you will before the night's spent. We mtist 
 go to the masked ball." 
 
 " But you are to be locked up in your own chamber, as you 
 have just heard." 
 
 " Pshaw ! — Papa was only joking." 
 
 " Oh, no, he's in earnest, rely upon it." 
 
 " Well then, Pinchbeck shall steal the key, and let me out. Go 
 to the ball I will." 
 
 " You take it for granted I shall accompany you." 
 
 "Of course. You'd never allow nie to go alone, — as I should, 
 if you refused. But I know you won't stay away since Clare 
 Fairlie is to be there." 
 
 " Her presence at it offers a great temptation to me I must 
 admit. But I don't like you to witness such a scene. Loo." 
 
 " If Clare witnesses it, I may. No one will recognise me — for 
 I shan't unmask. And I shall have you, mon preux chevalier^ as a 
 protector, in case of need." 
 
 " I can't get rid of my scruples. I ought not to yield to a 
 giddy girl like you." 
 
 " Giddy as I am I can take care of myself So you consent, — 
 yes I — yes ! — I'll have no denial." 
 
 " But suppose my consent obtained, — what are we to do for 
 masks and dominoes ? — Again, we have no tickets." 
 
 " Don't raise any more objections, Arthur, for I won't listen to 
 them. Lettice Rougham will provide everything requisite. I 
 
118 THE SPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 must see her at once. I shall find her, you say, in the first room 
 on the left — second staircase?" 
 
 " No ; the last room on the right. Stay ! Don't you perceive 
 who is approaching ? You'll meet him in the hall to a certainty, 
 if you go out now." 
 
 As Arthur spoke, a sight met Lucy's gaze that riveted her to 
 the spot. Two running-footmen, in the Monthermer livery, dashed 
 up to the door of the inn, and one of them loudly rang the bell, 
 summoning forth Mr. Briscoe, several waiters, and a long train of 
 lacqueys. The landlord had just reached the bottom of the steps 
 as a splendid carriage drove up. It was such an equipage as had 
 never before been seen in Bury — of the newest town make — 
 richly gilded — sumptuously appointed — and having its panels em- 
 blazoned with the proud armorial bearings of Monthermer. In 
 an instant the broad space in front of the hotel was half filled 
 with a curious crowd who had followed the carriage, vociferating 
 with delight at its splendour, and the unwonted spectacle of the 
 running-footmen. Many of these pressed forward to see Gage 
 alight, and the lacqueys had to draw up in lines, to prevent intru- 
 sion, and keep a passage clear for their master and Mrs. Jenyns. 
 
 '• Come away!" Arthur cried to his sister; but she was unable 
 to obey the mandate ; — apparently fascinated by what she beheld. 
 
 Oh, how handsome Gage looked, she thought, as he placed his 
 small, well-gloved hand on Briscoe's arm while descending — how 
 graceful was his deportment — how modish his manner ! And how 
 well his rich attire became him. If the young coxcomb had 
 sought an opportunity of displaying his fine person to advantage, 
 he could not have found one better than the present. Many 
 admiring eyes besides Lucy's were fixed on him, and he seemed 
 fully aware of the circumstance — for he kept Briscoe for a few 
 minutes in idle discourse, after alighting from the carriage. During 
 this interval he went through all the most approved forms of 
 foppery ; setting his laced cravat ; placing his feathered hat over 
 his flowing peruke ; flourishing his clouded cane ; taking snufl 
 from a jewelled snuff-box, with a grace and air peculiar to him- 
 self; smiling listlessly ; and throwing himself — so his fair observers 
 deemed — into the most becoming posture imaginable. Thus he 
 rested until he had allowed them ample time to examine his 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 119 
 
 splendid attire; to criticise (if they could) his azure velvet coat, 
 with its wide, deep cuffs embroidered with silver; his white satin 
 waistcoat with its luxuriant pockets laced like the coat; his silken 
 hose with silver clocks and the finely turned limbs they encased; 
 and his red-heeled shoes, secured by magnificent diamond buckles. 
 All at once Gage raised his eyes, and discovering Lucy at the 
 window, made her a gracious congee, which caused her instantly 
 to retire and hide her blushes. 
 
120 THE SPENDTHKIFT. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 CAUDS OE INVITATION TO THE BALL ARE SENT TO LADY POYNINGS AND HEE 
 
 FAMILY. 
 
 What happened after Lucy's retreat from the window she knew 
 not, but she had scarcely recovered from the confusion into which 
 she was thrown by Gage's salutation, when Mr. Briscoe made 
 his appearance? with a silver salver in his hand, having several cards 
 of invitation upon it, and a smile on his rosy countenance. He was 
 charged, he said, by his honoured guest and patron, Mr. Monthermer, 
 to bear these cards to Lady Poynings and her party, and entreat 
 the favour of their company at the masked-ball to-night. 
 
 "Hang the masked-ball," Sir Hugh exclaimed. '^Will Mr. 
 Monthermer let us have dinner, Briscoe, — that's the question ?" 
 
 *' I am happy to be able to answer it most satisfactorily, Sir 
 Hugh. My honoured guest and patron bade me say he should be 
 delighted if you and Mr. Arthur would dine with him at the ordi- 
 nary. The ladies," he added, " must be served in their own 
 room." 
 
 "/dine with him!" the old baronet bounced out. "'Sdeath! 
 sir, rd rather starve." 
 
 *' At your worship's pleasure. But " 
 
 "But what, sir?" 
 
 " I was going to observe that my honoured guest does not make 
 your attendance at the ordinary compulsory." 
 
 " I should hope not, Briscoe. Zounds! I should like to see him 
 drag me to the table. He'd have a tough job, I promise him." 
 
 " My honoured guest has no such intention, Sir Hugh. Far 
 from it. His injunctions to me are to treat your worship with 
 every deference. 'I have the utmost respect for Sir Hugh, 
 Briscoe,' his honour says ; ' and though we have the misfortune to 
 differ in opinion on some points, I can never forget what is due 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 121 
 
 to my father's oldest and best friend, as well as to one of the first 
 men in the county.' " 
 
 ^' The young gentleman has a very proper appreciation of your 
 merits, Sir Hugh," the chaplain remarked. 
 
 " He displays better feeling than I expected," the old baronet 
 rejoined, considerably mollified; "but I'm sorry I can't dine with 
 him." 
 
 '' My honoured guest begs you will entirely consult your own 
 inclinations, Sir Hugh — dine with him, or in your own room, at 
 your option." 
 
 " But not at his expense, Briscoe. That must not be.' 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir Hugh, that is the only point on which he is 
 peremptory." 
 
 "I think. Sir Hugh, you had better accept Mr. Monther- 
 mer's hospitality," the chaplain observed — the poor fellow was 
 suffering extremities of hunger like the old baronet. " He means 
 it civilly." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I'm quite sure he does," Lucy subjoined. 
 
 " Well, well, I can't stand out against you all. Be it as you 
 will, Briscoe. Only let us have something to eat quickly. I'm 
 famishing." 
 
 " And so am I," the chaplain muttered. 
 
 " Dinner shall be served directly, Sir Hugh," the landlord re- 
 joined ; " and I'll engage you shall complain neither of the dishes 
 nor the wine. Allow me to offer these cards to your ladyship." 
 
 " Zounds! — no — take 'em away, Briscoe," Sir Hugh roared. 
 
 " I think, my dear, they had better be left," Lady Poynings 
 observed. " We should not offer Gage an affront in return for 
 his civility." 
 
 " But you don't mean to go to the ball, madam ?" the old 
 baronet cried, staring at her. 
 
 ^' Of course not," she rejoined, taking the tickets and placing 
 them on the mantelpiece. " There they will remain undisturbed 
 till to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Not undisturbed, mamma," Lucy said to herself, with a furtive 
 glance at Arthur. 
 mk '* Make our compliments to Mr. Monthermer, Briscoe," Lady 
 HI Poynings added, " and say we are infinitely obliged to him." 
 ^B " I will, my lady," the landlord repKed, bowing profoundly. 
 ^H'* So far so good," he muttered, as he left the room. 
 
122 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 PIPES AND PUNCH. 
 
 Contrary to his expectations, Sir Hugh fared sumptuously 
 that day. A copious dinner was followed by a magnum of ad- 
 mirable claret, and the claret was succeeded by a bowl of deli- 
 cious punch. The ladies disappeared early, and Arthur soon 
 afterwards followed their example, leaving the old baronet and the 
 chaplain alone together. Parson Chedworth had entirely allayed 
 the pangs of hunger, had drunk his share — and Arthur's too — of 
 the claret, and now felt in a state of perfect beatitude. Not abso- 
 lutely perfect: he yearned for a pipe, and at length ventured to 
 give audible expression to his desires. The old baronet acquiesced : 
 in fact, he was a great smoker himself So pipes were called for, 
 and when the host appeared with them, the attentive fellow took 
 the opportunity of inqidring, in his customary deferential manner, 
 whether his worship approved of the punch; and being answered 
 in the affirmative, begged permission to prepare another bowl. 
 
 " My honoured guest and patron," he said, with a low bow, 
 " has again enjoined me to leave nothing undone to satisfy your 
 worship. I told him you had ordered a bowl of punch, and he bade 
 me brew it strong and good. ' Plenty of rack and sugar, Briscoe,' 
 quoth he; ' Sir Hugh must have of the best.' " 
 
 " Your honoured guest has a design upon our heads, methinks," 
 the old baronet rejoined, as he proceeded to light his pipe. " How- 
 ever, I must needs own your punch is excellent, Briscoe." 
 
 " I have a character to lose, Sir Hugh, seeing I am accounted 
 the best brewer of punch in Bury. Give me leave to taste the 
 liquor, gentlemen. A leetle m.ore of the old rum might improve 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 123 
 
 " Oddslife ! no," Sir Hugli exclaimed ; " you will blow off 
 our brainpans, Briscoe. Not a drop more rum an you love me !" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Your honour is pleased to be facetious." 
 
 " Ay, his honour is always jocular over his cups, Mr. Briscoe," 
 the chaplain cried, his fat cheeks quivering with laughter. " Brew 
 as you Hst, sir — brew as you list. You are the best judge of the 
 right proportions of the mixture — though it's a rare compound, as 
 it is," he added, filling his glass to the brim, and smacking has lips 
 over its contents — " no fault can be found with it." 
 
 ** I shall try and mend it, nevertheless, with the next brewage, 
 your reverence," the landlord rejoined, shuffling off. 
 
 " I defy you to do it, Mr. Briscoe, — I defy you," Parson Ched- 
 worth shouted after him, with a mellow laugh. 
 
 The second bowl of punch proved more potential than the first, 
 though neither of the two joyous souls complained of it; but when 
 the landlord proposed a third. Sir Hugh raised no objection, but 
 insisted upon more lime-juice. 
 
 *' Your honour will spoil the drink," Briscoe said, in a depre- 
 catory tone. " Cohsider, Sir Hugh, my reputation is at stake." 
 
 " Ay, you are bound to maintain it at all hazards," the chaplain 
 roared. " Too much lime-juice would be a mortal heresy. Away 
 with you, sir," he added, winking at the host, who took the hint 
 and departed. 
 
 "Egad! parson," Sir Hugh exclaimed, as soon as they were 
 alone, " since we are forced to dine at Gage's expense, we'll make 
 him suffer exorbitantly — ^ha ! ha ! Help yourself." 
 
 While the twain were thus convivially employed, time wore 
 away insensibly. Evening approached and found them still en- 
 gaged with their pipes and glasses. At length. Lady Poynings, think- 
 ing they must have had enough — perhaps too much — sent Arthur 
 to try and break up the sitting ; but as he failed, she went herself 
 with Lucy, though with no better success. Sir Hugh was not in a 
 mood to be disturbed in the midst of his enjoyments. He meant 
 to make a night of it, he said, with the parson. They had never 
 drunk such delicious punch before. Its only fault was too much 
 lime-juice — too little he meant. Wouldn't her ladyship taste it ? 
 A glass would do Loo no harm. Her ladyship had better retire to 
 rest before the silly folk came* to the masked-ball ; — but she must 
 be sure to lock Loo up in her chamber, first. What was the little 
 
J 24 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 gipsy about that sKe di dn't buss Mm ? There, they had better 
 go now ; and her ladyship need give herseh" no further concern 
 about him. He and the chaplain should take a quiet snooze in 
 the carriage. He had arranged it all with Briscoe. He wished 
 her and Loo a good night ! 
 
 Lady Poynings did not approve of her lord's arrangement, but 
 aware that, under the circumstances, opposition would be idle, she 
 reluctantly retired with her daughter. 
 
 Lucy, we must not omit to state, had taken advantage of her 
 short stay in the room to approach the chimney-piece unperceived, 
 and possess herself of the tickets for the ball. 
 
 An hour after this, and before the first guest had arrived at the 
 ball, the two topers were fast asleep in their chairs. 
 
 Briscoe peeped in, and seeing how matters stood, withdrew with 
 a chuckle. The last bowl of punch had done the business. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 125 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A PEEP AT THE MASKED BALL. 
 
 Great was the uproar outside the Angel, as soon after nine 
 o'clock those invited to the masked-ball began to arrive. The 
 spacious area in front of the hotel was thronged by dense masses, 
 through which carriages and sedan-chairs with difficulty forced 
 tlieir way. Footmen and link boys kept up a continual clamour; 
 tlie former laying about them, right and left, with tall canes, 
 and the latter thrusting oil-dripping flambeaux in the faces of 
 such of the spectators as pressed too forward. But notwithstanding 
 a few squabbles with the chairmen and coachmen and their satel- 
 lites, the bulk of the crowd was in high good humour, and vastly 
 amused by the various habits of the masqueraders. Droll and 
 fantastic characters pleased them most, and figures in motley, sca- 
 ramouches, pierrots, polchinellos, harlequins, and other buffoons 
 were received with shouts of laughter. Some of these jested 
 with the lookers-on, especially the gentler portion of them, as 
 tliey passed along, and many a smart repartee was exchanged ; 
 the damsels being always ready with a rejoinder, and giving as 
 good as they received. Bury has always been renowned for the 
 beauty and liveliness of its fair inhabitants, and on this occasion its 
 reputation for both qualities was fully maintained. Never were a 
 collection of prettier girls brought together in the same space — 
 most of them boasting the charming blond locks for which, as well 
 as foY other personal attractions, the female denizens of our English 
 ^lontpellier have, time out of mind, been celebrated. 
 
 But we must now leave this merry concourse, with its squeezing, 
 its trampling, its pushing forward and pushing back, its laughing 
 faces lighted up by the flashing torches, its jokes, its fun, and its 
 
126 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 pretty girls — though we regret to part with them ; we must 
 leave it, we say, and follow the guests inside. Most of them, 
 indeed, have arrived, for they have kept pouring in in unin- 
 terrupted succession for nearly an hour. Large as it is, the ball- 
 room must be nearly full, the crowd think, and they are right. 
 How many turbaned Turks, high-heeled mandarins, cavaliers in 
 the costume of the Merry Monarch, Dutchmen in enormous trunk- 
 hose, stately Spaniards and grave Venetians in velvet mantles, 
 silken doublets, and hose — how many comical personages with 
 huge paunches and boltster-like legs, some with two faces, at front 
 and back, so ingeniously disposed that you could not tell which 
 was the right one — how many black dominoes and pink dominoes 
 — how many burly friars, quack doctors and pilgrims — how 
 many sultanas and shepherdesses, Grecian nymphs and Indian 
 princesses, double-faced women, lit partners for the doubled- 
 faced men, antiquated village dames in steeple-crowned hats, 
 supporting themselves with crutch-handled sticks, and attended by 
 lightsome and trimly-attired peasant girls — how many such cha- 
 racters and how many others entered the wide-opened portals of 
 the Angel that night we pause not to inquire — suffice it, that 
 when they had all been ushered into the ball-room by Mr. Briscoe 
 and his attendants, too much space was not left for the dancers. 
 
 As may be supposed, nothing had been neglected to give splen- 
 dour and attraction to the ball. The room was magnificently 
 decorated, and scores of perfumed tapers shed lustre on the motley 
 groups. Borees and courantos — those lively dances of the day — 
 were performed to enchanting strains from a powerful orchestra. 
 Each musician was an artist of renown. Bouquets of the choicest 
 flowers were offered to all the ladies. Cooling drinks of every kind 
 and delicious hot-house fruits were served at a buffet, to refresh the 
 dancers after their fatigues, and sustain them till supper came, at 
 midnight, the marvels of which were discussed beforehand, though 
 the reality far exceeded any anticipation formed of it. It was a 
 repast worthy of a Roman Sybarite, abounding in tempting viands 
 and exquisite wines, while plate and crystal glasses, brought for 
 the occasion from Monthermer Castle, decked the board. 
 
 But we are anticipating, and must go back to an earlier period 
 of the evening. The majority of the guests had arrived, and, 
 dancing had already commenced, when a black domino, the upper 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 12t 
 
 part of whose features was covered by a mask without curtain, 
 quitted a group of maskers of which he was the centre, and re- 
 paired to the ante-chamber. Several bright eyes followed him, for, 
 despite his disguise, he was known to be the giver of the revel, and 
 more than one fair challenger strove to arrest his progress. But he 
 had matter on hand that claimed his immediate attention, and 
 went on. On reaching the ante-chamber he found the .person 
 he expected, amidst a host of other attendants, male and female, 
 and beckoned him to him. Briscoe — for it was he — instantly 
 obeyed the summons. 
 
 " Are they come?" Grage demanded. " I have carefully scruti- 
 nised every mask on its entrance into the room, but have not been 
 able to detect them." 
 
 " They are not yet arrived, your honour. I have marked their 
 tickets, so they cannot pass in undiscovered. I will take particular 
 notice of their dresses, and point them out to your honour." 
 
 '* And you have disposed of Sir Hugh and the chaplain?" 
 
 '* All has been done according to your honour's directions," the 
 host replied, with a chuckle. And he was going to furnish some 
 more information relative to the individuals in question, when a 
 trio of masqueraders entered the room, and cut him short. " Here 
 they are, as I live !" he cried, hurrying forward, as the new comers 
 presented their tickets. 
 
 The two foremost masquers represented a Spanish hidalgo and 
 his wife, or sister — she might be either, of course. Of the senora 
 or senorita first, for she was eminently piquante and attractive. A 
 basquiiia of black silk, richly fringed with the finest lace, allowed, 
 from its shortness, a view of feet and limbs that would have done 
 credit to an Andalusian, and even a true daughter of Seville could 
 not have moved more gracefully or more bewitchingly than did 
 her present representative. A thick mantilla fastened at the back 
 of her head, and descending over the shoulders, partially concealed 
 her features, but what could be discerned of them through this 
 veil gave evidence of extraordinary beauty. What with her fas- 
 cinating deportment and grace of person, she seemed calculated to 
 create a prodigious sensation amongst the assemblage she was about 
 to join.^ Her costume would have been incomplete if she had 
 wanted the Spanish dona's telegraph of love-messages, — a fan. 
 She carried one in her hand, and understood its use too, for as she 
 
128 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 passed Gage its gentle rustle, plainly as whispered words, incited 
 him to follow her. 
 
 Her companion, upon whose arm she leaned, was apparelled as a 
 Spanish nobleman of the sixteenth century, and so well did he 
 sustain the character by haughtiness of carriage, that he might have 
 been taken for a veritable grandee. Of his countenance no judg- 
 ment could be formed, since he was closely masked, but it was only 
 fair to suppose it must correspond with his extremely handsome 
 person. 
 
 Behind this striking pair came a very pretty page, clad in 
 a white satin doublet and hose, with a sky-blue velvet mantle. 
 He had a sword by his side, and his broad-leaved white hat had a 
 drooping feather in it. A profusion of blond ringlets fell over his 
 shoulders. He was closely masked like the others. Daintier limbs 
 than this page owned were never seen ; but though his figure was 
 slight almost to effeminacy, he bore himself gallantly, and had 
 all the airs of a grown man. Mr. Briscoe and the ushers in the 
 ante-chamber had a taste of his superciliousness and foppery, 
 and he chucked some of the flower-girls under the chin, as they 
 offered him bouquets. 
 
 Satisfied that these were the persons he expected, Gage stepped 
 behind a screen and threw off his domino, almost instantly 
 appearing again as the Earl of Rochester, in a splendid court 
 dress of Charles II. 's time. Thus attired, and putting on a cur- 
 tained mask, he re-entered the ball-room. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 129 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE TWO PAGES. 
 
 Mr. Briscoe thought all the guests must have arrived, but 
 he was mistaken. Soon after Gage's disappearance three fresh 
 masquers presented themselves, cards in hand, at the outer door of 
 the ante-chamber. At sight of them the landlord was quite startled, 
 and the usher and other attendants were equally amazed. The cause 
 of this general astonishment was the remarkable resemblance offered 
 by the new comers to three personages who had recently preceded 
 them, and had attracted particular attention on their entrance. 
 Here were a second Spanish hidalgo and his dame followed by a 
 dainty little page. Not only was hidalgo number two attired exactly 
 like hidalgo number one — certain minutiae of costume being care- 
 fully observed in both cases, — but he appeared to be just the same 
 height, just as well-proportioned, and just as haughty of carriage 
 as his predecessor* Like him, too, he wore a collar of gold with 
 an order attached to it, and had the cross of Santiago embroidered 
 on his mantle. The second dona looked quite as bewitching as 
 the first, and was arrayed in the same style, with a black man- 
 tilla and basquina — moving with equal grace, and managing her 
 fan with equal coquetry. There was not a pin to choose between 
 them. Then the page was the very double of the pretty little 
 coxcomb who had gone before, and might have been his twin- 
 brother. Blond ringlets, white satin habiliments, limbs of almost 
 feminine beauty, foppish and forward manners — all were the same. 
 The flower-girls simpered as he approached them, and pressed 
 their bouquets upon him, hoping he would treat them as the first 
 young rogue had done, and they were not disappointed. 
 
 Mr. Briscoe was bewildered. Who were they ? What could 
 
 K 
 
130 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 it mean? Could they be the original hidalgo and his com- 
 panions ? Impossible ! Nevertheless, in his perplexity^ the land- 
 lord went to the open door of the ball-room, and satisfied himself 
 that the others were there, amidst the crowd. 
 
 But the mystery increased. The tickets were delivered, and 
 proved to be marked exactly in the same way the others had been. 
 After all, then, theee might be the very persons his honoured 
 patron expected. Who could tell ? 
 
 At the risk of appearing intrusive, Mr. Briscoe begged the 
 hidalgo would do him the favour to step behind the screen for a 
 moment, and take off his mask. But the don declined, and the 
 senora, tapping the host playfully with her fan, inquired if he was 
 master of the revel, that he presumed to question them. At the 
 same tijne the page, disengaging himself from the flower-girls, who 
 had crowded round him, came up, and with a wave of his hand 
 pushing Briscoe aside, all three passed on and entered the ball- 
 room. 
 
 Here they presently mingled with the crowd, and nothing was 
 left the host but to take an early opportunity of informing his 
 honoured patron of the trick that had been played with the 
 tickets. 
 
 Half the ball-room was in motion when Gage returned to it, and he 
 could only, now and then, catch a glimpse of the lovely figure of the 
 first senora as she flew past with her partner — the stately hidalgo 
 — in a gavot. However, he did not give himself much concern. 
 He had but to wait a few minutes, and the dance would be over. 
 She would then be disengaged, and he might, without impro- 
 priety, claim her hand for a rigadoon or a jig, and so obtain the 
 interview he sought. 
 
 While he was looking on, much amused by the efforts of a 
 cumbrously-clad Dutchman to keep pace with the brisk strains 
 from the orchestra, he felt his mantle gently plucked, and turning 
 beheld the page. The youth beckoned to him to withdraw a little 
 from the crowd, and when they were sufliciently removed to be 
 out of hearing, said archly: " So you are in pursuit of the fair 
 dame I serve ? Nay, it will be useless to deny it. I know your 
 design, but am not going to betray it, either to her brother, or a 
 certain lady, who would be sure to thwart you, if she had the least 
 inkling of it. I can help you if you choose to confide in me." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 131 
 
 " Upon my word I am greatly indebted to you, young sir," 
 Gage replied. " But as mistakes are not uncommon at a masked- 
 ball, let me ask whom you take me for ?" 
 
 "I take you for one who may be better and happier than he is 
 now, if he does not throw away his present chance." 
 
 " You would have me reform and marry — eh ?" Gage rejoined, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "I would; and if you will promise to turn over a new leaf, 
 I will engage to find you a charming wife." 
 
 " Egad, I thought so. But to tell you the truth, my young 
 Mentor, I have abandoned all idea of matrimony. It is not in the 
 least to my taste. Amusement is all I want, and in seeking an 
 interview vsdth your captivating mistress I have no further thought 
 than to pass half an hour agreeably." 
 
 *' I am out of all patience with you," the page cried, " and shall 
 caution my lady's brother not to let you approach her." 
 
 *' Your lady will not thank you for your interference. Her chief 
 motive in coming to this ball, as you must know, was to meet 
 me, and if you throw any obstacles in the way you will cause her 
 infinite disappointment." 
 
 ** You are a great coxcomb, and flatter yourself all women are 
 in love with you." 
 
 " I am vain enough to think some are not altogether indifferent 
 to my merits, and amongst the number I may count your adorable 
 mistress." 
 
 " If my mistress were of my mind and my spirit, she would die 
 rather than let you know how much she cares for you." 
 
 " Luckily your mistress does not resemble you in all respects. 
 And now, before we part, treat me to a glimpse of your face. It 
 ought to be pretty to match such a figure." 
 
 "Pretty or not, I don't intend you to behold it. And I beg 
 you will reserve all your fine compliments for those who heed them. 
 They are quite wasted upon me." 
 
 " Then you are not a woman, as I deemed you?" 
 
 " You shall find I can draw a sword if you provoke me or insult 
 my mistress, so don't presume upon my belonging to the softer sex. 
 I am more dangerous than you think. I'll wager you what you 
 please that I make love to Mrs. Jenyns before the evening's 
 over; — ay, and that she listens to me." 
 
 k2 
 
132 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Pshaw ! she will laugh at you." 
 
 " You are afraid to bet." 
 
 "To bet with a stripling like you would be ridiculous." 
 
 " You dare not point out Mrs. Jenyns to me." 
 
 " I would do so at once, but i' faith I know not the disguise 
 she has assumed." 
 
 "A mere evasion. Never mind! I'll find her out without 
 your assistance, and if she laughs at me, as you say she will, she 
 won't laugh at my lady's brother. He shall put her to the proof." 
 
 "A saucy young coxcomb!" Gage exclaimed, as the other 
 left him. 
 
 A general promenade now took place, but Monthermer did not 
 care to quit his position, since it enabled him, without trouble, to 
 scrutinise the various masks passing in review, as well as to converse 
 with those he pleased ; and he felt sure the circling stream would 
 soon land the fair Spaniard at his feet. Ere many minutes, he 
 perceived her slowly approaching, still leaning on the arm of the 
 stately hidalgo, and he was preparing to step forward and address 
 her, when Mr. Briscoe, whom he had noticed struggling through 
 the motley crowd, succeeded in forcing his way up to him. The 
 corpulent landlord had got terribly squeezed, and his gouty feet 
 had been trodden upon, so that between pain and want of breath 
 he could scarcely make himself understood. 
 
 " An' please your honour," he commenced, — " the tick — tick — 
 tickets Mercy on us ! how my poor feet are crushed !" 
 
 " If you have anything to tell me, Briscoe — be quick!" Gage 
 cried, impatiently. 
 
 *' I beg your honour's pardon," the landlord gasped — " I was 
 about to say Oh ! what an awful twinge !" 
 
 " Well, — well, — another time. I can't attend to you now. 
 I've business on hand. Hobble back as fast as you can, and for 
 your own sake keep out of the crowd." ■ 
 
 " Your honour is very considerate. I would I had kept out of 
 it — but the mischief's done. I shall be lame for a month. My 
 duty required me to acquaint your honour that the tickets " 
 
 *' Deuce take the tickets! Stand aside, my good fellow, or I 
 shall miss her. I must speak to that Spanish lady." 
 
 ** But I entreat your honour to hear me first," 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 133 
 
 *' Out of my way, sir !" 
 
 "Ay, out of the way, huge porpoise!" a youthful voice ex- 
 claimed behind him. 
 
 Glancing over his shoulder to see who spoke, the landlord beheld 
 the page. '■ 
 
 *' Ah! are you there, little jackanapes?" he cried. "Beware 
 of him, your honour. He is a cheat — an impostor." 
 
 " Mend your speech, sirrah host," the page retorted, " or I will 
 clip off your ears." 
 
 "What! — here again, young saucebox!" Gage exclaimed. 
 " Have you discovered her?" 
 
 " Discovered whom ?" the page demanded. 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Jenyns, to be sure. Have you forgotten it already? 
 You were to make love to her, you know — and so was your lady's 
 brother — ha! ha!" 
 
 " Yes, so we were, — I recollect it now," the page replied, after a 
 moment's hesitation. " I have a very treacherous memory." 
 
 " I should think so," Mr. Briscoe remarked. " Do you chance 
 to remember where you got your ticket ?" 
 
 "What means this impertinence?" the page exclaimed. "I 
 received my card of invitation from Mr. Monthermer, of course." 
 
 " Marked, no doubt?" the landlord said. 
 
 " It might be marked for aught I know to the contrary; but 
 what is this to the purpose ?" 
 
 " A great deal — as his honour will comprehend." 
 
 " His honour comprehends that you are a very tiresome fellow, 
 and wishes you far enough, with all his heart," the page rejoined, 
 ^* Don't you perceive you are in the Avay, man?" 
 
 " Your honour " 
 
 " Not a word more," Gage interrupted. " She will escape me." 
 
 " That for your pains, meddlesome fool," the page cried, snap- 
 ping his fingers derisively in the landlord's face, and following 
 Monthermer. 
 
 " And this is all the thanks I am likely to get," Briscoe groaned, 
 as he hobbled back to the ante-chamber. " I won't interfere again, 
 whatever happens," 
 
134 THE SPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 XXT. 
 
 THE CAED-EOOM. 
 
 Gage succeeded in his object. The senora graciously consented 
 to dance with him, and contrary to what might have been expected, 
 the jealous-looking hidalgo offered no opposition. Indeed, to judge 
 from his courteous manner, he was rather pleased than otherwise. 
 Our hero would fain have called for the kissing-dance ; but his 
 partner objected, as it would compel her to unmask, and this she 
 declared she would not do at present. She preferred a country- 
 dance — the liveliest that could be played — and her wishes were 
 complied with. 
 
 As the orchestra struck up, all the couples who chose to join in 
 the dance ranged themselves in two long lines, extending from top 
 to bottom of the ball-room. Gage and his partner led off with 
 great spirit. The latter appeared to be endowed with inexhaustible 
 energy, considering the fatigue of the previous gavot. Gage com- 
 plimented her upon her powers, but she only laughed, and bade 
 him order the musicians to play faster. Faster and faster still ! So 
 light and nimble-footed was she that it required the utmost exertion 
 on Monthermer's part to keep up with her. 
 
 Faster yet ! the musicians as well as the dancers had a hard time 
 of it, but they resolved not to be outdone, fiddling away furiously, 
 and nearly cracking their lungs with blowing away at the wind 
 instruments. Everybody had to be on the alert. If Gage con- 
 templated a flirtation with his partner he must needs postpone 
 it till the dance was over. Scarce a word could be uttered in 
 the midst of such hurrying backward and forward — such rapid 
 whirling round. Hands across — change partners — down the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 135 
 
 middle — up again! Not an instant's pause. Long before he 
 reached the bottom Gage began to flag. He was not accustomed 
 to such violent exercise. But his indefatigable partner urged him 
 on, — and he would not be the first to give in. Luckily, but little 
 remained to do. Not more than a dozen couples were left, and he 
 was working his way as well as he could through them, when, 
 to his infinite surprise, a Spanish dame, exactly resembling his 
 partner, ofiered him her hand. As he took it, he experienced a 
 very perceptible pressure. At the same time he remarked that 
 the stately hidalgo was there — dancing with this second senora. 
 But no time was allowed for explanation. Seeing he lingered, and 
 guessing the reason, his partner stamped her little foot impatiently, 
 and hurried him on. After a few turns more, they reached the 
 bottom, when the panting dame confessed she was quite exhausted 
 and must sit down. 
 
 Every sofa was occupied, so they had to proceed to the card- 
 room where they found a seat. 
 
 In the centre of this salle dejeu stood an oval table, around 
 which a multitude of punters of both sexes was collected. Indeed, 
 we regret to say the female gamblers preponderated. Brice Ban- 
 bury officiated as tailleur at the faro-table, and Jack Brassey and 
 Nat Mist, who had arrived that very evening — quite unexpectedly, 
 of course — at the Angel, as croupiers. Every opportunity for play 
 was here affoi-ded. Besides faro, — hazard, piquet, French ruff, 
 and gleek were going on at smaller tables placed in each corner. 
 
 So fearfully catching is the fever of gaming, that the fair Spaniard 
 could not escape it. She had not been long exposed to its baneful 
 influence before she expressed a strong desire to approach the faro- 
 table ; and once within view of the tapis vert the impulse to try her 
 luck proved irresistible. She had never played in her life before, she 
 assured Gage in a low, earnest tone — never ! — indeed, she scarcely 
 knew one card from another — but he should instruct her. 
 
 Our hero was not the person to baulk her inclinations. Applaud- 
 ing her resolve, he bade her select a card, and placed a heavy stake 
 upon it. She lost — and he renewed the stake. Again the senora 
 was unfortunate, and as Gage's purse was now emptied, he had to 
 apply for more money to Mr. Fairlie, who was standing in the 
 
136 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 card-room, distinguishable from the rest of the assemblage from 
 the circumstance of being in his ordinary attire. But Gage had no 
 immediate occasion for the funds thus obtained. Before he could 
 join the sefiora, the haughty hidalgo suddenly entered, and march- 
 ing up to her with an angry gesture, took her away. 
 
 Unquestionably Gage would have interfered to prevent this un- 
 courteous proceeding had he not been withheld by Fairlie. 
 
 "Let her go, sir — let her go," the steward said. "There is 
 some mistake. Are you not aware that two Spaniards and two 
 Spanish dames have gained admittance to the ball ? Now I feel 
 quite sure that the don who hasjust left us has got the wrong dona, 
 and consequently there will be a diverting scene between them 
 before long. I recommend you to follow and witness it." 
 
 " One word before I go, Fairlie. Have you any idea who this 
 second couple of Spaniards are ? 
 
 "Perhaps I have, sir — but it's mere conjecture — not worth 
 mentioning. In fact, I'm scarcely at liberty to tell." 
 
 " Well, I won't press you. But I should like to know which of 
 the two is Miss Poynings ?" 
 
 " Not the lady you brought here, you may depend, sir," Fairlie 
 rejoined. 
 
 "Egad! I thought not," Gage cried, reflecting how tenderly 
 his hand had been squeezed by the second seiiora. " How could I 
 be so stupid ! But tell me, Fairlie, where is Mrs. Jenyns? I have 
 not discovered her yet." 
 
 " She was here a few minutes ago, sir." 
 
 " What sort of dress does she wear ? She declared I should 
 dance with her without finding her out." 
 
 " Very likely you have done so already," the steward remarked, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "Why I have only danced with one person. Ha!" Gage ex- 
 claimed, a light suddenly breaking upon him — " I see it all. 
 That Spanish dame was Mrs. Jenyns. I' faith I have been nicely 
 tricked. But who is the hidalgo?" 
 
 " Since you have made so good a guess, sir, I must needs own 
 that her companion is Sir Randal — and the page by whom they 
 are attended is no other than Mrs. Jenyns 's maid, Lucinda. Un- 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 137 
 
 deratanding that young Poynings and his sister were about to 
 attend the ball, Mrs. Jenyns resolved to mystify you — and 
 apparently she has succeeded." 
 
 "I'll have my revenge," Gage rejoined ; " but I must first look 
 after Lucy." 
 
 With this, he returned to the ball-room. 
 
 i 
 
UpS the spendthrift. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 MASQTJEEA.DE EEOLICS. 
 
 By this time the real business of the evening had commenced, 
 and the bulk of the masquers began to think it necessary to sup- 
 port the characters they had assumed — whether successfully or not 
 mattered little, so that a laugh was raised. Mountebanks and 
 jugglers performed surprising feats. Quack-doctors vaunted the 
 wonderful merits of their nostrums. One of them, an Italian 
 charlatan, fantastically attired in a flame- coloured robe, and having 
 an immense pair of spectacles over his aquiline nose, ran away with 
 all the custom. He had elixirs of long life, love-potions, and love- 
 powders ; a coUyrium made of the eyes of a black cat, that enabled 
 you to see in the dark ; an unguent that, rubbed over the lips, would 
 compel a sleeper to answer all questions, and confess all secrets — 
 especially useful to jealous husbands ; and, above all, a precious 
 liquid, a few drops of which in a bath would make an old woman 
 young again. The love-potions were eagerly bought by many a 
 sighing swain and ineffectually pressed on obdurate fair ones ; but 
 the efficacy of the elixir of youth was marvellously attested. 
 
 A phial was purchased by the antiquated dame in the tall 
 conical hat, and she had no sooner swallowed its contents than 
 her cloak and hat fell off as if by magic, and she appeared in the 
 guise of a young and lightsome columbine. Hereupon a roving 
 harlequin, who had witnessed the transformation, bounded towards 
 her, and bent the knee, placing his hand upon his heart, as if 
 ravished by her new-born charms — then pointing his feet and 
 rolling his head round rapidly, he danced off with her, hotly pur. 
 sued by a couple of pierrots, screaming out that she belonged to 
 them, and calling upon the crowd to stop her. 
 
I 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 139 
 
 These pierrots, by the way, together with the scaramouches 
 and Punchinellos, seemed perfectly ubiquitous, and played all sorts 
 of mischievous pranks — interrupting many a tender tete-a-tete — 
 tripping up the heels of old women and grave and reverend 
 signors — launching quips and jests, so hardy that they often 
 brought them a buffet in answer — making love to all the prettiest 
 masks, and running off with several of them — appropriating 
 cloaks, swords, and scarves, and then wrangling about them 
 with the owners — and never to be checked in their practical 
 joking except by sharp and sounding slaps from the harlequins 
 wands, which, it must be owned, were very freely administered. 
 
 In addition to all this buffoonery and fun, grotesque dances were 
 executed, in which Jews, Turks, courtiers, shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses, gentlemen of the long robe, friars, and even pontiffs took 
 part, producing a very droll effect. Perhaps the best of these was 
 a clog-dance, by a couple of peasants, which elicited loud applause. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that all the company were engrossed 
 by such gamesome performances, or cared for the boisterous frolics 
 of the mimes. Many of the young gallants liked the uproar 
 because it favoured their own designs, and consequently added to 
 it, encouraging the scaramouches in their tricks ; but they always 
 contrived to come up in the nick of time to assist a distressed damsel, 
 or ease a credulous duenna of her timid charge. 
 
 Introductions were unneeded. Everybody asked anybody he 
 pleased to dance, and rarely met with a refusal. Hitherto, the 
 harmony of the assemblage had been uninterrupted. If a quarrel 
 seemed likely to ensue from some practical joke, it was instantly 
 put down, and the brawlers were separated and laughed at. 
 
 Flirtations were frequent and desperate. Several couples who 
 kept aloof from the crowd, or took possession of the sofas and 
 settees, were evidently far gone in the tender passion ; while others 
 plunged into the thickest of the motley throng, thinking they were 
 securest there from observation. 
 
 Amid a scene of so much confusion, it was not easy to discover 
 those you sought, and no wonder many careless husbands and 
 chaperons, who had trusted their spouses and protegees out of sight, 
 never found them again during the whole evening. Like difficulty 
 might have been experienced by Monthermer in his search for 
 
140 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Lucy Poynings, if the page had not unexpectedly come to his aid 
 and volunteered to conduct him to his mistress. 
 
 " Is your mistress unattended ?" Gage inquired, in surprise. 
 
 *' She is in the ante-chamber," the page replied. 
 
 " Are you sure you are not an ignis-fatuus?" Monthermer said, 
 regarding the young coxcomb with some distrust. 
 
 "I don't know what that is," the page rejoined; *' but I am not 
 a dupe, as some one is whom I could mention." 
 
 " Do you venture to apply that term to me, sirrah ?" Gage 
 cried, 
 
 " No, you apply it to yourself, but it is not undeserved. Since 
 we met, I have ascertained that Mrs. Jenyns has assumed the same 
 dress as my lady, and my lady's brother has ascertained it too. I 
 told you Mrs. Jenyns« would listen to him if he made love to her — 
 and I was right. Look there !" 
 
 " 'Sdeath! what do I behold?" Monthermer exclaimed. 
 
 Glancing in the direction indicated by the page, he perceived 
 a couple reclining on a settee at the opposite side of the room, 
 evidently engaged in amorous converse. To all appearance they 
 were the senora and hidalgo who had recently quitted the card- 
 room. The lady's manner left no doubt on Gage's mind that she 
 was much interested by her companion, and the lively gestures and 
 the quick movements of her fan, with which she seemed almost to 
 converse, proclaimed what was passing between them. 
 
 " Well, do you now confess yoursel a dupe?" the page inquired, 
 in a tone of mockery. 
 
 "I must be satisfied that yon pair really are Mrs. Jenyns and 
 Arthur before I answer," Gage cried, angrily. 
 
 *^And expose yoursel to the ridicule of the whole room by 
 making a disturbance," the page rejoined, arresting him. " What 
 good will that do? You are too much a man of the world to care 
 for so trifling a matter as the loss of a mistress, and ought to con- 
 gratulate yourself rather than repine. You are well rid of her." 
 
 "On my soul, I think so!" Gage said, in accents that rather 
 behed his words. " Take me to Miss Poynings." 
 
 " This way," the page replied, — muttering as he plunged into 
 the crowd, followed by Monthermer, " If we can only keep him 
 in this humour for an hour, he is won." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 141 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED DURING STJPPEK. 
 
 Two ladies were seated in the ante-chamber when Monthermer 
 entered it with the page. One of these was the charming Spanish 
 seiiora he expected to find there : the other might be taken, from 
 her dress, for a young Venetian dame of the sixteenth century. 
 She was attired in a robe of rich dark velvet, and looked like a por- 
 trait by Tintoretto. Both were closely masked. As Monthermer 
 approached, they rose, and courteously returned his salutation. 
 Gage turned first to the senora. 
 
 " I have been thoroughly mystified this evening," he said, " and 
 find that a masked ball has its inconveniences as well as its plea- 
 sures. Hitherto, ill-luck has attended me. You must have re- 
 marked that another lady has adopted a Spanish costume precisely 
 similar to your own. I have been dancing with her for the last 
 half hour, under the impression that my partner was Miss Poy- 
 nings." 
 
 " Very flattering to Miss Poynings. But how do you know you 
 are right now?" the senora replied. 
 
 " I can scarcely be deceived a second time," Gage said ; " and 
 though I cannot pretend to peer through a mask, something assures 
 me that I am perfectly familiar with your features, as well as with 
 those of your companion." 
 
 " Indeed. Whom do you suppose this lady to be ?" 
 
 " An old friend." 
 
 " Nay, you must name her." 
 
 " Well then, I shall not be very far from the mark, I imagine 
 if I call her Clare Fairhe." 
 
142 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Here the two ladies began to laugh, and the page joined heartily 
 in their merriment. 
 
 " You display great discernment, I must say," the Venetian re- 
 marked, in a tone of slight pique. " I did not think you would 
 find me out so soon." 
 
 " You are both so perfectly disguised that a conjuror might be 
 puzzled to detect you," Gage replied. " Besides, you speak in so 
 low a tone, that there is no judging by the voice." 
 
 " The curtain of the mask alters the sound," the senora said. 
 
 " So much so that your accents seem to resemble those of Clare 
 Fairlie," Gage observed. 
 
 " Mine !" the Venetian exclaimed. 
 
 " Egad ! your voice is like Lucy's. - Well, I suppose it must b(3 
 mere imagination. But why should we remain here? Supper 
 will be served shortly. Let me have the pleasure of conducting 
 you to it." So saying, he offered an arm to each of the ladies, 
 and led them into the ball-room. 
 
 But he was soon robbed of one of his charges. Scarcely had they 
 joined the motley throng when the troublesome hidalgo came up, 
 and whispering a few words to the senora, carried her off. No time 
 was allowed for explanation, for at that moment the doors of the 
 supper-room were thrown open, and the eager crowd rushed in to 
 the long-expected repast. Every seat at the magnificently-fur- 
 nished table, except a few at the upper end, reserved for the giver 
 of the revel and his particular friends, was instantly filled, and a 
 general assault made upon the tempting viands. Leading his 
 partner to a reserved seat, Gage pressed her to take some refresh- 
 ment — but she declined, alleging unwillingness to unmask. While 
 glancing down either side of the board at the long array of his 
 fancifully-attired guests, and speculating as to who they all were, 
 Monthermer discovered, as he supposed, the hidalgo and the 
 senora seated at the lower end of the table, and he would have 
 sent to beg them to come up to him, but at this juncture, Mr. 
 Fairlie made his appearance — evidently much disturbed. Almost 
 rudely addressing Gage's partner, the steward desired her to un- 
 mask. The lady drew back, positively refusing compliance. 
 
 " Hold, Fairlie, — this must not be," Gage interposed. 
 
 "Your pardon, sir," the steward rejoined. "I wish to be 
 satisfied that this is my daughter." 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. 143 
 
 ^^ Take my assurance that she is so," Gage said. 
 
 " I have reason to think you are mistaken," Fairlie cried. " I 
 have just ascertained from the female attendants in the ante- 
 chamber that the two ladies have changed di*esses there." 
 
 On hearing this, the Venetian removed her mask. 
 
 " Miss Poynings ! " Gage exclaimed. " I am doonjed to be a 
 dupe." 
 
 "But where is my daughter all this while?" Fairlie demanded. 
 
 "You will easily discern her if you will take the trouble to look 
 down the table," Gage answered. 
 
 " That is not Clare," Fairlie said, glancing in the direction Gage 
 pointed ; and he added, with some significance, " that is the lady 
 you danced with, and afterwards took to the card-room." 
 
 " Ah ! indeed, and the hidalgo next her I presume is " • 
 
 " Not my brother Arthur, I hope?" Lucy cried. 
 
 "No, it is Sir Randal de Meschines. The other couple — 
 that is, my daughter and Mr. Arthur Poynings — have disap- 
 peared." 
 
 " You don't say so, Fairlie," Gage exclaimed, unable to refrain 
 from laughing. "Well, don't make yourself uneasy. I dare say 
 they will turn up presently. Sit down to supper with us." 
 
 " Pray excuse me, sir. I must go in quest of Clare." 
 
 " Why, you don't surely suppose that Arthur has run away with 
 her?" Monthermer cried, with renewed laughter. "That would 
 be a jest indeed." 
 
 " I don't know what to think, sir. Perhaps' Miss Poynings can 
 give me some information on the subject?" 
 
 "J" she can, depend upon it she won't, so you may spare your- 
 self the trouble of questioning her," Gage returned. 
 
 " So I perceive, sir. Suffer me to retire, and pursue my inquiries 
 elsewhere." 
 
 " As you will, Fairlie. But I advise you to take the matter 
 easily. I have as much reason to be annoyed as you, and yet I do 
 not disquiet myself." And as the steward departed, he turned to 
 Lucy, and said, " To what am I to attribute the pleasure of your 
 company this evening. Miss Poynings? — Mere curiosity to see a 
 masked ball?" 
 
 " Not entirely," she replied. " I had mixed motives for 
 
144 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 coming. I shall be blamed by all— even by you — for the bold step 
 I have taken, but if I am able to serve you I shall not care." 
 
 " To serve me — in what way ?" 
 
 " By opening your eyes to your danger." 
 . Gage regarded her with a smile. 
 
 " Clare Fairlie, I see, has been prompting you," he said. " A 
 propos of Clare — what has become of her ? Perhaps you will tell 
 me, though you would not inform her father." 
 
 "I have reason to believe she is gone," Lucy replied, with 
 some hesitation. 
 
 "Gone!" Gage cried, much startled. "How am I to under- 
 stand you?" 
 
 " Do not question me further. I have already told you more 
 fhan I ought to have done." 
 
 " If it be as I suspect, I shall be much grieved," Gage returned, 
 in a serious tone. " It is a rash step — and she will repent it." 
 
 " She is not happy with her father." 
 
 " Why not ? He is dotingly fond of her." 
 
 " That may be — but — I cannot explain now. Oh ! Gage, how 
 can you place confidence in such a person as Fairlie ?' 
 
 "Because I have ever found him trustworthy. But let us 
 choose some more lively topic." 
 
 "This scene does not inspire me with lively thoughts. Gage. 
 On the contrary, it depresses me. Is it possible such an entertain- 
 ment can afford you pleasure? Look round the room — listen 
 to the sounds that assail our ears. Are these guests worthy of the 
 splendid banquet you have spread before them ? Few, if any of 
 them, have real friendship for you ; while there are some an^ngst 
 them who seek your ruin — ay, and will accompHsh it, if you con- 
 tinue blind to their arts." 
 
 " I am a bad listener to sermons, Lucy, and you have chosen a 
 strange season for yours." 
 
 " I have taken advantage of the only opportunity Hkely to occur 
 to me of offering you counsel, which I feel must prove distasteful, 
 "but which friendship would not allow me to withhold. — I have 
 now done, and must beg you to take me to the ante-chamber, 
 where my brother will speedily join me, if he be not there already." 
 
 " Nay, I cannot part with you thus, Lucy. Remain with me a 
 
h 
 
of Sir Hnih FavninAs »nd his fhaplam at 
 
 the Masked Pall. — T. 145. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 145 
 
 few minutes longer. I would rather be chided by you than praised 
 by almost any one else. If you will but adopt the right means, 
 you may bring about my reformation." 
 
 Lucy shook her head. 
 
 " How must I begin the good work?" Gage asked. 
 
 " Abandon this society altogether." 
 
 ^' Rather a difficult commencement. What next ? " 
 
 " You must give up play." 
 
 " But how am I to exist without it ? I have no other excite- 
 ment. If I were to make the attempt I fear I should fail. You 
 must aid me." 
 
 " I must first see some symptoms of amendment. But I can bear 
 this riotous scene no longer. The noise stuns me. Pray conduct 
 me to my brother." 
 
 By this time, the champagne and other wines, quaffed in flowing 
 bumpers, had begun to do their duty, and set loose the tongues of 
 the guests. Great was the clamour — loud the laughter that ensued. 
 No wonder Lucy was anxious to escape from such a scene of uproar 
 and confusion. But at the very moment she had prevailed upon 
 Gage to lend her his escort to the ante-chamber. Beau Freke, 
 who personated an Ottoman prince, and was very gorgeously 
 arrayed, rose, and enjoining silence on the noisy revellers, pro- 
 posed their host's health. It is needless to say how the toast 
 was received — nor that it was drunk with frantic enthusiasm. 
 After the tumultuous applause had subsided. Gage was about 
 to return thanks for the honour done him, when the attention 
 of the whole assemblage was turned to the door of the supper- 
 room, where a struggle was taking place between the lacqueys 
 there stationed and two persons who were bent upon obtain- 
 ing forcible admission. After a while the strenuous efforts of the 
 intruders prevailed, and Sir Hugh Poynings and Parson Ched- 
 worth burst into the room. Amid a storm of oaths and incoherent 
 ejaculations. Sir Hugh made it understood that he was in search 
 of his daughter. His appearance as well as that of the parson 
 occasioned general merriment, and the shouts of derisive laughter 
 with which both were greeted did not tend to allay the old baro- 
 net's displeasure. Sir Hugh was without coat, cravat, or wig, 
 
 I 
 
146 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 and had an exceedingly tall nightcap on his head. Mr. Briscoe 
 followed close at his heels, vainly endeavouring to restrain him. 
 
 "Where are you, Loo? — where are you?" he roared. "Why 
 don't you show your face, hussy?" 
 
 " Moderate yourself, Sir Hugh, I implore of you," the landlord 
 cried. " You'll frighten all the ladies out of their senses." 
 
 "Find my daughter for me without delay, Briscoe — or by 
 Heavens ! " 
 
 " There she sits. Sir Hugh," the host replied, pointing to the 
 senora. 
 
 "What! in that black dress, all bedizened with lace? Are 
 you sure, Briscoe? Don't deceive me, or I'll make minced-meat 
 of you." 
 
 " I am quite sure, your worship." 
 
 Whereupon the old baronet seized the luckless senora's hand, 
 and dragged her, notwithstanding her cries and resistance, out of 
 her chair. 
 
 " Pretty doings !" he cried. " Come to your mother. Loo. How- 
 dared you attend this ball without leave? But you shall answer 
 for your conduct by-and-by." 
 
 " Will nobody free me /rom this tipsy old fool, and turn him 
 out of the room?' the senora cried. " You deserve horsewhipping 
 for your rudeness, sir, and should be horsewhipped if I were a 
 man. I thank my stars I am no daughter of yours." 
 
 " Let's see your face then, since you disown me," the old baronet 
 rejoined. 
 
 And, as he spoke, he plucked off her mask, and disclosed 
 the pretty features of Mrs. Jenyns. 
 
 "Whew!" he ejaculated ; "a charming face, i' faith, but cer- 
 tainly not Loo's. Madam, I must apologise for my violence." 
 
 Meanwhile, as may be supposed, the real delinquent had watched 
 her father's proceedings with no httle dismay. 
 
 " How shall I escape without attracting his observation ?" she 
 said to Gage. " Oh ! if I could only regain my own room." 
 
 " I'll manage it," the young man replied. " Come with me." 
 And taking her under his arm he made his way towards the door, 
 keeping on the further side of the table. 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 147 
 
 • 
 
 They might have got off without notice, if Mrs. Jenyns had not 
 called the old baronet's attention to them. 
 
 " Look there," she said, maliciously. 
 
 '* Ay, there she goes," Sir Hugh roared ; " that's my Loo — Fll 
 swear to her. Stop ! stop ! I say." 
 
 But the more he shouted, the less the fugitives seemed inclined 
 to attend to him. Quickening their steps, they presently gained 
 the door, and disappeared long before Sir Hugh could reach it, his 
 progress being barred by the servants, while Briscoe helped to pull 
 back Parson Chedworth. 
 
 l2 
 
148 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 HOW MR. TIBBITS SOUGHT EEVENGE UPON ARTHUR POYNINGS. 
 
 And now, in order to afford some needful explanations, we 
 must revert to that period of the evening when we left Sir Hugh 
 Poynings and his chaplain fast asleep in their chairs, completely 
 overcome by the potent punch brewed for them by the wily Mr. 
 Briscoe. 
 
 As soon as the landlord perceived that his guests were in this 
 helpless condition, feeling satisfied that the sleeping draught he 
 had administered would last till morning, he caused them to be 
 transported to the coach-house where Sir Hugh's travelling-carriage 
 had been placed, and deposited at full length on the seats of the 
 roomy vehicle. The removal was accomplished without the slightest 
 difficulty, for the pair of topers were too far gone to offer any re- 
 sistance ; and their wigs, cravats, and upper vestments being re- 
 moved, and nightcaps, pillows, and blankets provided, they were 
 left to their repose. As the cunning landlord locked the coach- 
 house door, and put the key in his pocket, he chuckled at the 
 success of his scheme. 
 
 But his precautions were defeated, as we shall now proceed to 
 relate. About midnight, a man wrapped in a cloak, beneath which 
 he concealed a lighted horn lantern, made his way to the coach- 
 house, unlocked the door, and went in. This personage was no 
 other than Mr. Tibbits, who, having registered a vow of vengeance 
 against Arthur Poynings, to be fulfilled before the morrow, took 
 the present opportunity of executing his threat. The mischievous 
 valet had passed part of the evening in the society of his newly- 
 restored wife, and learnt from her that her young lady and Mr. 
 Arthur were about to disobey Sir Hugh's orders, and clandestinely 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 149 
 
 attend the ball. Mrs. Pinchbeck wouldn't for worlds the old gen- 
 tleman should know it. He would never forgive Mr. Arthur or 
 her young lady the deception practised upon him — never, she was 
 convinced ! This was just what Tibbits wanted. Revenge was 
 now in his power, and he inwardly rejoiced. With affected in- 
 difference he asked what costumes the young folks meant to wear, 
 and soon obtained from his communicative spouse all particulars 
 likely to be serviceable to his design. 
 
 Later on, when the revel began, Tibbits hovered about the 
 entrance-hall and passages until he had seen with his own eyes the 
 Spanish hidalgo and his companions enter the ball-room. While 
 he lingered for a few minutes, gazing at the motley assemblage 
 inside, and envying the merriment he could not share, the second 
 hidalgo and his companions arrived, filling him with astonishment 
 at their exact resemblance to the previous party. Who could 
 these be ? — It would be vain to inquire. Nor did it much matter. 
 Either the first Spaniard or the second must be Arthur. Both 
 were in the ball-room. Of that he was assured; and though 
 some confusion might arise, still young Poynings could not escape 
 detection. He would now wake up Sir Hugh and communicate 
 the pleasing intelligence to him. 
 
 A keen-witted fellow like Tibbits does not do business by halves. 
 Thus we may be quite sure the knowing valet had made himself 
 acquainted with the strange quarters in which the old baronet 
 was lodged; and though Mr. Briscoe had secured the key of the 
 coach-house, the clever rascal had found means of opening the 
 lock. A crown piece bestowed on the ostler placed another 
 key, as well as a lantern, at his disposal. But he was inter- 
 rupted just as he was going forth on his errand. Mrs. Pinch- 
 beck had been engaged for the last two hours in attiring her 
 young lady for the ball, and being now at liberty, was on 
 the look-out for him to take her to supper. Not to arouse her 
 suspicions, Tibbits was forced to comply, and very reluctantly sat 
 down with her in a back room appropriated to the servants, 
 meaning to make a speedy escape. But he stayed longer than he 
 expected, for Mrs. Pinchbeck excited his curiosity by repeating a 
 conversation she had overheard between her young mistress and 
 Clare Fairlie, from which it appeared that the latter had deter- 
 mined upon leaving her father that very night. 
 
150 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " And rm sure I can't blame her," Mrs. PincKbeck said, in con- 
 clusion, " if all I hear of Mr. Fairlie be true. Poor thing, she's 
 dreadfully unhappy." 
 
 " I can't see any great cause for her affliction," Tibbits rejoined; 
 " and as to Mr. Fairlie, he seems a very good kind of father, as 
 fathers go. However, that's the young lady's affair, not mine. 
 If she chooses to elope, I shan't hinder her. But I suppose she 
 don't mean to go off alone. There's a lover in the case, I'll be 
 sworn." 
 
 " No — no — she's half distracted, I tell you." 
 
 " She must be entirely so, to commit such folly," Tibbits re- 
 joined, with a sneer. " I can't say I commiserate her. But I am 
 rather concerned for old Fairlie, as I fancy he won't like it." 
 
 "Your compassion is thrown away upon such a rascal. I feel 
 no pity for him whatever, and should like to see him hanged at 
 Tyburn." 
 
 " Hush ! not so loud, my dear," Tibbits cried, looking round in 
 alarm. " It's very well nobody heard you. You musn't speak in 
 such disrespectful terms of Mr. Fairlie. He's no worse than every 
 other worthy gentleman's steward, whose master is foolish enough 
 to trust him," he added, lowering his tone. 
 
 "Perhaps not," Mrs. Pinchbeck rejoined; "but that's no 
 excuse for his knavery. Why, he is doing his best to ruin Mr. 
 Monthermer." 
 
 " I must again impress upon you the necessity of caution, my 
 love. This is not the "place where private matters can be discussed. 
 Luckily all the household are absent just now. Listen to me," 
 he added, sinking his voice to a whisper: "Mr. Monthermer is 
 born to be a dupe — some men are so. Old Fairlie will profit most 
 by him no doubt — but there are others I could mention who will 
 come in for a share of the spoil. My own master, Mr. Freke, and 
 Sir Randal will be large gainers — to say nothing of Mrs. Jenyns." 
 
 "Don't mention that horrid creature to me, Tibbits," Mrs. 
 Pinchbeck cried, with a look of virtuous indignation. " I'm per- 
 fectly scandalised at such proceedings. I don't wonder at Miss 
 Fairlie's determination to fly. I should fly too, if I were so cir- 
 cumstanced. My young lady approves of her design, and so does 
 Mr. Arthur." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Arthur approves of it, does he ?" Mr. Tibbits cried. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 151 
 
 " Soh! — soh ! I begin to see more clearly into the matter. Per- 
 haps he will assist in the flight — eh?" 
 
 Mrs. Pinchbeck gave a slight nod in token of assent. 
 
 " Now it's out. I knew there must be a lover in the case," 
 Tibbits cried. " When are they to meet? — and where?" 
 
 " Oh ! I know nothing more than I've told you. But how's 
 this? — surely, you're not going to leave me?" she said, with a look 
 of tender reproach as her husband rose to depart. 
 
 "I must tear myself away, sweetheart," he replied. "I am 
 obliged to wait on my master during supper. As soon as he sets 
 me at liberty I'll return." 
 
 " You know where to find me, Tibbits," she said. 
 
 The valet replied that he did, and hurried away, fearful of 
 further detention. 
 
 On gaining the inn-yard, he stood still to reflect, and after a 
 moment's consideration, decided upon seeing Mr. Fairlie in the 
 first instance, and acquainting him with his daughter's intended 
 flight. With this purpose he shaped his course towards the ball- 
 room, and having stated to Mr. Briscoe that he had a message 
 of pressing importance to deliver to Mr. Fairlie, the landlord 
 directed him to proceed to the card-room, where he would find 
 the object of his search. Mr. Fairlie chanced to be engaged, 
 and some little time elapsed before the valet could obtain 
 speech with him. Greatly astounded by the communication, Mr. 
 Fairlie took Tibbits aside, and questioned him sharply as to how 
 he had gained his information. At first the steward seemed 
 incredulous, but ere long his uneasiness became manifest. Pro- 
 mising the valet a reward proportionate to the service he had 
 rendered, he enjoined silence, and dismissed him. Fairlie then 
 commenced his investigations, which speedily resulted in the dis- 
 covery that his daughter had disappeared — at all events, he ascer- 
 tained that a Spanish senora and don had recently quitted the 
 ball-room with so much haste as to attract attention. Further 
 inquiry showed him that two ladies, whom he could not doubt to 
 be Clare and Lucy, had changed dresses behind one of the screens 
 in the ante-chamber. We have abeady seen what occurred to 
 him in the supper-room, and shall leave him for the present to 
 follow Mr. Tibbits. 
 
 Having succeeded in alarming Mr. Fairlie, the valet next 
 
152 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 betook himself to the coach-house, in order . to go through a 
 like process with Sir Hugh. On opening the door of the carriage 
 he found its two occupants comfortably wrapped up in their 
 blankets, and snoring away as if in emulation of each other. Hold- 
 ing the lantern to the old baronet's face, he gave him so vigorous 
 a shake that he soon wakened him. Alarmed by the light, aUd 
 not comprehending where he was. Sir Hugh roared out, " Thieves ! 
 thieves !" and at the same time endeavouring to spring from the 
 seat and becoming entangled in the blanket, he fell upon the still 
 slumbering chaplain, whose outcries were instantly added to his 
 own. Half suffocated by the weight imposed upon him, and 
 fancying he was about to be murdered. Parson Chedworth 
 seized Sir Hugh by the ears, and buffeted him soundly. The 
 old baronet replied in the same style, and the conflict might have 
 been of some duration if the valet had not interposed, and by 
 thrusting forward the lantern, enabled the combatants to dis- 
 tinguish each other's features. Great was the chaplain's surprise 
 and dismay to find whom he had been cufHng so heartily; while 
 Sir Hugh was no less amazed. However, the old baronet's wrath 
 was speedily turned into another channel when he learnt from 
 Tibbits that his son and daughter were actually present at the 
 masked ball. The chaplain strove to pour oil on the troubled waters, 
 but in vain. Sir Hugh got out of the coach, and without stopping 
 to put on his coat, or remove his nightcap, went in search of some 
 of his own servants, and proceeding to the inn-kitchen as the most 
 likely place to hear of them, found his coachman there playing at 
 cribbage with Tom Maddocks, the head ostler, and a couple of 
 grooms. Beccles stared at seeing his master in such a strange 
 guise, and thought he must have become suddenly demented; and 
 he was confirmed in the notion when he received peremptory 
 orders to bring out the carriage and put to the horses without a 
 moment's delay. 
 
 " What ! at this time of night. Sir Hugh?" he remonstrated. 
 
 " Do as I bid you, Beccles," Sir Hugh rejoined, in an authorita- 
 tive tone. " Be ready to start in half an hour's time, or you lose 
 your place." 
 
 " Well, I'll do my best," the coachman replied, getting up 
 sulkily. And followed by Tom Maddocks and the grooms, he re- 
 paired to the stables. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 153 
 
 XXV. 
 
 UNDER "VTHAT CIRCUMSTANCES SIE HUGH POYNINGS's TEAVELLING-CAEBIAGE 
 WAS DRIVEN OFF. 
 
 Shortly afterwards another extraordinary incident occurred, 
 which led Beccles to conclude that his old master was not the only 
 one of the family touched in the upper story. 
 
 Scarcely had the coachman and his assistants got out the carriage, 
 and cleared it of the blankets and other things left inside it by its 
 late occupants, when a tall Spaniard, with a lady under his arm of a 
 noble presence, but rather singularly dressed as it appeared to 
 Beccles, and whose features were concealed by a mask, came 
 quickly up to him, and ordered him to open the door of the 
 vehicle without an instant's delay. Greatly amazed, but recog- 
 nising Arthur's voice, though the young gentleman's masquerade 
 attire had puzzled him at first, Beccles complied, and the lady in- 
 stantly sprang into the carriage, and retired to its furthest corner, 
 as if anxious for concealment. Arthur bent forward for a moment, 
 addressed a few words to her in an under tone, and then closing 
 the door, took Beccles out of hearing of the ostler and the grooms, 
 and told him to keep careful watch over the young lady, and see 
 that she was not molested in any way. 
 
 " I have promised her protection, Beccles, and I put her under 
 your charge, as 1 know I can rely on you. Search may possibly 
 be made for her, but let no one look into the carriage — above all, 
 Mr. Fairlie. Take your own way of inducing those fellows to hold 
 their tongues," he added, pointing to Tom Haddocks and the 
 grooms. 
 
 " But Sir Hugh has ordered me to put to the horses directly, 
 Muster Arthur," Beccles remarked. " Must I do it?" 
 
154 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Of course. Get ready for starting as quickly as you can, but 
 on no account allow Sir Hugh, to enter the carriage till you see 
 me." 
 
 " Oons, Muster Arthur, that's easily said. But suppose he will 
 get in, how am I to hinder him ? " 
 
 " Oh ! you'll find out a way of doing it. Make any excuse to 
 gain time." 
 
 " Lord lovee, Muster Arthur, I'd go through fire and water to 
 serve you, but I daren't offend Sir Hugh. It's as much as my 
 place be worth." 
 
 " Rest quite easy, Beccles. I'll hold you harmless, and reward 
 you handsomely into the bargain. Attend to my orders." 
 
 " Very well. Muster Arthur, I suppose you must have your way. 
 But it be sorely against my inclination to disobey Sir Hugh." 
 
 "I'll make it all right, I tell you," Arthur rejoined, walking 
 quickly away. 
 
 "Dang me if I can understand what he'd be at!" Beccles 
 thought. " It's my opinion both father and son be cracked. Well, 
 I suppose I must side wi' young master." 
 
 With this self-communion he returned to the ostler and the 
 grooms, and in pursuance of his intructions bound them over to 
 secrecy in regard to the lady inside the carriage ; and while the 
 horses were put to, debated with himself what had best be done 
 under the circumstances ; the result of his cogitations being an order 
 to Tom Maddocks to mount the box, and hold himself in readiness 
 to drive gS, when he, Beccles, should give him the hint. Mad- 
 docks had just got up, and taken the whip in hand, when Mr. 
 Fairlie, accompanied by Bellairs, Chassemouche, and a link-boy, 
 bearing a flambeau, suddenly burst into the inn-yard. The unusual 
 spectacle at such an hour of a travelling-carriage, with horses attached 
 to it, naturally attracted the steward's attention, and, addressing 
 Beccles, he asked what was the meaning of his master's sudden 
 departure. Receiving no very satisfactory answer to the inquiry, 
 he ordered the coachman to open the carriage door. 
 
 "What for, sir?" Beccles demanded, sulkily. 
 " Because I suspect some one is concealed within. That's enough 
 for you." 
 
 " No, it isn't. I'm sure Sir Hugh would never allow you to 
 set foot in his carriage, and while I can raise a hand to prevent 
 it you never shall." 
 
THE SPENDTHBIFT. 155 
 
 "Ah, ma foi! dere is a lady in tlie coche — I see her quite 
 plain," Chassemouche exclaimed. He had snatched the flambeau 
 from the link-boy and run to the other side of the carriage. 
 
 " It's only Mrs. Pinchbeck," Beccles shouted. " I won't have 
 her disturbed." 
 
 " Be off, you meddling hound," Haddocks cried, cutting at the 
 Frenchman with his whip. 
 
 " Ah ! sacrebleu ! do you dare strike me !" Chassemouche cried. 
 And he hurled the flambeau at the ostler, who luckily avoided the 
 dangerous missile, and retaliated with a further application of the 
 whip to the Frenchman's shoulders. The torch fell into a little 
 pool, and became extinguished, leaving all in darkness as before. 
 
 " Come, sirrah ! " Fairlie cried, " I will be trifled with no longer. 
 I am sure my daughter is in the carriage. You had better be 
 reasonable. I have the means of enforcing obedience to my orders, 
 and rely upon it I will use them." 
 
 " Once more I tell you. Muster Fairlie, you shall never set foot 
 in my master's carriage — and now you're answered, sir." 
 
 At this juncture, a slight diversion was occasioned by the ap- 
 pearance of two other actors on the scene, the foremost of whom 
 was Sir Hugh Poynings. The old baronet suddenly issued from 
 the side-door of the hotel, and was followed by his chaplain. 
 
 " What's all this ?" exclaimed Sir Hugh. " Oddslife ! are you 
 going to take my carriage by storm?" 
 
 " It may put an end to this unseemly altercation. Sir Hugh," 
 Mr. Fairlie said, " if I' inform you that I am in search of my 
 daughter." 
 
 " Precisely my own case, sir — I am in search of mine. I saw 
 her quit the ball just now with that young prodigal — Gage Mon- 
 thermer, and I've lost all traces of her." 
 
 "I shall be happy to aid you in your quest. Sir Hugh, if 
 you will first oblige me by a sight of the lady inside your 
 carriage." 
 
 "I didn't know there was a lady inside it," the old baronet 
 rejoined. " Who is she, Beccles?" 
 
 " I've already told Muster Fairlie it be Mrs. Pinchbeck, but he 
 won't believe me, and wants to get in and satisfy himself. I 
 know your honour won't permit it." 
 
 " Well, I don't know what to say," Sir Hugh rejoined. " If it 
 be Mrs. Pinchbeck, there can be no harm in her getting out.'* 
 
156 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Oons, your honour," Beccles exclaimed, " I didn't expect you 
 to knock under to the Hke of Muster Fairlie." 
 
 " Knock under ! rascal — I'd have you to know that a Poynings 
 never yet knocked under." 
 
 " So I've always heard say, Sir Hugh ; but this looks woundy 
 like it." 
 
 " Really, Sir Hugh, the impertinence of this fellow is past all 
 endurance, and I wonder you can tolerate it," Mr. Fairlie remarked, 
 in a bland tone. " I am sorry to put you to any trouble, but I 
 am sure you will excuse me under the circumstances. If you will 
 get into the carriage, and assure me from your own observation 
 that the person inside is not my daughter, I shall be perfectly 
 satisfied. I think I may venture to ask thus much of your polite- 
 ness." 
 
 " "Well, I see no objection to that, sir," the old baronet re- 
 plied. 
 
 And he approached the carriage, but Beccles planted himself 
 sturdily before the door. 
 
 " Your honour don't do it," he said, doggedly. 
 
 "Don't do what, rascal? Zounds! will you dare oppose me?" 
 
 "Your honour shan't demean yourself by obeying Muster 
 Fairlie. I'm too trusty a servant to let my master be cajoled by 
 his flummery. Let him and me settle it." 
 
 " You must be drunk, fellow, to act in this way," the old 
 baronet roared. 
 
 " Your pardon, Sir Hugh," Fairlie interposed — " the man is 
 sober enough, but is evidently bent on thwarting me, and takes 
 this cunning means of doing so. But it shall not succeed. I am 
 now satisfied that my suspicions are correct. Allow me to deal 
 with him? Will you listen to reason, sirrah?" he demanded, in 
 a stern tone, of Beccles. " I ask you for the last time." 
 
 "My answer's the same as before," the coachman rejoined. 
 " Now, Tom," he roared to Maddocks, " drive on." 
 
 The whip resounded, and in another instant the lumbering 
 vehicle was in motion. As Mr. Fairlie saw it move off he uttered 
 an exclamation of rage, and felt inclined to knock down his 
 audacious opponent, but some fears of the consequences perhaps 
 restrained him. As to Sir Hugh, in spite of his anger he could 
 3iot help laughing at this unexpected termination of the dispute. 
 No one doubted that the carriage would be speedily stopped, and 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. lo7 
 
 most of the party followed it as it rolled out of the inn-yard. 
 
 By this time, a large portion of the assemblage which we have 
 described as congregated in front of the Angel had dispersed. 
 Still, there was a considerable crowd near the door of the hotel, 
 while numerous carriages were drawn up on the opposite side of 
 the square. Besides these, there were sedan-chairs in abundance, 
 and around the latter were collected groups of footmen, chairmen, 
 and link-boys, smoking, drinking, and otherwise amusing them- 
 selves. As Sir Hugh's enormous travelling- carriage came rum- 
 bling into the square it astonished all beholders. No one could 
 conceive what had brought it out at that time of night. The 
 shouts raised by Mr. Fairlie and the others of " Stop it ! — stop 
 it!" were echoed by a hundred voices, and even if Haddocks had 
 intended going further, he could not have got beyond the portal 
 of the hotel. 
 
 Just as he pulled up, half a dozen lacqueys, in the gorgeous 
 Monthermer livery, rushed down the steps, and posted themselves 
 on either side of the door of the vehicle. Mr. Briscoe followed 
 them almost immediately, and ordered Haddocks to descend from 
 the box. While Mr. Fairlie was struggling with the crowd, try- 
 ing to get up to the carriage, and wondering what was about to 
 happen, to his infinite astonishment he beheld Gage issue forth 
 from the hotel, with a lady under his arm, masked and enveloped 
 in a black domino. Behind them came a smart little page, whose 
 white satin habiliments were partially concealed by a cloak. Un- 
 like the other two, Honthermer wore no vizard, and his features 
 were therefore fully distinguishable by the torchlight. A large 
 roquelaure was thrown over his shoulders. 
 
 As Gage hastily descended the steps with his fair companion, 
 the coach door was opened by the lacquey nearest it, and in another 
 moment the lady and her page were inside, and the door closed 
 upon them. All this was the work of a few seconds, but brief as 
 was the space, it sufficed to show Fairlie that the coach was 
 tenanted by another lady — most likely, his daughter. He re- 
 doubled his efforts to press through the throng, but in vain. As 
 a last resource, he shouted to Gage, but the young gentleman 
 took no notice of him, being otherwise occupied. 
 
 Mounting with unwonted activity to the seat lately vacated by 
 Haddocks, Gage snatched up the reins and applied the whip to 
 the horses with such good will, that they instantly started off at a 
 
158 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 gallop. Free course was now made for the rattling vehicle by the 
 assemblage, who were greatly entertained, and amidst general 
 laughter and cheering, it speedily disappeared. Sir Hugh came 
 up just as the coach had started, and laughed as heartily as the 
 rest of the bystanders, till FairHe made him alter his tone. 
 
 " Are you aware that your daughter is gone. Sir Hugh? " Fairlie 
 said. ^^ She is inside the carriage — and so is mine." 
 
 "My daughter! What! has he dared to carry her off? 'Sblood! 
 I must give chase instantly. A coach! — a coach!" But though 
 there were plenty of vehicles at hand, not one stirred at the call. 
 
 ^'It's my fault that this has happened, sir," Arthur cried, 
 coming up. " But I'll repair the error. As soon as my horse 
 is saddled I'll follow them." 
 
 " You shan't go alone," Mr. Fairlie said. " A horse instantly, 
 Briscoe." 
 
 " And another for me," Sir Hugh roared. " We'll all start in 
 pursuit. But zounds ! I must put on my coat, and get myself a 
 little in order for the chase. If Gage should break his neck in 
 going down that infernal hill without a drag, it would serve him 
 right — ^but then what would become of poor Lucy ?** 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 159 
 
 XXVL 
 
 THE DEBT OP HONOUR, AND HOW IT WAS PAID. 
 
 Three months have elapsed. A long term in the life of our 
 last-going hero. In three months he could squander away as much 
 money, and commit a3 many follies, as other and slower folk 
 could contrive to do in as many years. In three months, by a 
 lucky hit, some people have made a fortune: in the same space 
 of time Gage found it equally easy to spend one. 
 
 Three months then have gone by: three months of unheard-of 
 extravagance and waste — of riot, profligacy, exhaustion. 
 
 These three months have been passed in town, in the society of 
 rakes, gamblers, and other ministers to so-called pleasure. They 
 have been passed in an eternal round of dissipation. No pause — 
 no restraint — ever onwards at the same headlong pace. 
 
 Each day has brought some fresh amusement — some new excite- 
 ment. Each day has been marked by some act of folly or pro- 
 fusion — ^by some mad frolic, unbridled excess, or piece of scarcely- 
 conceivable prodigality. 
 
 Each night has been spent in debasing orgies — ^in the gambling 
 ordinaries, in scouring the streets, in conflicts with the watch. 
 
 The cup of pleasure has been drained to the very dregs. The 
 supposed inexhaustible purse of Fortunatus is almost emptied. The 
 race is nearly run. 
 
 At first view, it seems scarcely credible that any person in his 
 senses should be guilty of the outrageous follies and vicious ex- 
 cesses we have imputed to our hero : the more so, as we have always 
 affirmed that he was not destitute of good qualities. But the good 
 in him was now overmastered by evil. Yielding to temptations of all 
 kinds, he had fallen. His wealth, which, properly used, would have 
 
160 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 given him a proud position, and enabled him to perform a thou- 
 sand beneficent and worthy actions, had proved a bane instead of a 
 blessing. It served to enervate his nature and corrupt his prin- 
 ciples; rendering him a mark for the parasite, the sharper, and their 
 harpy train. Indolent, luxurious, profuse, he was content at first to 
 purchase pleasures ; but as these palled, from repetition and over- 
 indulgence, he sought excitement in play, and what in the com- 
 mencement had been mere distraction, became in the end an all- 
 engrossing passion. He could not exist without cards and dice — 
 and though his immense losses at the gaming-table might have 
 operated as a check, they incited him to go on. He was not with- 
 out moments of compunction — indeed of remorse — but he banished 
 these feelings as quickly as they arose. Of late, he had begun 
 to drink deeply, and when inflamed with wine, he committed 
 frantic excesses. By such a course of conduct, if he accomplished 
 nothing else, he fully achieved the grand point of his ambition, 
 which was to be accounted the greatest rake of the day. His 
 unbounded extravagances had long been the talk of the town ; 
 and his wild freaks gained him an unenviable notoriety. Still, 
 though his speedy downfal was predicted on all hands, he main- 
 tained his position, for his debts of honour were duly discharged. 
 Whether his less honourable debts were paid with equal punc- 
 tuality was of small concern — except to his creditors. 
 
 With the fair syren, whose charms had enslaved him, and whose 
 extravagance had contributed in no slight degree to his ruin, Gage 
 continued wildly infatuated as ever ; more so, perhaps, for since 
 he had been unable to gratify her caprices to the same extent as 
 formerly, she made it evident that she cared little for him, and 
 her manifest indifference, so far from diminishing his passion, in- 
 creased it almost to frenzy. He became furiously jealous of her, 
 and as she frequently, from the mere pleasure of tormenting him, 
 encouraged the attentions of some presumptuous coxcomb, more 
 than one duel resulted from her heartless conduct. Little recked 
 Mrs. Jenyns that her lover thus jeopardised his life on her account. 
 She laughed when told of the hostile meetings in which he had 
 been engaged, and vowed they gave her eclat. Gage now made 
 the discovery — but too late to profit by it — that the beautiful 
 actress was totally without heart. Not only did she not love him 
 now, but she had never loved him. This he understood ; yet his 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 161 
 
 insane passion remained incurable. The Circe had thoroughly 
 bewitched him. Once, and once only, since he had been first 
 entangled, had an opportunity occurred to him of breaking the 
 fetters of the enchantress. This was immediately after the memo- 
 rable masked ball at Bury Saint Edmund's, when for a few days 
 he regained his freedom, and yielding to better influences, shunned 
 her baneful society. But ere a week had gone by, he was again 
 at her feet ; and though the fair conqueror was willing to forgive, 
 she took care that her clemency should not be too easily obtained, 
 and exacted pledges for future obedience. It is possible that Gage 
 might at this time have succeeded in wholly estranging himself 
 from her, if she had not had a secret and powerful ally in Fairlie. 
 It was chiefly owing to his instrumentality that the ill-starred 
 reconciliation was effected. Thenceforward the syren maintained 
 her sway. 
 
 Hitherto, Mr. Fairhe had answered all his reckless employer's 
 pecuniary demands upon him — not without feigned remonstrances, 
 certainly — nor without cent, per cent, interest for the loans, and 
 sufficient security for repayment; but he had already begun to 
 debate with himself how soon matters ought to be brought to an 
 end. The mine was ready to explode, and the train had but to be 
 fired. The steward waited for the fitting moment to apply the 
 match, and meanwhile, like a skilful engineer, took every precau- 
 tion to ensure himself from damage. 
 
 By this time the position of the two had become reversed. 
 Fairlie was master ; Monthermer dependent. Gage's estates in 
 Suffolk were all mortgaged — mortgaged, it would seem, past re- 
 demption — and the real owner of Monthermer Castle, though 
 he had not as yet asserted his claim to it, was Felix Fairlie 
 More than this, all Monthermer's sumptuous furniture, magnifi- 
 cent plate, pictures, equipages, stud of horses, everything, in short, 
 of value, once belonging to him, had been pledged to Fairlie, and 
 could be seized by the rapacious steward whenever he chose. 
 
 Still Gage went on recklessly as ever, and kept up the same 
 gay and gallant exterior. His horses and equipages were still the 
 admiration of all who beheld them in Piccadilly or the Park; 
 and not one of the fops to be met on the Mall or in Saint JamesV 
 street was distinguished by greater richness or taste of apparel. 
 His entertainments at his mansion in Dover- street were still mag- 
 
 ■ 
 
162 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 nificent, and of his numerous retinue of attendants not one had 
 been discharged. Most of these, seeing how matters were going 
 on, had taken good care of themselves. It is true that some of 
 the tradesmen whom our prodigal hero honoured with his custom, 
 having received private information as to the state of his affairs, 
 had become rather clamorous for payment, but Mr. Fairlie had 
 hitherto taken care that Gage should not be personally annoyed 
 by duns. 
 
 Having thus shown how the last three months had been spent by 
 our hero, we shall proceed with his history. 
 
 One morning, towards the end of July, a party of young men, 
 most of them richly attired, but of very dissolute appearance, were 
 breakfasting at a rather late hour in the large room of White's 
 Chocolate House, in Saint James' s-street. Some few, while sipping 
 their chocolate, glanced at the journals of the day, not for the 
 purpose of ascertaining what was going on in the political world 
 — for they cared little about such information — but in order 
 to pick up a scandalous anecdote or story with which they 
 might subsequently divert their acquaintance. Others, and these 
 were the noisiest of the company, were recounting their adven- 
 tures overnight in the streets and gambling-houses — telling how 
 tliey had scoured High Holborn and Chancery-lane, and broken 
 the windows of those old rogues the lawyers abiding in or near 
 that thoroughfare ; how they had bravely battled with the watch, 
 what tremendous blows they had given and received — in proof of 
 which latter assertion the plaisters on their pates were exhibited ; 
 how they had been captured, and rescued as they were being 
 haled by the constables and their myrmidons to the round-house : 
 and how in the end they had come off victoriously, with a vast 
 quantity of trophies in the shape of smashed lanterns, disabled 
 rattles, and spHntered constables' staves. 
 
 The person to whom these roystering blades owed their de- 
 liverance from the minions of the law was no other than Gage 
 Monthermer, who came up most opportunely with another band 
 of scourers from Long-acre and Drury-lane, and speedily put the 
 :watchmen to rout. Gage, it appeared, had been drinking deeply 
 and "roaring handsomely" — in other words, he had been creating 
 terrible disturbances in the quarters which he and his inebriate 
 companions had visited. 
 
I 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 163 
 
 And here we may as well explain, for the benefit of th<; 
 uninitiated, that the young bloods of the time? after a hard 
 drinking-bout, were wont to amuse themselves and cool their 
 heated brains by scouring the streets, and insulting and mal- 
 treating every decent person they encountered. Occasionally, 
 with frantic yells, which they termed "roaring," they would 
 burst into the taverns, clear them of their guests, and then 
 proceed to trounce and kick the waiters. Daubing over signs, 
 wrenching off knockers, breaking windows, extinguishing street- 
 lamps, and tripping up chairmen, were among the mildest frolics 
 of these jovial gentlemen. Long ere this. Gage had earned so much 
 distinction amongst the scourers, or Mohocks, as they delighted 
 to be called, that by common consent he had been elected their 
 chief. Gage was proud of the title, and naturally enough attri- 
 buted his election to his eminent merits as a scourer ; but there 
 was another reason, though this was not put forward, which had in- 
 fluenced the Mohocks in their choice of a leader. Such pranks as 
 they played were not to be committed altogether with impunity. 
 Some one must pay the piper, and who so able to do it as Gage? 
 Our hero soon discovered, that if it was a fine thing (as surely it was) 
 to be chief of the scourers, it was rather expensive work to main- 
 tain the position ; and that to mend all the windows broken by 
 his followers, re-gild and re-paint the signs they had disfigured, 
 and find new knockers for the doors they had injured — to say 
 nothing of fees to watchmen and others, as well as plaisters for broken 
 heads — he soon discovered, we say, that these things, when of con- 
 stant recurrence, and coming upon himself alone, cost a trifle. 
 
 Many of Gage's nocturnal exploits were recounted with infinite 
 zest by the young bloods we have described, and great admiration 
 was expressed at his courage and skill ; all agreeing that he well 
 deserved to be their leader, and only regretting that he could not 
 hold the post much longer. 
 
 Seated at a table, somewhat removed from the rest of the com- 
 pany, were four personages whom we first met at Monthermer 
 Castle, and who at that time professed the strongest regard for its 
 wealthy owner. To listen to their discourse, it would seem that the 
 warmth of their friendship must have considerably abated. As to 
 assisting Gage in his hour of need, such an idea never for a moment 
 entered their heads: if it had, they would have scouted it at 
 
 m2 
 
164 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 once, as errant folly. From the time when we first encountered 
 them up to the present moment, these ingrates had never lost 
 sight of their dupe. It was not their fault that, towards the 
 end of his career, Gage had fallen into the hands of a lower grade 
 of cheats. They had warned him, but he would not take counsel. 
 When he could lose his money like a gentleman — lose it to gentle- 
 men — why should he play with common rooks at a gaming- 
 ordinary — knaves who used false dice and cramped boxes ? Wag 
 there ever such a bubble ! 
 
 Tliese four personages, it will be guessed, were Sir Randal de 
 Meschine^, Beau Freke, Lord Melton, and Brice Bunbury. Hark 
 to their discourse. 
 
 " Then you think it is all up with our friend, eh. Sir Randal ?" 
 Brice Bunbury remarked. 
 
 " I am quite sure of it," the young baronet replied. " He lost 
 five hundred pounds to me, two nights ago, at hazard, and when I 
 applied to Fairlie for the money yesterday, it was refused." 
 
 " Humph ! that looks suspicious indeed ! " Brice exclaimed. 
 " Hitherto all his debts of honour have been paid." 
 
 " He paid me a thousand pounds last week," Beau Freke ob- 
 served, with a smile. " I have not played with him since. Old 
 Fairlie gave me a hint when he handed over the money, and I have 
 acted upon it." 
 
 " Fairlie cautioned me at the same time," Sir Randal said. 
 
 "Then you must put up with the loss with patience," Brice 
 remarked. "You should not have played under such circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " I don't mean to lose the money. He must pay me." 
 
 " How the deuce is he to manage it, if Fairlie has stopped the 
 supplies ?" Lord Melton said. " He owes me a small bet of a few 
 hundreds, but I consider it gone." 
 
 " Your lordship will act as you think proper," Sir Randal re- 
 joined ; " but I mean to be paid." 
 
 " Again, I ask — how ?" Lord Melton said. 
 
 " You will see, if you remain here till two o'clock," Sir Randal 
 returned, with a laugh. Then taking out his watch, he added, 
 ^ You won't have to wait long. It only wants a quarter of an 
 hour of the time." 
 
 As these words were uttered, a young gentleman at an adjoining 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 165' 
 
 table, who up to this moment had been apparently occupied with a 
 newspaper, looked up, and glanced at the speaker. He did not, 
 however, attract Sir Randal's notice. 
 
 " I will tell you what I have done, and you will then judge 
 what is likely to occur," pursued the young baronet, coldly. " I 
 have despatched a note to Gage acquainting him with the failure 
 of my application to Fairlie — and reminding him that the debt is a 
 debt of honour. I have told him I shall be here at the hour I have 
 just named, and expect to receive the money." 
 
 " He will send an excuse," Brice said. 
 
 "No, he will not," Sir Randal rejoined. *' He knows I will take 
 no excuses. Were he to fail me, I would publicly proclaim him a 
 defaulter, and then his reputation as a man of honour would be for 
 ever blasted." 
 
 " Scoundrel !" ejaculated the listener, under his breath. 
 
 " My opinion therefore is, that the money will be forthcoming," 
 Sir Randal continued. "Notwithstanding old Fairlie's protesta- 
 tions to the contrary, I am sure this small sunf may be screwed 
 out of him." 
 
 "Egad, I don't consider five hundred pounds a small sum," 
 Brice remarked. *' I wish to goodness I possessed as much. But 
 I hope you won't proceed to extremities with Gage. Recollect 
 how much you have got out of him — and how often you have 
 feasted with him." 
 
 "I don't care," the young baronet rejoined. " I must be paid. 
 Let me see," he added, again consulting his watch — " ten minutes 
 to two." 
 
 "By Jove! I begin to feel quite uneasy," Brice observed, 
 rising. " I shall be off." 
 
 " Sit down," Sir Randal cried, authoritatively. " I want you to 
 be present at the interview." 
 
 " Interview !" Brice exclaimed, reluctantly complying with the 
 injunction. " Do you think he will come in person ?" 
 
 " Not a doubt of it." 
 
 " The best thing Gage can do to repair his fallen fortunes will 
 be to marry a rich heiress," Beau Freke remarked. 
 
 " Where is he to find her ?" Lord Melton laughed. 
 
 " Fairlie's daughter, if she would have him, would be the thing 
 just now.'* 
 
166 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Poh ! poll ! old Falrlie would not now consent to tne match — 
 much as he once desired it," Brice said. 
 
 "A truce to jesting on this subject, gentlemen, if you please," 
 Sir Randal interposed. " Fairlie has promised me his daughter in 
 marriage." 
 
 "You!" the beau ejaculated. " Why, he has given me a like 
 promise." 
 
 " With the view of sowing discord between you," Brice said ; 
 " but don't let him succeed in his purpose. For my part, I wish 
 Gage could win her. It would set him on his legs again." 
 
 " I tell you he has no chance," Sir Randal cried, impatiently. 
 " Fairlie knows too well what he is about to wed her to such an 
 irreclaimable spendthrift." 
 
 "Well, then, there is Lucy Poynings," Brice suggested — "a 
 charming girl — far prettier, to my fancy, than Clare FairUe. If he 
 will promise to reform, and retire to the country, he may persuade 
 her to accept him." 
 
 "Pshaw, she has been long cured of her silly attachment to 
 him," Sir Randal replied. " Gage and myself have often met her 
 at Ranelagh, Marylebone Gardens, and other places, and she would 
 not even look at him." 
 
 " Apropos of Clare and Lucy, do you remember how he drove 
 off with them both in Sir Hugh Poynings*s travelling carriage, 
 after the masquerade at Bury?" Beau Freke observed. 
 
 " Ha ! ha I ha !" Brice roared, " what a laugh we had at that 
 droll adventure! It might have been no laughing matter, 
 though, to Gage. Ten to one he had broken his neck when he 
 upset the coach in galloping down that steep hill. It was lucky 
 the poor girls inside were uninjured. But they must have been 
 confoundedly frightened, as well as terribly shaken. Do you 
 recollect the woeful appearance they all presented when they were 
 brought back to the Angel? The only lively one amongst them 
 was little Lettice Rougham, and she had lost none of her spirit. 
 Odd, that her father should come up just in time to rescue 
 them all from their peril, and get Gage from under the horses' 
 feet, or most assuredly he would have had his brains dashed 
 out." 
 
 " Supposing him to have any, which may admit of a doubt," 
 laughed Sir Randal. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 167 
 
 "Well, I fancied that night's adventure had wrought a gre^t 
 change in his character," Brice continued. " For a few days, on 
 his return to town, he seemed disposed to turn over a new leaf, 
 and not to be over fond of our society. Things, however, soon 
 came round, and he resumed his old habits." 
 
 " For that we have chiefly to thank Mr. Fairlie," Lord Melton 
 remarked. 
 
 "Yes — because we were necessary to him," Beau Freke re- 
 joined. "I shall never forget his alarm when, for a brief space, 
 he really believed that Gage was about to reform. He thought 
 his prize would be snatched from him. Mrs. Jenyns, who had 
 been cast off, had to be reinstated without delay." 
 
 " That was to counteract a purer influence which had begun to 
 tell upon the dupe," Brice said. " If Gage had been left alone 
 for another week he would have married Lucy Poynings — that is, 
 if she would have had him — and then he would have bidden adieu 
 for ever to Mr. Fairlie, and to some other of his obliging friends." 
 
 " Not so loud," Beau Freke said ; " I fancy the person at that 
 table, who appears to be a stranger here, is listening to us." 
 
 " Well, unless he is a friend of Monthermer's he can have heard 
 nothing to interest him," Lord Melton laughed. "We have been 
 talking of no one else." 
 
 More than once, the young man referred to had cast an indig- 
 nant glance at the speakers, and seemed about to interrupt their 
 discourse. But he now took up the newspaper again, and seemed 
 occupied with it. 
 
 "It is two o'clock!" Sir Randal exclaimed. "He won't 
 come." 
 
 " You are wrong, — he is here," Brice Bunbury cried. " I wish 
 I could vanish," he added to himself. 
 
 As the exclamations were uttered. Gage entered the room, and 
 after returning the salutations of such of the company as greeted 
 him, he passed on towards Sir Randal. His habiliments, though 
 rich, were slightly disordered, and he looked more rakish than 
 heretofore. His laced cravat was carelessly arranged, his pe- 
 ruke dishevelled, and his features haggard and worn by de- 
 bauchery ; while, despite his efforts to conceal it, there was a 
 visible embarrassment in his manner. As he approached the table 
 at which his quondam friends were seated, Brice sprang forward 
 to meet him, and pressed his hand with affected warmth. Beau 
 
168 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Freke and Lord Melton were cordial enough in manner — but Sir 
 Randal made no advance, and merely bowed stiffly. 
 
 " I knew you would be punctual, Monthermer," he said. " I 
 told our friends so." 
 
 " I must beg you to accept my apology, Sir Randal," Gage re- 
 plied. " I am extremely sorry to disappoint you, but Fairlie will 
 not make the required advance. Such a paltry sum can be of no 
 consequence to youl — will pay you in a few days." 
 
 " You will pardon me, Mr. Monthermer," Sir Randal replied, 
 ^' if I remind you of what I intimated in my letter, that this is a 
 debt of honour, and must be repaid on pain of forfeiture of your 
 character as a s^entleman." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, — that is quite understood. I will pay it — I mean to 
 pay it — only give me a few days.' I am a good deal harassed at 
 this moment." 
 
 " Your perplexities are not likely to decrease, sir, and I cannot 
 therefore grant you further delay." 
 
 "But 'sdeath! what am I to do, Sir Randal?" Gage cried. 
 " How am I to raise the money ? " 
 
 "Ay, that's just it — that's precisely what Lord Melton said," 
 Brice interposed. " What the deuce is he to do to raise the 
 money ? " 
 
 " You should have thought of this before," Sir Randal said. 
 
 " Will you lend me the amount for a few days, Freke ? " Gage 
 said to the beau, who, however, shook his head, and expressed his 
 regrets at being compelled to decline. " Will you oblige me, my 
 lord ? " Monthermer added, appealing with equal ill-success to the 
 sporting nobleman. " 1 suppose it is in vain to ask you ? " he con- 
 cluded, addressing Brice Bunbury. 
 
 " You shouldn't need to ask twice, if I had the money, Mon- 
 thermer," Brice replied. " I'd lend it you with all the pleasure in 
 Hfe." 
 
 " Then I must positively throw myself upon your good nature 
 to hold me excused for a few days longer, Sir Randal," Gage said 
 to the young baronet. " You must take my word, as a gentleman, 
 for the payment of the money." 
 
 " I will not take it," Sir Randal rejoined, insolently. 
 
 " How ! " Gage exclaimed, starting, and involuntarily laying his 
 hand upon his sword. " This is the first time I have been 
 doubted. I must have satisfaction for this affront." 
 
'^ t.^ 
 
 
 
 The nebt of Honour— P )6ft 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 169 
 
 '^ Pay me the money, and I will give you satisfaction, Mr. Mon- 
 ttermer. But do not imagine I will cross swords with any man of 
 tarnished honour — and such you will be held when once I pro- 
 claim you a defaulter." 
 
 ^^ Tarnished honour !" Gage cried, in a voice of anguish. " Can 
 such an opprobrious term be applied to me ? Have I no friend 
 left?" 
 
 "Apparently not," said the young man described as seated 
 at an adjoining table, and who, as he came forward, proved 
 to be Arthur Poynings. "I will lend you the money you re- 
 quire," he added, placing a pocket-book in Gage's hands. " Pay 
 this honourable gentleman," he cried, with scornful emphasis, and 
 regarding Sir Randal with supreme contempt. 
 
 " I will not take the money thus offered," Sir Randal exclaimed. 
 
 " By Heaven ! you shall take it," Gage cried, opening the pocket- 
 book, and forcing the bank-notes it contained upon the young 
 baronet. " Count them, sir — count them in the presence of these 
 gentlemen, for I will not trust your word. Huzza ! my honour is 
 saved. Arthur, I am for ever beholden to you." 
 
 " Gratitude is all your friend is likely to get, Monthermer, so it 
 is well to be lavish of it," Sir Randal said. " Mr. Arthur Poynings, 
 you will have an account to settle with me. It is not the first 
 time we have met — but if you will afford me another opportunity, 
 I promise you it shall be the last." 
 
 '^ I refuse yOur challenge. Sir Randal," Arthur said. 
 
 " Refuse it, sir ! " 
 
 "Ay, utterly refuse it — on the ground that you are a sharper — 
 and as such I will everywhere denounce you." 
 
 Scarcely were these words out of Arthur's mouth, than Sir 
 Randal's sword sprang from its sheath, and he would have 
 attacked young Poynings if Gage had not seized him by the 
 throat, and hurled him forcibly backwards. 
 
 In an instant the whole room was in confusion. All the rest of 
 the company arose, and rushed to the scene of strife. Sir Randal 
 was so furiously exasperated, that, fearful of mischief ensuing, 
 Beau Freke and Lord Melton judged it prudent to get him away, 
 and with difficulty succeeded in removing him. When order was 
 at last restored. Gage looked about for Arthur, to renew his thanks 
 to him for his opportune assistance, but the young man had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
170 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW MES. JENYNS TOOK A PEEP INTO ME. EAIBLIE's STB.ONG-B0X; AND 
 WHAT SHE GOT BY DOING SO. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie was alone in a spacious apartment in Montliermer's 
 magnificent mansion in Dover-street. We call the house Mon- 
 thermer's — but only by courtesy — for in reality it belonged to the 
 present occupant of the chamber. The room we propose to in- 
 spect lay at the back, on the ground-floor, and opened upon a 
 garden, in which there were some fine trees, now of course in full 
 foliage, since it was summer season. Between the lofty windows 
 and the table at which the steward was seated stood a screen, so 
 that he could not be overlooked from without. The trees inter- 
 cepted the sunshine, and the tall screen further darkened the cham- 
 ber, and gave it a gloomy air. The furniture, too, was dingy, and 
 the walls — where not occupied with bookcases — were hung with 
 choice pictures, chiefly of the Dutch school. It was, in fact, the 
 library, or study, and had been the favourite retreat of the Honour- 
 able Sackville Spencer, the former possessor of the house, who used to 
 pass many hours of each day within it in the society of his beloved 
 authors. All the rest of the mansion had been newly and splen- 
 didly furnished by Gage at the time of its purchase, but this room 
 was allowed to remain in its original state to please Fairlie, who 
 made choice of it for his own occupation. Here he passed as many 
 hours daily as the lettered Sackville Spencer had been wont to 
 pass, but in very different studies. Our steward, it will be readily 
 conceived, made but slight acquaintance with the poets, philosophers, 
 and divines, by whom he was surrounded. He had no greater taste 
 for art than for literature. He might sometimes condescend to 
 look at the pictures ; but he rarely, if ever, noticed the marble 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 171 
 
 busts on the pedestals, whose cold gaze seemed to regard him 
 as an intruder on their sanctuary. The only books that en- 
 grossed him were account-books, while the sole object on the 
 walls that he deemed worthy of attention was a plan of Monther- 
 mer's Suffolk property. Whenever he had a few minutes to 
 spare, or sought relaxation from his self-imposed toils, he would 
 plant himself before this map, and tracing out with his finger 
 the boundaries of some particular plot of land, would consider 
 whether any change, beneficial to himself (for he now regarded 
 liiraself as owner of the estates), could be effected. In fact, he 
 was always making what he considered improvements in the pro- 
 perty, without the slightest regard to the wishes or convenience 
 of the tenants ; offering in this respect, as in all others, a notable 
 contrast to old Squire Warwick. There was little else worth re- 
 marking in the room ; but we may just mention, that on the left 
 of the fireplace was a deep closet, the door of which now stood 
 partially open; while beyond the closet, and nearer the garden, 
 was a side door, communicating by a short passage with an ad- 
 joining apartment, and forming a private entrance to the library: 
 a means of access never used, except by Fairlie himself, or with 
 his permission. Within reach of the steward, at the moment we 
 have chosen for intruding on his privacy, was a large strong-box, 
 provided with double locks, and secured by broad bands of iron. 
 Tliis mysterious-looking chest was ordinarily deposited for better 
 security in the closet, but had been brought out on that morning, 
 in order to facilitate the examination of certain documents which 
 it contained. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie had been occupied with his accounts for more than 
 five hours, verifying entries by reference to vouchers and memo- 
 randum-books, and casting up long columns of figures. He had 
 just brought his labours to an end, — apparently to his entire satis- 
 faction, for as he closed the ponderous ledger and fastened its 
 brazen clasps, a triumphant smile played upon his countenance. 
 He then turned round in his chair, unlocked the strong-box, and 
 was in the act of placing a bundle of papers within it, when the 
 side door we have alluded to suddenly opened, and admitted 
 Mrs. Jenyns. 
 
 The smile on the steward's countenance instantly faded away, 
 and gave place to a very different expression. He did not like to 
 be disturbed, and showed his displeasure. 
 
172 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 "What business have you to come in by that door, madam?' 
 he exclaimed, sharply. " You know it's against orders. I must 
 beg you to withdraw. I am particularly engaged at this moment." 
 The pretty actress, however, paid no attention to what he said, 
 but springing forward, arrested him before he could shut down the 
 lid of the chest. 
 
 ^^I've often longed to see the contents of that strong-box," 
 she cried, "and now I can gratify my curiosity. What's here?" 
 she added, snatching at some parchments, and carrying them off 
 towards the window. " As I live, a mortgage from Gage de Mon- 
 thermer of certain lands and farms in the county of Suffolk to 
 Felix Fairlie for forty thousand pounds ! Why, bless me, Fairlie, 
 you don't mean to say you have lent Gage forty thousand pounds ? " 
 " Never mind what I've lent him. Give me back the deed." 
 " Not till I've examined it," she continued. " What does this 
 memorandum mean, Fairlie ?" 
 
 " It means that the mortgage-money not being paid when due, 
 the power of redemption has been cut off. In plain terms, the 
 lands are forfeited to me." 
 
 " Very sharp practice on your part, in sooth, Mr. Fairlie. The 
 estates, I conclude, must be worth at least double the sum lent upon 
 them ?" 
 
 " Possibly so," the steward replied, drily. 
 
 " Thrice as much, I dare say, would be nearer the mark. Now 
 I'll be bound, Fairlie, you have gained nearly a hundred thousand 
 pounds by this transaction ?" 
 
 " Nonsense ! madam. How absurdly you talk." 
 ^' Not so absurdly, sir. But I've not done yet. Lud ha' mercy ! 
 here's another mortgage on other lands in Suffolk, — including the 
 park and castle !" 
 
 " And here again I've been compelled to foreclose, madam — to 
 foreclose — d'ye understand ?" 
 
 "To act the Jew I suppose you mean. You say you were 
 compelled to take this rigorous course ; but I fancy very little com- 
 pulsion was required. In one way or other, you appear to have 
 got hold of all poor Monthermer's property." 
 
 " Poor Monthermer !" the steward echoed, with a sneer. " How 
 long is it since you began to feel compassion for him ? You had 
 no scruple in helping to pluck the pigeon. I can count your 
 
-A , 
 
 
 
 Jetiyns takirnS a peer into Fairlie's sti-oni^ box.— P. 172 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 173 
 
 gains exactly if I clioose — but in round numbers I may say that 
 you have lightened Monthenner's purse to the tune of some twenty 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 " Well, that's a mere trifle compared with your gains, Fairlie. 
 Besides, I've lost all my profits at play." ^ 
 
 " Whose fault is that, pray ? I manage to keep my winnings ; 
 and since you desire to know what they are, I'll tell you." So 
 saying, he took her hand, and directed her attention to the plan 
 hanging against the wall. 
 
 " Look there, madam. All you behold upon that map is mine 
 — those domains — that castle — those villages — those farms — those 
 moorlands — those hills — that broad tract stretching from fifteen 
 miles inland to the very verge of the German Ocean — all belong 
 tome!" 
 
 " What a large landed proprietor you have contrived to make 
 yourself, Fairlie ! But let me ask you, my good sir — and, since 
 nobody is by to hear you except myself, you may answer with sin- 
 cerity — do you think all this property has been acquired honestly ?" 
 
 "Just as honestly as if it had been bought in the ordinary 
 way. I have done no more than any one else would have done 
 under like circumstances." 
 
 "Oh, lie! you abominable hypocrite! Why, if you had not 
 played the extortioner with Gage, he would still be as well off 
 as any gentleman in Suffolk. For every thousand pounds lent 
 him you have exacted three. You are a terrible usurer, Fairlie — 
 a perfect Sir Giles Overreach. Pray, are you in funds now ?' 
 
 " If you mean to inquire whether I hold any stock of money 
 belonging to Gage, I answer ' No.' " 
 
 " Then I'm almost afraid it is useless to ask you to cash me 
 this order from him — a mere trifle — a few hundreds?" 
 
 " Quite useless. I have closed accounts with Mr. Monthermer, 
 and will make no more advances. I am already on the wrong side. 
 Henceforth, he must raise money where he can, and how he can. 
 He gets no more from me — of that you may rest assured. He 
 must pay his debts, — or go to gaol." 
 
 " Go to gaol ! You hard-hearted old wretch !" 
 
 " I must speak plainly, madam^or you will affect to misunder- 
 stand me. Your rich adorer is ruined — absolutely ruined. I re- 
 commend you, as a friend, to find another lover — equally wealthy 
 
174 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 if you can — and equally lavish. Let me relieve you from these 
 parchments." 
 
 And, as he spoke, he took the deeds from her, and placed 
 them carefully within the box. While he was thus employed, 
 Mrs. Jenyn% came stealthily behind him, and peeped over his 
 shoulder at the contents of the chest — showing by her gestures 
 that she had made some discovery which she fancied of import- 
 ance. Satisfied with the information she had acquired, she drew 
 back quietly. 
 
 When Fairlie had locked up the chest, he turned to her, and 
 said hastily, " I wait your further commands, madam ? Pray be 
 brief. I have told you I am busy." 
 
 " Oh ! I've not the least desire to prolong the interview. All 
 I want is cash for this order." 
 
 " I have already explained to you, most fully, as I conceived, 
 that I cannot pay it. Mr. Monthermer ought not to have given 
 it you. He cannot plead ignorance of his position. For the last 
 few days I have been obliged to discontinue all payments on his 
 account. You may have heard that I yesterday refused him five 
 hundred pounds to pay a debt of honour to Sir Randal de Mes- 
 
 chines." 
 
 " A very mean trick of you, Fairlie. I hope you heard how 
 nobly Arthur Poynings behaved to him. But come, sir. I must 
 have the money. I won't stir without it." 
 
 "You won't, eh?" 
 
 " Positively not. Hitherto I have been your accomplice — now 
 I mean to act on my own account. I am sure you don't wish 
 to make me an enemy, Fairlie." 
 
 " If I should be so unfortunate — owing to my refusal to comply 
 with your demands — I shall regret it ; but it cannot be helped." 
 
 " Indeed you will regret it, Fairlie — and with good reason. 
 I can do you a mischief — and I will." 
 
 " Poh ! poh ! I laugh at such silly threats, madam." 
 
 " You may laugh now, sir, but you won't laugh when I give 
 Gage some information which I have derived from a peep into 
 your strong-box." 
 
 " ^Sdeath ! what d'ye mean ?-^ what do you fancy you have dis- 
 covered?" 
 
 " Quite enough to make it worth your while to pay me a 
 thousand pounds to hold my tongue. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 175 
 
 "Accursed jade! what can she have seen?" Fairlie muttered. 
 " She must have detected something, or she would not assume so 
 bold a front. — Well, madam, we have always been good friends, 
 and I have no desire to break with you. You shall have this 
 thousand pounds. But mind J not in payment of Gage's order." 
 
 " As you please about that. Provided I get the money I am 
 content. I thought you would prove reasonable," she added, with 
 a mocking laugh. 
 
 Fairlie made no reply, but sat down to write out a memoran- 
 dum. While the actress signed it, he unlocked a drawer, and 
 taking from it a pile of bank-notes, handed them to her. 
 
 " You mustn't trouble me again," he said. 
 
 " I make no promises," she replied. 
 
 " Mrs. Jenyns," Fairlie remarked, rising, " before we part, let 
 me give you a piece of advice. Believe me, nothing more is to 
 be got from Gage. For your own sake I advise you to leave 
 him at once. Indeed, I am surprised you should stay so long." 
 
 " I have no intention of abandoning him at present, Mr. Fairlie. 
 I do not think so badly of his case as you would have me do. He 
 may yet come round." 
 
 "Never! His case is hopeless, I tell you," the steward ex- 
 claimed, almost fiercely. " If you were inclined to listen to me— 
 but I see you are not," he added, checking himself. " Good day, 
 madam. Do as you please." 
 
 " I think I ought to tell you how I intend to employ the money 
 you have given me so obligingly, Mr. Fairlie." 
 
 " I care not how you employ it — ^^in some folly — at the gaming- 
 table, no doubt." 
 
 " Five hundred pounds will be devoted to the repayment of Mr. 
 Arthur Poynings." 
 
 " Zounds ! madam. Are you mad ? " 
 
 " The other five hundred will be used in an experiment which I 
 hope may help to retrieve Gage's fortunes." 
 
 " Retrieve them ! — pay Arthur Poynings ! Give me back the 
 money. You have obtained it under false pretences. You have 
 robbed me." 
 
 But with a loud derisive laugh the actress broke from him, and 
 made a rapid exit by the same way she had entered the room. 
 
176 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 rHOM WHICH IT -WOTJLD APPEAR THAT MR. FAIELIE SOMETIMES PEOMISED MOIii! 
 THAN HE INTENDED TO PERFORM. 
 
 Mr. Fairlie was highly incensed. He paced to and fro for 
 some time, and had scarcely recovered his equanimity, when 
 the door at the lower end of the room was opened, and Pudsey 
 entered to announce Sir Randal de Meschines. The baronet was 
 close at hand and could not be refused. So, though he would 
 willingly have declined to see him, Fairlie put on a gracious aspect, 
 and saluting his unwelcome visitor, offered him a seat. 
 
 " Of course you have heard what took place at White's yester- 
 day, Fairlie?" Sir Randal observed, as soon as they were alone. 
 "Since then, I have sent a friend to young Poynings, but he 
 refuses me satisfaction for the insult offered." 
 
 " But you won't let him escape ?" Fairlie cried. 
 
 " Make yourself easy on that score. I will force him into a 
 duel, and then " 
 
 " Run him through the lungs — eh ? Quite right — quite right ! 
 I hate the fellow as much as you do. Sir Randal, By-the-by, you 
 will be surprised to hear that Mrs. Jenyns is about to repay him 
 the money he lent Gage yesterday." 
 
 "Mrs. Jenyns repay him !" the baronet exclaimed, with unaffected 
 astonishment. " I should as soon have expected Gage to pay his 
 debts. What's in the wind now? Has she conceived a sudden 
 caprice for young Poynings ? If so, I'll nip the amour in the 
 bud. Plague take her I Peg is like all the rest of her fickle 
 sex.'' Then suddenly changing his manner, he added, " When is 
 this bubble to burst ? Everybody is talking of the occurrence at 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 177 
 
 White's yesterday, and as it is now generally known that Gage 
 cannot pay even a debt of honour, all his acquaintance will fight 
 shy of him. You appear not to know what's going on outside 
 the house, Falrlie. The doors are beset by importunate creditors. 
 This state of things cannot endure much longer." 
 
 " I don't intend it should. If you will take the trouble to call 
 here to-morrow, Sir Randal, and inquire for Mr. Montherm^r, you 
 will find he has suddenly left town — on urgent business." 
 
 " Oh ! you mean to speed him off into the country — to Mon- 
 thermer Castle, eh?" 
 
 '^ He shall never set foot inside the Castle again with my con- 
 sent; and I don't think his journey is likely to be a long one. 
 His first halt will be at the Fleet, where he will probably remain for 
 a few months." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " cried the baronet, laughing at the jest. 
 
 "I have planned it all," Fairlie pursued; "his arrest will take 
 place this very day. Of course, I shan't appear in the matter, 
 but the acting creditor, Mr. Nibbs, is merely my instrument. As 
 to the clamorous fellows whom you saw outside the house, not 
 one of them will get a farthing. My claims are paramount. They 
 can touch nothing." 
 
 " Egad, you are a devilish clever fellow, Fairlie. I have an infinite 
 respect for you. And now, since you are fully in a position to 
 carry out our arrangement respecting your daughter, it is time 
 to bring it before you." 
 
 " Nay, Sir Randal, it is premature to touch upon it now. 
 
 'hatever I may be in reality, I am not yet ostensibly master of 
 le property. Once in possession, I shall be willing to listen to 
 rour proposals." 
 
 " My proposals ! 'Sdeath! sir, I have gone beyond proposals. 
 
 le affair is settled. I recjuire fulfilment of our compact." 
 
 " Fulfilled it shall be in due time. Sir Randal. Why should 
 rou doubt me?" 
 
 " Because — but no matter — I won't be left in any uncertainty. 
 
 must be satisfied your daughter will accept me." 
 
 " You will only defeat your object by precipitancy. Sir Randal. 
 
 must have time to prepare her. She has been very ill of late 
 
 •very ill indeed— and I have been so much engaged in winding 
 
178 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 up Month ermer's affairs that I have had no time to think of any- 
 thing else — but I will attend to this business immediately." 
 
 At this juncture, a seasonable interruption was offered by Pudsey. 
 The butler came to say that Mr. Freke was without, and desired 
 to have a word with Mr. Fairlie. 
 
 " Say Mr. FairHe is engaged, Pudsey," Sir Randal cried. 
 
 "Hold, Pu<isejr!" the steward interposed; "I must see Mr, 
 Freke.'^ "-'^ '■■' : ^W /-^^^ . .. 
 
 The butler bowed, and Retired. • • 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! this is provoking," Sir Handal cried. ^^ I don^t want^ 
 to meet Freke. I'll leave by the private door, as Pve often done' 
 before." 
 
 " Pray do so, Sir Randal," the steward cried, delighted to get 
 rid of him. 
 
 " Have a care how you attempt to play me false, Fairlie !" the 
 baronet cried, proceeding towards the side door as if with the in- 
 tention of passing out. But perceiving that the steward's back 
 was turned, he opened the door quickly, and as quickly closed it ; 
 contriving to slip, unobserved, behind the screen. The next 
 moment Beau Freke was ushered in by Pudsey. 
 
 "I dare say you guess my errand, Fairlie?" Beau Freke re- 
 marked, as soon as the butler had withdrawn. 
 
 " You give me credit for greater penetration than I possess, sir," 
 the steward replied, bowing. " I am not aware to what circum- 
 stances I am indebted for the pleasure of seeing you this morning." 
 
 " Really — you surprise me. I fancied you would expect me to 
 complete the terms of our arrangement." 
 
 " In my turn, I must express surprise, Mr. Freke. I thought all 
 our arrangements were concluded." 
 
 " You affect an astonishment which I am sure you do not feel, 
 Fairlie. But there is no need of circumlocution. I will come to 
 the point at once. My errand refers to your daughter." 
 
 " You have heard, then, of her illness, and are come to inquire 
 a:bout her ?" 
 
 " Her illness ! no. I hope it is nothing serious." 
 
 " I hope not, also, sir ; but I have been very uneasy about her 
 — very uneasy, I assure you." 
 
 " She has always appeared charming whenever I have had the 
 happiness of beholding her," Beau Freke replied, looking as if he 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 179 
 
 did not place implicit credence in the steward's assertions. After 
 coughing slightly, he added, " I cannot beUeve you design to 
 behave unhandsomely to me, Fairlie, though my confidence in you 
 has been somewhat shaken by finding you have promised your 
 daughter to Sir Randal." 
 
 " May I ask from whom you derived your information, sir ?" 
 
 " From the best authority — Sir Randal himself." 
 
 " Sir Randal is the very worst authority you could have, my 
 dear Mr. Freke. He has a motive for deceiving you." 
 
 " Then you deny having given him such a promise ?" 
 
 " Flatly deny it. He has often spoken to me about my daugh- 
 ter, and, being desirous to continue on good terms with him, I 
 have not altogether discouraged him. He has construed some 
 slight expressions of assent on my part into an absolute promise — 
 that is alL" 
 
 " This alters my view of the matter unquestionably, Fairlie. 
 I can quite understand why you should not wish to quarrel with 
 Sir Randal ; and I can also readily understand how his vanity may 
 have led him to believe he would be irresistible with the young 
 lady — but he would never do for her husband." 
 
 " Never, my dear Mr. Freke — never. Sir Randal is the very 
 last person I should desire for a son-in-law, while you are the 
 first I should select. I assure you I should esteem it a high 
 honour to be connected with a gentleman of your character." 
 
 Of course not a syllable of these remarks was lost upon Sir 
 Randal as he stood behind the screen, and he had some difficulty 
 in controlling his rage. 
 
 " I am much flattered by your good opinion, Fairlie," Beau 
 Freke said ; " and I have now no hesitation in asking you to ratify 
 our agreement by at once affiancing me to your daughter." 
 
 " I must crave the delay of a few days, my dear Mr. Freke. As 
 soon as Monthermer's afiairs are entirely settled I will attend to the 
 matter; but just at this moment I have more on my hands than I 
 can easily manage; neither do I think the present a favourable 
 opportunity so far as my daughter is concerned. She is far too 
 unwell to be troubled just now." 
 
 " I don't beUeve a word about her illness," Beau Freke thought. 
 *' The rascal means to throw me over. But I'll tie him down. — 
 
 n2 
 
180 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 No occasion in the world to trouble Miss Fairlie," he added, aloud. 
 " Reduce your promise to writing, and I shall be perfectly content." 
 
 " A written promise, Mr. Freke ! Won't my word suffice ?" 
 
 *^In such cases it is best to have some evidence of the intentions 
 of the parties. I must have a written undertaking, with a penalty 
 — a heavy penalty — in case of non-performance. You have taught 
 me caution, Fairlie." 
 
 Thus driven into a corner, Fairlie scarcely knew what to do, 
 and Sir Randal was considering whether he should step forward 
 and put an end to the scene, when, to the steward's inexpressible 
 relief, Mr. Pudsey again made his appearance, and said that Miss 
 Fairlie had just arrived, and wished to be admitted to her father's 
 presence without delay. 
 
 The steward replied that he would see her in a moment, and as 
 Pudsey withdrew, he added, "We will settle this matter some 
 other time, my dear Mr. Freke. You must not meet my daughter. 
 Pass through the private door, sir — there ! — you know the way. 
 Quick, sir, quick ! — she'll be here before you are gone." 
 
 Fairlie fancied he had got rid of his troublesome visitor. But 
 he was mistaken. Beau Freke practised the same manoeuvre as 
 Sir Randal, and with equal dexterity and success. But, instead of 
 gliding behind the screen, he slipped into the closet, the door of 
 which, we have said, stood conveniently open. He had scarcely 
 ensconced himself in this hiding-place, when Clare Fairlie entered 
 the room. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 181 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 HOW CLAILE FAIRLIE ENDEAVOTJRED TO PREVAIL UPON HER FATHER TO PAT 
 
 gage's DEBTS. 
 
 Fairlie had not exceeded the truth in declaring that his 
 daughter was unwell; but she was far worse than he supposed. In 
 appearance she was greatly altered since we first beheld her. Her 
 beauty was unimpaired ; but it now inspired uneasiness, rather than 
 excited admiration. To look at her, you could not help appre- 
 hending that the insidious disease which seeks its victims amongst 
 the fairest and most delicate had begun its work upon her already 
 fragile frame. Her complexion was transparently clear, and tinged 
 with a hectic flush, which heightened the lustre of her large dark 
 eyes. A settled melancholy sat upon her marble brow, and there 
 was an air of lassitude about her that proclaimed extreme debility. 
 
 Since their arrival in town, now more than three months ago, 
 Fairlie had seen little of his daughter. He had provided apart- 
 ments for her in Jermyn-street, at the house o'f an elderly lady, 
 Mrs. Lacy, with whom he was acquainted, and she had resided 
 there, during the whole of the time, with only one attendant, 
 Lettice Rougham. Fairlie was so much occupied with Mon- 
 thermefs affairs — so bent upon bringing his machinations to a suc- 
 cessful issue — that he had little leisure for the performance of do- 
 mestic duties. Clare never came near him, and a week would 
 sometimes elapse between his visits to her. Ever since the occur- 
 rence at Bury St. Edmund's, when Clare had meditated flight, 
 and accident only had brouglit her back, an estrangement had 
 taken place between father and daughter. Fairlie could not alto- 
 gether forgive her disobedience, and she only consented to remain 
 
182 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 with him, on condition that she was no longer to be compelled 
 to reside under Monthermer's roof. 
 
 Poor Clare's existence was blighted. She had ceased to take 
 interest in almost all that yielded pleasure to persons of her own 
 age ; neither mixing in society nor going to any public places of 
 amusement ; and avoiding in her walks, as much as possible, all 
 spots to which gay crowds resorted. One friend was constant to 
 her. Lucy Poynings strove to dispel her gloom, and beheld 
 with great anxiety the inroads that secret sorrow was making 
 upon her health. But even Lucy's well-meant efforts failed. In 
 vain did the lively girl essay to tempt the poor sufferer with glow- 
 ing descriptions of fetes and reviews, of operas and theatres, of 
 ridottos at Marylebone Gardens, and masquerades at Ranelagh — 
 Clare was not to- be moved. She could not even be prevailed to 
 go into the Parks or to the Mall, except at such hours as she knew 
 no one was likely to be there — much to Lettice Rougham's discon- 
 tent. But we must not do Lettice an injustice. The little damsel, 
 though volatile, had a really good heart, and felt the sincerest 
 sympathy for her young mistress. She often shed tears on her 
 account, and declared her belief to Lucy that Miss Clare was 
 dying of a broken heart. And Lucy began to share her appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 The person who was last to notice the altered state of Clare's health 
 was the very first who ought to have discerned it ; and he might 
 have continued still longer unconscious of the change — for Clare 
 made no complaint to him — if Mrs. Lacy had not thought it her 
 duty to communicate her misgivings to him. To do him justice, 
 Fairlie was greatly shocked. He enjoined that every attention 
 should be paid his daughter, and that she should have the 
 best advice. Mrs. Lacy shook her head despondingly, as if she 
 thought this would be of no avail ; but she promised compliance. 
 For several days after this, Fairlie was extremely solicitous 
 about Clare, and paid her frequent visits, but by degrees he be- 
 came less uneasy, and in the end succeeded in persuading himself 
 that his fears were groundless. Clare was ill, no doubt — but not 
 dangerously so. And he was confirmed in this opinion, because, 
 notwithstanding Mrs. Lacy's entreaties, she declined all medical 
 advice. Fairlie's heart was so hardened by covetousness, that it 
 was scarcely susceptible of any tender emotion, and in his blind 
 pursuit of gain he cared not if he sacrificed all that should have 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 183 
 
 been dear to him. Compared with the vast stake for which he 
 was playing, all other matters appeared of minor interest ; but 
 when the object he aimed at was obtained, he promised himself 
 to watch over his daughter carefully. Meantime (so he thought), 
 she could take little harm. 
 
 From what has been premised, it will be easily imagined that 
 Clare's unexpected visit occasioned her father great surprise, and 
 some little misgiving. Both were silent for a few minutes, during 
 which Fairlie regarded her with natural anxiety. She had evi- 
 dently collected all her energies for the interview — and the flush 
 on her cheek deceived him. He thought her looking better ; and 
 told her so. 
 
 " I know not if I am better or worse," she replied, in feeble 
 accents; " but I did not come to speak about my ailments. What 
 I have to say relates to yourself and Gage." 
 
 Fairlie's brow darkened, and he appeared disposed to check her. 
 
 *' Father, I beseech you to listen to me," she pursued. " You 
 have wronged this young man, who was entrusted to your care, 
 and over whose interests it was your duty to watch, grievously 
 wronged him — but it is not too late to remedy the injustice." 
 
 The steward shook his head, but made no other reply. « 
 
 " For the sake of his father, who was your patron, and to whom 
 you owe everything — for the poor misguided young man's own 
 sake, whom you once professed to regard — for my sake, if you 
 have any love left for me — I implore you to save him." 
 
 Still Fairlie maintained an obstinate silence. 
 
 " Do not turn a deaf ear to all my entreaties. Speak to me, I 
 beg of you." 
 
 " What can I say ? I can do nothing for him." 
 
 " Father," Clare said, with a solemn earnestness, " this is the last 
 request I have to make of you. Discharge Gage's debts. Set him 
 free." 
 
 " What monstrous absurdity you talk, girl ! " Fairlie cried, 
 angrily. "I pay this prodigal's debts. Stuff and nonsense! 
 What good would it do him if I did ? He would be exactly in 
 the same position two months hence. I am sorry you have trou- 
 bled yourself to come to me, Clare, if this is your sole business. 
 Believe me. Gage deserves no consideration." 
 
 " He deserves every consideration on your part, father. I 
 
184 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 am told he is in danger of arrest. Is this true? You do 
 not deny it. Father, will you stand by quietly and allow the 
 son of your benefactor to be dragged to gaol? Oh! shame! 
 shame!" 
 
 And she burst into a paroxysm of tears. 
 
 " The law must take its course. I cannot prevent it," Fairlie 
 said, in an inexorable voice. 
 
 "Do you tell me this?" Clare cried, raising her head, and re- 
 garding him scornfully. 
 
 " Well then, I wont prevent it — if you will have the truth." 
 
 Clare made an effort, and arose. 
 
 " Farewell, father !" she said ; " we meet no more in this world." 
 
 " Sit down, girl — sit down," Fairlie cried. " I entreat — I com- 
 mand you. It is for you, and you alone, that I have laboured to 
 acquire a fortune. I have no other child — no other object of 
 affection. All will be yours one day. Why should my gains be 
 wasted on a prodigal?" 
 
 " Give him back his own. I will have none of it." 
 
 " Clare, you drive me mad. Let things take their course. He 
 must have a severe lesson. It may do him good, and perhaps some 
 plan may be devised for aiding him hereafter." 
 
 " And meanwhile he is to be thrown into prison by your privity — 
 by your contrivance." 
 
 " By my privity — by my contrivance, Clare ?" 
 
 " Yes, you make yourself a party to the wrong by not prevent- 
 ing it. But I have said my say. Farewell!" 
 
 " No, no, girl — we must not part thus." 
 
 " I will only remain on your consenting to discharge Gage's, 
 debts." 
 
 "Well, if I agree to do as you would have me — though 
 against my own inclination — against every dictate of common 
 sense — will you show yourself more tractable in future?" 
 
 " In all reasonable matters." 
 
 " Ay, but you may consider what I require unreasonable." 
 
 " Let me know it, then." 
 
 "Will you marry as I would have you do?" 
 
 " I have far other thoughts than those of marriage, father. 
 —Have you made choice of a husband for me?" 
 
 "Two gentlemen aspire to that happiness — Sir Randal de 
 Meschines and Mr. Freke." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 1S5 
 
 " I would rather be led to the grave than wed either of them.'* 
 
 " Nay, I but said this to try you," Fairlie cried, alarmed by her 
 increasing paleness. " Be assured I will never sacrifice you to a 
 gambler or a rake, and both these persons are such. I have other 
 designs in regard to you." 
 
 " Trouble yourself no more about me. Let me go." 
 
 And she tottered towards the door, but ere she could reach it 
 her strength utterly failed her, and she sank upon a chair. 
 
 "What ails you?" her father cried, springing towards her. 
 
 " A sudden faintness," she replied. " It will pass off soon." 
 
 Just then there was a noise of hasty footsteps without, and in 
 another instant the door flew open, and Lettice Rougham rushed 
 into the room. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Clare!" Lettice screamed, "it has happened just as 
 we expected. They've arrested him." 
 
 " Peace ! hold your tongue, hussy !" !5'airlie cried. '^ Don't you 
 see your mistress is ill. Bring something to revive her." 
 
 " Here, miss, smell at this bottle. Oh dear ! dear ! what will 
 become of him ? I won't be silent," she said to Fairlie. " Poor 
 Mr. Monthermer is arrested, miss. They're going to take him 
 away." 
 
 " Arrested ! " Clare cried, looking at her father. 
 
 " Yes, miss ; and the servants say it's Mr. Fairlie's doing. They 
 all cry shame upon him — and well they may. I cry ^ shame,' too. 
 Nay, you may look as angry at me as you please, sir. I ain't a 
 bit afraid." 
 
 Clare seemed to regain her strength as suddenly as she had 
 lost it. 
 
 " Give me your arm, Lettice," she cried, " and help me forth. I 
 will set him free." 
 
 " You ! how will you do it ? " Fairlie exclaimed. 
 
 " Come with me, and you shall see ! " she rejoined. 
 
 *' I cannot face him," Fairlie said, shrinking back. 
 
 " But you must — you shall!" Lettice cried, laying hold of his 
 hand, and dragging him along. " Your presence is necessary." 
 
 Fairlie would have resisted, but his daughter's looks compelled 
 him to accompany her. 
 
 As soon as the coast was clear, the two eavesdroppers issued 
 
 )m their respective hiding-places, and met face to face. They 
 
186 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 stared at each other in silence for a few moments ; and then both 
 burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 " What I were you there ?" Beau Freke asked, pointing towards 
 the back of the screen. 
 
 "And were you there?" Sir Randal rejoined, pointing to the 
 closet. " I thought you were gone ; but I find you have as much 
 curiosity as myself. Well, we have had listeners' luck. We have 
 heard ourselves called gamblers and rakes; but at the same time 
 we have learnt something it was expedient to know. F.airlie has 
 duped us, and means to cast us off. So far as I am concerned, he 
 shall find this no easy task." 
 
 " If he thinks to get rid of me, he'll find himself deucedly mis- 
 taken," Beau Freke said. " I'll stick to him like a leech." 
 
 '^ Marriage with his daughter is of course out of the question, 
 after what we have heard. But we will find other means of 
 bringing him to book. If he proposes to enjoy his ill-gotten gains 
 in quiet, he must pay us a heavy per-centage as hush-money." 
 
 " Exactly," Beau Freke replied, laughing. " He shan't easily 
 get out of our toils, that I promise him. But let us see what 
 they are about. A hundred to one he don't pay Gage's debts." 
 
 " I take you,'* Sir Randal replied, as they left the room together. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 187 
 
 XXX. 
 
 A HASH PROMISE. 
 
 Ruin now stared our reckless hero in the face. Yet, surprising 
 to relate, considering the dire extremities to which he was re- 
 duced, his spirit remained unbroken. Beset by a host of duns, 
 who would take no more excuses ; every present means of supply 
 exhausted; without a hope for the future; deserted by his friends, 
 and with the Fleet Prison only in prospect; it was certainly 
 wonderful that he could preserve even a show of cheerfulness. 
 His gaiety inight be assumed, but at any rate it imposed upon 
 his attendants, and excited their admiration. On the morn- 
 ing of the last day it seemed likely he would spend in his own 
 house, he arose late, and made his toilet with his customary 
 dehberation and care — chatting all the while gaily with Chasse- 
 mouche and Bellairs, as they assisted him to dress, and brought 
 him his chocolate. Both valets were so captivated by his pleasantry 
 and good-humour, that they deferred to the last moment a dis- 
 agreeable communication which they had to make to him. At 
 length, however, their avocations ended, Bellairs felt compelled to 
 broach the subject, which he did with considerable hesitation. 
 
 " I really am concerned, sir," he said, " to disturb your gaiety 
 by any unpleasant observations, but it is only right you should be 
 
 informed — ahem ! You know what I want to say, Chasse- 
 
 mouche, — help me out with the sentence." 
 
 " Parbleu ! I am almost too much embarrassed to speak," the 
 French valet said ; " but I trust monsieur will forgive me. He 
 has been the best of masters, and I shall be quite dSsoU to lose 
 him." 
 
 "Exactly my sentiments, sir," Bellairs subjoined. '^I dm 
 
188 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 grieved beyond measure that I can no longer have the honour of 
 serving you." 
 
 " Why should you leave me?" Gage demanded, regarding them 
 with well-feigned astonishment. " You both give me entire satis- 
 faction." 
 
 " If I were to consult my own feelings, sir, I should never leave 
 you," Bellairs replied ; " but " 
 
 " I see how it is," Gage cried, with a laugh. " You want your 
 wages increased. Well, speak to Fairlle." 
 
 " You are very good, sir, and both Chassemouche and myself 
 appreciate your generous intentions. You have always behaved 
 to us like a gentleman ^" 
 
 " Like a prince I should say," the Frenchman interposed. 
 
 "Exactly, — like a prince. We have never had the slightest 
 cause of complaint — have we, Chassemouche?" 
 
 " Not the slightest," the French valet responded. "Our new 
 master is very different." 
 
 "Your new master!" Gage cried. "'Sdeath! have you en- 
 gaged yourselves without giving me notice?" 
 
 " We would not do anything unhandsome to you for the world, 
 sir," said Bellairs; "but Mr. Fairlle made it a point that his 
 arrangement with us should remain secret till he gave us permis- 
 sion to disclose it." 
 
 ^^ So Mr. Fairlle takes you off my hands, eh ? " Gage said. 
 
 "Not us alone, sir," Bellairs replied; "he has engaged the 
 whole household." 
 
 " What ! without saying a word to me ? " Gage exclaimed. 
 
 " He did not appear to think that necessary, sir," Bellairs re- 
 plied. " Pardon my freedom, sir — but, devoted as we are to you, 
 we could not have remained so long in your service if Mr. Fairlle 
 had not undertaken to pay our wages." 
 
 "'Apparently, then, you had no confidence in my ability to 
 pay you ?" 
 
 " We had every confidence in your desire to do so ; but we 
 feared a day might arrive when you would lack the means. For- 
 give me for adding that that evil day has come." 
 
 A brief pause ensued, during which Gage, who was evidently 
 much put out by what he had just heard, strove to regain his 
 composure. At length Chassemouche ventured to offer an obser- 
 vation. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 189 
 
 " If monsieur will condescend to take my advice," he said, 
 " he will get out of the house as quietly and as speedily as pos- 
 sible, and keep out of the way of his creditors." 
 
 " What ! fly, Chasseraouche. No, I will stand my ground to 
 the last. Fairlie will never allow me to be molested." 
 
 " Upon my faith, sir, I don't like to say it, but I almost believe 
 he has planned your arrest," Mr. Bellairs observed. 
 
 " Oh ! you calumniate him," Gage cried. " He is incapable of 
 such treachery." 
 
 "Well, time will show, sir," the valet rejoined; "and I only 
 hope you may prove correct in your estimate of our new master. 
 But if you should be tempted to take an airing in the Park this 
 morning, let me recommend you to go out by the back-door. 
 You will find it the safest means of exit. Your creditors arc 
 abroad by hundreds, sir. The street is full of them — tailors, 
 coach -builders, wig-makers, shoe-makers, jewellers, hosiers, glovers, 
 linendrapers, silk-mercers, lace-embroiderers, pastrycooks, poul- 
 terers, butchers, saddlers, watchmakers, wine-merchants — all your 
 tradesmen are on the look-out for you." 
 
 " Tlie devil ! have none of them been paid?" 
 
 "Nobody has been paid, sir — since your arrival in town,'* 
 Bellairs replied. " You have lived entirely on credit." 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! this is scandalous," Gage exclaimed. " How has my 
 money gone ? Fairlie would tell me at the gaming-table ; but 
 though I have, lost large sums, all cannot have disappeared in this 
 manner. I have been cheated most abominably — but by whom ? 
 — It is too late now to inquire — fool! fool that I have been." 
 And loading himself with reproaches, which we can scarcely con- 
 sider unmerited, he sank into a chair, while the two valets, think ^ 
 ing their presence no longer desirable, slipped out of the room. 
 
 Gage continued lost in deep and painful reflection, until aroused 
 by a slight touch on the shoulder, when, looking up, he beheld Mrs. 
 Jenyns standing beside him. 
 
 " You seem greatly disturbed," she said. 
 
 "And well I may be disturbed. Peg," he replied. "I have 
 jiiot a guinea left in the world — nor do I know which way to turn 
 [to obtain one. You smile as if you^idn't believe me — but I swear 
 you it is the truth. House, servants, equipages, pictures, plate 
 
 ■all my possessions are gone. Fairlie has taken everything, or 
 
190 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 will take everything; and I am only waiting tlie moment when he 
 will turn me out of doors, and consign me to the ^ tender mercies' 
 of the pack of creditors who are lurking without to seize me. 
 But I may balk them all yet. At least they shall not have an 
 opportunity of deriding me in my misfortunes." 
 
 " I divine your desperate purpose," Mrs. Jenyns rejoined. 
 " But you need not have recourse to pistol, sword, or poison for 
 the present. Your case is not quite so hopeless as you imagine." 
 
 " You give me new life, Peg. Is there chance of escape from 
 this frightful dilemma?" 
 
 " TranquilUse yourself, or I won't open my lips. I have just 
 seen Fairlie. He appeared inexorable at first, but I found a way 
 to move him. I managed to frighten him out of a thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 "And you have got the money with you? It may save me 
 from perdition." 
 
 " You shall have it, provided you promise to use it as I direct. 
 Half the sum must be devoted to the repayment of Arthur 
 Poynings's loan." 
 
 ^^It could not be better applied. And the other five hundred, 
 what is to be done with it?" 
 
 " You must try your luck with the dice. I am sure you will 
 be successful. I dreamed last night that you won back all your 
 fortune at hazard." 
 
 " May the dream be realised ! I will play as if my life were on 
 the stake. And so it will be, for if I lose " 
 
 "Pshaw! you mustn't think of losing. You must resolve to 
 win." 
 
 " I will win !" Gage exclaimed. 
 
 " Stop ! half your gains are to be mine, whatever the amount. 
 Is this a bargain?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " Then here's the money. Place the amount of your debt to 
 Arthur Poynings within an envelope, and I will take care that the 
 packet is safely delivered to him." 
 
 " I shall not readily forget the obligation you have conferred 
 on me. Peg," Gage replied, as he wrote a brief note to Arthur, 
 and folded the bank-notes within it. " You have taken a great 
 weight from my brqast in enabling me to make this payment," he 
 added, giving the letter to her. 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. 191 
 
 " The debt is only transferred," she replied. " And now, adieu, 
 for a short time. Do not attempt to quit your room till I return. 
 And then you must hasten to the Groom-Porter's ! Your luck 
 will have a turn. Mind ! half your gains are to be mine." 
 
 *' My hand upon it," he rejoined. " If I should be lucky enough 
 to win a hundred thousand — as I hope I may be — fifty thousand 
 will be yours!" 
 
 " And you will allow no one to dissuade you from playing ?" 
 
 ^^ No one is likely to make the attempt — but if made, it will 
 fail." 
 
 " Enough," Mrs. Jenyns replied. " Au plaisir !" And with a 
 smile of triumph she withdrew. 
 
 The interview with the pretty actress dissipated all Gage's 
 gloomy fancies, and aroused an entirely different train of thought 
 Giving the reins to his imagination, he beheld himself seated at 
 the gaming-table, with piles of gold and rolls of bank-notes before 
 him, the result of successful play. 
 
192 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXXI. . 
 
 THE AREEST. 
 
 While Gage was indulging in these delusive dreams, Mr. Bel- 
 lairs hurriedly entered, showing by his countenance that some- 
 thing alarming had occurred. 
 
 " Come with me, sir — quick ! — quick ! — not a moment is to be 
 lost," the valet cried. " The bailiffs are in the house, and are 
 making their way up-stairs. You must hide in some out-of-the- 
 way corner till the danger be past. Ha! it is too late. They 
 are at hand." 
 
 " Fasten the door, Bellairs. Don't let them in !" Gage shouted. 
 
 The valet endeavoured to obey the injunction, but before he 
 could accomplish it, two sturdy, harsh-featured men, armed with 
 bludgeons, burst into the room. 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! we're a little too quick for you, my friend," the fore- 
 most of the twain vociferated. " Here we have him, Martin," he 
 added, with a coarse laugh, to his brother bailiff. 
 
 "Ay, ay, Ned Craggs," the other rejoined — " that be the gem'- 
 man, sure enough." And with these words he rushed up to Gage 
 with his companion, and exhibiting a writ, cried, " You are our 
 prisoner, Mr. Monthermer. We arrest you at the suit of Mr. Isaac 
 Nibbs, of Billiter-lane, scrivener." 
 
 " Keep off, rascals, if you value your lives !" Gage exclaimed, 
 springing back, and drawing his sword. " I know nothing what- 
 ever of Mr. Nibbs, and never had any dealings with him." 
 
 " There you are in error, sir," cried a civil-spoken little man, 
 appearing at the door. This personage was plainly attired in a 
 suit of rusty black, and wore a long cravat, grey stockings, and 
 square-cut shoes. " You are in error, sir, I repeat," he continued, 
 
Th« Arrest.— P. 192. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. X93 
 
 in very mild accents. " You borrowed five thousand pounds from 
 me, for which you gave me your bond." 
 
 " I recollect nothing about it," Gage replied. 
 
 " Possibly so slight a circumstance may have escaped your re- 
 collection, sir," Isaac Nibbs replied. " But I happen to have the 
 instrument by me. Here it is," he added, producing a parchment. 
 " The money was paid on your behalf to Mr. Fairlie. You will 
 not, I presume, attempt to deny your own signature ?" 
 
 " I deny that I ever received the five thousand pounds. I have 
 been cheated !" Gage cried. 
 
 " I shall not argue the point with you, sir," Mr. Nibbs rejoined, 
 with undisturbed politeness. " It is sufficient for me that I have 
 your bond. Officers, do your duty." 
 
 But Gage stood on his defence, and with his sword kept the 
 bailiffs at bay. 
 
 " Come, come, sir," Craggs cried, " it's of no use. You musjt 
 not resist the law." 
 
 At this moment the door was suddenly thrown open, and two 
 more personages stepped into the room. These were Sir Hugh 
 Poynings and his son Arthur. Gage was greatly disconcerted by 
 their appearance, and taking advantage of his confusion, the bailiffs 
 rushed upon him, and disarmed him. 
 
 " I am sorry to see you in this position. Gage," Sir Hugh said, 
 advancing. " I heard you were in difficulties, and came to see if 
 I could be of any use." 
 
 " Spare me your commiseration. Sir Hugh," the young man 
 replied, proudly ; " I do not desire it." 
 
 " Nay, you utterly mistake me. Gage," the old baronet replied, 
 kindly. "Far be it from me to insult you in your distress. I 
 would aid you if I can. What is the sum for which you are 
 arrested ? " 
 
 " Five thousand pounds," one of the bailiffs replied. 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! that's not a trifle," Sir Hugh ejaculated — " and more 
 than I like to throw away. Cannot this matter be arranged ? " 
 
 " Only by payment of the debt. Sir Hugh," Mr. Nibbs rejoined. 
 
 *' I would not interfere with your generous purpose, sir, if it 
 could profit Gage," Arthur observed ; " but this is merely a small 
 part of his liabilities. As you have seen, the house is full of his 
 
 O 
 
194 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 creditors, and if lie is liberated from this person, he will be seized 
 by the others." 
 
 " That's true, Arthur," Gage replied. " I cannot accept Sir 
 Hugh's assistance. And let me tell you that the money you 
 so handsomely advanced me the other day at White's chocolate- 
 house will be repaid you by a friend." 
 
 "■ Do not concern yourself about it," Arthur replied. 
 
 "We are losing time here," Mr. Nibbs said to the bailiflfs. 
 " Bring your prisoner along. Place him in a coach, and convey 
 him to the spunging-house in Chancery-lane." 
 
 " And is it come to this ! " Sir Hugh groaned. " Oh ! Gage, 
 it grieves me to the soul to see your father's son in such a dis- 
 graceful predicament. I would help you if I could — but, as 
 Arthur rightly says, it is impossible." 
 
 "If another day had been allowed me, this would not have 
 happened, Sir Hugh," the young man replied, as he quitted the 
 room in custody of the bailiffs. 
 
 By this time, the rest of the creditors had obtained admittance 
 to the house, and the large entrance-hall was crowded by them. On 
 seeing Gage, as he descended the staircase, with a bailiff on either 
 side, and closely followed by Nibbs, the whole party set up a furious 
 cry, and held up their bills to him, demanding instant payment. 
 It was no very pleasant thing, it must be owned, to run the gauntlet 
 of a pack of infuriated and disappointed creditors, and Gage vainly 
 endeavoured to mollify them by expressions of regret. His ex- 
 planations and apologies were treated with derision. The tumult 
 was at its highest, when all at once a diversion was made by the 
 entrance of Clare Fairlie and her father into the hall, and the 
 clamour partially ceased. 
 
 To meet Clare under circumstances so degrading to himself 
 aggravated Gage's distress almost beyond endurance. He was 
 covered with shame and confusion. His proud heart swelled 
 almost to bursting, and averting his gaze from her, he be- 
 sought the bailiffs to move on, and pass through the crowd 
 as quickly as possible. "Take me wherever you please," he cried. 
 "Only don't — for Heaven's sake — detain me here." But though 
 the officers were willing enough to comply with the request, it 
 could not be accomplished, owing to the pressure from the crowd, 
 

 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 195 
 
 who derived too much amusement from their victim's distress to let 
 him easily escape. Driven to desperation, Gage then tried to shake 
 off Craggs's grasp, and might have succeeded in getting free from 
 one bailiff, if the other had not lent his powerful aid to restrain 
 him. Pinioned by these two sturdy fellows, he was compelled to 
 remain quiet 
 
 At the head of the staircase stood Sir Hugh Poynings and 
 his son, by no means uninterested spectators of the scene. It 
 was long since Arthur had beheld Clare ; for though, as we 
 have already stated, his sister frequently visited her friend, he 
 had never accompanied her. Lucy's description of the delicate 
 state of Clare's health had prepared him for a great change in 
 the appearance of the latter, but he was inexpressibly shocked on 
 beholding her. The flush which had risen to her cheeks during 
 her painful interview with her father had now given way to a 
 deathlike paleness. She leaned on Lettice for support, and had 
 evidently taxed her failing strength to the uttermost. Still her 
 dark lustrous eye blazed with resolution, and as its glance fell for 
 a moment upon Arthur, he thought he understood the motive that 
 had brought her there. As to FairHe, he seemed to be in a 
 great state of perturbation, and, next to Gage, was perhaps the 
 most uneasy person in the whole assemblage. 
 
 " Lead me on, Lettice," Clare said, in a low tone, " or I shall 
 not be able to go through with it." And advancing a few steps 
 with the aid of her attendant, she asked, " Who is the creditor by 
 whom the arrest has been made ?" 
 
 " I am the person," Mr. Isaac Nibbs replied. 
 
 " Then I must demand Mr. Monthermer's immediate release," 
 Clare said. 
 
 " I sliall have great pleasure in complying with your request, 
 provided my debt be discharged in full," the scrivener returned. 
 " Unless I am mistaken, I have the honour of addressing Miss 
 Fairlie, and if it be so, your respected father will explain to you 
 that I am obliged to act with a harshness repugnant to my feel- 
 ings. But I really cannot afford to lose so large a sum of money 
 as five thousand pounds." ^ 
 
 " Neither can we," chorussed the other creditors — " we can none 
 of us afford to lose our money. Hundreds are as much to some of 
 as thousands to a wealthy man like Mr. Nibbs." 
 
 02 
 
196 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " You will be satisfied, I presume," Clare continued, addressing 
 tlie scrivener, " if you have my father's assurance that your deb 
 shall be paid ? " 
 
 *' Oh ! yes, I shall be perfectly satisfied with Mr. Fairlic's 
 promise to that effect," Nibbs replied, in a tone and with a 
 look that implied considerable doubt as to the likelihood of re- 
 ceiving any such assurance. " How am I to act, sir ?" he added, 
 appealing to the steward. " Must I set Mr. Monthermer free?" 
 
 Fairlie was so agitated by conflicting emotions that he was 
 utterly unable to answer. Mr. Nibbs regarded him with surprise. 
 He expected a decided negative. 
 
 " My father will take care that your debt is paid — you may 
 rely upon it," Clare said. 
 
 " I cannot for a moment doubt your word. Miss Fairlie — 
 especially as your respected father offers no contradiction — still I 
 should like to have his consent." 
 
 Clare then turned to her father. 
 
 " Remember what has just passed between us," she whispered. 
 " I claim this act of justice from you." 
 
 "Mr. Nibbs, the debt shall be paid, I promise it," Fairlie said, 
 with a great effort. 
 
 " Enough, sir. I am perfectly content," the scrivener replied. 
 And he signed to the bailiffs to release the prisoner. 
 
 Every one seemed taken by surprise, and for a moment there 
 was silence amongst the other creditors, but as soon as they re- 
 covered from their astonishment they turned w^th one accord upon 
 Fairlie, calling out that exceptions ought not to be made, that 
 favour must not to be shown to any one in particular, and that, in 
 common justice, all their debts ought likewise to be paid. 
 
 " All who have just claims upon Mr. Monthermer shall be paid 
 in full," Clare said. 
 
 " Do you know what you are promising, girl ?" Fairlie ex- 
 claimed, half distracted. " Why, twenty thousand pounds will 
 not satisfy all these people." 
 
 " Were twice that sum required," Clare rejoined, with an air 
 of authority which overwhelmed him, " it must be forthcoming." 
 
 " But these are debts incurred for the veriest follies " 
 
 " It cannot be helped. Mr. Monthermer must be set clear." 
 
 *' Do not urge me to it — my fortune will be swept away. For 
 your own sake, be advised." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 197 
 
 " I care not — I want nothing," she rejoined, in a low tone. 
 "Do as I would have you, if you would make my last moments 
 easy." 
 
 At this juncture Gage forced his way to her through the crowd. ; 
 
 " I cannot consent that your father should suffer from my folly, 
 Clare,*' he said. *'I must bear the consequences of my own im- 
 prudence." 
 
 " You need have no scruple in accepting aid from my father, 
 Mr. Monthermer," Clare replied, " He is only discharging a 
 long debt of gratitude to one whom he owed his prosperity — I 
 mean your father. Besides, I am certain that when he makes up 
 his accounts with you, he will be no loser." 
 
 " ]\Iost undoubtedly he shall be no loser by me," Gage cried. 
 " Under these circumstances, Fairlie, I suppose I may assure 
 Messieurs my creditors that all their bills will be paid by you 
 without delay." 
 
 " Let us hear what Mr. Fairlie has to say to this proposition?'* 
 observed a coach-builder, who acted as spokesman for the others. 
 
 *' Bring in your bills to-morrow, and rid us of your presence 
 now," Fairlie cried furiously. 
 
 "Come along, friends," said the coach-builder; "we will no 
 longer intrude upon Mr. Monthermer, or the rest of the com- 
 pany. We are infinitely indebted to Miss Fairlie, and rejoice that 
 a business which promised to be unpleasant, should have termi- 
 nated so satisfactorily." 
 
 And bowing respectfully to Clare, he took his departure, fol- 
 lowed by the rest of the creditors ; Mr. Isaac Nibbs and the 
 bailiffs bringing up the rear. 
 
 As soon as the entrance-hall was free from them, Gage turned to 
 Clare, and said, 
 
 " What can I do to prove my gratitude for the service you have 
 rendered me ? My life is at your disposal." 
 
 " Abjure play. That is all I ask." 
 
 " Promise like a man, Gage," Sir Hugh cried, coming up with 
 his son. " Register a vow before Heaven to leave off cards and 
 dice, and there will be hopes of you." 
 
 " He may make the vow, but he will not keep it," Fairlie re- 
 marked, scornfully. 
 
 " I will not think so badly of him," Clare said. " Give me 
 
196 THE SPENDTHKIFT. 
 
 your word, Gage, as a man of honour, that you will henceforth 
 abandon play, and never again enter a gaming-house." 
 
 " As a man of honour I give you my word," Gage repeated. 
 And a secret tremor passed through his frame as he spoke, for he 
 remembered his rash promise to Mrs. Jenyns. 
 
 " We are witnesses to the pledge," said Sir Hugh Poynings 
 and Arthur. 
 
 '* And so are we," subjoined Beau Freke, who stood with Sir 
 Randal at the outlet of the passage opening into the hall. " We 
 shall see whether he will keep his word." 
 
 " Trust me, I will find some means of luring him to the gaming- 
 table, despite all his vows to the contrary," Sir Randal replied. 
 ** Qui a joue jouera, is an infalhble axiom." 
 
 " I have something more to say to you, Gage," Clare cried. 
 " For my sake, I implore you to " 
 
 The young man looked anxiously at her. But the entreaty 
 could not be preferred. A sudden faintness seized her, and she 
 fell senseless into his arms. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 199 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE EVIL GENITTS 
 
 The period we have now reached is fraught with shame and 
 dishonour to our infatuated hero. Willingly would we pass it 
 by, — willingly would we cast a veil over his errors. But it must 
 not be; it is necessary to show to what depths of degradation a 
 victim to the ruinous passion of play may be reduced. 
 
 Hitherto, the proud name Gage received from his ancestors has 
 been untarnished. Follies and excesses innumerable, and almost 
 unparalleled, have marked his career ; but he has done no act un- 
 becoming a gentleman. His word has been ever sacred ; his 
 honour without stain. But of what value are a gamester's oaths ?. 
 Of what account are his professions of amendment ? Is he to be 
 moved from his fatal purpose by the tears and anguish of those who 
 love him and are dependent upon him ? Can their clinging arms 
 withhold him from the accursed tables where ruin awaits him ? 
 The drunkard may become temperate — the rake may reform — but 
 the gamester, never ! 
 
 So was it with Gage. Notwithstanding the services rendered 
 him by the noble-hearted girl who had stepped between him and 
 destruction ; though at her earnest solicitation he had abjured cards 
 and dice ; though he knew that the violation of his oath would in- 
 flict the keenest wound upon her, to whom he was so deeply in- 
 debted ; though he felt all the infamy of his conduct, and feared, 
 and justly feared, that henceforth his name would be a by-word of 
 scorn— with all this before him, little more than a week had 
 elapsed after the occurrences described in the foregoing chapter, ere 
 K his promises to Clare were forgotten, his oath broken, and he was 
 
200 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 friends and profligate companions who had despoiled hira of his 
 fortune, and basely deserted him in his hour of need. 
 
 By what agency this was accomplished we shall proceed to 
 narrate. 
 
 Freed from all liabilities and embarrassments by the discharge o[ 
 his debts — for Fairlie, it must be mentioned, had strictly fulfilled 
 his promise to his daughter, and paid the whole of Gage's creditors 
 — the young man had now an opportunity of commencing a new 
 and wholly diiferent career. But the reckless life he had led had 
 completely unfitted him for active pursuits. He had never pos- 
 sessed any habits of business, and had now become so enervated 
 by pleasurable indulgence and dissipation, that he shrank with 
 alarm and disgust from the very idea of laborious employment. 
 No profession but the army seemed to suit him ; but how could 
 he enter the service in his present miserable plight ? What sort 
 of figure should he cut without ample pecuniary resources ? — and 
 he had none ! His pockets were empty ; his credit gone ; and 
 he could not devise any scheme by which money could be raised. 
 No one would make him advances ; and he had no security to 
 offer for a loan. Possibly, the difficulties he experienced in this 
 respect might have been removed by the instrumentality of Clare, 
 ^who scarcely would have left her good work unfinished ; but 
 she was unable to assist him. Ever since her efforts in his behalf, 
 and the trying scene she had previously undergone with her 
 father, she had been utterly prostrated, and incapable of mental or 
 bodily exertion. Thus Gage was deprived of his only chance of 
 succour, for pride prevented him from applying to Sir Hugh 
 Poynings. 
 
 As yet he continued an inmate of the mansion in Dover-street, 
 having received permission from Fairlie to remain there for a few 
 days. But of necessity this state of things could not endure. 
 Something must be done. Money must be had — but how? He 
 sat in his own chamber from morning to night, racking his brain 
 in search of expedients ; but none occurred to him, except that 
 which was interdicted. 
 
 As to the five hundred pounds given him by Mrs. Jenyns, to be 
 employed at the gaming-table, he had returned it with a letter 
 explaining the impossibility of compliance with her wishes. To 
 this letter the actress did not deign to reply, and from that time, 
 for nearly a week, he saw nothing of her — and heard nothing. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 201 
 
 Confinement to the house became at length so insupportably irk- 
 some — for very shame at his total want of money prevented Gage 
 from visiting his customary haunts, or even stirring forth at all — 
 that he mustered courage to write to Fairlie, entreating the loan of 
 a few hundreds ; but with very slender hopes, it must be owned, of 
 a favourable response to the application. Fairlie's rejoinder was 
 as follows : " You shall have the sum you require, if you will 
 engage to leave the country at once; but on no other condition. 
 Let me have your decision to-morrow morning." 
 
 While Gage was pondering over this proposition, feeling more 
 than half incUned to accept it, he received an unexpected visit from 
 Mrs. Jenyns. 
 
 " Ah ! Peg," he said, rising to greet her, " I am very glad you 
 are come. I might not otherwise have seen you again. I am about 
 to leave England for ever." 
 
 " Leave England ! — of your own free will ?" she inquired. 
 
 " I have no great choice in the matter, certainly." 
 
 " I thought not. Then why go ? Why abandon society which 
 you have found so agreeable? Nobody used to have such keen 
 relish for town life as you ! I have heard you declare a hundred 
 times that nowhere else could you find so much amusement as in 
 London, and you had tried every capital in Europe. ^ Give me 
 London,' you said, ' with its charming theatres, its nocturnal revels, 
 its gay and exciting masquerades, its operas, its ridottos, its cofiee- 
 houses, its gaming-houses !' Yes, once upon a time there was 
 nothing like a night at the Groom Porter*s in your estimation, 
 Gage." 
 
 "Those times are gone by," the young man repHed, sigh- 
 ing. " My purse is empty and must be replenished. I have no 
 means of living here. Fairlie wishes me to go abroad." 
 
 " He wants to get rid of you. Now I recommend you to stay 
 and plague him." 
 
 "I should plague myself much more by so doing," Gage 
 rejoined. "How am I to participate in the amusements you have 
 mentioned? My tastes are unchanged, but I am wholly unable 
 to gratify them. The theatres and masquerades are just as at- 
 [tractive to me as ever, but I am obliged to shun them. I cannot 
 enter a coffee-house because I dare not call for a bottle of wine, 
 [not having wherewithal to pay for it. I, who once gave the 
 
202 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 most magnificent entertainments in to-vn ; who have spent hun- 
 dreds — aj, thousands — in every coffee-house in Saint James's and 
 Covent Garden ; who have given gold by the handful to any 
 woman who pleased my fancy for the moment ; who have rioted 
 in pleasures like an Eastern monarch; who have bought enjoy- 
 ment at any price ; who have laughed at my losses at play, 
 though those losses were ruinous ; — I who three months ago was 
 master of this mansion and all in it, and could call twenty miles 
 of one of the finest counties in England my own — I am reduced 
 to this horrible extremity. Of all the wealth I have squandered, 
 not even a guinea is left, and I am obliged to hide my head 
 because I cannot brook the world's scorn. No ! no ! I must per- 
 force accept Fairlie's offer. I shall go abroad, and enter some 
 foreign service. You will hear of me no more — or if you do, it 
 will be that I have fallen on some battle-field." 
 
 " This is mere folly. Gage. Take a rational view of your 
 situation. You have run through your fortune as many a man 
 has done before you. That is not surprising, considering your 
 character. You are without resources, and grasp at the first 
 offer of assistance, without reflecting why it is made. Beware 
 how you take another false step ! Do you not detect Fairlie's 
 motive in wishing you to quit the country? Do you not com- 
 prehend that your presence is troublesome to him, and that he 
 would fain remove you altogether? But do not accede to his 
 treacherous proposal. Stay where you are. Place yourself under 
 my guidance, and I will engage to repair your fortunes. I have 
 a hold upon Fairlie, which he would gladly shake off, but which 
 your presence renders secure. I cannot explain myself more fully 
 now, but you may rest assured I am not talking idly. As a means 
 to the end I have in view, your exhausted coffers must be re- 
 plenished, and this can only be done in one way. You understand 
 me." 
 
 "Too well," he repHed, avoiding her dangerous regards. "I 
 understand you too well, Peg. But you tempt me in vain. I 
 cannot— dare not play. You know that I have vowed never to 
 touch cards and dice again." ♦ 
 
 "And what of that?" she, cried contemptuously. "'Will you 
 allow a rash vow, uttered at a moment when your judgment was 
 bhnded, to control you? Clare Fairlie had no right to extort the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 203 
 
 oath. Her claims upon your gratitude are ridiculous, and ought 
 to be discarded. She compelled her father to do a bare act 
 of justice — that is all. But even admitting — which I do not — 
 that she acted generously, and that her generosity bound you to 
 her, no oath extorted by her can liberate you from your previous 
 promise to me. I confided a certain sum to you to be employed 
 in play — half your winnings to be mine. Was it not so ? Did 
 you not give me your word to this effect?" 
 
 " I cannot gainsay it — but I could not foresee how I should be 
 circumstanced with Clare. Release me from the promise, I entreat 
 of you." 
 
 " Never ! I require its fulfilment this very day. Here are the 
 five hundred pounds I entrusted to you. Use them as I have 
 directed." 
 
 " For Clare's sake I implore you not to urge me thus." 
 
 "What is Clare to me — and why should she step between me 
 and my designs ? I am resolved you shall play. Settle your 
 accounts anon with her. Mine must be disposed of first." 
 
 " Oh, if I could but repay Fairlie the sums he has disbursed on 
 my account, I might feel exonerated from all obligation ! " 
 
 " Why are you so scrupulous ? I tell you Fairlie is a cheat 
 — a knave, who has robbed you all along ; but if it will ease your 
 mind, repay him with your winnings at play what he has paid 
 your creditors." 
 
 " An excellent notion ! " Gage exclaimed, eagerly grasping at 
 the suggestion. '" Yes, it shall be as you recommend." 
 
 " I recommend no such folly. Were I in your place, Fairlie 
 should never have another farthing from me ; nor would I rest till 
 I had made him disgorge the bulk of his plunder. But of this 
 hereafter. You must begin by obtaining funds." 
 
 " You seem to make sure I shall win. Recollect how unlucky 
 I have hitherto been." 
 
 " You will win now. I am quite sure of it. Come and sup with 
 me to-night at my lodgings in the Haymarket, and we will go 
 afterwards to the Groom-Porter's, where you can play as deeply as 
 you please. Sir Randal and Mr. Freke are sure to be there." 
 
 " I won't play with them !" Gage exclaimed. 
 
 "Not play with them! Nonsense! Why, the best revenge 
 you can enjoy will be to beat them at their own weapons, and win 
 
204 THE SPENDTHEIFT. 
 
 back tKe money you have lost. And you shall do it. I promise 
 you a run of luck such as you never had before." 
 • " You are very confident, Peg, but it is well to engage with 
 a good heart in a trial which, come what will, shall be my last." 
 
 " Make no more resolutions against play, for you are sure to 
 break them," Mrs. Jenyns cried, with a laugh. " And now take 
 the money. At eight o'clock I shall expect you." 
 
 And she hastily quitted the room, leaving Gage like one in a 
 dream. . 
 
 A long struggle took place in his breast, which ended, as might 
 have been foreseen, in his Evil Genius obtaining the mastery. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 205 
 
 k 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 A LETTER FROM CLARE. 
 
 Evening had arrived. A sedan-chair was standing in the hall 
 to convey Gage to the Haymarket, and he was about to step into 
 it, when Lettice Rougham entered by the open door. Perceiving 
 Monthermer, she ran towards him and gave him a note, earnestly 
 entreating him to read it before he went forth. 
 
 "Is it from your mistress?" he inquired. 
 
 Lettice replied in the affirmative, adding : " Alas ! sir, she is 
 very ill ; but she made an effort to write these few Hues to you, 
 hoping they might not be without effect. Do read the letter, I 
 implore you, and then perhaps you won't go. It will break 
 her heart if you do — indeed it will!" she 'cried, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 " Why, where do you suppose I am going ?" Gage exclaimed, 
 looking at her in surprise. " What is the meaning of these 
 tears?" 
 
 " They aren't shed for you, sir, I promise you," Lettice rejoined, 
 
 ther sharply. " You don't deserve that any one should grieve 
 n your account — much less such a sweet, tender-hearted creature 
 as my mistress. Oh dear ! oh dear ! what will happen to her if 
 you go?" 
 
 " A truce to this nonsense, Lettice ! What silly notions have you 
 got into your head ? " 
 
 " They're not silly notions, but plain truth. Just step this way 
 a moment, sir, that I may speak to you in private." And as soon 
 as they were out of hearing of the chairmen and servants, she said, 
 lowering her voice, " You're bound on a wicked errand, and will 
 repent it all the rest of your life. Don't attempt to deceive me, for 
 
206 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 you can't do it. I know perfectly well where you are going to sup, 
 and with whom — and what you mean to do afterwards — and so 
 does my dear mistress." 
 
 For a moment Gage was speechless, and, thinking she had ob- 
 tained an advantage over him, Lettice determined to follow it up. 
 
 " I am glad you have some sense of shame left," she continued, 
 " and I begin to have hopes of you. You may wonder how I 
 know all about your proceedings, so I had better tell you. 
 I was coming to your room this morning with a message, which 
 it is too late to deliver now — but it was something very kind 
 and considerate — something greatly to your benefit — on the part 
 of my dear mistress — wben I found the door ajar, and hearing a 
 female voice, w^hich. I at once recognised, I stopped to listen. It 
 was wrong in me to do so, perhaps — but I couldn't help it. I 
 heard what passed between you and that bad, deceitful woman. I 
 knew what she was trying to bring you to from the first word 
 I heard her utter, and I shuddered when you didn't at once, like 
 a man of honour, reject her base — her abominable proposals." 
 
 " Lettice, how dare you use such language to me ? " 
 
 " I can't help my feelings, sir — and they make me speak out. You 
 were to blame to listen to that woman at all, but much more so to 
 consent to what she asked of you. You little thought what had 
 brought me to your room." 
 
 " Why, what did bring you there, Lettice ? " 
 
 ^^ I can't tell you now. My mistress has forbidden me. ' He 
 must never know what I meant to do for him, or he may put a 
 wrong construction on my motive,' she said, as I went back to her 
 with a sorrowful heart, and related what had happened. ' I will 
 take no further interest in him,' she added ; 'he is unworthy 
 of regard.' ' Indeed, miss, I can't help agreeing with you,' I re- 
 plied ; and I won't attempt to conceal from you, sir, that such were, 
 and still are, my sentiments. Poor soul, she cried for a long time 
 as if her heart would break, and though I did my best to comfort 
 her, I couldn't succeed. After a while she grew more composed, and 
 remained quiet till evening drew on, when she asked for pen and 
 paper, and I propped her up in bed while she wrote this letter to 
 you. Slowly — very slowly was it written, and with great diffi- 
 culty. Oh, if you could have seen her angelic countenance, her 
 dank, drooping hair hanging over her shoulders, and her thin, thin 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 207 
 
 fingers ! it was a sight to melt a heart of stone — and I think it 
 would have melted yours. When she had done, she sealed the 
 letter, and bade me take it to you. ^Tell him it is the last 
 time I will ever trouble him,' she said ; ^ but implore him to 
 attend to my request.' And now, sir, having said my say, I will 
 withdraw while you read the letter." 
 
 " There is no occasion to do so, Lettice," Gage replied, putting 
 aside the note ; " I cannot read it now." 
 
 " Not read it ! You cannot be so cruel ! I won't believe in such 
 black ingratitude." 
 
 " I cannot stay. I am behind my time. I will write to your 
 mistress to-morrow morning. If you really have the regard you 
 profess for her, you ought not to have disclosed what you acci- 
 dentally overheard this morning, as you must have been aware it 
 was calculated to give her needless pain. But the best way to 
 repair your error is to keep silence now. You mustn't betray me, 
 Lettice. I rely on your discretion." 
 
 " Don't rely on me, sir — don't do it. I won't hide anything 
 from my mistress." 
 
 " Well, as you please. But if any ill arises from your impru 
 dence, the blame will rest with you." 
 
 This was too much for poor Lettice. She was quite bewildered. 
 
 " Oh, do be persuaded to open the letter before you go, sir !" she 
 cried, making a last eiFort to detain him. " Open it, and I'm 
 certain you won't persist in your wicked purpose." 
 
 Gage made no reply, but, breaking from her, hurried to the 
 sedan-chair, and ordered the bearers to proceed with all possible 
 despatch to the Haymarket. 
 
 Lettice did not tarry to listen to the jests of the footmen, or 
 satisfy their curiosity as to the motive of her visit, but betook her- 
 self sadly, and with slow footsteps, to Jermyn-street, uncertain what 
 course she ought to pursue in reference to her mistress, and almost 
 inclined to think it might be best to follow Gage's recommendation 
 and keep silence as to his delinquencies. As she was crossing Pic- 
 cadilly she met Arthur Poynings and his sister returning from an 
 evening walk in Hyde Park, and perceivin;? her distress, Lucy 
 anxiously inquired the cause of it. Seeing no reason for disguise, 
 Lettice told her all that had occurred, and both sister and brother — 
 but especially the former — were greatly troubled by the recital. 
 
208 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Arthur, indeed, was roused to positive fury against Gage ; though, 
 for Lucy's sake, he repressed his indignation. Advising his sister 
 to pass some hours with Clare, and, if need be, to remain with her 
 during the night, and recommending both her and Lettice to ob- 
 serve the utmost caution in what they said to her respecting Gage, 
 he accompanied them to the door of Mrs. Lacy's house in Jermyn- 
 street (where it will be recollected that poor Clare had sought 
 refuge), and then left them, promising to call at a later hour. Lucy 
 was not without misgiving as to his intentions, but she thought 
 there was little chance of his meeting with Gage that night, and on 
 the morrow he might be calmer. 
 
 She was wrong. Arthur had resolved that the morrow should 
 not dawn before he had seen Gage, and told him his opinion of 
 his conduct. 
 
 And now to return to Gage. While he was borne rapidly along 
 towards the Haymarket, he took out Clare's letter, and broke the 
 seal. There was still light enough to enable him to distinguish its 
 characters, and he read as follows : 
 
 " I have been told that a confirmed gamester can never be re- 
 claimed. I did not believe it, for I entertained a better opinion 
 of our nature, than to suppose that any passion could be so over- 
 whelming and irresistible as to subvert every good resolution and 
 principle, and obliterate all sense of honour. I now perceive my 
 error. I find one, on whose plighted word I had implicitly relied, 
 again ensnared by the toils from which I trusted he was delivered 
 — his oath broken — himself dishonoured. 
 
 " But be warned, Gage — be warned while there is yet time ! 
 Turn back from the very door of the Temptress! Repulse her 
 when she would entice you in ! Shut your ears to her soft per- 
 suasions and falsehoods. Burst the chains she has cast around you. 
 Fly from her ! If you enter you are lost — irretrievably lost ! 
 
 I had indulged in dreams of your future happiness — dreams, 
 ala%! from which I have been rudely awakened. I pictured 
 you, as you might have become, after a time, by efforts properly 
 directed, prosperous and distinguished. I saw you restored to your 
 former position, and blessed with the hand and affections of a being 
 in every respect worthy of you. And though I knew that long 
 ere that fortunate period could arrive, I should be gone, I did not 
 repine. Now, all those hopes are annihilated. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 209 
 
 " Fain would I release you from your vow ! It rests not with 
 
 me to absolve you from it. But I can pity you — I can forgive 
 
 you from my heart — I can pray for you, — and this I will do to 
 
 the last ! Farewell ! 
 
 " Clare." 
 
 This touching letter moved Gage profoundly, and he almost felt 
 inclined to obey the admonition, and turn back at once. But he had 
 not force enough to shake off his thraldom. His good genius had 
 deserted him, and, arrived at the door of the Temptress, he went in. 
 
210 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 A NIGHT AT THE GKOOM-POETER S. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns professed the greatest delight at seeing him. She 
 was exquisitely attired, and never looked more attractive. Brice 
 Bunburj, Jack Brassey, and Nat Mist had been invited to meet 
 him ; and however disposed Gage had been to resent their late 
 conduct towards him, he could not hold out against their present 
 demonstrations of regard, but shook hands heartily with all three. 
 
 " I must beg you to accept my apologies for what occurred at 
 White's the other day, Monthermer," Brice said. " We all be- 
 haved very unhandsomely to you — but we are devilish sorry for it." 
 
 " Say no more, Brice," Gage replied, " I have no sort of 
 quarrel with you ; but I am deeply offended with Sir Randal." 
 
 "I shall not attempt to palliate his conduct," Brice replied, 
 " for it was indefensible ; but he owns himself completely in the 
 wrong, and is anxious to atone for his folly. Whenever you meet 
 him, he intends to apologise — and so does Mr. Freke. Ah ! how 
 delighted we all were to learn that old Fairlie had paid your debts." 
 But why have you kept away from us ever since? We have 
 looked in vain for you on the Mall, and at the coffee-houses." 
 
 The announcement of supper at this moment saved Gage from 
 the necessity of reply. Mrs. Jenyns led the way to an adjoining 
 room where a repast was served, of which Loriot himself might 
 have been proud. Every dish was a delicacy. Delicious wines 
 went round in flowing bumpers, and the spirits of the company 
 rose as the goblets were drained. Mrs. Jenyns had no desire to 
 check the hilarity of her guests, but she took care that Gage 
 should not drink too much for her purpose. So while she allowed 
 Brice Bunbury and the others to quaff as much champagne and 
 burgundy as they chose, she wisely restricted him to claret. 
 
A Nigbt at the Groom Porter's, — i'. 211. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 211 
 
 As may be supposed, with the business they had in hand, the 
 party did not sit long after supper — not half so long as Brice would 
 have desired — but adjourned to Spring Gardens. 
 
 Before starting, Mrs. Jenyns took Gage aside, and reiterating her 
 advice to him to play with extreme caution, she gave him a pair of 
 dice, teUing him they were the luckiest she had ever used. 
 
 Arrived at the Groom-Porter's, they went up-stairs and entered 
 the room where hazard was always played. The large round table 
 was crowded; but, on seeing our hero, a gentleman hastily with- 
 drew, and Gage took his place. Our hero's appearance caused 
 significant glances to be exchanged between Beau Freke and Sir 
 Randal, but they both courteously saluted him. When it came 
 to his turn to play. Gage put down a hundred pounds, and took 
 out the " lucky dice " given him by Mrs. Jen3ms. 
 " Seven's the main," Sir Randal cried. 
 
 " A nick ! " Gage exclaimed, and swept all the money, amount- 
 ing to some hundreds, oflf the board. 
 
 " Did I not tell you you would win ? " whispered Mrs. Jenyns, 
 who stood behind him. "Go on! Stake all you have won. 
 Good luck will attend you." 
 
 And so it proved. In less than an hour he was master of upwards 
 of five thousand pounds. Feeling he was in a run of luck, he 
 went on, constantly doubling his stakes ; and neither Sir Randal 
 nor Beau Freke seemed disposed to balk him. At jBrst they 
 had intended he should win a small amount — feeling certain 
 they could get back their money whenever they pleased — but 
 they were out in their calculations. The dice fell precisely as Gage 
 would have had them fall, and as if a wizard had shaken the box. 
 Vexed as well as surprised at Gage's uninterrupted run of luck, and 
 determined to check it, Sir Randal put down a thousand pounds, 
 and his example was followed by Beau Freke. Mrs. Jenyns 
 slightly touched Gage's arm. He was trembling with excitement, 
 but the pressure calmed him at once. Again he nicked the main, 
 and swept all from the table. His adversaries stared at each other. 
 They could not understand it, but felt piqued to proceed. Four 
 thousand pounds were placed on the table, and changed hands in 
 a twinkling. Double again — dice-boxes rattled, and Gage was a 
 winner of 8000Z. His exulting and defiant looks goaded his adver- 
 saries to continue their play. The stakes had now become 
 
 p2 
 
212 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 serious, and all eyes were fixed on Gage as he shook the box. 
 Loud were his shouts of triumph — deep the curses of his opponents. 
 Would they have their revenge ? Did they dare go on ? They an- 
 swered by doubling the stakes. It was an awful moment — and Gage 
 grew pale and drops pearled upon his brow. But he rattled the box 
 boldly, and cast the dice with decision. Huzza ! 'twas a famous 
 throw. But it was the last. His antagonists have had enough. 
 They would play no more that night ; and Gage rose a winner of 
 nearly 3§,000Z. 
 
 He was well-nigh frenzied with delight — he laughed extrava- 
 gantly, and shouted as if inebriated. Such exhibitions were too fre- 
 quent in that place to attract much attention, and few noticed his 
 frantic cries and gestures. His opponents bore their defeat better 
 than might be expected — better, indeed, than they would have 
 borne it, if they had not persuaded themselves they should soon 
 triumph in their turn. They therefore shook hands cordially with 
 the winner, and telling him he was bound to give them their re- 
 venge on another occasion, which he readily consented to, they took 
 their departure with an air of apparent unconcern. During all 
 this time, Mrs. Jenyns had kept careful watch over Gage's win- 
 nings, and in order that there might be no misunderstanding between 
 them afterwards, she divided the amount into two heaps ; and when 
 Gage came back to the table she showed him what she had done, 
 and appropriating her own share of the spoil, left the rest to him. 
 He was quite satisfied, and proceeded to secure the rolls of bank- 
 notes and the gold allotted to him. This done, and the " lucky 
 dice " returned at her request to their owner, a coach was called, 
 and Mrs. Jenyns, with a profusion of tender adieux to Gage, 
 stepped into it and drove off. 
 
 Gage remained standing for a moment at the door of the gaming- 
 house, indulging in the rapturous emotions occasioned by his 
 success. People were going out and coming in, but he took no 
 notice of them. At last, however, he remarked a tall personage at 
 a short distance from him, who, so far as the individual could be 
 distinguished, was apparently watching him. Our hero had too much 
 money about him at the moment to run any needless risk, and he 
 was about to move off, when the man in question strode quickly 
 towards him, and as he drew near. Gage perceived by the light of 
 the lamp hung above the portal that it was Arthur Poynings. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 213 
 
 Gage would have gladly avoided the meeting, but escape was im- 
 possible. Arthur seized his arm and held him fast. 
 
 " You. shall not stir till you have heard \vhat I have to say to 
 you," young Poynings cried. " You have for ever forfeited the 
 character of a gentleman and a man of honour, and must henceforth 
 associate only with gamesters and sharpers. You have been guilty 
 of the basest ingratitude, and, oh ! shame to a Month ermer ! have 
 broken your plighted word. You have made yourself the tool of 
 one of the worst of her sex, and have consented to become a partner 
 in her tricks and dishonest practices." 
 
 " How, sir ?" Gage cried. " Do you dare to insinuate that I 
 have played falsely ?" 
 
 " You may have been that infamous woman's dupe, but that 
 you have used loaded dice I am certain," Arthur replied. " I 
 was present when you entered the room. I made way for you 
 at the table — though you did not notice me — and took up a 
 position where I could observe your play. I was struck with 
 Mrs. Jenyns's manner, and noted a peculiar look when you first 
 threw the dice. As you went on and continued to win, my 
 suspicions were confirmed, and I only wonder at the blindness of 
 your opponents. No doubt they were deluded by the belief that 
 they were playing with a man of honour — a man of honour, I 
 mean, in their sense of the term, not mine." 
 
 " It is false !" Gage cried. " Such deception cannot have been 
 practised upon me." 
 
 " Have you the dice with which you played ?" Arthur de- 
 manded. 
 
 " I have not — I gave them back to her — but I will not rest till 
 have satisfied my doubts. If you have made a false accusation, 
 ou shall answer for it with your life." 
 
 Arthur laughed disdainfully, and, releasing the hold he had 
 itherto maintained of the other's arm, exclaimed in accents of 
 isdain, but with which some pity was mingled, " Act as you 
 lease — believe what you please — I care not. You are born to be 
 uped, and will, therefore, believe that woman's assertions in spite 
 f positive proof to the contrary. But you will find out the truth 
 e long — and to your cost. I shall never withdraw the charge 
 have brought against her — nor recal a single expression I have 
 d towards yourself You merit every epithet of scorn that can 
 
214 • THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 be heaped upon you. But think not I will give you satisfaction, 
 I cross swords only with a gentleman, and you have forfeited all 
 claim to the title." So saying, he turned on his heel and departed. 
 
 Not many minutes after this. Gage had made his way to Mrs. 
 Jenyns's lodgings, and, without announcing himself, abruptly 
 entered her room. She was in the act of counting her gains, 
 and looked surprised at seeing Gage, but not in the slightest degree 
 disconcerted. 
 
 " Where are the dice you lent me?" he cried. " Give them to 
 me at once." 
 
 " What ! are you about to play again?" she said. " Be content 
 with what you have won already. Your luck may turn." 
 
 " Perhaps it may if I play fairly, but I had rather lose than win 
 in any other way." 
 
 " I don't understand you. Has any one been taxing you with 
 unfair play?" 
 
 "Yes; Arthur Poynings was present while I played, and he 
 declares the dice were loaded. Let me have them instantly." 
 
 " Here they are," Mrs. Jenyns replied, searching amidst a heap 
 of gold, and producing a pair of dice. ^'Examine them, and 
 judge for yourself." 
 
 Gage took the dice and broke them in pieces on the hearth. 
 The cubes were of solid ivory. 
 
 " Are you satisfied now ?" Mrs. Jenyns cried. " I wish you had 
 had more confidence in me and less in Arthur, for in breaking 
 those dice you have destroyed your own luck." 
 
 "It matters not," Gage rejoined; "a load has been taken from 
 my breast by finding I have not been guilty — however uninten- 
 tionally — of foul play, and I am equally glad to feel assured that 
 Arthur's suspicions of you were without warrant." 
 
 ^^ I am greatly obliged to you and to Mr. Arthur Poynings for 
 your good opinion of me," Mrs. Jenyns rejoined. 
 
 "Forgive me, Peg, for doing you this great injustice. But 
 Arthur's taunts and reproaches stung me to the quick, and his 
 malicious charge against you seemed to have a certain consistency 
 which I could not disprove, otherwise than as I have done." 
 
 " You will bring him to account for his slanderous insolence?" 
 Mrs. Jenyns cried. 
 
 " I cannot obtain satisfaction from him, for he refuses to meet 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 215 
 
 me. But I must and will set myself right. I have a strange 
 scheme in view which I trust to carry out. You shall hear what 
 it is to-morrow." 
 
 " Why not tell me now?" 
 
 "No; it would be useless to mention the project till I am certain 
 of being able to realise it. But I think it will surprise you." 
 
 " Very likely. I hope you have given up your intention of 
 repaying Fairlie?" 
 
 " I am more than ever resolved upon it. Indeed, that is an essen- 
 tial part of my design, as you will find when I disclose it to you." 
 
 " You are not about to leave me so soon?" 
 
 "I am a poor companion at this moment, or I would stay. 
 Arthur's bitter reproaches rankle in my breast — and do what I will, 
 I cannot help thinking of Clare. Her image constantly rises before 
 me. Good night !" 
 
 And raising her hand to his lips, he departed. 
 
216 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 A SINGULAR REQUEST. 
 
 Early next morning Gage sought Fairlie, and on seeing him 
 the steward immediately demanded whether he meant to go 
 abroad. 
 
 " No," Gage replied. " I shall remain. You must know that 
 I went to the Groom-Porter's last night, Fairlie." 
 
 The steward instantly flew into a towering passion. " So you 
 have been at the gaming-table, have you ? " he cried. " And you 
 have the effrontery to confess it — to boast of it? I told my 
 daughter you would break your vow. I told her it was madness- 
 to pay your debts. And I was right." 
 
 " How- much have you paid for me, Fairlie ?" Gage remarked , 
 taking a seat, which the steward did not condescend to oflfer him. 
 
 " How much !'* Fairlie rejoined, with increasing fury. " Several 
 thousands — but it was done to oblige my daughter. I am sorry 
 now that I yielded to her importunities, and threw away the money 
 so foolishly." 
 
 " But the amount ! — let me know the precise amount ?" 
 
 " I can't see why you require the information ; but I have paid 
 exactly 13,000Z." 
 
 " And all my creditors are satisfied ?" 
 
 " All of them. Nibbs alone was five thousand. The rest amounted 
 to 8000/. — a large sum — a fortune, in fact. But Clare would have 
 it so." 
 
 " You never yet were a loser by me, Fairlie — and you shall not 
 be a loser now," Gage rejoined, taking out a thick rouleau of 
 bank-notes. 
 
 "Why, zounds! you won't repay me — you can't mean it? 
 Fairlie stammered, in the utmost surprise. 
 
THE 8PENDTHKIFT. 217 
 
 " These notes are yours when I have my creditors' receipts." 
 
 " Here they are,^-every one of them," Fairlie answered. " How 
 came you by such a windfall ? But I needn't ask, since you tell 
 me you have been at the Groom-Porter's — ha ! ha ! You must 
 have had rare luck, sir, to win so large a sum?" 
 
 " Do not concern yourself about the matter, Fairlie. "We are 
 now quits." 
 
 " Entirely so, sir," the steward replied, obsequiously. " But I 
 don't know whether I ought to take this money, Clare will never 
 forgive me when she hears of it." 
 
 " She will never hear of it from me — so rest easy on that 
 score. Hark'ee, Fairlie, I have a request to make of you." 
 
 " I am sure, sir, I shall only be too happy to grant it, if in my 
 power," the steward replied. 
 
 " Perhaps you may not be so ready to do so when you hear 
 what it is. I have a strong desire to pass a week in Monthermer 
 Castle." 
 
 ^' Nothing easier, sir. I shall be delighted to see you there." 
 
 "But I do not wish to go there as guest — but as lord and 
 master." 
 
 " I fear that is impossible," Fairlie replied, with a bland smile. 
 " I am excessively sorry — but " 
 
 " I knew you would object. But hear me out. All I desire is 
 to resume for a short time the part I once played there. I will give 
 it up at the end of a week." 
 
 " Well — well, — if that be all, I am willing to humour you.*' 
 
 " But, more than this, I desire to give a grand entertainment 
 to my friends — a princely revel, in short." 
 
 " But not at my expense, sir — not at my expense !" 
 
 " Certainly not. I have three thousand pounds left, and this I 
 will devote to the entertainment." 
 
 "A wonderful notion, sir, — quite worthy of you. But you 
 are quite sure you have no secret design in it?" 
 
 " My design is simply to give a last entertainment by which 1 
 may be remembered. When it is over, be assured I will not 
 trouble you further." 
 
 ** I am quite satisfied. You shall have such a revel as never be- 
 fore was given in the Castle, or elsewhere in the county. I know 
 your sumptuous tastes, sir, and will provide accordingly. You 
 shall feast like Belshazzar. But I must make one stipulation." 
 
218 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Name it." 
 
 " Till midniglit you shall be lord of the house. After that hour 
 I shall assume the title." 
 
 '* Agreed!" 
 
 " What day do you appoint for the entertainment?" 
 
 ** To-morrow week." 
 
 " Ere then you may play again, sir, and your good luck may 
 desert you. To prevent accidents, you had better pay before- 
 hand." 
 
 Gage laughed, and handed him three bank-notes of a thou- 
 sand each. " There, now you are quite safe," he said. 
 
 *' Rely upon it, I will do you justice," Fairlie said. " Mon- 
 thermer Castle is yours for a week, and if I come there during 
 the time it will only be to superintend the preparations for the 
 grand entertainment. Invite as many guests as you please. 
 Live as you have ever been accustomed to live, in riot and 
 profusion. Stint nothing. Carriages, horses, servants, plate, wine 
 — I place all at your disposal till to-morrow week." 
 
 " In that week I will live a year!" Gage cried; '•' and when it 
 
 is past But, no matter ! — I will not think of the future. 
 
 Present enjoyment is what I covet. I should like to set out for the 
 Castle at once." 
 
 " The travelling-carriage shall be ready for you in an hour, sir, 
 with four horses," Fairlie replied. ^^ Bellairs and Chassemouche 
 shall go with you, and I will send down the rest of the household 
 in the course of the day. If you will favour me with a list of 
 such persons as you desire to ask, I will send out the invitations 
 without delay. You may safely confide all arrangements to me. 
 I will give the necessary orders at once." 
 
 And as he rang the bell for the purpose. Gage left him, and re- 
 pairing to his own chamber, sat down to write a couple of letters. 
 
 All was in readiness at the time appointed. Gage started on 
 the journey in his own superb travelling-carriage, dashing out of 
 town as fast as four horses could carry him; and such was the 
 expedition he used, that, ere evening, he had reached the borders 
 of the wide domains he had once called his own. The road led 
 him within a short distance of the Beacon Hill, and he could 
 not resist the impulse that prompted him to survey the famihar 
 scene. Accordingly^ he ordered the postilions to halt, and, de- 
 cending, left the servants with the carriage, and mounted the 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 219 
 
 hill alone. It was a beautiful evening, and the view from the 
 summit had never looked more enchanting. All was unchanged 
 since he had last beheld it. There were the richly cultivated 
 lands, spreading out in every direction — the farms and the 
 humble homesteads, surrounded with haystacks — the woods with 
 their colonies of rooks. The reapers had been busy during 
 tlie day garnering their golden produce ; but many of the 
 fields were still studded with sheaves of corn. The contem. 
 plation of this peaceful and beautiful scene seemed calculated 
 to soothe a troubled breast. But it did not soothe Gage. On 
 the contrary, it aroused thoughts of singular bitterness. For a 
 moment the veil seemed rent from his eyes, and he viewed his 
 conduct in its proper light. He regarded himself as a madman. 
 To throw away such a property ! — how could he have done it ? 
 Was the mischief irreparable ? Was it all gone ? Yes ! all ! all ! 
 
 Hitherto his gaze had avoided the Castle. He now looked 
 towards it. Ay, there it was, towering proudly over its clump of 
 trees — a magnificent object. Gone from him for ever! The 
 thought was madness, and so intolerable did he find it, that, utter- 
 ing curses upon his folly, he turned away and rushed down the hill. 
 
 Arrived at the foot of the eminence he found himself face to face 
 with a man, whom he had not previously observed, but who had 
 been watching him. 
 
 *' Why, Mark Rougham, is that you?" he exclaimed. 
 
 *' Ay, it be me sure enough, your honour," Mark replied ; 
 " and it be a strange chance that ha' brought me here this fine 
 e'en to meet your honour." 
 
 " Are you still one of my tenants — I mean a tenant to Mr. 
 Fairlie?" Gage inquired. 
 
 "No, no; I be bailifi" to Sir Hugh Poynings, at Reedham," 
 Mark repHed, " and a very good situation I have of it ; quite com- 
 fortable for myself and my family. I have no wish to be a tenant 
 to Muster Fairlie, though I can't help sometimes regretting Cow- 
 bridge Farm. Indeed it wei;e merely to indulge myself with a 
 look at the old place that brought me here now. Excuse my 
 freedom in putting a plain question to you, sir? I ask it fro' t' 
 strong interest I feci in you. I heered say you'd lost a mint o' 
 money at play." 
 
 " It's true, Mark," Gage replied, " I have lost, as you say, a 
 mint of money — more than I shall ever get back, I fear." 
 
220 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " That's a pity — a great pity," Mark groaned, " But that's not 
 precisely the question I meant to ask, neither. Yo may ha' lost a 
 great deal, and yet not a* your fortin. I trust it be not so bad 
 as that?" 
 
 ** Believe the worst, Mark. I won't deceive you." 
 
 "And it's true, then," Rougham cried, despairingly; "this 
 noble estate — the finest i' a' Suffolk — it be a' gone — a' gambled 
 away ! " And covering his face with his hand, he wept aloud. 
 
 At last, Mark shook off his emotion, and said, "I never thought 
 to hear this from your father's son, sir. He died i' my arms near this 
 very spot, and this may gi' me a right to ask you, in his honoured 
 name, what you mean to do?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you now, but you shall know hereafter, Mark. 
 Meet me at daybreak to-morrow week, on this spot, and you shall 
 learn my final resolution." 
 
 "Here, did you say, sir? Do you mean that I am to meet you 
 here?" 
 
 " As I have just said — on this day week, at daybreak." 
 
 " A strange place of meeting — and a strange hour," Mark ob- 
 served, 
 
 " The meeting may be stranger," Gage said, gloomily. 
 
 " I hope it may lead to good," Mark said. " You know the 
 prophecy relating to your family?" 
 
 " I have heard something about it," Gage replied. "What is it?" 
 
 " The rhymes run thus, if I can bring 'em to mind," Mark re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Hard by the hill whereon the Beacon stands, 
 
 One proud Monthermer shall lose house and lands ; 
 On the same spot — if but the way be plain — 
 Another of the line shall both regain." 
 
 " A strange prediction, truly," Gage said, musingly. ^'^ If hut 
 the way be -plairH — what can that mean ? No use inquiring now. 
 — Fail not to meet me, Mark." 
 
 " On Friday, at daybreak, if breath be in my body, you may 
 count on seeing me," Rougham replied. 
 
 " And whatever breath be in mine, or not, you will find me 
 there," Gage rejoined. " And now farewell, Mark." And with- 
 out another word^ he hurried to the carriage, leaving Rougham to 
 ponder over his parting words. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 221 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 
 
 Gage's reappearance at Monthermer Castle created an extra- 
 ordinary sensation amongst the neighbouring gentry, and indeed 
 throughout the whole county. No one expected to find him there 
 again, — at all events, not in the quality of lord of the mansion, 
 and such he was still, to all appearances. Tidings of his utter ruin 
 had of course been recei- •:(!. Such news flies quickly. Moreover, 
 it was rumoured tha^ che whole of his estates had been seized by 
 Fairlie ; and though this report wanted confirmation, it obtained 
 general credence, being quite consistent with the steward's known 
 character for rapacity. 
 
 Precisely at this juncture, when everybody supposed him shut 
 up in the Fleet, or some other debtors' prison, Gage suddenly 
 returned, having travelled from town (it was said) in his usual 
 magnificent- style, and accompanied by his usual attendants. Nor 
 did he appear to meditate any change in his extravagant mode of 
 living; his first business on his arrival being to issue invitations 
 to all his acquaintance, announcing his intention of keeping open 
 house for a week— the festivities to be concluded by a grand enter- 
 tainment, to which the honour of their company was requested. 
 
 The recipients of these invitations were naturally filled with 
 astonishment. Not being in the secret of Gage's arrangement 
 with Fairlie, they knew not what to make of it. One said to 
 another, " Have you heard that Monthermer is come back to the 
 Castle, and has begun again at his old rattling pace ?" And the 
 other replied that he had heard it, but could scarcely believe it, 
 so he meant to ride over on the morrow and satisfy himself. 
 Whereupon they both agreed to accept Gage's invitation. 
 
222 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Their example was generally followed. Many went from 
 curiosity — many more because they felt certain of getting sur- 
 passingly good dinners — and some few because they liked Gage 
 personally, and were really glad to welcome him home again. 
 So great was the influx of guests, that on the third day every 
 room in the immense mansion was occupied, except such as had 
 been set apart for visitors expected from town. Those who looked 
 for good cheer were not disappointed. Heretofore, the lord of the 
 Castle had been renowned for profuse liospitality ; but his present 
 banquets surpassed all previously given, both in excellence and 
 splendour. Nothing was wanting that the greatest epicure could de- 
 sire ; while the hardest-drinking foxhunter got enough — and some- 
 thing more than enough — burgundy and claret. 
 
 As may be supposed, the best of Gage's neighbours held 
 aloof, and would take no part in his festivities, but the boon 
 companions who did rally round him persuaded him he was 
 better without such high and mighty folks. Good fellowship 
 and good wine would be thrown away upon them. He him- 
 self was worth the whole set put together. He was the best 
 and most hospitable fellow in the world, and deserved a dozen 
 fortunes. Let the reader picture to himself a score of old topers 
 (some of them six-bottle men), a like number of gay and dissolute 
 youths, former associates of our hero, together with a sprinkHng 
 of the miscellaneous class of gentry who throng a hunting-field, 
 and he will have some idea of the class of company now assembled 
 at the Castle. From morn to night, and from night to morn, it 
 was one continued round of revelry and enjoyment. 
 
 On the fourth day the party was increased by the arrival of Sir 
 Randal de Meschines, Mr. Freke, Lord Melton, Brice Bunburj, 
 Nat Mist, and Jack Brassey, with their attendants ; and later 
 on the same day came Mrs. Jenyns. The last visitor was a sur- 
 prise to Gage — he had not expected her. 
 
 " You won't find me in the way," she said to him, perceiving 
 his embarrassment as he endeavoured to give her a smiling 
 welcome ; " and I beg you not to stand on any ceremony with 
 me, but to put me just where you please. Fairlie told me there 
 would be no room for me, and that you didn't want me ; but I 
 knew better, so here I am. But, bless me, how ill you appear ! 
 What's the mattoy ? I declare you look ten years older than when 
 I saw you last." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 223 
 
 This was said in jest, but it was not far wide of the truth. Gage 
 had, indeed, entirely lost his youthful expression of countenance, 
 and looked frightfully worn and haggard. Since his return to the 
 Castle he had known little rest. The large bed-chamber which he 
 occupied had formerly been used by his father, and he fancied 
 he heard strange sounds within it. On the night preceding Mrs. 
 Jenyns's arrival he had been more than usually restless. After 
 tossing to and fro for hours upon his pillow, in the vain attempt 
 to court sleep, he arose, and, full of superstitious terror, hastily 
 attired himself, and stepped forth into the long gallery, lined with 
 full-length portraits of his ancestors. 
 Pictures no longer, but fearful spectres. 
 
 The moon shed its pale radiance through the opposite windows, 
 and, thus illuminated, the figures of the old Monthermers started 
 from their frames like ghosts. The first phantom that Gage en- 
 countered was Radulphus, a mail-clad baron of the time of Ed- 
 ward I., and founder of the line. To this awful shade succeeded 
 Sir Lionel, who had been knighted by Edward III. — then Kenric, 
 the wise, Randal, the proud, Redwald, the gigantic — with many 
 more : Oswald, who flourished in the reign of Edward IV. ; 
 Egbert, a galliard page in the days of Henry VIII., a crafty states- 
 man in the time of EUzabeth ; Sigebert, knighted by James I. ; 
 Arthur, the cavaUer ; Vernon, Gage's grandsire; and lastly, War- 
 wick, his father. 
 
 Close beside the shadowy form of Warwick floated the semblance 
 of a young and beautiful woman. Her regards were fixed tenderly 
 and sorrowfully upon her erring son — so tenderly that his heart 
 was melted. Agonising thoughts racked him at that moment, 
 and he bitterly reproached himself. He had never known the 
 caresses of a mother, had never received counsel from her lips — 
 but would it have profited him if he had? Could a mother have 
 rescued him from destruction? No — no. He deserved to perish. 
 ^r He had forfeited all claim to compassion. 
 
 mjk Overwhelmed by dark and despairing thoughts, he glanced 
 ^Halong the Hne of phantoms, and meeting their regards with looks 
 ^Bstem as their own, gave utterance to a terrible resolution he had 
 ^R formed. But the spectres frowned, and seemed to mutter that even 
 ^Hin the tomb he should have no place beside them. 
 ^B Suddenly he was roused from the state of stupefaction into which 
 
224 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 from below. A large party of his guests were passing the night 
 in carousing. In their society he might find forgetfulness, and 
 without waiting a moment he hurried down to them. But, on 
 gaining the room where the party was assembled, he was completely 
 disgusted by the scene presented to his view. Prostrate forms were 
 lying across the room — some so overcome with wine and punch as 
 to be unable to rise — some fast asleep — their attire disordered, and 
 their perukes scattered about. But some half-dozen were still able 
 to maintain their seats at the table, and these vaHant topers hailed 
 Gage with tipsy shouts, and called upon him to join them ; but 
 unable to conquer his repugnance, he hastily retreated, and rousing 
 up a groom, proceeded to the stable, and bidding the man saddle 
 his favourite hunter, Hotspur, he rode forth into the park. The 
 groom thought he must have taken leave of his senses. 
 
 He dashed off at a gallop, and plunged into the most secluded 
 part of the park — but black care was on his track. A troop of phan- 
 tom horsemen overtook him — and rode by his side. In vain he urged 
 Hotspur to his utmost speed — still the ghostly company kept up 
 with him. He knew them all — Redwald the gigantic, Kenric with 
 his towering brow, Randal with his lofty port, Arthur with his 
 flowing locks ; — and his father — yes, his father headed the troop. 
 Go where he would, they went with him. If he swept along a 
 glade at full speed, the spectral horsemen were beside him — if he 
 drew the rein on an eminence, they paused likewise. He pressed 
 his hand before his eyes, but, on removing it, they were still there. 
 ' What would ye with me?" he exclaimed. " Why do you follow 
 me thus ?" The figures made no reply, but pointed to the Castle. 
 " I know what you mean," he continued. " You upbraid me with 
 having lost it. But be at peace. Ere many days my faults shall be 
 expiated." 
 
 As he uttered the exclamation the phantoms melted away into the 
 mist, and he rode back slowly and without further disquietude to 
 the Castle. 
 
 As the groom took his horse to the stable, he wondered what 
 the young squire had been at. Hotspur hadn't a dry hair upon 
 him, and looked as if he had been drenched wi' water from head 
 to heel. 
 
 The occurrences of this night had so changed Gage's appearance 
 as to warrant Mrs. Jenyns's observation that he looked full ten 
 years older. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 225 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW GAGE WAS a6AIN PREVAILED UPON TO PLAT, AND WHAT 
 SUCCESS ATTENDED HIM. 
 
 f, 
 
 I Sir Randal and Beau Freke had come down to Monthenner 
 Castle in the hope of winning back their money, but in this expec- 
 tation it seemed likely they would be disappointed. Play — and 
 pretty deep play, too — had been going on every night, but Gage 
 took no part in it. The fact was, he had no funds, and was 
 therefore compelled to be a mere spectator. It was an additional 
 mortification to him to be reminded by his newly-arrived guests 
 of his promise to give tl^em revenge. He made the best excuses 
 he could, but he felt they looked upon him as a shuffler — of all 
 characters the one he most despised — and he writhed under the 
 fancied imputation. 
 
 " This used not to be the case when we were here last, Mon- 
 thermer," Sir Randal said. " Then you could not resist a game at 
 piquet or gleek, and were my constant antagonist at hazard. Why 
 not sit down with us now ? What say you to a game at two-handed 
 putt ? — or, if you prefer it, lanterloo ? — I am for anything — tick- 
 tack — in-and-in — passage — or what you will. Only sit down." 
 " Excuse me, Sir Randal, I don't play to-night." 
 " Why, 'sdeath ! man, have you made a second vow against cards 
 and dice ? If so, I counsel you to break it like the first. I would 
 
 I fain lose a few more thousands to you." 
 " And so would I," Beau Freke added. " We will absolve you 
 pom any new vow you may have made, Monthermer. And no 
 poubt you will have as good luck as you had a short time ago at 
 Ihe Groom-Porter's." 
 [ Just then, Lord Melton, who was engaged with a party at five- 
 
226 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 cards, called out : " I'll bet a hundred pounds, Monthermer, that 
 I win all the cards." 
 
 Gage felt desperately inclined to rejoin, " Done!" but he re- 
 strained himself, and merely said, " I don't bet now." 
 
 " Why, what the deuce prevents you ? " his lordship cried. 
 " See ! " he added, displaying his cards, " if you had taken me, 
 you would have won." 
 
 Not liking to be further troubled. Gage soon afterwards quitted 
 the card-room, and did not return to it that night. 
 
 On the following evening, however, Mrs. Jenyns managed to 
 lure him to the hazard-table. He had been excusing himself as 
 before, when she took him aside, and urged him to try his luck 
 once more. 
 
 " I must have money to play with, Peg," he said, with a forced 
 laugh. 
 
 " Why, so you shall," she replied. " Take my pocket-book. It 
 is full of bank-notes. I want you to play for me, and don't be 
 afraid to stake highly. We will divide the winnings as before." 
 
 " Have you lucky dice with you ?" Gage rejoined, glancing at 
 her significantly. 
 
 ^^ You broke those I most relied on," she replied ; " but I have 
 another pair, and you may try them, if you like." 
 
 " Let me have them," Gage rejoined. " To what extent must 
 I go?" 
 
 " That pocket-book contains almost all you won for me at the 
 Groom-Porter's — about 17,000/. I am willing to risk it all." 
 
 " You had better not trust me." 
 
 " Pooh ! I haven't the slightest uneasiness," she rejoined, slipping 
 a pair of dice into his hands. "I know you will win. Come 
 along!" And leading him towards the table, she called out, 
 " Gentlemen, I am happy to inform you that I have induced Mr. 
 Monthermer to play." 
 
 The announcement was received with acclamations, and a place 
 was instantly made for Gage at the table. Both Sir Randal and 
 Beau Freke asked how much he meant to stake. A thousand 
 pounds was the reply. The dice rattled, and Gage lost. Mrs. 
 Jenyns, who stood at his elbow, looked surprised, but whispered 
 him to double his stakes. He did so, and lost again. The actress 
 bit her lips with vexation, but signed to him to go on. He obeyed, 
 but without better luck. The stake was now eight thousand pounds. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 227 
 
 and he paused before laying down the money, but Mrs. Jenyns 
 would have no cessation. The run of luck was still against him. 
 The eight thousand pounds was swept off by his opponents. Alto- 
 gether he had lost fifteen thousand pounds — within two thousand 
 of the contents of the pocket-book. 
 
 " Stake what is left," Mrs. Jenyns whispered ; " and play with 
 care," she added, significantly. Gage strove to comply with her 
 injunctions — but he was beaten, and the pocket-book was empty ! 
 His adversaries urged him to go on, but he shook his head, and 
 left the table. 
 
 " I am sorry to have played so badly," he remarked to Mrs, 
 Jenyns, who had followed him hastily. " But I might perhaps 
 have done better if I had used the dice you gave me." 
 
 " What ! didn't you use them ?" she cried, with an explosion of 
 rage. " This accounts for it ! Fool that I was to trust you I 
 You have ruined me." 
 
 "But, Peg " 
 
 " Don't talk to me. I am out of all patience. Give me the 
 dice, and let me try. But no — no — I cannot play. All my money 
 is gone. Have you none to lend me ? A hundred pounds will do.'* 
 
 " I have not the hundredth part of that amount left," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns looked as if she could annihilate him — but her 
 anger seemed suddenly to abate. 
 
 " Something must be done to repair this error," she said, in a 
 tone of forced calmness. " We must confer together to-morroyr 
 about Fairlie." • 
 
 " About Fairlie !" Gage exclaimed. " What about him?" 
 
 " Not so loud," she rejoined; " the servants are all his spies, and 
 some of them may overhear you. I fancied that man was listening," 
 pointing to Pudsey, who was standing at a little distance from them. 
 " To-morrow I will open my design to you. You owe me repara- 
 tion for the mischief you have just done me — and I will show you 
 how to make ample amends. But let us separate. I am quite sure 
 that man is listening. Meet me to-morrow morning early — in the 
 library." 
 
 And she left the room, while Gage walked back to the hazard- 
 table, and watched the play. 
 
 " I did right not to use her dice," he thought. " Better lose, 
 than win unfairly." 
 
 Q2 
 
228 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 AN IKTERVIEW IN THE IVY TOWEB. 
 
 The last day but one of his term had now arrived, and in a few 
 more hours Gage must for ever cast aside his borrowed honours, 
 •and cease to be lord of Monthermer. 
 
 Another day, and all would be over ! Well, what matter ! Had 
 he not exhausted all the enjoyments of life? had he not feasted and 
 caroused to satiety? had he not drained the cup of pleasure to the 
 dregs? — He could now throw it aside without regret. 
 
 "Without regret, perhaps, — but not without compunction — not 
 without remorse. He dared not review his frenzied career — ^he 
 dared not reflect upon the innumerable follies he had committed — 
 such acts would not bear reflection — but he vainly sought to stifle 
 the cries of conscience within his breast. These cries would be 
 heard even in the midst of riotous indulgence ; they chilled his 
 blood, and banished sleep from his couch ; they drove him at times 
 almost to the verge of madness. 
 
 But there would soon be an end, and till then he would know no 
 ,^ restraint — no pause. If his career had been brief and brilliant as 
 .that of a meteor — its close should be like the meteor's sudden 
 extinction. 
 
 Such thoughts asritated him as on the mornino: of the sixth 
 •.day after his return he crossed the broad velvet lawns of the gar- 
 ',den, and mounted the stone steps of the terrace leading to the 
 ruins of the ancient Castle. He was unaccompanied, for not one 
 of his numerous guests was yet astir. The hour was too early for 
 them after their prolonged debauches overnight, and many of 
 them would not rise before noon, and would then require fresh 
 stimulants to set them going for the day. But as their host 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 229 
 
 could not sleep, he quitted his couch betimes, and sought to cool 
 his throbbing brow and fevered limbs in the fresh morning air. 
 Besides, he had another motive for his early walk. On retiring 
 to his chamber on the previous night he had found on his toilet- 
 table a note, in a female hand, with which he thought he was 
 familiar, though he could not assign a name to the writer. The 
 note bore no signature, and contained only a few words, begging 
 him to come next morning to the Ivy Tower, where a friend 
 desired to see him. Strictest secrecy was enjoined. Time was 
 when such a billet would have piqued his curiosity, and flattered 
 his vanity with the idea of a conquest, but no such idle feelings 
 now excited him. Still he resolved to go; and it was to keep the- 
 appointment that he now shaped his course towards the ruins of 
 the old Castle. 
 
 He had not proceeded far along the terrace, when, raising his 
 eyes, which, owing to his melancholy musing, had been hitherto- 
 fixed on the ground, he perceived a man advancing to meet him, 
 and at once recognising Mark Rougham, halted till the latter came 
 up, thinking him very much in the way at the moment, and con- 
 sidering how to get rid of him. 
 
 " Good day to your honour," Mark cried, taking off his hat as^ 
 he drew near — " you be well met. I were comin' down to the Hall 
 to try and get a word wi' you. But ray errand's done, since you 
 be on the way to the Ivy Tower." 
 
 " Ah ! you know I am going there ! — Perhaps you are aware that 
 I got a note last night?" 
 
 " Aware of it ! why, I brought it myself, sir — and got one o' th*^ 
 women servants to place it i' your bed-chamber, where you would 
 be sure to find it. You can guess who it be from, I suppose? 
 Lord bless her ! I couldn't ha' believed in such goodness and devo^ 
 tiou, unless I'd seen it. My heart has been like to burst wi' what 
 I ha' witnessed since yesterday — so much consideration for others, 
 so little care for self. Sure I am, if there be any one able to- 
 save a sinful soul fro' destruction, it be she. There ben't such 
 another on earth." 
 
 *^ Such another as whom, Mark ?" 
 
 " Why, whom else can I mean but Miss Fairlie ! Such words 
 as I've used couldn't be true of any other of her sex — not that I 
 mean to say aught against 'em— but she be a paragon." 
 
230 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " You lead me to suppose she is here, Mark — but that is impos- 
 sible, unless her health has greatly improved." 
 
 " She may he a trifle better than she has been," Mark replied, 
 " but her life still hangs by a thread, which may be snapped at any 
 minute. Howsomever, in spite of illness and fatigue, she is here ; 
 and a wonderful thing it be that she can have gone through so long 
 a journey; but her brave and good heart supported her — and no 
 doubt Heaven leant her aid." 
 
 " What has brought her here?" Gage cried. 
 
 " Can your honour ask that question? She be come to see you 
 — to speak wi' you — to try and move your heart ; and I hope, by 
 Heaven's grace, she may succeed in doing so. You wrote to her, 
 sir, didn't you, afore you left Lunnon?" 
 
 " I sent her a few hasty lines, telling her I was going down to 
 Monthermer Castle for a week. I scarcely knew what I wrote, 
 I was so hurried." 
 
 " Whatever you did write, sir, your letter caused her to follow 
 you. In spite of all remonstrances, she set oiF on the same day 
 as yourself, with my daughter Lettice, and travelled by slow stages 
 to Bury St. Edmund's. There she took rest ; but, while doing so^ 
 she sent on a messenger to Muster Gosnold, the head gardener, to 
 prepare the rooms in the Ivy Tower for her reception." 
 
 " I remember hearing she had taken a fancy to the old tower, 
 and had had it furnished," Gage remarked. 
 
 " Ay, that was after Muster Arthur Poynings had the ill-luck 
 to get wounded, and were removed there," Mark continued. " A 
 sad affair that, sir, and might have turned out worse than it did. 
 I thought the young gentleman would have died, and I'm pretty 
 sure he would have done but for Miss Fairlie's care. She watched 
 by him the whole night, tendin' him like a sister, and never left 
 him till he was removed on a litter to Reedham. From that 
 time forward she took a liking to the old tower. But, as I was 
 sayin', while she rested at Bury, a messenger was sent over to Muster 
 Gosnold to get the rooms ready for her — and at the same time 
 Lettice despatched a man to Reedham to let me know they were 
 comin'. As luck would have it, Sir Hugh and the family had 
 just returned fro' Lunnon, so I could not help mentioning the 
 circumstance to Muster Arthur, — and, as a matter of course, he 
 tells Miss Lucy — and what does she do, but decide at once to come 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. JSSl 
 
 here and nurse her friend. A good deal was said against it, as 
 your honour may suppose, by Muster Arthur and my lady, but 
 the long and the short of the matter is, she comes." 
 
 "What! is Miss Poynings here, too?' Gage exclaimed, in. 
 amazement. 
 
 " Ay, in good truth is she, sir," Mark replied. " She and her 
 brother joined Miss Fairlie at the cross-roads, half way betwixt 
 this and Reedham, and Muster Arthur brought 'em here last night, 
 and saw 'em comfortably settled afore he left — and that's all about 
 it — no, not quite all, for Miss Lucy wrote the note to you, 
 which I myself conveyed, as I've already told you. And now, 
 sir, shall I conduct you to her?" 
 
 Gage remained for a moment irresolute, and then, as if nerving 
 himself for the interview, he said, " Lead on, Mark." 
 
 Not a word more passed between them. 
 
 On reaching the tower, Mark went in, while Gage waited 
 without till he received a summons to enter, and then fol- 
 lowing his conductor up a short spiral staircase, was admitted 
 into a lofty circular chamber, which had been fitted up with con- 
 siderable taste, and with every needful attention to comfort. The 
 furniture was cumbrous and old-fashioned, but in harmony with 
 the room. A copper lamp hung from the groined roof, and a 
 dim mirror, in an ebony frame, was placed over the ancient 
 chimney-piece. The stone walls were covered with old tapestry, 
 and the deep embrasures shrouded by thick curtains. A wood 
 fire was burning cheerily on the. hearth, and its blaze illuminated 
 the room. On a sofa near the fireplace, and covered by shawls^ 
 reclined Clare. In close attendance upon her were Lucy Poynings 
 and Lettice Rougham. Mark did not enter with Gage, but 
 having ushered him to the door, shut it, and remained outside. 
 
 For a few moments there was a profound silence, broken only 
 by half-stifled sobs proceeding from Lettice. At length, a low 
 voice was heard to say, " Draw near, I beg of you." And Gage 
 approached the sofa on which the sufferer rested. 
 
 " Sit down beside me for a moment," Glare continued, in her 
 soft feeble accents, " and let me explain the cause of my pre- 
 sence here. I had thought never to see you again, but compassion 
 has overcome all other feelings, and I have resolved to persevere to 
 the last. Therefore have I come. I will not reproach you with 
 
232 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 having broken your promise to me. For that I freely forgive you, 
 and pray Heaven to forgive you likewise." 
 
 She then paused for a few moments, after which she resumed in 
 a firmer tone : 
 
 " And now let me ask you a question — and I entreat you to 
 answer it sincerely. Have you repaid my father the money he ad- 
 vanced for your debts? Nay, do not hesitate — I must know the 
 truth — I have a right to know it." 
 
 " Since you press me thus, I am compelled to admit that I have 
 repaid him," he rejoined. " By doing so, I hoped, in some degree, 
 to atone for my shameful conduct to you." 
 
 " If you had listened to me, this new distress might have been 
 spared me," Clare exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. And she 
 sank back for a few moments on the sofa, while Lucy flew forward 
 to support her. " Oh, it is hard to bear," she exclaimed, after a 
 while — " but it must be righted, if possible. Now tell me. Gage 
 — and tell me truly — for what purpose have you come here?" 
 " To be lord of Monthernier for a week," he replied. 
 "But how came my father to consent to your return ?" 
 " Oh ! I found means of persuading him — to be plain, I made it 
 worth his while to let me have the place for a few days. My term 
 ends to-morrow at midnight." 
 
 "And then what do you propose to do?" Clare continued. 
 Gage made no answer. 
 
 After a brief, painful pause, he arose and said abruptly, " It is 
 useless to prolong this interview. It can lead to nothing. I am 
 past redemption. Do not concern yourself further about me, Clare." 
 "Stay!" she cried, detaining him. "You must not go thus. 
 You have formed some terrible resolution. I read it in your 
 glances. Do not add guilt to folly. Do not destroy your eternal 
 weal. Oh, listen to me. Gage — listen to me !" 
 
 "It is too late — my resolution is taken!" he exclaimed, with a 
 look and tone bordering upon frenzy. 
 
 ^' Oh ! say not so. You may yet be spared for many years of 
 happiness. Join your prayers to mine, Lucy — speak to him- 
 speak ! " 
 
 Lucy tried to obey her, but her voice was choked by emotion. 
 " All your prayers are in vain," Gage cried. " Nothing can turn 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 233 
 
 me from my purpose. Farewell, Clare — farewell, Lucy. Think 
 the best you can of me ! " 
 
 And breaking from them he rushed out of the chamber. 
 
 " Oh ! what will become of him ! " Lucy exclaimed, falling on 
 her knees beside Clare. 
 
 " A last effort must be made to save him," Clare murmured — " a 
 last effort." 
 
234 THE SPENDTHRIFT 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 HO"W MB. PTJDSEY ENTEKTAINED HIS TRIENDS. 
 
 "While the numerous guests made merry in the halls of Mon- 
 thermer Castle, and the roofs resounded with their boisterous 
 revelry, similar bacchanalian orgies were held below-stairs. The 
 crowd of lacqueys, grooms, and other serving-men assembled in 
 the mansion feasted and caroused as lustily as their masters. 
 Riot and excess indeed prevailed throughout the house, and the 
 main study of its inmates, whatever their degree, seemed to be 
 how to gratify their appetites to the fullest extent. No one 
 attempted to check this unbounded waste, for Fairlie had not 
 made his appearance, and Gage gave himself no concern about it. 
 Provided his wants and those of his friends were supplied, the 
 servants might do just as they pleased, and we may be quite sure 
 they availed themselves of the license. 
 
 A more deplorable spectacle cannot be imagined than this noble 
 and once well-ordered mansion now presented. Heretofore, in 
 Warwick de Monthermer's time, true hospitality was ever exer- 
 cised within it, and the vast establishment was admirably con- 
 ducted. Liberal without profusion ; generous without ostentation ; 
 keeping an excellent and even sumptuous table; having the best 
 wine in his cellar, and never stinting it ; frank in manner, courteous, 
 and excessively good-natured, yet always preserving his dignity 
 and self-respect ; — the old squire was the very model of a 
 country gentleman. In his days, the Castle was constantly full of 
 company, yet disorder or excess were never known within it. 
 How different now. The guests took their tone from the host, 
 and gave way to unbridled indulgences, and, as a matter of 
 course, the servants, being under no restraint, followed the ex- 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 235 
 
 ample of their superiors. No one knew how soon Gage's career 
 was to terminate, but everybody felt that such frantic extra- 
 vagances could not last long, and they therefore resolved to make 
 the most of their time. 
 
 Below stairs reigned a perfect saturnalia. The servants'- 
 hall was in a continual scene of uproar. Tables were laid 
 within it throughout the day, and the remains of the dainties 
 served up at every repast to Monthermer and his guests reappeared 
 there — with a good many other choice dishes besides. Neither 
 was there any want of good liquor to wash down the savoury viands. 
 Mr, Pudsey had unlimited control of the cellar, and no one 
 could complain of niggardliness on his part in dispensing its 
 stores. On the contrary, if he had been host instead of butler, he 
 could not have behaved more handsomely. ' A great bon vivant, 
 fond of society, and loving a cheerful glass, the Amphitryon of the 
 pantry presided at the general dinners, placing his friend, Mr. 
 Trickett, on his right hand, and Mr. Tibbits on the left, and 
 taking care they were well served. He sat with them afterwards 
 as long as he could, and when his duties called him away, left 
 them with a good supply of burgundy and claret. 
 
 In the evenings when the toils of the day were over, a select 
 party assembled by invitation in the butler's private room, where 
 a nice hot supper awaited them, succeeded by a capital bowl of 
 punch. 
 
 Here a little quiet play went on, as in the card-room above-stairs. 
 Mr. Pudsey, we regret to say, had not profited by his experience, but 
 lost a good deal of money — a good deal for him, at all events — as 
 in former days, — at gleek and piquet, to those two rooks in livery, 
 Tibbits and Trickett. Nor was he the only loser on these occasions. 
 Bellairs and Chassemouche were equally unlucky ; and so, for the 
 matter of that, were some half-dozen other flats who sat down 
 with these unconscionable sharpers. Strange to say, it never oc- 
 curred to any of these usually suspicious gentry that they were 
 cheated. But there is an infatuation about gaming which seems 
 to dull the perceptions of its votaries. Be this as it may, two 
 nights sufficed to Messieurs Trickett and Tibbits to ease the 
 incautious butler of a half-year's gains. On the third night he 
 was obliged to borrow money to go on ; and being stripped of this 
 likewise, he might have felt considerable uneasiness, if he had not 
 
236 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 entertained the notion that he could raise fresh supplies, in a certain 
 quarter, without difficulty. This persuasion buoyed him up ; but 
 still feeling a little " down in the mouth/' as he expressed' it, he 
 brewed a strong bowl of punch, and a few tumblers of the genial 
 beverage soon produced the desired effect. Under its balmy in- 
 fluence the butler not only forgot his cares, but became less 
 cautious than usual, and talked more freely than he ought to have 
 done. 
 
 A second bowl of punch had been discussed, and a third placed 
 upon the table, when Pudsey, who had become a little elevated^ 
 remarkedj as he filled the glasses of his friends, 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, we've had a mighty pleasant time of it, 
 you'll allow. It's a thousand pities such enjoyment can't last for 
 ever. We've only two more days left." 
 
 " Only two more days, Mr. Pudsey !" Mr. Trickett observed. 
 " What d'ye mean, sir ?" 
 
 " I mean what I say," the butler rejoined, with a knowing wink, 
 and emptying his glass before he went on. " We shall shut up 
 shop the night after to-morrow." 
 
 "Egad! I'm deuced sorry to hear it," Trickett said. "I've- 
 contrived to amuse myself tolerably well since I've been down 
 here. Your master, I suppose, returns to town ?" 
 
 " Mr. Monthermer is not my master," Pudsey replied; " though, 
 for the matter of that, I've no objection to his service, but I 
 only enact the part of butler on the present occasion by desire of 
 my real employer. I really don't know what the young gentleman 
 will do, when Mr. Fairlie comes into possession — but I fancy he 
 must turn out altogether." 
 
 " That's a pity," Mr. Trickett remarked. " You won't gain by 
 the change, Mr. Pudsey. Things will be differently ordered under 
 Fairlie's governance, or I'm greatly mistaken. He'll keep a tight 
 hand over you all. You won't have the keys of the cellar then, 
 I fear." 
 
 " I'faith, you're right, Trickett," the butler rejoined. " We 
 shan't know the flavour of burgundy and claret when old Fairlie 
 rules the roast ; and as to a quiet supper with one's friends, and a 
 bowl of punch afterwards, such things won't be possible — so we 
 must make the most of time present." 
 
 " I don't think I shall remain in the situation," Bellairs ob- 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 237 
 
 served — he was nearly as far gone as the butler. " It won't suit 
 me at all. I can't make up my mind to serve a low fellow like 
 Fairlie."^ 
 
 "A vile roturier!" Chassemouche exclaimed. "I, who have 
 been accustomed to the best societe, and have* dressed de pe- 
 rukes of gentlemen only — morbleu ! I cannot stoop to such 
 canaille." 
 
 " He is not fit to be governor here !" Tibbits cried. " I should 
 like to see him kicked out of the Castle." 
 
 "Mafoi! so should I!" Chassemouche exclaimed. "I should 
 like to see him chasse par la belle porte — I would lend a foot 
 to de task myself — ha! ha!" 
 
 " Replenish the glasses, Pudsey," Bellairs cried, " and let us drink 
 ^ Confusion to him !' " 
 
 " Vid all my heart," the French valet responded — " rasades, 
 messieurs !" 
 
 The butler made no objection, and the rebellious toast was drunk 
 amid general laughter. 
 
 What puzzles me," Tibbits observed, " is to think how Fairlie 
 can have contrived to get the Monthermer property entirely into 
 his own hands. You know all about it, I dare say, Pudsey, and 
 can tell us if you think proper?" 
 
 "I know a good deal, certainly," the butler replied — "more 
 than I care to mention. But I may say one thing, gentlemen — 
 and you may beheve me or not, as you please — that it de- 
 pends upon me whether Fairlie retains possession of this noble 
 property." 
 
 " You don't say so !" Trickett cried, pricking up his ears ; while 
 all the other listeners uttered similar exclamations of astonishment. 
 " What ! you have got him in your power, eh, Pudsey ?" 
 
 " No, I don't exactly mean to insinuate that," the butler re- 
 joined, fearing he had gone too far ; " I mean, that Fairlie and I 
 shall understand each other, when we come to talk matters over." 
 
 " I dare say you will," Trickett replied. " Well, I give you one 
 piece of advice, old boy. If you make a bargain with him, don't 
 let him olF too easily." 
 
 " Trust me for that," Pudsey replied, laying his finger on his 
 copper-coloured proboscis. 
 
 " You are not the only person whose secrecy must be bought, 
 
238 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Pudsey," Bellairs interposed. " I know as much as you, and sKall 
 require as good pay for my silence." 
 
 " Parbleu, messieurs, you tink no one have ears as long as your 
 own," Chassemouche cried. "I would have you to know dat 
 mine are mush longer, and dat my mouth must be shut in de 
 same vay as yours — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Well, I hope you'll make Fairlie smart properly amongst you," 
 
 Trickett remarked, with a laugh. " I suspect he'll have some 
 
 other accounts to settle before he's allowed to take quiet possession. 
 
 •My master, Sir Randal, may give him a little trouble; and I'm 
 
 pretty sure Mrs. Jenyns has not come down for nothing." 
 
 As this was said, Bellairs looked hard at the speaker, but he 
 made no observation. 
 
 " I think I could give a guess at the game she means to play," 
 Trickett pursued. 
 
 *^ Ah, indeed !" Bellairs cried ; " what may it be ?" 
 
 " That's my secret. You shall have it for what it's worth, but I 
 must make something by it. By-the-by, Mr. Pudsey, when does 
 Fairlie come down ?" 
 
 " I can't say, I'm sure," Pudsey replied, evasively. 
 
 *^ I'd bet a trifle he's here already," Tibbits remarked. " I saw 
 somebody very like him cross the back yard this evening." 
 
 ** Oh ! quite impossible ; you must have been mistaken," the 
 butler exclaimed. 
 
 " Perhaps I might be — still I'm willing to bet upon it." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! I shan't bet upon such a matter." 
 
 Bellairs and Chassemouche exchanged significant glances. 
 
 " Well, if he should be here, I hope he has overheard all we have 
 been saying of him," Trickett observed, with a laugh. " You 
 wouldn't stand very high in his favour, Pudsey ? " 
 
 "Come, let's change the subject, gentlemen," the butler re- 
 joined, uneasily ; " we've had quite enough of it. A glass of 
 punch all round ! " 
 
 After this, the conversation flagged. Pudsey looked sullen 
 and sleepy, and Bellairs and Chassemouche were not much more 
 lively, so as soon as the bowl of punch was finished, the party 
 broke up. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 28f 
 
 XL. 
 
 IN WHICH FUDSEY MAKES A MODEST PROPOSITION TO ME. FAIELIE. 
 
 Mr. Pudsey awoke next morning with a racking headache, 
 which he naturally enough attributed to the punch, and his un- 
 comfortable sensations were not diminished by the conviction that 
 he had tattled very foolishly overnight. That rascal Trickett, he 
 was aware, was quite capable of doing him a mischief, and might 
 report what he had said to Mr. Fairlie himself ; and so, indeed, 
 might Bellairs or Chassemouche, or any other of the party, for not 
 one of them was to be trusted. 
 
 Our butler felt so ill that he would fain have gone to bed 
 again, but he had a great deal to do that day, and must set 
 about it forthwith, so, swallowing his customary morning draught 
 of spiced ale, which somewhat restored him, he left his room, in 
 order to take a survey of the house, and see how far it could be 
 put to rights after the riotous proceedings that had taken place 
 within it on the preceding day. 
 
 In the dining-room, whither he repaired first, everything re- 
 mained in the same state in which it had been left. The 
 atmosphere reeked with the smell of tobacco, and the table was 
 covered with bottles and glasses — many of them broken — and 
 flooded with wine and punch. In the midst of the shivered 
 glasses stood the fragments of a magnificent china bowl. Under- 
 neath the sideboard was a vast collection of empty flasks — 
 attesting the prowess of the tipplers, though some of them had 
 been so overcome that they could not even reel off to bed, but 
 were still lying prostrate on the floor, sleeping off the effects of 
 their debauchery. 
 
 Picking his way over these inert bodies, Mr. Pudsey went 
 towards the windows, to throw them open, and while thus em- 
 
240 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 ployed he perceived Gage returning from the garden near the 
 ruins of the old Castle, and wondered what could have taken him 
 out so early. He kept an eye on him for a few minutes until he drew 
 near the house, and the butler then fancied he had discovered the 
 young gentleman's motive for early rising, as Mrs. Jenyns came 
 forth from a glass-door communicating with the library, and hastened 
 to meet him. But it was evident from Gage's manner that he was 
 annoyed at the rencounter. Mrs. Jenyns seemed from her gestures 
 to propose a walk in the gardens, and pointed to the terrace Mon- 
 thermer had just left, but he shook his head, and it was only after 
 some persuasion that she induced him to enter the library with her. 
 
 " She is about to disclose the scheme to him, which she hinted 
 at last night in the card-room," Pudsey thought. " An inkUng of 
 it might give me an additional hold upon Fairlie. Perhaps I 
 could get near the glass-door without being perceived." 
 
 Upon this he scrambled out of the window, and crept along the 
 side of the house till he came within a few paces of the entrance to 
 the library. 
 
 " Confound her !" he muttered. " She's too cunning by half. 
 The door is shut, and I can hear nothing. Let us see what can be 
 done on the other side." 
 
 So he went back, and, re-entering the dining-room, made his 
 way as quickly as he could to the ordinary approach to the 
 library, but unluckily it was closed. What was to be done? 
 He determined to go in — suddenly — when perhaps he might catch 
 a word that would enlighten him as to the lady's project. 
 
 The plan was no sooner thought of than executed. Throwing 
 open the door, he bounced into the room, but was greatly dis- 
 appointed to find Mrs. Jenyns seated at a table, writing, while 
 Gage was pacing to and fro. As the butler entered, Monthermer 
 stopped, and, angrily regarding him, demanded his business. 
 Pudsey stammered an excuse, and hastily retreated ; taking care, 
 however, as he went out, to leave the door ajar. But here again 
 his design was frustrated, for in another moment the door was shut, 
 and fastened inside. 
 
 Foiled in his plans, he went his way, and proceeded, with slow 
 steps and with a recurrence of the uncomfortable feeHngs he had 
 experienced on awaking, towards a room situated at the end of the 
 long gallery. 
 
 Tapping against the door, a voice, with the tones of which he 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 241 
 
 was only too familiar, bade him come in ; and obeying the sum- 
 mons — not without considerable trepidation — he entered and found 
 Mr. Fairlie, seated in an arm-chair, enveloped in a loose brocade 
 dressing-gown, and under the hands of Chassemouche, who was ar- 
 ranging his peruke, and retailing all his (Mr. Pudsey's) indiscreet re- 
 marks of the night before. So, at least, the butler judged from the 
 angry looks which Fairlie cast upon him. Nor was he left long in 
 doubt on the point. Dismissing Chassemouche, who grinned 
 maliciously at Pudsey as he retired, the steward thus spoke him : 
 
 " So, you have been chattering, eh, you drunken fool ! boasting 
 of your power over me, and what you can do. It depends upon 
 you whether I am to continue master of Monthermer Castle, does 
 it ?" And he burst into a disdainful laugh. 
 
 " Since Chassemouche has betrayed me, it would be idle to 
 equivocate," Pudsey rejoined. " I was a great fool to talk as I did 
 in such company. I ought to have known better. But the wine 
 was in, and the wit out — and that's the truth, sir." 
 
 " A poor excuse, Pudsey. A drunkard is not to be trusted — 
 you are unfit for my service." 
 
 "I deserve to be reprimanded, I own, sir; but I won't 
 commit such an indiscretion again, you may depend upon it. As 
 to disturbing you in the comfortable possession of this fine place, 
 
 I wouldn't do it, sir " 
 
 " Couldn't do it, Pudsey — couldn't do it, you had better say." 
 " Well, sir, for the matter of that, I entertain a difierent 
 opinion," the butler rejoined, with a smile, for the other's taunts and 
 sharpness of manner had roused him. "My testimony, I fancy, would 
 be useful to Mr. IMonthermer if he should take it into his head to 
 contest your title, and I think I could put him in. the way of 
 finding some other important witnesses." 
 " Hum ! you think so, eh, Pudsey ?" 
 
 " I'm pretty sure of it. I know exactly how the accounts have 
 been kept, with fictitious entries, and so forth — how advances 
 have been made to Mr. Monthermer out of his own money — how he 
 has been induced to sign bonds and mortgages under false repre- 
 sentations, and without even receiving the promised loans. Knowing 
 all this, I might disclose it, if I thought proper." 
 
 " Of course you might make such scandalous assertions, Pudsey ; 
 but no one would believe you." 
 
 B 
 
242 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Yes, sir, Mr. Montliermer would believe me, and that's enough 
 for my purpose. You must not forget that he is in actual pos- 
 session of the Castle, and unless he voluntarily surrenders it, you 
 will fail altogether. You will fail, I repeat, because he will de- 
 mand the production of the accounts — and you dare not exhibit 
 them." 
 
 " But he will surrender the Castle — he has pledged himself to 
 do so." 
 
 " He will NOT — if he learns how he has been dealt with." ] 
 
 Fairlie looked down in confusion, while the butler eyed him 
 triumphantly. 
 
 " I have him now," he thought, " and I won't quit my hold till 
 I've made all sure." 
 
 Suddenly, Fairlie started to his feet, and, grasping the butler's 
 arm, exclaimed, 
 
 " What do you expect, Pudsey ? Tell me — in a word ! " 
 
 "In a word, then," the rapacious rascal rejoined, "a large 
 sum down — and a pension for life ! " 
 
 " A pension for life ! You are mad to make such a demand." 
 
 " No, sir, I am not mad. On the contrary, I am sure I take a 
 very rational view of the subject. I don't mean to let this oppor- 
 tunity slip. The matter must be decided within twenty-four hours. 
 Either Mr. Monthermer maintains his own, and ejects you, or 
 you become undisputed master here." 
 
 " I must have time to reflect upon your startling proposition, 
 Pudsey. It has taken me quite by surprise." 
 
 " Oh ! I have^ no desire to hurry you, but you must make up 
 your mind in the course of the day. I won't be put off with fair 
 promises. I must have a large sum down, as I've said — and 
 good security for the pension." 
 
 " You shall be satisfied — quite satisfied, Pudsey, if I assent to the 
 proposal." 
 
 " Oh ! you are sure to assent. I consider the bargain already 
 concluded. You'll never risk the loss of so rich a prize, just 
 when you've got it in your grasp — besides the disgrace which is 
 ure to fall upon you." 
 
 "No more of this, Pudsey," Fairlie said, collecting all his 
 energies. " You presume too much on your fancied power. Bridle 
 your tongue, or go about your business, and do your worst." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 243 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir. Tve no desire to offend you, — ^not the 
 slightest. You will think over what I've said, and give me an 
 answer. If I don't hear from you before the evening, I shall go to 
 Mr. Monthermer, and then of course any arrangement between us 
 will be out of the question." 
 
 " Very well," Fairlie replied, pointing to the door. 
 
 " One thing more, sir. Before I take my departure, I must put 
 you upon your guard against Mrs. Jenyns." 
 
 " Another serpent in my path. What of her?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I chanced to overhear a few words that passed be- 
 tween her and Mr. Monthermer last night, and I am certain she 
 has some dangerous design on foot — dangerous to you, I mean. 
 She lost a large sum at hazard — or rather Mr. Monthermer lost it, 
 for he played for her — and she is desperate." 
 
 " And she must be bought, too, I suppose," Fairlie cried, with a 
 bitter laugh. "'Sdeath! man, my property will never bear all 
 these demands upon it." 
 
 " Don't misunderstand me, sir. I have nothing to do with Mrs, 
 Jenyns. Be assured, I will never take a woman into my confi- 
 dence." 
 
 " So far you are right. Well, I am glad you have warned me. 
 Though this meddlesome jade can do 'little mischief, it may be 
 prudent to nip her project in the bud. Send one of the women 
 servants to her room, and say I would speak to her as early as 
 may be convenient." 
 
 " She is already astir, sir ; and I am almost apprehensive she 
 may be beforehand with you, for she is closeted with Mr. Mon- 
 thermer in the library at this moment." 
 
 " Zounds ! this looks like mischief. I must find out what she is 
 about to propose to him. In the library, you say, Pudsey?" 
 
 " Yes, sir — they're there, but the door's locked." 
 
 ^^ No matter. They will find it difiicult to keep their secrets 
 from me. Walls have ears, Pudsey — walls have ears. Don't let 
 the servants enter the drawing-room for a short time, d'ye hear? 
 By-and-by we will have some further talk together. But I must dis- 
 pose of this matter at once." 
 
 So saying, he hastily threw ofi'his dressing-gown, and, with the 
 butler's aid, putting on a coat, flew towards the drawing-room, 
 while Pudsey followed him at a more leisurely pace, and stationed 
 himself at the door of that apartment. 
 
 Kr2 
 
244 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 WHEEEIN IT IS DEMONSTRATED THAT " WALLS HAVE EARS." 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, Fairlie proceeded to unlock the 
 door of a small cupboard near the fireplace, and stepping into the 
 recess, cautiously unbolted a second door, and passed through it. 
 
 He was now actually in the library, but concealed from view by 
 a thin board, the front of which formed part of a bookcase, and 
 being covered with the backs of ponderous-looking tomes, art- 
 fully contrived to represent ranges of folios, could scarcely be dis- 
 tinguished from the ordinary shelves. 
 
 A crack in the board enabled him to command the room, and 
 allowed the conversation' that took place within it to reach him. 
 The two persons he expected to find were there, and at no great 
 distance from him. Mrs. Jenyns was talking earnestly, while Gage 
 listened to her with his arms folded upon his breast. 
 
 The very first words the listener heard alarmed him. He could 
 not distinctly catch all Mrs. Jenyns said, for she spoke with great 
 vehemence and rapidity — but he lost not a syllable of the close of 
 her discourse. 
 
 " Now observe what I say," she concluded, in a deliberate and 
 impressive tone. "As the sum of Fairlie's iniquitous practices 
 towards you, I charge him with suppressing your father's last will, 
 and substituting one of earlier date." 
 
 Fairlie breathed hard, and watched with deepest anxiety the 
 efiect of this disclosure upon Gage. It was something of a relief 
 to him to perceive that the young man's countenance wore an 
 expression of incredulity, though not unmingled with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why do you bring such a serious charge against him — a charge 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 245 
 
 which you cannot possibly substantiate?" Gage exclaimed, after a 
 brief pause. 
 
 " But I can substantiate it. The rightful will is still in existence." 
 
 "Hell's curses upon her!" the listener exclaimed to himself. 
 " She must have discovered the document when she peeped into 
 my chest. Fool that I was not to destroy it !" 
 
 " But what motive can Fairlie have had for such a wicked 
 act?" Gage cried. "There was no important bequest to himself 
 in the will that he acted upon. My father, to be sure, left him a 
 thousand pounds ; but that was in consideration of his trouble 
 in discharging the offices of executor and guardian." 
 
 "You have hit upon the motive," Mrs. Jenyns rejoined, "as I 
 will proceed to show. Your father died from a fall while hunting, 
 on the 10th of February, 1728." 
 
 " You are correct as to the date of the sad event," Gage re- 
 marked, with a sigh. 
 
 "Now mind," Mrs. Jenyns pursued, "on the 9th of February 
 in that year, the very day before the unexpected catastrophe, your 
 fatlier made his last will, and constituted Sir Hugh Poynings, of 
 Reedham, his sole executor, and your guardian." 
 
 *^ Sir Hugh Poynings — my guardian !" Gage exclaimed, 
 
 *^ Fairlie's name was never mentioned. Do you not now discern 
 his motive for keeping back a document that divested him of all 
 control over you? With Sir Hugh Poynings as your guardian, he, 
 Fairlie, would never have had an opportunity of putting into prac- 
 tice his nefarious designs against you. Judging from what has 
 since come to light, there can be no doubt that your father had 
 made some discoveries respecting his steward, that caused him to 
 appoint another executor and guardian in his place — and, probably, 
 if he had lived a few days longer, Fairlie would have been dis- 
 missed altogether." 
 
 '^ And you have seen this will?" ♦ 
 
 "I have — but hear me out. Fairlie is in the house. He 
 arrived here secretly last night. When you see him, let fall no 
 hint of the knowledge you have acquired of his criminality, but 
 summon Sir Hugh Poynings to the Castle to-morrow." 
 
 " Sir Hugh is not likely to come — and if he should, he will 
 attach no credit to your unsupported statements. He cannot have 
 a very high opinion of you, for I need scarcely remind you of the 
 
246 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 charge that his son, Arthur, brought against you, when I last 
 played at the Groom-Porter*s." 
 
 " That charge was a foul calumny — but let it pass now. Send 
 for Sir Hugh — summon him in such urgent terms that he cannot 
 refuse compliance. Let him bring his son with him, if he will 
 — I care not. I will make good my words." 
 
 There was a brief pause, during which the steward felt as if 
 stretched upon the rack. At length the silence was broken by 
 Gage. * 
 
 " All this may be as you assert, and I will not dispute it," he 
 said, gravely ; " but I will not consent to act thus against Fairlie 
 unless the will can be produced." 
 " It shall be produced." 
 
 " In what way ? If Fairlie has it, he is not likely to give it up." 
 ^^ It is no longer in his possession." 
 
 The steward started, and could scarcely repress an exclamation. 
 " You shall have the will at the right moment, that I promise 
 you," Mrs. Jenyns continued. 
 
 " But how have you obtained it ? I must be satisfied on that 
 score." 
 
 " You shall be satisfied," she replied. " Listen to me. When 
 I made the discovery in question which is likely to lead to such 
 important results, and overthrow Fairlie at the very moment he is 
 about to clutch the prize for which he has so long been striving, 
 I considered by what means I could obtain possession of the evi- 
 dence against him, and at last I resolved to employ one of the 
 servants whom I have long had in my pay." 
 
 " She means that double-dyed scoundrel, Pudsey," Fairlie mut- 
 tered to himself. " Yet, no — if it were Pudsey, he would not have 
 put me on my guard against her. I have it — 'tis Bellairs. But 
 the will is safe — quite safe — she cannot produce it." 
 
 " Go on," Gage said, perceiving that Mrs. Jenyns hesitated. 
 " You may not, perhaps, approve of the means taken, but in 
 cases of this kind any stratagem is fair. Fairlie was watched by 
 the spy I placed over him, and it was ascertained that he had taken 
 the document in question from out of the large chest in which 
 it had hitherto been deposited, and placed it with other papers of 
 perhaps scarcely less importance, as tending to prove his dis- 
 honesty to you, in a small coJBfer. Now mark me ! that coffer is in 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 247 
 
 my custody, and shall be forthcoming to-morrow. Do you now 
 feel satisfied?" 
 
 Gage made no reply, and she went on. 
 
 " All things have worked well for the project. You are here 
 in possession of the Castle and the estates, and instead of -sur- 
 rendering them to Fairlie, you shall cast him forth with blasted 
 character, never more to molest you." 
 
 To her astonishment, Gage seemed but slightly moved. 
 
 " You do not believe what I tell you," she cried, with 
 manifest vexation ; " but do not let your doubts of me ruin 
 the scheme ; do not neglect to summon Sir Hugh Poynings — do 
 not let to-morrow pass, or you will for ever regret your indif- 
 ference." 
 
 But Gage preserved his apathetic demeanour. It seemed as if 
 nothing would rouse him. Mrs. Jenyns lost all patience, and beat 
 the ground with her tiny foot. 
 
 " You reject my proposal?" she cried, at length. 
 
 " I hesitate to accept it, because to engage in such a struggle 
 will renew all my anxieties; and I am so weary of life, that I 
 care little for the result, whatever it may be." 
 
 " What ! has it come to this ? Is the proud Gage de Mon- 
 thermer grown so pusillanimous that he will tamely resign his 
 estates to a sordid knave, when he may keep them? You will make 
 me despise you. Rouse yourself, and act like a man." 
 
 " Well, the effort shall be made, but I looked to pass the few 
 hours left me in repose. And now. Peg, what reward do you 
 expect for the important service you propose to render me — for I 
 presume you are not entirely disinterested ?" 
 
 " Not entirely so. I like this mansion so much that I would 
 willingly remain here." 
 
 " Nothing more easy, if I am once more master." 
 
 "Ay, but I must be mistress!" she exclaimed, haughtily, and 
 regarding her superb figure, as reflected in a mirror on the opposite 
 side of th^oom. 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 "Yet, methinks, I speak intelligibly enough," she rejoined, 
 with a smile. " In return for the precious document I shall pro- 
 duce, you must give me an equal title with yourself to the estates 
 it will confer upon you." 
 
248 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " You cannot mean I should wed you ?" Gage exclaimed. 
 
 " On no other terms shall you have my aid. If you are to be 
 lord of Monthermer Castle again, I must be lawful lady. I 
 bring you an excellent dowry; better than the highest born dame 
 in the county could offer you. Not another word now. Reflect 
 on my proposal, and let me have your decision. But I will 
 sooner consign that will to the flames, than alter my conditions. 
 So decide as you think proper. Adieu !" 
 
 With this she quitted the room, leaving Gage almost in a state 
 of stupefaction, while Fairlie at the same moment stole out of his 
 hiding-place. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 249 
 
 k 
 
 XLII. 
 
 j^aiblie's rmsT move— and how it pbospered. 
 
 JbAlRLiE was a man of great nerve. He did not underrate the 
 danger by which he was menaced, but confronted it boldly, and 
 thus regarded, its appalling proportions seemed to diminish, and 
 he became, to a certain extent, reassured. 
 
 How was it, it may be asked, that he had not long ago destroyed 
 the evidence of his criminality? Why did he preserve a document, 
 the production of which must infallibly cause his ruin ? The answer 
 is, that certain scruples of conscience had restrained him ; for after 
 all, conscience will exert an influence even over the most stubborn 
 nature, and hardened as he was, Fairlie was not entirely dead to 
 her stings. Moreover, he was bound by a solemn promise not to 
 destroy it; and though ordinarily, promises, however solemnly 
 uttered, weighed little with him, in this instance his word had been 
 religiously kept. 
 
 How he came to make such a promise we shall now relate. 
 
 On the very day of the death of his patron, while searching 
 amongst poor Sir Warwick's papers, he had discovered this second 
 will ; and instantly perceiving the damage it would occasion to his 
 interests if brought forward, he was about to commit it to the 
 flames, when an unseen witness of his proceedings arrested his 
 hand, and by prayers and entreaties prevailed upon him to forego 
 the criminal design. He consented; but not until he had ex- 
 torted from the person who had interrupted him a vow of secrecy, 
 and he thereupon gave his own solemn assurance that the will should 
 not be destroyed. 
 
 But the present circumstances made him view his conduct in a 
 totally different light, and he could not now sufficiently reprobate 
 his folly in observing a promise, the fulfilment of which had placed 
 
250 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 him in such fearful jeopardy. But regrets were idle. The past 
 could not be recalled. The mischief must be repaired, cost what 
 it might. 
 
 So he sat down for a short time to deliberate. 
 
 His plan of action formed, he arose and proceeded to the 
 library, with the intention of directing his first movement against 
 Gage. He did not despair of counteracting Mrs. Jenyns's scheme, 
 and entirely effacing the ill impression she had striven to produce 
 against him in the young man's mind. 
 
 He found Gage extended at full length upon a couch, on which 
 he had sunk soon after the actress's departure. Fairlie coughed 
 slightly to announce his presence, but it was not for some moments 
 that Monthermer could be brought to notice him. Roused at 
 length, the young man arose, evidently much annoyed at the 
 intrusion. He constrained himself, however, to behave civilly to 
 the steward, who, on his part, assumed a most conciliatory man- 
 ner, and seemed earnestly desirous to please. 
 
 After a little preliminary conversation, chiefly conducted by 
 himself, for Gage's share in it was slight enough, Fairlie sig- 
 nified that the motive of his visit was to ascertain from Mr. Mon- 
 thermer that everything had gone on satisfactorily since his arrival 
 at the Castle — to learn whether he had any further commands — 
 and lastly, and principally, to consult with him about the grand 
 fete to be given on the morrow. 
 
 Finding he had at length succeeded in awakening his hearer's 
 attention, the steward went on : 
 
 " You may like to know what preparations I have made for the 
 fete, sir; but, before specifying them, let me say that I have 
 spared neither expense nor pains to please you. If the entertain- 
 ment is not perfect, it will not be my fault. I have stinted 
 nothing, as you will find. Aware, from former experience, of 
 the magnificence of your ideas, I have endeavoured, on this occa- 
 sion, to realise them, and I flatter myself with success. But you 
 shall judge, sir — you shall judge." 
 
 Hereupon he rubbed his hands complacently, and paused to give 
 greater efiect to the announcement. 
 
 "First, then, you will have a charming concert, — such a con- 
 cert as has never been heard out of the walls of the Italian Opera 
 House. I have engaged the best singers at that house. The 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 251 
 
 divine Farinelli will sing for you — yes, sir, Farinelli. He, who 
 has refused the most tempting offers from half the nobility to visit 
 their country-seats, has consented to come down here." 
 
 "You amaze me!" Gage exclaimed, scarcely able to believe 
 what he heard. " Farinelli here ! Why it will be the talk of the 
 town." 
 
 " Nothing else was talked of when I left. The report soon got 
 abroad. At first, some folks affected to doubt it, but as Fari- 
 nelli himself didn't contradict the rumour, of course it was univer- 
 sally beUeved. Farinelli cost me dear — very dear — in this way : 
 he wouldn't come without Cuzzoni, and Cuzzoni wouldn't come 
 without Senesino, so I had to engage all three." 
 
 " All three ! " Gage exclaimed, with a burst of enthusiasm. 
 " Why, we might perform Handel's Ptolemeo, if we had but musi- 
 cians to accompany the singers !" 
 
 " You may play any opera you please, sir, as far as musicians 
 are concerned, for I have engaged the whole orchestra." 
 The measure of Gage's astonishment was now full. 
 " Zounds ! Fairlie," he exclaimed, " your conceptions far exceed 
 mine. What other marvels have you in store? But I am insatiate. 
 You have done?" 
 
 " No, sir, I have not half done," the steward replied, with a 
 bland smile. " It delights me to find I am likely to satisfy you. 
 You shall have a ballet as well as an opera." 
 
 " A ballet, Fairlie ! Bravissimo ! That will be enchanting — 
 delicious! But who have you got? — surely not Colombo? She 
 is not to be enticed." 
 
 "You think so, sir?" the steward cried, with a cunning look, 
 and tapping the other's knee. " Like the rest of her sex, Made- 
 moiselle Colombo is to be prevailed upon if the proper argu- 
 ment be used, and I have not neglected to employ it. A diamond 
 collar proved irresistible. The dazzling Colombo comes, and not 
 alone. Lisette — the charming Lisette — accompanies her — and 
 Flore, and Leontine, and half a dozen other bewitching creatures." 
 " Colombo and Lisette — Flore and Leontine !" Gage ex- 
 claimed, clapping his hands in ecstasy. " Egad, Fairlie, you have 
 done wonders. You must have spent a mint of money?" 
 
 " Don't mention it, sir. I haven't given money a thought, I 
 assure you. Are you content with me, sir?" 
 
252 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Content ! I should be an ingrate if I were otherwise. You 
 are the best fellow breathing, Fairlie." 
 
 " Delighted to hear you say so, sir," the steward rejoined, with 
 a bend of acknowledgment. " My arrangements, I trust, are com- 
 plete. Opera singers, musicians, ballet-dancers, all will leave town 
 to-day in conveyances provided for them by myself, and will rest 
 to-night at the Angel, at Bury St. Edmund's, where rooms have 
 been engaged for the entire party. To-morrow, they come on 
 here. Ah ! sir," he added, in rather a sentimental tone, " once 
 upon a time you used to be passionately enamoured of Colombe. 
 But Mrs. Jenyns cut her out." 
 
 " Very true, Fairlie. But I don't know that I gained by the 
 exchange." 
 
 "Poor Mrs. Jenyns !" Fairlie ejaculated. " She'll be driven to 
 desperation when her rival appears on the scene. She heard I 
 had engaged Colombe before she left town, and was so infuriated 
 that she vowed the ballet never should take place. She will try to 
 do me an ill turn I make no doubt, but I laugh at her malice." 
 
 The steward narrowly watched the effect of this speech, and 
 saw that it had produced the ejQfect he desired, 
 
 "I am glad you mentioned this to me, Fairlie," Gage said. 
 "It explains the motive of some misrepresentations concerning 
 you, which Mrs. Jenyns has thought proper to make to me." 
 
 *^ I shall not be surprised at any calumnies she may utter against 
 me," the steward replied, "because I know the extent of her 
 malice. Luckily the weapons she employs, in your case, at least, 
 seem likely to miss their mark. I am sorry she is here ; not that 
 personally I have the slightest apprehension of her, but because I 
 am sure she will make some disturbance in order to mar your 
 f^te." 
 
 " She shan't do that, Fairlie. If she becomes troublesome, you 
 shall give her a hint that we can dispense with her company. But 
 don't let us think more about her." 
 
 " Right, sir — right. Let us quit her and her paltry squabbles 
 and jealousies, and turn to the fete, which, I confess, is 
 uppermost in my thoughts. Opera and ballet over, supper will 
 follow, of course ; and this shall be a supper worthy of the occa- 
 sion — a princely banquet, comprising every imaginable luxury and 
 delicacy — wines — fruits — flowers — all of the choicest and best. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 253 
 
 The table shall groan with silver plate, and sparkle with crystal 
 glass. To ensure superlative excellence in the repast I have hired 
 two French cooks, and the ices and patisserie will be prepared by 
 the renowned Zucchero Pistacchi. The rooms will be decorated 
 by artists from town, and I need scarcely add, will be most bril- 
 liantly illuminated. Now you have my programme, sir." 
 
 "And a wonderful programme it is. You have treated me 
 nobly, Fairlie, and have far surpassed my expectations." 
 
 " It has ever been my wish to please you," the steward said. 
 " Ah ! sir," he added, pretending to heave a sigh, " I don't like to 
 talk of the past, but this seems a fitting opportunity to revert to it 
 for a moment. I know I ought to have thwarted your inclinations 
 rather than indulge them, hut I could not help it. It is easy for 
 Mrs. Jenyns, or for anybody like her, to misrepresent my motives, 
 but I can safely assert that I have ever acted for the best. You would 
 have your own way, and I didn't like to trouble you with lectures 
 which I felt would be unavailing. I answered your demands for 
 money as long as any funds remained, and then of necessity I 
 was compelled to stop. My conduct on some occasions may appear 
 harsh, but reflection will tell you that I only obeyed the dictates of 
 prudence." 
 
 If Gage was not entirely convinced by this harangue, he at all 
 events listened quietly to it, and, when the steward had done, 
 answered thus : 
 
 " You ought, perhaps, to have drawn the rein tighter, Fairlie ; 
 but, on my soul, I don't know that it would have had any effect. 
 I fancy I shoujd have got the money — if not from you, from some 
 one else." 
 
 "Exactly what I felt, sir!" Fairlie exclaimed. "I reasoned in 
 this way : — if I positively refuse to supply my thoughtless ward, 
 he will get amongst those usurious rascals, the Jews, who will 
 fleece him without mercy." 
 
 " So you resolved to play the Jew yourself, Fairlie, and get 
 cent, per cent, for your advances," Gage cried, with a laugh. 
 "Quite right! I don't blame you. Every man should do the 
 best he can to improve his fortunes, and my extravagances have 
 been the source of your prosperity. Nay, nay, don't shake your 
 head. It is the fact." And he added, with a sudden change of 
 manner, " Are you not master here — and am I not ruined ?" 
 
254 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Fairlie did not relish the proposition, but he was obliged to 
 notice it. 
 
 "I lament, indeed, sir," he said, shaking his head gravely, 
 " that it should have come to such a pass with you ; and heartily 
 wish the consummation could have been averted," 
 
 "But it could not, Fairlie, — it could not," Gage exclaimed. 
 " I see the error of my ways as plainly as you, or any other man 
 can see them. I know I have been duped, cheated, robbed — 
 not by you, Fairlie, not by you — by others. I perceived all this 
 at the time, but I voluntarily shut my eyes to it. I went on, de- 
 termined to enjoy myself. It was my ambition to be the wildest 
 rake about town — the greatest spendthrift of the day." 
 
 "No one can deny that you have fiiUy achieved your object," 
 the steward observed. 
 
 "Not yet, Fairlie," Gage replied, pausing and regarding him 
 fixedly. " I have to put the finishing stroke to a career of folly." 
 
 " What d'ye mean, sir ? Do nothing rashly, I implore of you. 
 Let me counsel you to go abroad for some years. I will provide 
 you the means of doing so." 
 
 " Give yourself no further concern about me, Fairlie. After to- 
 morrow I shall not trouble my friends." 
 
 " You alarm me, sir. Pray be more explicit." 
 
 ^^ What more would you have, Fairlie ? Enough for you to 
 know that I shall never cross your path again. Present enjoyment 
 has been my aim'. To purchase it, I have sacrificed the future, 
 and must pay the penalty. I have no right to complain. I have 
 had my day — it has been brief, but resplendent. Darkness is at 
 hand. Men shall think of my meteor-like career, and its termina- 
 tion, with wonder. Never stare at me so, Fairlie. I talk strangely, 
 but I am neither drunk nor mad. You will understand the mean- 
 ing of my words hereafter. And now leave me. A moody fit, 
 to which I have latterly been subject, is coming over me, and while 
 it lasts, I am best alone. Leave me, I beg of you." 
 
 Thus exhorted, the steward was obliged to withdraw, but as he 
 loitered on the way, he heard the unhappy young man fling him- 
 self upon the couch, and groan aloud. 
 
 " If he blows out his brains, it will be a good riddance," Fairlie 
 muttered, with a grim smile, while closing the door. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 255 
 
 xLiir. 
 
 FAIELIE's second move — AND HOW HE WAS CHECKMATED. 
 
 Faielie did not halt in his operations. His next business was 
 to ascertain where Mrs. Jenyns was lodged. On consulting Pud- 
 sey, he learnt that she occupied a large room, with an ante-chamber 
 or writing-cabinet attached to it, in the south gallery, and known 
 as the Danae Chamber, from the circumstance of the ceiling being 
 adorned by a fresco painting by Verrio of the mercenary daughter 
 of Acrisius subdued by the shower of gold. Accordingly, he re- 
 paired to the south gallery at once, and, on reaching the chamber 
 in question, caused himself to be announced by the butler, who 
 withdrew as soon as he had discharged his office. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns was alone in the writing- cabinet, and her reception 
 of the unexpected visitant was by no means encouraging. She 
 arose as he entered, and remained standing during the whole of 
 the interview. 
 
 In nowise rebuffed by the haughtiness of her deportment, 
 Fairlie made a profound obeisance, and then advancing towards 
 her, said in his blandest tones, and with a studied smile, 
 
 " I am come to bid you welcome to Monthermer Castle, madam. 
 I trust you like the house, and sincerely assure, you it will delight 
 me if you can be induced to prolong your stay within it." 
 
 ^' I am infinitely obliged by your politeness," she replied, in a 
 freezing tone ; " but I have no present intention of leaving. I 
 came here on Mr. Monthermer's invitation, and as long as my 
 company is agreeable to him I shall remain." 
 
 Fairlie made another low bow, and smiled like a person who 
 desires graciously to correct an error. 
 
 ^^Mr. Monthermer, it seems, has neglected to apprise you, 
 
256 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 madam, that he ceases to be master here to-morrow night ?" he 
 said. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns smiled in her turn, but very differently from the 
 steward. There was a considerable spice of malice in her looks 
 and voice as she rejoined very pointedly, 
 
 " Mr. Monthermer was certainly under the impression you men- 
 tion when he came down here, but he has since been undeceived ; 
 and I rather fancy you will find, when it comes to the point, that 
 he has no intention of tamely surrendering his property. If any 
 one ceases to be master here to-morrow, I suspect it will be your- 
 self, Mr. Fairlie." 
 
 Another obeisance from the steward, and another smile alm6st 
 as much fraught with malice as the actress's. 
 
 " Your words sound Hke a threat, madam?" he quietly remarked. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns instantly accepted the challenge, and stamped her 
 little foot. This time she gave full vent to her feelings of scorn 
 and defiance. 
 
 " My words are meant to threaten, sir," she cried. " It is time 
 you learnt that Mr. Monthermer understands his position fully, and 
 possesses the means of setting himself right." 
 
 Fairlie managed to continue calm, though his patience was 
 sorely tried. 
 
 " All this may be true, madam," he said, " and I will not for 
 the moment dispute it — but it goes for nothing. Whatever means 
 Mr. Monthermer may possess of ' setting himself right,' as you 
 term it, he will never employ them — never!" 
 
 " And why not, sir — why not ?" the actress cried, regarding 
 him furiously, and again stamping her foot. 
 
 "Because he lacks energy for the struggle, madam," Fairlie 
 replied. 
 
 " Don't reckon upon his weakness of character. I will supply 
 him with resolution." 
 
 " Your eflbrts will be thrown away, madam. You have to do 
 with one who never yet faced a real difficulty. He will succumb 
 and disappoint you. I have no fears of him, as why should I 
 have?" 
 
 " If you have no apprehension of him, you may at least recog- 
 nise in me an antagonist to be dreaded." 
 
 " I should indeed tremble, if I could for a moment regard you 
 
THE SPENDTHKIFT. 257 
 
 in the light of an enemy, madam," Fairlie rejoined, in a cajoling 
 tone. " But I can do no such thing. I am sure we shall speedily 
 come to an amicable understanding, as it is our interest to be 
 friends. For my own part," he added, in the softest accents he 
 could assume, and with what he intended for an impassioned look, 
 " I may say that I am influenced by a tenderer feeling than that of 
 friendship." 
 
 " A truce to this adulatory stuff, Mr. Fairlie. It has no effect 
 on me, and is out of season." 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, if the somewhat abrupt expression of my 
 admiration has offended you ; but let me show you why at least we 
 should be friends — if we cannot be bound together by stronger 
 ties." 
 
 " If I am to tolerate your company longer, Mr. FairHe, I must 
 insist upon a cessation of this annoyance." 
 
 " As you please, madam. But before dismissing me, you will 
 do well to look at both sides of the question. You have made a 
 certain proposal to Mr. Monthermer, with which he has acquainted 
 me." 
 
 This was a blow which Mrs. Jenyns could not parry — neither 
 could she conceal her uneasiness. 
 
 " How ! — has he had the imprudence to repeat my conversation 
 with him ?" she cried. " But no, you only say this to try me." 
 
 "I will state what I have heard, madam," he rejoined, "and 
 you will then judge whether I am correctly informed or not. 
 You are to produce a certain document — a will, supposed to be 
 made by the late Warwick Monthermer, and how obtained by you 
 I will not pause to particularise — ^you are to produce this will 
 against me, blast my character, and reinstate Gage in his forfeited 
 possessions. In requital of this important service, you demand to 
 be made mistress — lawful mistress — of Monthermer Castle. You 
 see, madam, I am tolerably well informed." 
 
 There was a brief pause, during which it was evident that the 
 superior craft of the steward was fust gaining the ascendancy. 
 
 " This man is right," Mrs. Jenyns mentally ejaculated. " Gage 
 will never prevail in an encounter with him." 
 
 Fairlie watched her narrowly, and read what was passing in her 
 mind. He saw the advantage he had gained, and determined to 
 improve it. 
 
 B 
 
258 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " I have notHing to say against your project, madam," he ob- 
 served. " It is well conceived. But it will fail." 
 
 " That remains to be seen !" Mrs. Jenyns cried, recovering her 
 spirit. "■ If Gage is but true to himself, he will triumph." 
 
 " When was he ever true to himself, madam?" Fairhe rejoined, 
 with a sneer, " But the scheme will fail in this way. You have 
 overreached yourself by your demands. Gage will not consent to 
 the terms. Even in the dire extremity to which he is reduced, 
 he shrinks from forming, what he considers, so degrading an 
 alliance." 
 
 Fairlie was not prepared for the burst of indignation with which 
 this speech was received. Mrs. Jenyns regarded him with ineffable 
 scorn, and her eyes flashed fire. 
 
 "And you have the effrontery to repeat this to me, sir?" she 
 cried, with a menacing gesture. " Even if Gage rejects my offer, 
 I will produce that damning evidence against you, and drive you 
 forth." 
 
 But Fairlie stood unmoved. 
 
 "No, madam, you will not," he rejoined, firmly. 
 
 "How will you prevent me?" 
 
 " By making you mistress of this mansion," he replied, sud- 
 denly resuming his adulatory tone and studied smile. " Gage can- 
 not do this — I can — and will." 
 
 He awaited her answer, which did not come for some moments, 
 still regarding her, all the time, with a crafty smile. At length she 
 burst into a laugh. 
 
 " Upon my word, Fairlie," she cried, after a brief indulgence 
 of her exhilaration, " it would be a thousand pities if we did not 
 come together. "We should be so nicely matched." 
 
 " I think so too, madam," he answered. " We are agreed, then 
 — eh? — you take my offer?" 
 
 And he raised her hand to his lips with an air of devoted gal- 
 lantry. 
 
 " Hum ! I don't know," she hesitated. 
 
 " Nay, madam, let me have an answer of some sort. I am a 
 plain man of business, and even in an affair of this kind, like to 
 come to the point without delay. Give me that will, and in return 
 you shall receive my written promise of marriage." 
 
THE SPENDTHKIPT. 259 
 
 " No, no, — not so fast, Mr. Fairlie. Flattered as I am by your 
 proposal, I cannot assent to it immediately." 
 
 " You are trifling with me, madam !" he cried, becoming sud- 
 denly grave. 
 
 "lam bound to await Gage's decision," she rejoined. "Till 
 he is disposed of, I cannot entertain another proposition. If he 
 rejects my offer, I am yours." 
 
 " He has retired from the field, I tell you," Fairlie exclaimed, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " I must be quite sure of that. To place the matter beyond a 
 doubt, I will write to him, and by his answer I shall be guided 
 Nay, it is useless to urge me further. I am inflexible. And mind ! 
 if our union is to take place, it must be to-morrow." 
 
 " So soon!" Fairlie exclaimed. 
 
 " To-morrow sees me mistress of Monthermer Castle— either as 
 your wife, or Gage's," she rejoined. 
 
 And with a graceful curtsey, she glided into the adjoining 
 apartment, and closed the door after her. 
 
 S2 
 
260 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 IN ■WHICH FAIRLIE MAKES ANOTHER FALSE MOVE. 
 
 The steward was caught in his own trap. He thought to outwit 
 Mrs. Jenyns, and was himself outwitted. He made sure she would 
 give up the will in exchange for his written promise of marriage — 
 a promise, which, it may be whispered, he never intended to fulfil, 
 — but he found she was not to be duped by so shallow a device, 
 and had too little reliance in his honesty. 
 
 For a few minutes he lingered within the writing-chamber, 
 casting his eyes eagerly round it, to see if by any accident the 
 coffer containing the precious document, which he was so anxious 
 to secure, had been left there. Pie could discern nothing of it. 
 But there was a large trunk in one corner of the room, and what 
 so probable as that the box should be inside it ! No chance must 
 be thrown away. Fairlie stepped quickly towards the trunk, and 
 finding it unlocked, opened it without hesitation. 
 
 It was full of female wearing apparel — rich silk dresses — under 
 garments of less costly material — masquerade habiliments — high- 
 heeled satin shoes — silken hose — ribands — lace — a mask with a 
 lace curtain — fans — pots of fard, rouge, and pomatum — boxes of 
 trinkets and jewellery — and many other things — all of which 
 Fairlie pulled out and tossed upon the floor — but no coffer ! 
 
 Not a vestige of it, or of the will. 
 
 Just as he had satisfied himself that his search was fruitless, and 
 "was preparing to put back, as expeditiously as he could, the various 
 articles scattered about, he was startled by the appearance of Mrs. 
 Jenyns and her maid. 
 
 Fairlie sprang up, looking as red as a turkey-cock, and, stammer- 
 ing an excuse, he would have beaten a hasty retreat, but Mrs. 
 Jenyns stopped him. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 261: 
 
 " I will not affect ignorance of your intentions," sKe said ; " I 
 know perfectly well what you have been looking for, but you must 
 think me careless indeed if you suppose I should leave an important 
 document in an open trunk. But pray continue your search, sir," 
 she added, pointing towards the room she had j ust left — " go in — 
 you are quite welcome." 
 
 "Am I to take you at your word, madam?" Fairlie demanded^ 
 eagerly. "Do you really grant me permission to enter your 
 room ? " 
 
 " Most certainly," she rejoined. " Davies shall assist you in the 
 
 investigation." 
 
 Fairlie did not hesitate a moment, but stepped into the adjoining 
 apartment, followed by Davies, — a smart, olive-corn plexioned 
 damsel, with a trim little figure, and a pair of quick black eyes, 
 full of mirth and mischief. The lively soubrette glanced at her 
 mistress, as much as jto say she would punish him for his imperti- 
 nent curiosity. 
 
 " Would you like to look into this, sir?" she cried, opening th& 
 door of a cupboard; "or into this, sir?" proceeding to another; 
 ^^or into these drawers?" hurrying him to the wardrobe; "or 
 under the bed, sir?" pulling him in that direction, and raising the 
 valance. " Do look under the bed, — or over it — there, I'll draw 
 aside the drapery — nothing at all you see, sir, but the crimson-satin 
 coverlet and the laced pillow. Mount this chair, sir, and then^ 
 perhaps, you'll be able to examine the tester. Well, if you can't 
 reach it standing on tiptoe, I don't think I or my mistress could. 
 Ha! ha! ha!'* 
 
 "What's in that portmanteau?" Fairlie cried, jumping down, 
 in a passion. " Open it quickly." 
 
 " Oh yes, sir, with pleasure. There, you see it's empty. Nay, 
 don't go, sir, till you've examined the toilet-table. I don't think 
 there can be anything behind those muslin folds," she added, raising 
 the gauzy cover; "but we'll see — no, — nor behind the looking- 
 glass, though it's large enough to serve for a screen ; nor under the 
 curtains — look, sir, look! — nor in this jewel-case," opening an 
 ecrin on the table, " except a pearl necklace and a wreath ; nor in 
 this dressing-case," opening a silver casket full of scent-bottles; 
 " arquebusade and eau-de-luce, at your service, sir," she added, 
 holding a couple of small flacons to his nose. 
 
262 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 '^To the devil with your scents and essences, you impudent 
 hussy !" Fairlie cried. " Can you find me a small cofier?" 
 
 *^ A coffer I let me see, sir — is it covered with red leather ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes. Find it for me." 
 
 " Well, if you'd told me what you wanted at first, you might 
 have spared yourself all this trouble. A red-leather coffer, you 
 say — with silver hinges, and a silver plate atop?" 
 
 '^Yes, yes, have you such a one? Produce it." 
 
 " Sorry I can't, sir. It's not here !" 
 
 "Where is it, then?" 
 
 " Out of your reach, Mr. Fairlie," the actress rejoined, entering 
 the room. " But, depend upon it, it will be produced at the proper 
 moment. Did you think you were likely to make discoveries by 
 searching a lady's room ? Many a jealous husband has acted in the 
 same way, and has only made himself supremely ridiculous." 
 
 " You are right, madam, I ought to feel ashamed of my con- 
 duct," Fairlie rejoined, now fully conscious of his embarrassing 
 position, and trying to put the best face he could upon it. 
 
 "Yes, there's no denying it, you do look mighty foolish," 
 Davies cried, with a provoking laugh. "Even the lightly-clad 
 lady on the ceiling — Madam Danny — blushes for you — and I'm 
 sure I do." 
 
 "Peace, Davies," Mrs. Jenyns interposed, signing to the at- 
 tendant to leave the room. " Since you have satisfied yourself by 
 this scrutiny, Mr. Fairlie, you can have no object in remaining 
 here, and I will not seek to detain you longer. You must now be 
 convinced that any stratagem you may devise will be ineffectual 
 against me. My precautions are too well taken." 
 
 " So I find, madam," Fairlie rejoined, " and I must compliment 
 you upon the acuteness you have displayed, even though I, myself, 
 am a sufferer by it. Let me hope that what has just occurred will 
 not interrupt the good understanding at which we had previously 
 arrived. I am now, more than ever, anxious that we should be 
 friends." 
 
 " I have already given you my answer — and to that I adhere. 
 If circumstances should compel me to act against you, I shall 
 regret the necessity, but " 
 
 " We won't anticipate such an event," Fairlie interrupted. " I 
 am well assured what will be Gage's decision." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 253 
 
 " In that case, you have nothing to apprehend. And, as you 
 seem so confident of a favourable result — favourable, I say, for I 
 must own I rather incline towards your offer, though I consider 
 myself bound to give Gage the refusal — I will tell you what I 
 should wish to be done." 
 
 " Whatever you desire, madam, shall be performed— if within 
 the limits of possibility." 
 
 " I will not tax your devotion by too difficult an achievement," 
 she rejoined, with a smile. " Let a handsome collation be prepared 
 at three o^clock in the dining-room, and invite some twenty or 
 thirty of the guests, staying in the house, to partake- of it. Sir 
 Randal, Mr. Freke, and the others of that party, must of course be. 
 included." 
 
 " Naturally, madam. The collation shall be ready at the hour 
 you mention, and the company bidden to it." 
 
 " You yourself must preside at the repast — and assign me a place 
 on your right." 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, but you are aware that, for a few hours 
 longer, I have abandoned my rights and privileges in this house to 
 Mr. Monthermer. He may consider my assumption of the principal 
 place as an infringement of our agreement." 
 
 " You must assume it, nevertheless. At the close of the repast, 
 you shall announce your approaching marriage to the company, and 
 present your intended bride to them." 
 
 Fairlie breathed hard, and seemed half suffocated in the attempt 
 to reply. 
 
 " Ah ! you hesitate ! " she cried. " It will not, then, be too late 
 to produce the will." 
 
 " I need no threat to make me act as you desire, madam," he 
 rejoined. " The announcement shall be made." 
 
 " After that you cannot retreat." 
 
 " And then, since your object will be assured, — then, madam, 
 you will give me the document ? " 
 
 ^' On our return from the altar — not before." 
 
 " But you will, at least, satisfy me that you possess it?** 
 
 " Oh ! rest easy on that score, sir, you shall be fully satisfied." 
 
 " Before I take my departure, let me implore of you, madam, 
 not to keep me longer than can be helped in suspense?" 
 
 " Well, I will be compassionate. In consideration of your un- 
 
264 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 easiness — impatience, I ought to term it — I will write to Gage 
 at once. If his reply be in the negative — or if he fails to reply 
 within two hours, I decide in your favour." 
 "In two hours, then, I shall know my fate?" 
 " You will. And now send Bellairs to me — I can trust him." 
 *'! am aware of it, madam. I kiss your hand." And raising 
 her fingers ceremoniously to his lips, he withdrew. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Jenyns marched to the toilet-table 
 to survey her beautiful features, now irradiated with triumph, in 
 the glass. Satisfied with what she beheld, she turned round, and 
 an expression of scorn curled her lips. 
 
 "Fool!" she exclaimed, "did he think he had a child to deal 
 with ? Did he imagine I should trust such a precious document as 
 that out of my own custody? I have it safe enough," she added, 
 pressing her swelling bosom. " My heart beats against it with 
 pride, in the full assurance that I shall speedily attain my object, 
 and become mistress of Monthermer Castle." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 265 
 
 XLV. 
 
 HOW gage's eyes webe at last opened. 
 
 Of late, as we have mentioned, Gage had been gradually sink- 
 ing into a state of lethargy and gloom, from which nothing but 
 some strong stimulant, such as had just been administered by 
 Fairlie, could rouse him — and this but temporarily. While 
 listening to the steward's glowing description of the approaching 
 fete, his breast had kindled for the moment with something of its 
 former fire ; but the excitement speedily died away, and left him 
 gloomier and more depressed than before. A miserable state of 
 mind — resembling the reaction from a powerful dose of opium. 
 Inertness and despondency prevented him from discerning the right 
 way out of his difficulties, and though he endured all the agonies 
 of remorse, he could not bring himself to a sense of repentance. 
 If any better promptings arose within his breast, he checked them 
 by the despairing ejaculation, " It is too late ! " Life seemed a 
 blank. The past was irretrievable — the future without hope. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that Clare's last warning words 
 were wholly without effect upon the unhappy young man. They 
 constantly rang in his ears ; while her looks — her earnestly- 
 imploring looks — ever haunted him. But an insurmountable bar- 
 rier seemed placed between him and all prospect of future happiness. 
 His energies were gone. Why continue a struggle in which he 
 was sure to be worsted ? Better end it at once. 
 
 So he yielded to the dark suggestions of despair, and shut his 
 heart to the gentle pleadings of hope. 
 
 He had not entirely shaken off his moody fit, and was still alone 
 in the library, stretched upon a couch, when Bellairs made his 
 appearance. The valet brought him a letter, intimating that it 
 
i6& THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 was from Mrs. Jenyns. Without changing his position, Gage 
 desired him to put it down. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," the valet observed, " Mrs. Jenyns requested 
 me to bring an answer. She will blame me if I return without 
 one." 
 
 "You are in her confidence, I presume, Bellairs?" Gage de- 
 manded. 
 
 The valet smiled, and nodded an affirmative. 
 
 " Will not a verbal response, conveyed by such a trusty emissary, 
 suffice?" 
 
 " I will charge myself with any response you choose to send, sir 
 — verbal or otherwise," Bellairs replied. "But I venture to think, 
 that your wisest course will be to write." 
 
 "You are an impertinent puppy," Gage cried, springing to his 
 feet. " Well, since you insist upon it, I will write an answer. 
 But I must first read the letter, though I can pretty well guess its 
 contents." 
 
 So saying, he broke the seal of the missive, and ran his eye 
 over the few lines it contained. 
 
 " As I supposed," he exclaimed. " She requires my immediate 
 decision. But why so pressing ? " 
 
 " Does not the note explain, sir ? " the valet inquired. 
 
 " If it did, rascal, should I ask the question? Perhaps you can 
 inform me?" 
 
 " I am not at liberty to speak, i)ut you may be quite sure, sir, 
 Mrs. Jenyns has a reason — a strong reason — for her urgency. On 
 this account I recommend you to close with her offer." 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! have you the presumption to offer me advice, sirrah? 
 The whole thing is a trick. Mr. Fairlie has explained it to me." 
 
 " Why, sir, Mr. Fairlie " 
 
 " Peace I I won't hear a word against him ! " 
 
 " Oh, very well, sir," the valet cried, in a huff. " I shall say no 
 more. But you'll find it out in time." 
 
 " Don't interrupt me," Gage cried, sitting down at the table. 
 
 And snatching up a pen, he wrote as follows : 
 
 " You have often found me an easy dupe, madam, but this time 
 you will fail in your design. Believing as I do that the story 
 you have told me of the discovery of the will is pure invention, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 267 
 
 you cannot be surprised that I decline to bring a false charge 
 against an honourable man. But were it otherwise — were your 
 statement as well founded as I have reason to suppose it incorrect 
 — I should equally reject your proposition. My fallen fortunes 
 shall never be repaired by unworthy means; nor will I sully the 
 name I bear by a degrading union. You have my answer." 
 
 Having signed this letter, and sealed it, he handed it to Bellairs. 
 
 " You reject the offer, I presume, sir ? " the valet remarked. 
 
 " Peremptorily," Gage replied. 
 
 " Sorry to hear it, sir. You are playing into your adversary's 
 hands. Mrs. Jenyns will now go over to Mr. Fairlie." 
 
 " If she does, she will meet worse reception from him than from 
 me." 
 
 "No, sir," Bellairs replied, with a cunning smile. "He will 
 agree to her terms." 
 
 " Why, zounds ! rascal," Gage cried, in the utmost astonishment, 
 "you don't mean to insinuate that Fairlie will marry her ?" 
 
 " If I take back this letter the affair is settled. Mrs. Jenyns 
 means to be mistress of the Castle, and, possessing the power of 
 achieving her object, makes you the first offer. You hesitate, 
 and Mr. FairKe steps in. He sees the necessity of decision, and 
 accepts her conditions at once. But Mrs. Jenyns will not throw 
 you over without a word, and, before concluding the arrangement, 
 requires your answer. You send it — and the door is closed !" 
 
 " You are lying, rascal," Gage cried, in angry astonishment. 
 " I cannot credit such dissimulation — such perfidy !" 
 
 " You won't be kept long in doubt about the matter, sir, I can 
 promise you. But it is not too late to frustrate Mr. Fairlie's de- 
 signs. Write another letter to Mrs. Jenyns — or rather go to her 
 at once. Agree to everything she may propose, and the game is 
 yours. Surely you won't hesitate now ? This is no time for silly 
 scruples." 
 
 " I have no hesitation, Bellairs," Gage rejoined, in a tone of 
 decision, for which the valet was wholly unprepared. " I might 
 possibly triumph over Fairlie by the course you propose, but I 
 will never engage in such a disgraceful conflict. Hear my deter- 
 mination, and repeat it if you will, word for word, to her who sent 
 you. Not to win back all I have lost — not to avenge myself on 
 
268" THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Falrlie for his deceptions and treachery — would I wed Mrs. Jenyns ! 
 Take back my answer, without another word." 
 
 Struck dumb with astonishment, the valet bowed, and withdrew. 
 The intelligence he had just received operated like a galvanic 
 shock upon Monthermer, and at once roused him from his lethargy. 
 After pacing to and fro for some time — now swayed by one 
 furious impulse, now by another, — he quitted the library, and pro- 
 ceeded towards his own room, astounding every person he encoun- 
 tered by his fierce looks and agitated demeanour. No one ven- 
 tured to address him, except Mr. Pudsey, who threw himself in 
 his way, and got pushed aside, and consigned to the Prince of 
 Darkness for his pains. 
 
 On reaching his own chamber. Gage spent some minutes in 
 sombre reflection. He then took a brace of pistols from a case, 
 loaded them, and ascertained that they were perfectly ready for 
 use. This done, he attired himself in a riding-dress, fastened 
 on his sword, thrust the pistols into his girdle, and arming him- 
 self with a heavy hunting-whip, saUied forth. At the door he 
 once more encountered the officious Pudsey, who probably was 
 employed to watch his proceedings, and who now — to disarm 
 suspicion, no doubt — appeared with a silver chocolate jug and its 
 accompaniments on a tray. These Gage upset in his hasty exit, 
 and without bestowing a word or a look upon the discomfited 
 butler, strode down the long gallery with a firm step and haughty 
 port, glancing inquiringly at the portraits of his ancestors as he 
 passed on. The entrance-hall was thronged by a large party of 
 his dissolute guests, who were jesting and talking loudly, but 
 they were all so struck by his altered manner and deportment, 
 that they involuntarily ceased laughing, and stared at him in sur- 
 prise. Coldly saluting them, he went on without a word. 
 
 In the court leading to the stables, which he next traversed, 
 a knot of young men were assembled, the most conspicuous among 
 the group being Sir Randal and Beau Freke. These personages 
 were all listening with evident amusement to some piquant piece of 
 information, which Brice Bunbury was detailing with great 
 unction, and Gage fancied that he himself formed the theme of 
 discourse, and became confirmed in the notion by Brice making a 
 gesture of silence to the others as he approached. It was with no 
 friendly feelings that Gage drew near the group. Since the 
 
t THE SPENDTHRIFT. 269 
 
 revolution which had just taken place in his sentiments and 
 character, he regarded the persons composing it as amongst his 
 Avorst enemies, and he had no desire to conceal his opinions. 
 Eyeing the assemblage with a fierce and menacing look, he seemed 
 as if singling out some one on whom to discharge his wrath. 
 The bolt fell upon Brice's head. 
 
 " Out of my way, sir !" Monthermer cried, pushing him fiercely 
 aside as he stepped forward to salute him. 
 
 The others looked amazed at the occurrence, and Brice, thinking 
 himself sure of support, cried out, " Am I to understand that the 
 affi-ont you have put upon me was intentional, Monthermer ?" 
 
 " Understand it as .you please, and take that in addition to clear 
 your comprehension," Gage exclaimed, bringing the horsewhip 
 heavily upon his shoulders, and causing him to beat a hasty retreat, 
 yelling with pain. It was impossible to avoid laughing at his 
 ridiculous grimaces and outcries, and, meeting with no sympathy 
 from his friends, Brice cried, " Is this all tlie return I get for the 
 amusement I have just afforded you ? " Whereupon, the laughter 
 was redoubled. 
 
 This incident served to allay the wratli of the two principal 
 personages in the assemblage, who had been highly offended by 
 Gage's deportment towards them, and Sir Randal, with more 
 good-nature than might have been expected from him, observed, 
 "If what we have just heard from Brice respecting Mrs. Jenyns 
 and Fairlie be true, it is natural you should be out of temper, 
 Monthermer. So I am content to excuse your rudeness." 
 
 " I have no wish to quarrel with you. Gage," Beau Freke sub- 
 joined. " When your anger has passed by, you will, I am sure, 
 be ready to apologise." 
 
 " Never !" Monthermer replied. " I will never apologise, either 
 to you or to Sir Randal." 
 
 And with a scornful and defiant look he turned on his heel and 
 departed. 
 
 " I never saw Monthermer exhibit so much spirit before," Sir 
 Randal remarked, as soon as Gage was gone. " On my soul, he 
 bore himself so proudly that I could not help admiring him." 
 
 "I don't admire him at all," Brice observed, still rubbing his 
 shoulders. " You may do as you please, gentlemen, but I don't 
 intend to put up with the insult he has offered me." 
 
270 THE SPENDTHRIFT. • 
 
 " Bravoj Brice !" Sir Randal ejaculated. " What will you do ? 
 — horsewhip him in return, eh ?" 
 
 "Wait till he comes back, and you shall see," the other re- 
 joined. 
 
 Meantime, Gage had arrived at the stables, and mounting Hot- 
 spur, he galloped off into the park. The groom was still wonder- 
 ing at the young Squire's strange, stern looks, when Mr. Pudsey 
 hurriedly entered the stables. 
 
 " You must see where Mr. Monthermer goes to, Nat Clancy, and 
 what he does !" he cried. " Mount one of the horses, and be off at 
 once." 
 
 " Why, I do fancy fro' his looks, that he be goin' to make away 
 wi' hisself," Nat replied. 
 
 " If he should make any such attempt, it's not your business to 
 interfere, Nat — mind that. Things have gone so badly with him 
 that he'll be well out of the way. But don't lose another moment. 
 Be off with you!" 
 
 Thus exhorted, Nat took the first horse he came near out of the 
 stall, sprang on his back, and rode off in the direction Monthermer 
 had taken. 
 
 Gage could now give utterance to the emotions pent up within 
 his breast. In-doors he had felt half stifled. The veil seemed rent 
 from his eyes, and he saw clearly how he had been duped by Fairlie. 
 He laughed savagely as he meditated revenge — a revenge commen- 
 surate with his wrongs. This accomplished, he had done with a 
 world which he had ever found full of perfidy and the basest ingra- 
 titude. His pride was now fully awakened, and his former 
 weakness seemed inexplicable to him. Ere long, he came to the 
 edge of a large sheet of water, and, dismounting, tied his horse 
 to a tree, and sat down at the foot of an oak growing near the bank 
 of the miniature lake. The prospect was enchanting, but in his 
 present perturbed state of mind, he was utterly insensible to 
 the beauties of nature. The picturesque and sylvan scene sur- 
 rounding him — the mossy bank, sloping down gently to the water's 
 edge — the shining lake, reflecting the adjacent groves — to none of 
 these did he pay attention. If he looked at the lake at all, it was 
 with the frenzied wish that its waters were flowing above his 
 head. How long he remained absorbed in this painful reverie he 
 himself could hardly tell, but he was aroused by the neighing of 
 his steed, and starting to his feet at the sound, he perceived that 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 271 
 
 Hotspur's attention had been attracted to another horseman, who 
 was rapidly approaching, and who, as he drew near, displayed the 
 features of Arthur Poynings. In another instant, Arthur was off 
 his horse, and marching towards Gage. Even that brief in- 
 terval allowed him time to note the remarkable change that 
 had taken place in Monthermer, and he could not but feel 
 impressed by the haughtiness with which the latter regarded 
 him. As he drew near, Gage waved him off with a menacing 
 look. 
 
 " Pass on your way, Arthur Poynings," he cried, " and trouble 
 me not. I warn you that I am dangerous, and if you utter aught 
 offensive to me, I will not answer for the consequences. I would 
 not have your blood upon my head — but I am in no humour to 
 brook provocation. Be warned, therefore, and pass on.** 
 
 "Gage," replied Arthur, looking at him fixedly, "I have sad 
 news for you, but ere I disclose it, let all unkindness between us be 
 at an end. Your hand." 
 
 But Monthermer evinced no disposition to accept this offer. He 
 shook his head, and in a stem voice, slightly touched with melan- 
 choly, said, "Arthur Poynings, we never can be friends again. 
 You have dishonoured me without giving me the means of repara- 
 tion. Begone ! I say. I am a broken and desperate man, mad- 
 dened by the sense of wrong, and if you tarry near me I may do you 
 a mischief." 
 
 " Gage, I wiU not leave you " 
 
 " You will not," Monthermer furiously interrupted, " then stand 
 on your defence, for, by Heaven ! one of us shall not quit this spot 
 aHve." 
 
 " Strike, if you will," Arthur rejoined, firmly. "Nothing shall 
 induce me to fight with you." 
 
 "You hold me unworthy of your sword?" 
 
 " Not so — I do not deem you so now, whatever I may have done 
 heretofore. Put up your sword, and let us talk calmly — rationally." 
 
 " Rationally !" Gage echoed, with a bitter laugh. " Have I 
 not told you I am driven to the very verge of frenzy by the wrongs 
 and injuries I have endured, and you bid me talk calmly — 
 rationally ! As well preach patience to the winds." 
 
 "At least, tell me what has happened?" 
 
 " Why, I have made a discovery which I ought to have made 
 long ago, since it has been apparent to every one except myself. 
 
272 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 I have detected Fairlie's perfidy and knavery — I know how my 
 credulity has been imposed upon — how I have been plundered by 
 him and others — how I have been cozened and cajoled." 
 
 "Your eyes are opened, then?" 
 
 "Fully. But not till too late. I have lost all — all, Arthur. 
 My father's estates are gone from me — my father's house is gone 
 from me — its master will be a villain — its mistress, Margaret 
 Jenyns." 
 
 "You speak in riddles. What has Mrs. Jenyns to do with the 
 Oastle?" 
 
 " She will rule it — as Fairlie's wife." 
 
 " You must be in error now. Even he would recoil from such 
 a union." 
 
 " Mrs. Jenyns has him in her power, and he has no alternative 
 but compliance. He will marry her, I tell you — that is, if his 
 course of villany be not cut off beforehand — as it may be. But 
 enough of this. You said just now you have sad news for me. 
 Fear not to tell it. I am proof against all further calamity." 
 
 " Be not too sure of that," Arthur replied. And he added, in a 
 tone of profound grief, " Clare is dead !" 
 
 The shock caused by this intelligence was terrible. Gag.e 
 uttered a piercing cry, and put his hand to his heart, as if a sword 
 had passed through it, 
 
 " Dead ! — Clare dead!" he exclaimed, in thrilling accents. " I 
 thought my heart was steeled, but you have found a way to move 
 it. " Oh ! this is sad news indeed ! But it is well she is gone. 
 At least, she has died in ignorance of her father's dishonour." 
 
 " She died, praying for him and you," Arthur rejoined. " Calm 
 yourself, if possible, and listen to me. I have much to say con- 
 cerning her." 
 
 " Not now — not now," Gage cried, with a look of unutterable 
 anguish. " My cup of affliction is full to overflowing. Farewell, 
 Arthur — farewell, for ever ! The race of Monthermer will be soon 
 extinct!" 
 
 And motioning off young Poynings with an imperious gesture, 
 he hurried to his horse, sprang into the saddle, and dashed off at a 
 furious pace. 
 
 " I must not lose sight of him," Arthur said, mounting his own 
 steed, and following in the direction the other had taken. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 273 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 THE PROPHECY FULFILLED. 
 
 It behoved Arthur to follow quickly, if he would prevent the 
 impending catastrophe. He endeavoured not to lose sight of Gage, 
 but this was all that could be accomplished, for the unhappy young 
 man had started off at such a terrific pace that to overtake him ap- 
 peared out of the question. Already he was far away from Arthur, 
 whose shouts to him to stop he utterly disregarded, and being much 
 better mounted than his pursuer, the distance between them, in spite 
 of all the latter's whipping and spurring, was speedily increased. 
 They had proceeded in this manner for about a mile, dashing straight 
 across the park, and leaving the Castle on the left, when another per- 
 son joined in the pursuit. This was Mark Rougham. He was on 
 horseback ; mounted on one of Sir Hugh Poynings's hunters — a re- 
 markably powerful animal, almost equal in speed to Hotspur ; and 
 hearing Arthur's outcries, and seeing Gage tearing away at such a 
 break-neck pace, he essayed to stop him. Mark, it subsequently ap- 
 peared, had been scouring the park in every direction in search of 
 Monthermer, whom he desired to see, when he thus imexpectedly 
 chanced upon him. His aim being to check Gage's progress, he 
 made a desperate but ineffectual attempt to accomplish the object. 
 Waiting till the furious horseman drew near, he dashed at him, 
 hoping to catch his bridle. The manoeuvre was well enough exe- 
 cuted, but it failed. Hotspur's impetus was so tremendous that he 
 upset both Mark and his horse, and left them rolling on the ground. 
 This occurrence did not cause the frantic young man to relax his 
 speed for a moment. He seemed altogether unconscious of it, and 
 went on furiously as ever. By the time Arthur came up, Mark 
 and his steed had both regained their legs ; and though the former 
 
 T 
 
274 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 was somewhat shaken by the fall, he was quickly in the saddle 
 again, and joining in the pursuit. 
 
 "I know whither he is bound," Mark cried, as he rode by 
 Arthur's side — "it is for the Beacon Hill. I'm sure of it, for he 
 bade me meet him there a day or so hence at early dawn. I 
 now understand for what purpose — it was to find his lifeless 
 corpse. But distraction, it seems, has made him resolve to antici- 
 pate his fatal purpose." 
 
 " After him, — quick ! " Arthur exclaimed. " You are better 
 mounted than I am, and may succeed in saving him." 
 
 " I'll do my best," Mark rejoined, "but I doubt if I shall be able 
 to catch him. Heaven grant he mayn't break his neck on the road ! 
 It seems like enough, from the mad way in which he rides." 
 
 Mark now urged his horse to its utmost speed, but though he 
 left Arthur behind, it soon became clear that unless some accident 
 occurred he had no chance whatever of coming up with Gage. 
 However, he held on, vociferating lustily, till he grew hoarse with 
 the exertion. 
 
 And now Gage had reached the boundaries of the park. Hot- 
 spur cleared the lofty palings at a bound, and jumped with equal 
 ease over the fence on the opposite side of the lane skirting the 
 park. The infuriated rider next shaped his course over the fields 
 — never swerving to the right or left — never debarred by any ap- 
 parent obstacle — but going straight on in the direction Mark had 
 declared he would take. Many desperate leaps, from which, 
 under other circumstances, he would have shrunk aghast, were now 
 taken by the distracted horseman. He seemed to court peril — at 
 all events, he did not shun it. That he escaped without injury 
 was marvellous; and Mark, who witnessed his astonishing per- 
 formances, could sometimes scarcely draw breath from terror. At 
 last, he viewed these feats with less apprehension, for he became 
 convinced that it was not Gage's destiny to break his neck. 
 The stiffest hedge — the broadest dyke stayed him not. On — 
 on he went. The pursuers now lost ground. Mark declined the 
 worst risks so freely encountered by the foremost horseman ; and 
 if Arthur did not exhibit equal prudence, his steed had not Hot- 
 spur's untiring vigour, and began to flag. Nevertheless, both he 
 and Mark held on. At last the open country was gained, and 
 Gage could be perceived by his pursuers nearly a mile ahead, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFi'. 275 
 
 stretching out at tlie same pace as ever towards the Beacon Hill, 
 which now rose majestically before them. They were once more 
 together, for Mark had drawn in the rein to allow Arthur to join 
 him, and they proceeded side by side. As the ground was per- 
 fectly clear in that part except an occasional tree, or small shed, 
 Gage was not lost to view for a moment. They saw him reach the 
 foot of the hill, and in a few minutes afterwards beheld him on 
 its summit. Here he paused; but he did not dismount; and the 
 figures of horse and rider relieved against the clear sky seemed 
 dilated to gigantic proportions. 
 
 " He is takin' a last look at his forfeited estates," Mark exclaimed. 
 ^' I am certain of it from his gestures. I make no doubt his eyes 
 are strained towards the Castle, for his face is turned in that direc- 
 tion, as you may easily discern, sir." 
 
 "I have no doubt you are right, Mark," Arthur rejoined. 
 " Would we were near him now ! I tremble at the thoughts of 
 what may next ensue." 
 
 " In my opinion, he doesn't mean to do the deed there, sir," 
 Mark said. " When he has ta'en leave of a' he held dear on earth, 
 he'll come down the hill, or I'm much mistaken, and go to the 
 place where his father perished — for there, it's my belief, he designs 
 to end his days. I come to this conclusion fro' what he let fall 
 when I last met him — nearly a week ago — on that spot." 
 
 Arthur was forcibly struck by the remark, and acknowledged its 
 justice. 
 
 " We will proceed thither at once, Mark," he cried. " If your 
 notion be correct, and I think it will prove so, we may yet be 
 enabled to save him." 
 
 " Heaven grant we may be enabled to do so !" Mark exclaimed, 
 " But let us tie our horses to this tree, and conceal ourselves near 
 the spot. If he should perceive us, he will never approach it." 
 
 Arthur signified his approval of the plan, and their horses were 
 secured in the manner proposed. A small brook flowed through 
 the valley, and they proceeded rapidly along its edge till they 
 came to a pollard willow. Here it was, as we have stated in a 
 former chapter, that the accident happened that had deprived 
 Squire Warwick of life. A grey stone marked the precise spot. 
 The banks of the stream were somewhat steep here, and fringed 
 with a little brushwood, enabling them easily to conceal them- 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 selves behind it, and yet be close at hand, in case Gage came 
 thither. 
 
 Here we will leave them, and scale the hill. As Mark surmised, 
 Gage had gone to take a last look at his forfeited possessions. With 
 what a pang did he survey the expansive prospect — noting all its 
 beauties, and lingering upon them as if loth to quit the view. The 
 last object he regarded was the Castle, and having gazed upon it 
 till his eyes grew dim, he turned to descend the hill. He had 
 done with this world as he deemed, and endeavoured to address 
 himself to the contemplation of the next. The effort was vain. 
 His brain was too bewildered to present any other than frightful 
 images. His heart was full of darkness, despair, and doubt. He 
 hoped to obtain repose, and tried to pray for it, but no prayer 
 would rise to his lips. 
 
 But he shrank not from his fell purpose. Before he reached the 
 foot of the hill a terrible calmness had succeeded to his previous 
 distraction. He dismounted, flung his arms around Hotspur's 
 neck, laid his head for a moment upon the animal's shoulder, as if 
 parting with a dear friend, and left him. The horse followed him 
 for a few paces, and then, at a gesture from his master, stood still, 
 and uttered a plaintive, whinnying noise. A few steps more 
 brought Gage to the grey stone. Arrived at his destination, he 
 took out his pistols, examined them for an instant, and then kneel- 
 ing down, laid the weapons on the ground close beside him. Up 
 to this moment he had been unable to pray, but now suddenly, 
 and as if some benign influence had interposed to save him from 
 guilt, words of supplication rose spontaneously to his lips. He 
 did not pray in vain. A gracious dew seemed to descend upon 
 him and soften his heart. His father's image seemed to arise 
 before him, enjoining him to abandon his unholy purpose; and when 
 it was gone, Clare's image succeeded, and with gentlest looks im- 
 plored him to renounce it. He stretched out his hands, and cried 
 out with a loud voice, unconscious that his exclamations were heard, 
 ^' Yes, I will live ! — live a new life ! — and strive to expiate past 
 faults. This I swear before Heaven ! " 
 
 As the vow was uttered, he sprang to his feet, and beheld 
 Arthur Poynings and Mark Rougham standing beside him. They 
 had cautiously approached, ready to lay hands upon him in case 
 of need, but happily their interposition was not required. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 277 
 
 " I have heard your vow, Monthermer," Arthur cried, " and I 
 rejoice that it has been uttered. From this moment, rest assured, 
 you will date a new and happier career." 
 
 " It may be so," Gage rejoined. " Indeed, I feel it will be so ! " 
 " The prophecy ! the prophecy ! " Mark exclaimed. *' It will be 
 fulfilled to the letter. Bethink you how it runs — 
 
 Hard by the hill whereon the Beacon stands 
 
 One proud Monthermer shall lose house and lands. 
 
 Tliat alludes to your father clearly enough, for here he lost all his 
 possessions. But what comes next? — 
 
 On the same spot — if but the way be plain — 
 Another of the Une shall both regain. 
 
 That must refer to your honour. You have now chosen the right 
 way, and are certain to regain your own." 
 
 '^Yes, yes, your trials are over. Gage," Arthur said, encou- 
 ragingly, " and better days are in store for you. You must come 
 with me to Reedham, where my father will rejoice to see you. I 
 have much to say to you — much to explain. To-morrow we will 
 go to the Castle, and take decisive steps against Fairlie." 
 
 " Why tarry till to-morrow ?" Gage exclaimed. " Let us go 
 thither at once." 
 
 " I am bound by a solemn promise to poor Clare to wait till 
 to-morrow at noon," Arthur cried. "Then I will act as you 
 please." 
 
 " In that case I must go alone," Gage rejoined. " I will not 
 rest till I have taxed him with his ingratitude and villany." 
 
 " Your honour shall not go unattended on that errand !" Mark 
 cried. " I am with you !" 
 
 " I will go too," Arthur said, " but I cannot adduce the proofs 
 I possess of FairHe's delinquency until the time I have stated." 
 
 "To horse, then, at once!" Gage cried. And snatching up 
 his pistols, and thrusting them into his belt, he called to Hotspur, 
 who had never stirred from the spot where he had been left. 
 The faithful steed instantly trotted towards him, and Gage sprang 
 on his back. The others went in search of their horses, and as 
 soon as they had mounted, all three rode off towards the Castle. 
 
278 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 THE LIST EFFORT. 
 
 From the hiding-place with which the reader is already ac- 
 quainted, Fairlie had witnessed the delivery of Mrs. Jenyns's note, 
 and had overheard all that subsequently passed between Bell^irs 
 and Monthermer; so that he was immediately acquainted with 
 the determination of the latter. From the same spot he had 
 also watched Gage's fierce and perturbed deportment when left 
 alone, and comprehended the violence of the storm raging in 
 his breast. Once he saw him stand still, with features white and 
 distorted with passion, but on which a formidable energy was 
 now imprinted, and heard him mutter his own name, coupled 
 with a threat that made the blood grow chill in his veins, and the 
 flesh creep on his bones. Though by no means destitute of courage, 
 Fairlie had a due regard to self-preservation, and did not think it 
 necessary to expose himself to the first ebullition of the young man's 
 wrath. Accordingly, on quitting his place of concealment, instead 
 of repairing to his own chamber, where it was likely Gage might 
 seek him, he took refuge in Pudsey's private room; and in this 
 secure asylum he remained till informed by the butler that Mon- 
 thermer had ridden forth into the park, in such a distracted state 
 of mind as rendered it highly probable he would lay violent hands 
 upon himself. Gage had been cautiously followed, Pudsey went 
 on to say, by Nat Clancy, and had been seen by Nat to tie his 
 horse to a tree near the lake. 
 
 " And it is to be hoped he will drown himself," the butler con- 
 tinued, " for otherwise we shall find him confoundedly in the way. 
 But to turn to another matter for a moment, sir. I was about to 
 ask you whether, under present circumstances, it will be necessary 
 to go on with the preparations for the f^te to-morrow ? " 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 279 
 
 " Certainly not, Pudsey. An entire stop must be put to them. 
 Never was such a gull as Monthermer. He will swallow anytHng. 
 I told him I had engaged Farinelli, Cuzzoni, Senesino, and a whole 
 host of opera dancers and musicians for the fete, and he was fool 
 enough to believe me — ha ! ha I But, as I was saying, all orders 
 relative to the entertainment must be countermanded, and back- 
 word sent to everybody invited. And hark ye, Pudsey, take care 
 that a handsome collation is prepared in the dining-room at three 
 o'clock to-day." 
 
 "I have already given orders about it," the butler replied. 
 " You may confide the arrangement entirely to me. Covers for 
 thirty guests, eh, sir?" 
 
 "For thirty — not more, Pudsey. I don't desire to have so 
 many, but Mfs. Jenyns insists upon it, and her whims must be 
 complied with. I shall be glad when the affair is over. Between 
 ourselves, Pudsey, this marriage is a great annoyance to me. But 
 it must be endured." 
 
 " Well, sir, I suppose it must," the butler replied, shrugging his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Ah ! if you will only bring me word that Clancy has been right 
 in his anticipations, and that this hairbrained young man lies a 
 fathom deep in the lake, I shall get my head out of this cursed 
 noose, into which I am compelled to slip it." 
 
 "Better the noose matrimonial than the other, which is your 
 due," the butler thought ; but he kept the remark to himself, and 
 merely observed, " You shall have instant intelHgence if anything 
 happens." 
 
 The coast being now clear, Fairlie proceeded to his own room 
 where he found a note from Mrs. Jenyns lying on the table, but 
 as he knew what it contained, and loathed the sight of it, he 
 tore it in pieces, and trampled on the fragments. This did not 
 prevent him, however — though he abominated the task — from 
 writing a brief, cautiously-worded reply, in which he professed 
 unbounded delight at the decision she had arrived at, adding that 
 all should be ready at the hour appointed. Never, perhaps, was 
 an assertion in such a case wider of the truth. The more he 
 reflected [upon it, the greater became his aversion to the alliance 
 he was about to form. But there was no escape from it, unless he 
 could, by some device, obtain possession of the will; or Gage 
 
280 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 released him from further apprehension on this score. The latter 
 contingency seemed the more probable — but time wore on, and 
 still no tidings came of him. At last, suspense became quite 
 intolerable, and Clancy was despatched to the lake, and on his 
 return brought word that both horse and rider had disappeared. 
 Fairlie was now thrown into a greater uncertainty than ever; 
 but the hour of meeting his proposed bride was at hand, and he 
 must prepare for it. Chassemouche, therefore, was summoned, and 
 he had to undergo the annoyance of the Frenchman's chatter as 
 his peruke was arranged, and his toilet carefully completed — some 
 extra attention to it appearing necessary on the present occasion. 
 The perruquier was just about to depart, when he suddenly recol- 
 lected that he had a letter for Monsieur. It had been given him by 
 one of the women, who had charged him to deliver it to Monsieur 
 instantly — but his memory was so treacherous. Diving into his 
 capacious apron-pocket as he spoke, he placed the letter in FairHe's 
 hands, bowed, and departed. Fairlie looked at it in dismay. It 
 seemed the harbinger of ill tidings, and he scarcely dared to open it. 
 When, at last, he mustered courage to do so, and had glanced at 
 its contents, his eyes grew misty, and he staggered as if stricken a 
 heavy blow. 
 
 "What! is she here?" he groaned. "I wanted only this ta 
 complete my perplexity. And to be made aware of her proximity 
 at a critical juncture like the present — when I have need of all my 
 firmness. But I have yet, perhaps, to learn the worst. Let me 
 see." And clearing his vision, he was at length able to read as 
 follows: 
 
 " I am here, father, in the Ivy Tower. I have come to perform 
 an act of justice — and to die. I shall never leave the chamber I 
 now occupy, except for the grave. 
 
 " I promised to keep your secret, and I have faithfully observed 
 my promise — though in so doing I have made myself an accessory 
 to your crime. That secret has been fatal to me. It has embittered 
 all my joys, blighted my youth, consumed me like a hidden fire, 
 and shortened my days. But I deserve my punishment, and must 
 not repine. 
 
 "I have seen how unjustly you have acted towards Gage — how 
 you have encouraged his weaknesses and follies for your own ends 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 281 
 
 — how you have placed temptation in his path — how you have 
 kept away his true friends, and surrounded him by vicious asso- 
 ciates, who were your accomphces in his undoing — thus justify- 
 ing by your conduct the fears entertained of you by your patron 
 when he altered his will, and declined to commit his son to your 
 charge. 
 
 " I have loved Gage — loved him with an intensity of affection 
 which could not, I think, have been surpassed. I love him still, ^ 
 with equal faith and fervour, now that my heart has nearly ceased 
 to beat. I would have sacrificed my life for him. Judge, then, 
 of my feelings, when I saw him driven headlong to ruin — and by 
 you I — by you, father, who ought to have made every effort to 
 arrest his downward progress. I once, as you know, indulged the 
 dream that I might be united to him, and I fancied that in this 
 way the wrong done by you and by myself would have been set 
 right. Unhappy delusion ! Perhaps, but for the false step I took, 
 this great happiness might have been accorded me. But it was 
 denied. I have sinned, and must bow my head in resignation. 
 Yet has the weight of my affliction been too heavy for me. For 
 truly it is written — ' a wounded spirit who can bear?' 
 
 " I have made many efforts — all fruitless, as you know — to move 
 your heart, father. This is my last appeal. May it not be made 
 in vain ! 
 
 "You will remember, on the unfortunate day when I stayed 
 your hand from the commission of crime, when you enforced 
 silence upon me — and I gave a promise — a rash promise, of which 
 I did not foresee the fatal consequences — I told you that an hour 
 might arrive when I should consider myself absolved from my 
 oath. That hour would be the latest of my existence. It has 
 arrived, father. The expiring taper merely flickers in the socket, 
 and ere this reaches you I shall be no more. ' • 
 
 " But my secret will survive ! — yes, it will survive, and rise up 
 in judgment against you, if you continue obdurate, and refuse 
 tardy justice to Gage. 
 
 ^^Now mark me, father. I speak as one from the grave, 
 and nothing can be urged in reply. I have made a full con- 
 fession in writing of your criminality, and my own participa- 
 tion in it ; and this confession I have signed and had attested, 
 though the witnesses, while recognising it as a dying declara- 
 
282 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 tion, are, as yet, unaware of its nature. The packet con- 
 taining this document will be confided to a faithful friend, who 
 has watched by me in my time of trial and suffering, and who 
 will receive my latest breath. It will be brought forward if its 
 production be necessary to the ends of justice. 
 
 " I may be adding to my iniquity by consenting that this fatal 
 secret should be buried in the grave with me, but I trust I shall 
 be pardoned for the motive, which is commiseration for you. 
 I cannot injure you, to whom I am bound by the ties of 
 nature and affection, and I would hide your shame, if possible, 
 from the gaze of the world — not proclaim it. Would that my tears 
 could have washed out the stain ! — would that my prayers could 
 have moved your heart ! May they move you now, and cause 
 you to act uprightly ! Then, father, there will be no accusation 
 against you from your child. 
 
 "I have seen Gage this morning; and, in our brief and painful 
 interview, I learnt, to my infinite distress, that you had re- 
 ceived back the money which, at my instance, you advanced in 
 payment of his debts. You have thus defeated my plans for his ad- 
 vantage, and acted in direct opposition to my wishes. Further- 
 more, you assented to a scheme so insanely extravagant, that you 
 ought to have checked it rather than have promoted it : a scheme 
 which could have but one result, and that you foresaw. By 
 your sanction — yes, yours, father! — he was to have a week's 
 command of his own house and his own household — a week's 
 riot — and then the finishing-stroke was to be given to his 
 prodigal career. You knew how it would end. You knew you 
 were luring him to self-destruction, — that he had no hopes, no 
 prospects, no plans beyond the brief term you allotted him — that 
 his next step must be into the dark, dread abyss of despair — and 
 yet you eagerly closed with his offer. 
 
 " I have seen him,. I say, and have learnt the terrible truth 
 from his own lips. He does not disguise it; but if he had sought 
 to do so his looks would have betrayed him. If he executes his 
 desperate purpose — and ke will execute it if not prevented — his 
 death will lie at your door. 
 
 '' But this must not be. He must be saved ; and I must, per- 
 force, exercise the means I possess for ensuring his preservation. 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 283 
 
 Gage's life and your condemnation have been weighed in the 
 balance, and the former has prevailed. It could not be otherwise. 
 Filial duty shrinks before the decrees of inexorable justice. Gage 
 must be saved, I repeat. To accomplish his preservation he must 
 be lifted from his present state of despair. He must be ex- 
 tricated from the toils in which he is involved. His fortune must 
 be restored to him — his whole fortune — nothing less. This must 
 be your business, father. It is a hard task; but you have done 
 wrong — grievous wrong — and are bound to make complete atone- 
 ment. 
 
 " And observe !— there must be no delay. You must set about 
 the work at once, and without hesitation. To-morrow must not 
 pass by without seeing my injunctions strictly fulfilled. Gage 
 must be reinstated in his possessions. The mode of doing so I leave 
 to you; but I allow no choice between this course, and disgrace. 
 At noon to-morrow, measures will be taken against you — measures 
 you will find it impossible to resist, and which will cover you with 
 shame and confusion. It is my prayer and hope that such a cala- 
 mity may be averted. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! that secret has killed me, father. It has preyed 
 upon me incessantly, gnawing into my very heart, like a relentless 
 worm. But it is quiet now, and I hope to depart in peace. 
 
 " ^ In peace ' — O, may you comprehend the full meaning of that 
 blessed word, father. May you be warned in time ! Reflect that 
 you may be summoned suddenly to your account — in the midst of 
 your prosperity, and while planning schemes for the future — but 
 with no prepiiration for eternity. In the hour of death prophetic 
 powers are sometimes granted, and I have fearful forebodings; O, 
 be warned, father ! 
 
 " Ever since that unhappy day, when you bound me with 
 those guilty fetters, our afiectionate relations have been disturbed, 
 and latterly I have incurred your displeasure for various causes, but 
 chiefly because I felt compelled to refuse obedience to some of your 
 mandates. In bidding you an everlasting farewell, I implore your 
 forgiveness for any want of filial duty I may have exhibited, and, 
 above all, for a step which may seem incompatible with the aflec- 
 tion I profess and feel for you. Forgive me, father, as fully and 
 as freely as I forgive you the grief and anxieties you have 
 
284 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 caused me. We shall meet no more on earth, but I trust we 
 may meet hereafter. Farewell, for ever ! 
 
 " Your unhappy and ill-fated daughter, 
 
 "Clare." 
 
 Cold damps gathered on Fairlie*s brow as he read this letter. 
 More than once he was obliged to pause, for the characters faded 
 from his view. When he came to the end, an icy chillness fell 
 upon him, and he shook as if seized by an ague-fit. He felt that 
 a power not to be resisted was at work to baffle his designs. She 
 was gone — his child !— the only object he loved on earth— and all 
 his toil was thrown away. Often before, apprehensions caused by 
 her evidently declining health had crossed him, but he had forcibly 
 dismissed them — hoping against hope. The frightful reality came 
 upon him with a suddenness that increased the severity of the shock. 
 He would have given all his ill-gotten gains at that moment to 
 recal her to life. Clare had been more than a daughter to him — 
 she had been a monitress — a guardian angel — if he had but listened 
 to her counsels. 
 
 But what was to be done ? Must he obey the mandates of her 
 letter? Must he make reparation? Must he surrender all to 
 Gage, and cover himself with infamy ? Impossible ! Yet if he 
 refused, steps to enforce justice would infallibly be taken against 
 him on the morrow. No matter ! — he would brave them. And 
 then, again, the fiend he served whispered in his breast that when 
 the morrow arrived Gage would have ceased to be an obstacle in 
 his path. Yes ! yes ! — he was determined to go on. As to the mar- 
 riage with Mrs. Jenyns, it was a make-believe — a mockery — and 
 should never take place. Let him but once have possession of the 
 will, and he would face any charge that could be brought against 
 him. 
 
 While such reflections were passing through his mind, and he 
 was striving to reassure himself, Pudsey hastily entered, to inform 
 him that the guests were assembled in the dining-room. Mrs. 
 Jenyns was there too, and some surprise was manifested at his, 
 Mr. Fairlie's, absence. It was expedient, therefore, that he should 
 come down at once. The words were scarcely out of the butler's 
 mouth, when he was struck by Fairlie's haggard looks, and think- 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 285 
 
 ing he must be ill, he went up to him, and anxiously inquired 
 what was the matter. 
 
 " I have had bad news," Fairlie replied, in a feeble tone. " I 
 have just learnt that my daughter is dead." 
 
 " JBless me ! " the butler ejaculated, " that is bad news, indeed I 
 — most- unfortunate that it should arrive at such a moment. I 
 must make your excuses to the party down stairs, I suppose?' 
 
 " No ; I will go through with the affair in the best way I can," 
 Fairlie replied. " Give me a glass of water." And after swallow- 
 ing a f§w drops, he added, " I am better now. Lend me your arm, 
 Pudsey. I will go down at once." 
 
 " I admire your resolution, sir," Pudsey remarked, as he sup- 
 ported the tottering steward ; " you have need of firm nerves." 
 
 ^^Ay, in truth have I, Pudsey," the other replied; "but I won't 
 flinch. Come what will, I am prepared." 
 
 "And our arrangement, sir — pardon me for alluding to it at 
 this moment — money down, and a pension — that is quite under- 
 stood?" 
 
 "Quite." 
 
286 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 Befoke they reached the dining-room, Fairlie had recovered his 
 usual firm step and erect deportment, and though traces of the 
 fearful struggle he had recently undergone were discernible in his 
 countenance, these might be attributed to passing indisposition. As 
 the butler had stated, the guests were all assembled, and Fairlie's 
 appearance, which had been impatiently awaited, was hailed with 
 satisfaction. Mrs. Jenyns was attired with extreme elegance, and 
 looked so exceedingly captivating that Fairlie might have been 
 almost excused if he had been really enthralled by her fascinations. 
 So far, however, from this being the case, he regarded her with an 
 aversion which he found it difficult to conceal. Essaying to look 
 enchanted, though he only imperfectly succeeded, he excused himself 
 in the best way he could for being behind time, and his apologies 
 being gracefully accepted by the actress, he led her towards the 
 table, and placing her on his right hand, prayed the rest of the guests 
 to be seated. Beau Freke sat next to Mrs. Jenyns, and Sir Randal, 
 on the steward's invitation, took a chair on his left. The repast was 
 admirable in all respects, and the guests did justice to it — with the 
 exception of Fairlie himself, who ate nothing. But if he could 
 not eat — and he felt, indeed, as if the slightest morsel of bread 
 would choke him — he drank several glasses of wine — and as he 
 was habitually temperate, the effect of this unwonted excess was 
 speedily manifest in his excited demeanour and speech. But his 
 exhilaration was wild, and his laughter strange and dissonant, his 
 jests odd and out of season, and his very compliments-sarcastic. 
 
 Independently of any other circumstance, the sight of him in his 
 new position was matter of amusement and curiosity to the guests, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 287 
 
 but they all admitted that he discharged his functions as host very 
 creditably. The repast was unnecessarily prolonged — for there 
 was a superabundance of good things — and when it was brought 
 to a close, Sir Randal rose to propose a toast — the health of the 
 new lord of the Castle. It was of course received with voci- 
 ferous acclamations, in the midst of which FairUe got up to make 
 his acknowledgments. In the best terms he could command, he 
 expressed his high satisfaction at seeing so many distinguished 
 guests around him, thanked them for the honour they did 
 him, and added, that his appearance in the character of host was 
 somewhat premature, as he had consented to relinquish his rights 
 to Mr. Monthermer for a week — one day of which period was yet 
 unexpired — but he had not foreseen what might happen in the 
 interim, and circumstances had compelled him to abridge the 
 term. They would understand why he had been oblige d to rob 
 Mr. Monthermer of his last day, and would hold him excused 
 for acting with apparent want of cqurtesy to his young friend, 
 when he presented to them a lady, who very shortly — within a few 
 hours, indeed — would be his bride. This announcement was re- 
 ceived with loud shouts, and as Fairlie took the actress's hand to 
 raise her, the plaudits were redoubled, and continued for some 
 minutes. Mrs. Jenyns's breast swelled with triumph, and never in 
 the proudest moments of her mimic career, when she had received 
 the rapturous homage of a crowded house, had she felt so much 
 elated. As to Fairlie, he too exulted, and for the moment forgot 
 his troubles and perils. This was the first time he had been 
 recognised as lord of the Castle. It was a moment to which he 
 had long looked forward; and though it brought him not the 
 transports he had anticipated, and was marred by the presence of 
 Mrs. Jenyns, still it was a moment of triumph, and he listened 
 with greedy satisfaction to the compliments and congratulations 
 poured in his ear. After the outburst of enthusiasm had some- 
 what subsided, he again addressed the company. 
 
 " You came here, gentlemen," he said, " as Mr. Monthermer's 
 guests. Henceforth, you are mine. To-morrow was to have been 
 the extent of your stay at the Castle, but I hope you will remain 
 with me another week, during which these festivities shall be con- 
 tinued." 
 
 Another round of applause. 
 
288 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 *^ To-morrow it will be my turn to receive you, gentlemen/' Mrs. 
 Jenyns said ; " and I promise you good entertainment." 
 
 '' What ! is the wedding to take place so soon ?" Beau Freke 
 cried. ^' I'faith, I'm heartily glad of it. You are a fortunate man, 
 Fairlie, and quite right not to postpone your happiness." 
 
 ^^ Mr. Fairlie had his own reasons for expediting the marriage," 
 Mrs. Jenyns observed, significantly, " and recognising the force of 
 them, I assented. Was it not so?" she added, appealing to him. 
 
 Fairlie merely nodded in reply. 
 
 " Well, I must say that Monthermer, by his strange conduct, has 
 deprived himself of all sympathy," Brice Bunbury remarked ; " I 
 noticed a change in his manner yesterday, but to-day he seems to 
 have taken leave of his senses altogether. I should not be surprised 
 if he put an end to himself — and perhaps the best thing he could 
 do." 
 
 This unfeeling remark was received as a lively sally, and was 
 especially agreeable to Fairlie. 
 
 " Poor Gage ! I am very sorry for him," Fairlie observed ; " but 
 really there is nothing to be done. As my ward, I found him 
 utterly unmanageable; and since he got out of my control, you 
 know what his career has been." 
 
 " Well, at all events, Fairlie, you have profited by his folly," 
 Beau Freke observed. " If he had been more careful, you would 
 not be now sitting in his chair." 
 
 '^ Certainly not," Fairlie replied, wincing at the remark. ^^ His 
 improvidence has been a source of gain to me, most unquestionably 
 — ^but better I should profit than a stranger." 
 
 "Far better!" Brice Bunbury cried. "For my part I am de- 
 lighted to find that eminent deserts like yours have been adequately 
 rewarded. But now that you have assumed the rule and go- 
 vernance of the Castle, Fairlie, allow me to offer one suggestion. 
 Have that portrait removed." 
 
 And as he spoke he pointed to a full-length portrait of Warwick 
 de Monthermer suspended over the chimney-piece. 
 
 " The old squire," Brice continued, " doesn't seem to look upon 
 any of us with a very friendly eye, and he evidently regards you 
 as an intruder." 
 
 Fairlie endeavoured to laugh at this speech, but he succeeded 
 indifferently. Hitherto he had avoided looking at the portrait, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 28^ 
 
 but now, in spite of himself, his gaze was drawn towards it, and 
 he became deadly pale. 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Bunbury," he exclaimed. " That picture is 
 out of place. The dynasty is changed. No Monthermer govercs 
 here now, nor shall ever govern here again." 
 
 " Ay, ay," Brice shouted, laughing uproariously. " The Mon- 
 thermers are gone — never to return. Live Fairlie ! Live Fairlie !"^ 
 " Fairlie for ever !" echoed the other guests. 
 " A bumper to Fairlie, and his lovely bride that is to be," Sir 
 Randal exclaimed. 
 
 And the toast was drunk with fresh enthusiasm. 
 " I will mark my assumption of rule of the Castle by the re- 
 moval of that obnoxious picture," Fairlie cried, unable to brook, 
 the annoyance of its gaze. " Take it down ! " 
 
 "Yes, down with it!" Brice Bunbury echoed. "Down with 
 the Monthermers ! We have had enough of them. The dynasty 
 I^as changed — ha ! ha !" 
 
 " Do you not hear, rascals?" Fairlie cried to the servants. 
 " Take down that picture, I say?" 
 
 Three or four of them flew to obey the mandate, when at 
 this moment an interruption occurred. Pudsey, who had been 
 absent from the room, suddenly entered, and with alarm very 
 visibly painted on his countenance, approached Fairlie and whis- 
 pered in his ear, " He is come back, sir." 
 
 " He ! whom do you mean? Mr. Monthermer?" 
 " Yes, sir — he's coming straight to this room. Be on your guard, 
 sir. He means mischief — I'm sure of it, from his looks." 
 
 " Don't let him in, Pudsey," Fairlie rejoined, in alarm. " Shut 
 the door — bolt it — some violence will be done." 
 
 But ere the order could be obeyed, the door was thrown 
 open, and Monthermer stood before him. His countenance was 
 ashy pale, his looks stern and menacing, and his deportment 
 singularly majestic. All rose at his entrance, and every eye was 
 fixed inquiringly upon him and his companions — for he was not 
 unattended. Behind him stood Arthur Poynings, looking almost 
 as fierce and formidable as Monthermer himself, and close by 
 Arthur loomed the stalwart figure of Mark Rougham. 
 
 Alarmed as she was, and uncertain as to what might ensue, Mrs. 
 Jenyns could not help being greatly struck by Gage's appearance,. 
 
 u 
 
290 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 and thought she had never seen him look so strikingly handsome 
 before. 
 
 Monthermer was about to address Fairlie, when perceiving that 
 the servants were about to remove his father's portrait, he cried, in 
 accents that enforced obedience to the command, 
 
 " Let no one dare to disturb that picture." 
 
 " But I will have it taken down — I am master here," Fairlie 
 exclaimed, trembling partly with rage, partly with apprehension. 
 
 "Master!" Gage cried. "Do you venture to style yourself 
 master of this house in my hearing? Do you dare to usurp my 
 place ? Quit that chair instantly, villain, or, by Heaven, this mo- 
 ment is your last !" 
 
 And,. as he spoke, he drew a pistol and levelled it at Fairlie's 
 head. 
 
 Fairlie looked round, hoping some one would interfere, but 
 as no one stirred, he hastily quitted the chair, and got behind the 
 actress, placing her between him and the deadly weapon. 
 
 With a look of profound contempt, Monthermer replaced the 
 pistol in his belt. 
 
 "Why do you shrink back thus?" Mrs. Jenyns cried to Fairlie. 
 " Confront him ! I have no fear of him — why should you be 
 afraid?" 
 
 And she pushed him forward. 
 
 " I am glad you have put up your pistol, sir," Fairlie said, 
 abjectly, and cowering like a beaten hound before the other. "If 
 you have anything to say to me, I shall be happy to hear you — 
 not now — but at a more convenient opportunity." 
 
 " The present opportunity will serve for all I have to say to 
 you," Monthermer rejoined, with ineffable scorn; "and let those 
 who hear me mark my words, though your character is sufficiently 
 well known to most of them. I denounce you as a knave and 
 villain. Not only have you been guilty of foul ingratitude to 
 your benefactor, my father, who raised you from the menial position 
 to which you originally belonged, and took you into his con- 
 fidence — ^a confidence wliich you shamefully betrayed — but you 
 have committed a fraudulent act in suppressing his last will, and 
 substituting one of earlier date, which answered your purposes 
 better, inasmuch as, by constituting you my guardian, it placed 
 me in your power." 
 
Tha D«nuuciaUon — P 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 291 
 
 " It is false 1" Fairlie cried, roused by these charges — " I deny it." 
 
 " You usurped this trust, I say," Gage continued, " and you 
 put in execution a scheme you had contrived to possess yourself 
 of my property. And you succeeded. But think not you will be 
 suffered to enjoy your spoils. They will be wrested from you." 
 
 " These charges are unfounded. I deny them all, and defy you 
 to bring proofs of your slanderous accusations. Where is the will 
 you talk of? — where the evidence of my dishonest dealing?" 
 
 "Where is it?" Gage repeated. "Ask Mrs. Jenyns. Ask 
 your intended bride. She can produce the will, if she likes. She 
 first ofiered it to me, upon terms which I refused, but which you 
 accepted." 
 
 " You have no warrant for what you assert?" the actress cried. 
 
 "No warrant, say you, madam?" Gage rejoined. " I have your 
 own letter, written this morning, making me the oflfer. If I had 
 been as unscrupulous and debased as Faivlic, you would not now 
 stand by his side. But the wiles and artifices you have so often 
 successfully practised upon me failed you at last." 
 
 " I am glad I have come in for a share of the attack," Mrs. 
 Jenyns cried, " for I can defend myself. I can be at no loss to 
 divine whence these calumnies have originated, when I see before 
 me Mr. Arthur Poynings. It is not the first time he has dared to 
 slander me behind my back. If I had been a man, I would have 
 brought him to account; as it is, I can only tell him that he has 
 been guilty of deliberate falsehood." 
 
 " And if Mr. Arthur Poynings utters any more calumnies against 
 you, madam/' Sir Randal remarked, " leave your redress to me." 
 
 " A sharper is a fitting defender of a lady who is in the habit of 
 playing with loaded dice," Arthur rejoined ; " and I have no doubt 
 Sir Randal de Meschines, amongst his other accomplishments, can 
 play the part of bully. But I have other uses for my sword. I 
 only fight with gentlemen." 
 
 And wholly disregarding the furious looks and gestures of the 
 incensed baronet, he turned to Fairlie, and said, " Since you refuse 
 to listen to Mr. Monthermer, I give you notice that measures will 
 be taken against you to-morrow, which will compel the surrender 
 of your wrongfully-acquired possessions. Other proof of your 
 delinquency exists, besides the will unlawfully detained by Mrs. 
 Jenyns, and will be produced against you !" 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 "Ah! what means he?" Mrs. Jenyns mentally ejaculated. 
 " Can other proof really exist ? " 
 
 " Why not bring it forward now ? " Fairlie demanded. 
 
 " Because I have promised one who is no more to give you that 
 time of grace," Arthur answered. " You will understand what I 
 
 mean! 
 
 I» 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns looked Inquisitively at Fairlie, and was not without 
 misgivings on noticing his troubled looks. 
 
 "You have asked for evidence of your dishonest dealings," 
 Gage said to Fairlie. " I can bring fifty witnesses against you. 
 All the household can testify to your knavery. But I will point 
 out one who can fully expose you." 
 
 " Who is it? Let me see him?" Fairlie cried. 
 
 " He stands beside you," Gage replied, pointing to Pudsey. 
 
 " I, sir?" the butler stammered, utterly confounded. " I know 
 nothing against Mr. Fairlie — nothing whatever. I believe him to 
 be one of the most upright men breathing." 
 
 " Do you hear that, sir ?" Fairlie cried, eagerly. " Your own 
 witness turns against you." 
 
 " He will be glad to purchase his own safety by speaking the 
 truth," Gage rejoined. " But if he hesitates, others will be brought 
 forward." 
 
 "I defy you and all your witnesses!" Fairlie cried. "My 
 actions will bear the strictest scrutiny. So far from shrinking from 
 investigation, I court it." 
 
 At this juncture. Beau Freke stepped forward. 
 
 " An end must be put to this scene," he said. " A worthy man 
 like Mr. Fairlie ought not to be questioned thus. You have always 
 hitherto placed the greatest confidence in him, Monthermer — why 
 accuse him now ?" 
 
 Gage did not deign to answer the question, but looked sternly 
 at the speaker. In no wise abashed, however. Beau Freke pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " Is there no way of arranging the matter, Monthermer ? If you 
 consider yourself aggrieved, I am sure Mr. Fairlie will listen to 
 reason. But do not use intemperate language — do not bring 
 charges which cannot be sustained. Withdraw the accusation you 
 have brought against him, and perhaps a compromise may be 
 effected.' 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 293 
 
 Fairlie eagerly grasped at the chance oflfered him — hoping that 
 his powers of cajolery, which had been so often successful before, 
 might yet avail him. 
 
 " You judge me rightly, Mr. Freke," he said. " I bear Mr. 
 Monthermer no animosity, and am willing to overlook the insults 
 he has heaped upon me. I have always felt the greatest regard 
 for him — always desired to serve him. If he will adopt a different 
 tone, the dispute may possibly be accommodated." 
 
 " You cannot say more," Beau Freke remarked. " Allow me 
 to act as mediator, Monthermer ?' 
 
 " I decline your services, sir," Gage rejoined, scornfully. " Look 
 to yourself — you will have enough to do to clear your own cha- 
 racter. You are implicated in Fairlie's nefarious transactions." 
 
 " 'Sdeath, sir !" Beau Freke cried, furiously. " Do you dare to 
 asperse me ?" 
 
 "An accusation is not a calumny," Gage rejoined, gravely. 
 " What I assert I will substantiate. I charge you and your con- 
 federate. Sir Randal, with combining together to plunder me at 
 play — with cheating me — ay, cheating^ sir, I will not mince the 
 word — out of large sums, and sharing the profits with Fairlie, who 
 was a partner in the infamous plot." 
 
 "A lie! — a monstrous lie!" Beau Freke, ejaculated. "I will 
 Compel you to retract it at the point of the sword." 
 
 " Let him rave on — let him discharge his venom," Sir Randal 
 said. " We have both an account to settle with him." 
 
 " True," Gage rejoined; " and you shall both pay me — but not 
 in the way you suppose. I shall fight with other weapons than 
 tlie sword. You are the principal cheats — but there are others 
 who have defrauded me in a less degree." 
 
 " You do not point at me, I hope, sir?" Brice Bunbury said, 
 advancing a step or two forward. 
 
 " You are beneath my notice," Gage cried ; " a pander — a 
 parasite — a hanger-on — a poor gaming-house rook — the tool and 
 instrument of others ; the cheats I aim at are of higher mark — 
 and one of them has dishonoured a noble name." 
 
 " Your allusion to me is not to be mistaken, sir," Lord Melton 
 exclaimed. " Dare you insinuate that I have cheated you ?" 
 
 " You cheated in the horses you sold me ; you cheated me again 
 at Newmarket, and in every other transaction I have had with 
 
29*' THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 you," Gage rejoined. " But you are one and all a pack of rapa- 
 cious knaves and cozeners, of harpies and blood-suckers." 
 
 " Shall we stand quietly by, and hear ourselves abused thus ? " 
 Brice Bunbury cried, turning to tlie other guests behind him. 
 
 " No — no !" several voices responded. 
 
 " As long as he confined himself to Fairlie, it was all very 
 well," shouted a half- drunken squire; "but when he attacks us, 
 and calls us harpies and blood-suckers, we'll let him know who and 
 what we are. Harpies and blood-suckers ! nothing but blood can 
 wash out such opprobrious epithets." 
 
 "Do your worst," Gage rejoined, maintaining his firm attitude, 
 while Arthur and Mark Rougham drew nearer to support him, " I 
 shall not budge an inch !" 
 
 " Hold 1 hold !" Mrs. Jenyns interposed. " Let me say a word 
 to Mr. Monthermer. Perhaps I may be able to quell this tumult." 
 
 "What dy'e mean, madam? Would you betray me?" Fairlie 
 whispered. 
 
 But utterly heedless of him, Mrs. Jenyns advanced towards 
 Gage, and said, in a low tone, " Are you still walling to come to 
 terms with me? I can make you master here with a word." 
 
 "I am master here, madam, without your aid," he replied, 
 repulsing her from him. "I have done with you for ever!" 
 
 "You have failed with him, you see," Fairlie cried, grasping 
 her arm fiercely. " Mr. Monthermer," he continued, " you will 
 consult your own safety by instant departure — not merely from 
 this room, but from the house. If you tarry here longer, I will not 
 answer for the consequences." 
 
 "He shall not depart in this way. His insolence must not go 
 unpunished," Beau Freke cried. And a roar of voices seconded 
 the cry. 
 
 "Upon him! down with him !" they exclaimed. 
 
 " Back !" Gage cried. " I have done. I have denounced you 
 as a villain, Fairlie, and unmasked your confederates. I go. But 
 I shall return to-morrow as master of this house, and drive you and 
 this vile crew from it." 
 
 And as the words w^ere uttered, he stepped backwards towards 
 the door, keeping his eye fixed on those who were most eager to 
 assail him. His departure was facilitated by Mark Rougham, who 
 took his place as he retreated ; allowing Arthur to go out at the 
 same time. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 295 
 
 " Knock down that fellow," Fairlie cried, pointing to Mark, 
 who still maintained his stand at the door. 
 
 But Mark was not to be disposed of so easily. He kept his 
 assailants at bay for some moments with a knotty blackthorn stick, 
 which he had picked up in his passage through the hall, and 
 when at length he was overpowered by numbers and forced to 
 give way, Gage and Arthur had disappeared. 
 
 By this time the whole household was alarmed, and came pouring 
 into the entrance-hall, together with several other guests, who had 
 not been bidden to the collation. It was speedily ascertained that 
 Gage and Arthur had gone out at the back of the house, and taken 
 the direction of the stables. 
 
 " Why have you not stopped them ?" Fairlie demanded of the 
 domestics, who could only reply that they had no authority to do 
 so — and it seemed from their manner that they had no great in- 
 clination, either. Accompanied by a dozen of the most exasperated 
 of the guests, FairHe then set off towards the stables, breathing 
 vengeance. But they were disappointed of their prey, and only 
 arrived in time to see the two young men mount their steeds and 
 gallop off. 
 
 The only capture made was poor Mark Rougham, On his 
 return from the stables, Fairlie ordered him to be conveyed to the 
 strong-room, and locked up within it, till further orders. 
 
 As may be supposed, these occurrences threw the house into the 
 greatest confusion, and occasioned a vast deal of talk amongst both 
 guests and servants. Amongst the latter, with two or three ex- 
 ceptions, the. feeling was strongly in favour of Gage. All the 
 company who had partaken of the collation, so strangely inter- 
 rupted, returned to the dining-room, and sat down to a fresh supply 
 of claret, brought by Pudsey, but Mrs. Jenyns withdrew to her 
 own room, on the plea that her nerves had been a good deal shaken, 
 and as soon as he had seen the wine placed on the table, Fairlie 
 also retired, begging Sir Randal to do the honours for him. As 
 soon as he was gone, his affairs began to be freely discussed, and it 
 soon became evident that the majority thought rather badly of his 
 case, and were of opinion that Gage, since he was determined man- 
 fully to oppose him, would have the best of it. Several of the 
 party seemed so certain of this result, that they announced their 
 intention of leaving the Castle that night — unluckily, as regarded 
 
296 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 the execution of their design, they drank so much that they could 
 not even leave the room. Brice Bunbury stuck to the wine as 
 usual, but Sir Randal and Beau Freke were not amongst the late 
 sitters. Indeed, they only remained long enough to ascertain the 
 sentiments of the party, and having satisfied themselves on this 
 score, they left with Lord Melton. 
 
 As the trio stood together in the entrance-hall, Lord Melton 
 said to the others, 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, what are your plans? I have no special 
 fancy for witnessing the scene to-morrow, and shall be off at once." 
 
 " Your lordship is quite right to beat a retreat if you deem it 
 the more prudent course," Sir Randal replied, " but, for my part, I 
 have no sort of apprehension, and shall remain." 
 
 " And I shall stay, too," Beau Freke said. " Fairlie is not 
 beaten yet, and I don't think he will be, so I mean to stand by 
 him. Besides, our departure might be attributed to cowardice, 
 and as neither of us have incurred such an imputation as yet, we 
 won't run the risk now." 
 
 After an exchange of adieux they separated. Sir Randal and 
 Beau Freke slowly ascending the great staircase, while Lord Melton 
 summoned his servant, and ordered him to prepare his carriage 
 without delay. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 297 
 
 XLIX. 
 NIGHT AT TUE CASTLE. 
 
 On that evening a snug party was assembled in the butler's 
 private room, consisting of those whom Pudsey generally delighted 
 to honour. After supper, and a single bowl of punch, during tlie 
 consumption of which they discussed the events of the day, and 
 speculated as to the probable occurrences of the morrow, a table 
 was formed at the request of Messrs. Trickett and Tibbits, and 
 our card-loving butler sat down with them to piquet, hoping to 
 repair his losses on previous nights. But he was somewhat dis- 
 appointed in his expectations. The run of luck was constantly 
 against him, and he found himself no match for his clever opponents. 
 Long ago they had stripped him of all his money — but what 
 matter ? His debts of honour could be booked, his opponents 
 said — they would trust him to any amount. And besides, he 
 would probably win back all he had lost before they separated. 
 No such thing, however. He became seized, as Gage had often 
 been in days. happily gone by, with the delirium of gambling, and 
 went on doubling his stakes, in the hope of retrieving himself — 
 but it is needless to say, the hope was vain. The two rooks were 
 determined to fleece him — for it might possibly, they argued, be 
 their last opportunity of doing so. Bellairs and Chassemouche 
 were also losers — but not to an equal extent with Pudsey. The 
 first-named valet bore his ill-luck with great equanimity ; but the 
 Frenchman, on being informed that he had lost a hundred pounds, 
 threw himself into a transport of rage, plucked off his wig, trampled 
 it under foot, and committed a hundred other extravagances, which, 
 however, only excited the merriment of the beholders. So in- 
 fatuated was Pudsey that he would have continued to play all 
 night ; and no doubt his antagonists, who had it all their own way, 
 
298 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 would have been well pleased to humour him, but Bellairs broke 
 up the party by announcing his intention of retiring to roost. 
 
 " It's just twelve o'clock," he said, " and we shall have a busy 
 day to-morrow. I feel confoundedly sleepy." ^ 
 
 "Twelve o'clock!" Pudsey exclaimed. " Oddsbodikins ! you 
 don't say so ? I didn't think it had struck ten." 
 
 " Because you are such a gambler dat you take no account of 
 time," Chassemouche remarked. " Ma foi ! it would have been 
 better for you if you had left off an hour ago." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sir," the butler rejoined, sulkily. "If the 
 cards have been against me, I know how to bear my losses like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " To keep all clear, before we separate," Tibbits observed, 
 taking out his tablets, " I will make a note of the results of 
 the night's play. It stands thus : Mr. Pudsey has been unlucky, 
 certainly — but we shall always .be ready to give him his revenge — 
 and we have to put him down at 600/., or with the sum lost the 
 night before, and still unpaid, 750/. We shall let you off more 
 easily, Mr. Bellairs, and debit you with 200/. As to you, Mounseer 
 Shassy, your loss is a mere trifle — only 100/." 
 
 " Diantre ! you call a hundred pounds a mere trifle !" Chasse- 
 mouche exclaimed. " It may be so to you, who can win nearly a 
 thousand at a sitting; but to me the loss is ruin. Parbleu! it's 
 more than a year's wages." 
 
 "Poh, poh! it's a mere trifle, I repeat," Tibbits rejoined. 
 " You must learn to bear a reverse tranquilly. Take pattern by 
 Mr. Pudsey, who has lost just seven times as much as you, and 
 yet never utters a murmur." 
 
 "Mais, mille diables! Mr. Pudsey has a privy purse to dip 
 into, which I have not. My cash-box is empty." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you will find some expedient to fill it," Tibbits re- 
 turned. " A clever fellow like you, Mounseer Shassy, who knows 
 how to take advantage of an opportunity, is never long without 
 funds. We are not uneasy about you, are we, Trickett ?" 
 
 " Not in the .least," his confederate replied, with affected bon- 
 homie. Trickett then turned to the butler, and said : " You will 
 excuse my mentioning it, Mr. Pudsey, but as our stay here is 
 rather uncertain — and as we none of us know exactly how things 
 may turn out to-morrow — perhaps, under these circumstances, you 
 will make it convenient to pay us the 750/. in the morning." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 2911 
 
 " You are rather sharp upon me, methinks, gentlemen," the 
 butler rejoined. " However, you shan't go away empty-handed. 
 I will either pay you or give you my note for the amount." 
 
 " We should vastly prefer cash, Mr. Pudsey, if all the same to 
 you," Tibbits remarked. " We want the money — don't we, 
 Trickett?" winking at the other. 
 
 " We have the greatest need of it," Trickett replied. 
 " Have no fear," Pudsey observed. " Between ourselves, I have 
 concluded my arrangement with Fairlie." 
 
 " Bravo !" Trickett exclaimed. " But I hope you made him 
 come down. Nothing like time present in affairs of this sort." 
 
 "Pm quite aware of it," Pudsey rejoined, uneasily. "And 
 I mean to make him book up to-morrow morning " 
 
 " You will need to do so, since you have to book up yourself, 
 you know," Tibbits remarked, drily. '^ I thought you had been a 
 man of more prudence, Pudsey. Hush-money should be paid on 
 the nail. That's the rule. Things have taken a strange turn here 
 to-day, and may take a still stranger turn to-morrow. Fairlie 
 mayn't be able to pay you — or he mayn't think it worth while to 
 bribe you — there's no saying." 
 
 " You alarm'fne," Pudsey ejaculated. " Do you apprehend, then, 
 that the chances are in Mr. Monthermer's favour?" 
 
 " No, I don't say that, exactly. But suppose it should go 
 against Fairlie — where are you?" 
 
 "Ay, truly — where should I be?" Pudsey said. " In that view 
 of the case, Fd better side with Mr. Monthermer." 
 
 " Side with whomsoever will pay best, Pudsey ; that's my 
 maxim," Trickett remarked. 
 
 " And a deuced good maxim it is," the butler responded. " PU 
 see Fairlie before I go to bed." 
 
 " Why, it's half-past twelve," Trickett observed, looking at his 
 watch. "You won't venture to disturb him at so late an hour?" 
 
 "Won't I!" the butler exclaimed. "He must see me. Pm a 
 privileged person — you understand, eh?" And he laughed at his 
 own pleasantry. 
 
 "Oh yes, I understand," Trickett replied. " See him, by all 
 means — if you can. You'll then ascertain how the wind blows, 
 and can trim your sails accordingly." 
 
 "I know which way to trim mine," Bellairs said. "I shall go 
 over to my old master — that's the best card to play now." 
 
300 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " Fm with you," Chassemouche cried. " I'm a partisan of 
 Monthermer." 
 
 "Alia! traitors in the camp, I perceive," Trickett remarked. 
 " But don't be in too great a hurry to turn your coats, gentlemen. 
 Monthermer has right on his side, but he's not yet sure of the day 
 — though story-books will tell you that right always wins. And 
 now, good night, gentlemen — light slumbers and pleasant dreams 
 attend you! You won't forget the hundred to-morrow, Shassy?" 
 
 " Peste ! you destroy my chance of repose by mentioning it," the 
 Frenchman rejoined. "Pleasant dreams, i' faith! I shall have a 
 grand cauchemar." 
 
 Hereupon the company separated, and Pudsey was left alone. 
 
 After a few minutes' consideration, he determined to act up 
 to his boast. Though it was late, Fairlie might not, perhaps, 
 have retired to rest, as he frequently sat up after midnight — 
 and even if he had retired, he would make bold to rouse him. 
 Accordingly, he set out, and mounting the back staircase, soon 
 reached the great gallery upon which it opened, through a 
 small private door, scarcely to be distinguished from the adjoin- 
 ing oak panels. All was profoundly quiet, and the butler made 
 little noise as he moved along with stealthy steps. Arrived at 
 the door of Fairlie's chamber, he put his ear to the keyhole to 
 listen, and not distinguishing any sound, tapped softly. No answer. 
 He tapped again, rather more forcibly. Still, no answer ; and 
 then partly opening the door, he peeped in. The chamber was 
 vacant, and glancing towards the bed, he perceived it was unoc- 
 cupied. Perhaps Fairlie might be in the dressing-room? — but no, 
 the door communicating between the two rooms was open, and the 
 smaller chamber was empty. Where could he be gone? For a 
 moment, the idea flashed across the butler that the person he sought 
 had fled ; but he instantly dismissed the supposition. FairHe's ab- 
 sence, however, was strange and unaccountable. Should he await his 
 return? But if he did, might not Fairlie be indignant at his intru- 
 sion, and refuse to hear what he had to say. He would run this 
 hazard. So he entered the dressing-room. On casting his eyes 
 around, he perceived that the table was covered with bundles of 
 old bills, and after examining some of them, he found they consisted 
 of accounts relating to Gage— accounts which, it instantly flashed 
 upon him, would furnish most important evidence of the steward's 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 301 
 
 nefarious transactions. But there was still further evidence in 
 Fairlie's private ledger, whicli he discovered in removing the bills. 
 How this book — and how these bills came to be left so insecurely, 
 he could not comprehend. But they seemed destined to fall into 
 his hands, and to offer him the certainty of enriching himself He 
 did not hesitate a moment. He put such of the bundles as he 
 judged most important under his arm, and had just taken up the 
 ledger, when the door opened, and Fairlie came in. 
 
 A spectre could not have scared the rascally butler more than 
 the figure he now beheld, and he instantly let fall the things he 
 had appropriated. Apart from his alarm at being detected in his 
 knavery, Fairlie's ghastly looks were calculated to appal him. The 
 steward seemed more dead than alive — haggard, hollow-eyed, 
 broken down — Pudsey had not thought so great a change possible 
 in so short a time. But little space was allowed the butler for re- 
 flection, for on seeing him Fairlie seemed suddenly endowed with 
 preternatural vigour. Uttering a sharp, angry cry — almost a scream 
 —he sprang like a wild cat upon Pudsey, and seizing him by 
 the throat, clutched him with such force, that he forced him upon 
 his knees. 
 
 " Would you rob me, villain?" he shrieked. " Give up all you 
 have taken, instantly, or I will strangle you." 
 
 Pudsey 's throat was so tightly compressed that he was utterly 
 unable to speak. All he could do was to point to the ledger and 
 bundles upon the floor, intimating that he had abandoned his 
 spoil. Fairlie at length relinquished his grasp, and bade him 
 begone. 
 
 Pudsey tottered towards the door, and when he reached it he 
 stopped, and fixing a malicious and vindictive look upon Fairlie, 
 cried, " You have half killed me. But you will repent your vio- 
 lence to-morrow!" 
 
 " To-morrow ! " Fairlie echoed, glancing at him disdainfully. 
 " Who knows what may happen to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Ay, who knows?" Pudsey echoed. "But I know who will 
 be master here, and who will have the property, unless my mouth 
 be stopped — and only a thousand pounds can stop it. I must have 
 that sum in the morning, and I icill have it — or " 
 
 " Begone ! " Fairlie rejoined, imperiously. " Do not come 
 hither again on any pretence whatever till noon to-morrow. I 
 have much to do, and shall want repose." 
 
302 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 " And if I consent to liold my tongue I shall be requited, eh ? 
 — 'I shall have my reward ?" 
 
 " You shall have it in full," Falrlie rejoined, with a stern sig- 
 nificance not altogether to the butler's liking; but there was some- 
 thing in the other's manner that awed him, and he now yielded 
 to the imperious gesture that enjoined him to depart. On emerg- 
 ing into the great gallery he lingered for a short time, and would 
 have tarried longer, but he fancied he perceived through the gloom 
 a huge and mysterious-looking figure advance towards him, and 
 seized with superstitious terror, he hurried to the back staircase, 
 descended it with quick footsteps, and made the best of his way to 
 his own room. 
 
 The huge, mysterious figure was no other than honest Mark 
 Rougham. But in order to explain how he chanced to be there, 
 we must go back to an earlier period of the night. 
 
 On leaving his guests, Fairlie had proceeded to his own room, 
 where he sat down and pondered over the events of tlie day. He 
 had matter enough, as we know, for serious reflection. The mag- 
 nificent pile he had reared with so much care wanted stability, 
 and seemed tumbling about his ears. The riches he had accumu- 
 lated vanished at his touch. Fortune had played him false, and 
 had beguiled him with a semblance of success, only to make Ms 
 fall the greater. No sooner had he proclaimed himself master of 
 Monthermer Castle and its domains than his title was contested, 
 and he was compelled — ignominiously compelled — to abandon his 
 seat. And what would be the result of the measures taken against 
 him on the morrow ? Could he stand his ground ? In his first 
 sangume view of the situation he thought so ; but reflection shook 
 his confidence, and he grew more and more disheartened. He 
 Avas surrounded by a set of greedy hireUngs, who would not 
 scruple to betray him. Then again the unexpected resolution 
 which Gage had displayed, coupled with the justice of his cause, 
 these struck terror into his soul, and forced upon him the convic- 
 tion that he should be worsted. And what if his delinquencies 
 should be proved — and he should be cast forth with shame ? He 
 trembled at the thought, and hid his face in his hands. 
 
 He was roused by hearing some one sobbing near him, and 
 raising his eyes, he beheld Lettice Rougham. The poor girl 
 looked the very picture of distress, and was so profoundly afflicted 
 
 t 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 303 
 
 that it was some minutes before she could command her utterance. 
 At last, she spoke in a voice almost broken by emotion: 
 
 " The letter you have received, sir, would prepare you for the 
 sad tidings I liave to communicate ; for, according to my poor 
 lady's desire, it was not to be delivered until after her death. Oh, 
 sir, hers was a peaceful end — a joyful end! — and it is happy for 
 her that she is removed from a life of trouble, and gone to a better 
 world. She fully forgave you, sir, and prayed for you in terms 
 that must have softened your heart if you had heard her. It was 
 her wish that you should see her when all was over. And I'm sure 
 it will do you good to behold her angelic features. Will you 
 come with me ?" 
 
 " Not now — not now. I am not equal to it," Fairlie groaned. 
 " Later on, perhaps, — later on." 
 
 " As you will, sir," Lettice replied ; " but, oh ! do not fail to 
 come ; and at any hour, for we shall watch by her throughout the 
 night." 
 
 " Who is with her ? " Fairlie inquired. 
 
 " Miss Poynings," Lettice replied. " My poor lady died in her 
 arms." 
 
 Fairlie turned away his head, and Lettice departed. 
 
 For some time, Fairlie was utterly crushed. At last he shook 
 off his emotion,' and arose with a fierce and defiant countenance. 
 He would never yield, be the consequences of resistance what 
 they might ! He defied them all — Gage, Arthur, Sir Hugh — 
 all ! ' He strode to and fro within the room, becoming each minute 
 more and more excited. The blood mounted to his brain, and 
 almost obscured his reason. He uttered wild and impious ejacu- 
 lations, accompanied by strange, discordant laughter. Suddenly 
 he staggered, as if a crushing blow had been dealt him — uttered a 
 single cry — and putting his hands out to save himself — fell prostrate 
 on the floor. 
 
 No one came to his aid, for no one knew what had befallen 
 him, and it was long before he recovered. With great difli- 
 culty he regained his feet, for his limbs at first refused their 
 office, and for some time continued benumbed and stiff. After 
 a while, he managed to crawl towards a glass, and he could not 
 repress a cry on perceiving the fearful change that had taken place 
 in his aspect. He then bethought him of the warning he had re- 
 
304 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 ceived from his daughter, and how prophetically she had spoken, 
 ■when she said that he might be summoned suddenly to his 
 account, and no preparation made. Perhaps he had been spared 
 for a short space at her intercession, in order to enable him to 
 make this preparation, and it behoved him not to neglect the 
 opportunity. Certainly, it was a wonder he had not died. 
 Another such shock would infallibly kill him ; and the final 
 blow he felt equally sure would not long be delayed. A total 
 revulsion had now taken place in his feelings, and he was 
 just as eager to repair the wrongs he had committed, as he 
 had lately been to uphold them. If Gage had been present, he 
 would have confessed all to him, and implored his pardon. At all 
 events, he could make ample reparation on the morrow. But 
 what if another and severer attack should occur in the interim, 
 and deprive him of his faculties, or perhaps of life itself ? No, 
 justice must be done, and without delay. 
 
 With this design, he unlocked a chest, and took from it certain 
 bundles of bills of which he knew tlie importance, together with 
 his private ledger, placing them on the table to be ready for 
 delivery to Gage — or where they might be found by him in case 
 his own dreadful presentiments should be verified. 
 
 He next wrote a letter, wherein he confessed all the wrongs he 
 had done; and intimating that he desired to make the best atone- 
 ment in his power, surrendered the whole of the Monthermer 
 property to Gage. This document signed, he enclosed it in a 
 sheet of paper, sealed the packet, and directed it to Gage. A 
 great weight seemed taken from his breast, and death, whose near 
 approach he had hitherto viewed with indescribable alarm, had 
 now lost much of its terror. But he had another document to 
 prepare — his will — and he set about it at once. It was brief, and 
 speedily completed. But it must be executed in the presence of 
 witnesses, and in order to find these he must go below. Accord- 
 ingly, he placed both the documents he had prepared in his breast, 
 and went forth. As he proceeded along the grand gallery, he 
 perceived two female figures approaching him, one of whom bore 
 a light, and instantly recognised in them Mrs. Jenyns and her at- 
 tendant, Davies. He would have avoided them, if possible, but 
 on seeing him the actress quickened her steps, and was almost in- 
 stantly close beside him. 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 305 
 
 "I was coming to you, Mr. Fairlie," she cried. " I have some- 
 thing of importance to say to you." 
 
 "Another time, madam," he rejoined, coldly. "I have business 
 on hand now." 
 
 " Ah ! but another time won't do," she cried. " I must have 
 an answer at once." 
 
 '' An answer to what question?" he returned. 
 
 '* Stand aside, Davies." And as the attendant retired, Mrs. 
 Jenyns added, " Circumstances may prevent our marriage to- 
 morrow. Are you willing to buy this precious document from me 
 to-night?" 
 
 " Squire Warwick's will !" Fairlie exclaimed, starting. And then 
 crushing the thought which the temptress had roused, he added, 
 " No, madam. It is useless to me now. I care not for it." 
 
 " Ah !" she exclaimed, "you have formed some new plans, and 
 fancy yourself secure. You think to juggle and cheat me, as you 
 have juggled and cheated Gage, but you will find yourself mis- 
 taken. If I had married you, I would have made you the scoff of 
 the county." 
 
 " It is well that I have escaped your snares, then." 
 
 "You have escaped this fate, but you have not escaped me, 
 and you shall not do so. If I can have nothing else, I will have 
 revenge. This is no idle menace, as you will find. Reflect upon 
 it — sleep upon it, if you can. To-morrow morning I shall require 
 an answer." And she hurried off with her attendant, while Fairlie 
 slowly followed, and descended the great staircase. 
 
 On reaching the entrance-hall, he found some of the guests 
 assembled there, with bed-candles in hand, talking together before 
 they retired to rest, and he begged three of them to do him the 
 favour to accompany him to the library, and witness the execution 
 of his will. They laughed at the request, but readily complied, 
 and- the will was duly signed and attested. 
 
 Fairlie thanked them for the service, bade them good night, 
 and the three gentlemen went away, wondering why he should 
 be so urgent about his will, though they admitted to each other 
 that there might be some necessity for the step, since he looked ex- 
 ceedingly ill. 
 
 Fairlie's next business was to liberate Mark Rougham. Procuring 
 a key from a man-servant named Blackford, who slept on the ground- 
 
 X 
 
306 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 floor, and whose chamber he visited for the purpose, he unlocked 
 the door of the strong-room, and discovered Mark reclining against 
 the wall, in a corner, fast asleep. Fairlie envied him the sound- 
 ness of his slumbers, but he interrupted them, shaking him with 
 some force, and at last succeeded in awakening him. Mark rubbed 
 his eyes, and seemed not a little surprised when he found who 
 had disturbed him, but his wonder increased when he heard what 
 Fairlie had to say to him, and fancied he must still be dreaming. 
 However, he became convinced at last that he was wide awake, 
 and, springing to his feet, declared he was ready to do whatever he 
 was directed. 
 
 " I am glad you have made up your mind to act rightly, sir, 
 and make amends," he said ; " it will be a comfort to you on your 
 death-bed. Now gi' me your orders, and I'll obey 'em." 
 
 " First of all you must have something to eat," Fairlie said, 
 " for you will have to stand guard at my bedroom door during the 
 whole of the night, and will need support." 
 
 " Well, I shan't object to a mouthful of meat and a glass of ale, 
 seein' as how I've had no supper," Mark rejoined; " but I want no 
 more sleep, for I've had plenty of that to last me till to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 Fairlie then led him to the servants' -hall, in the midst of which 
 stood a long table, covered with the remains of a plentiful supper. 
 The room was quite deserted — all the servants having long since 
 retired to rest. Mark did not require pressing to commence an 
 attack upon a cold round of beef, and Fairlie, having filled a large 
 jug of ale from a cask which stood in an adjoining cupboard, set 
 it before him, and telling him when he had concluded his meal to 
 come up to the long gallery, he left him. 
 
 Fairlie then went back to Blackford's chamber, and told him that 
 he must rise at early dawn, and unfurl the great banner emblazoned 
 with the Monthermer arms from the flagstaff. 
 
 " Why, that banner hasn't been displayed since the young squire 
 — I beg your pardon for naming him — came of age," Blackford 
 replied. " It will bring all the tenantry to the Castle. They'll 
 look upon it as a signal." 
 
 " Never heed that," Fairlie rejoined. " Do as I bid you." 
 
 " Rest easy, sir ; I won't fail. Ill call Tom Loes at peep of day. 
 He knows where the banner is kept — and we'll hoist it." 
 
THE SPENDTHEIFT. 307 
 
 Fairlie then withdrew, and returned to his own room. On 
 entering it, he discovered the butler, as we have already related. 
 
 Fairlie had not sought his chamber to rest within it. More re- 
 mained to be done, and he now only awaited the appearance of Mark 
 Rougham to set forth on a sad errand. While hardened in guilt, 
 and impenitent, he had not dared to look upon the inanimate fea- 
 tures of his daughter. He had sent away Lettice without even 
 promising to fulfil her dying mistress's wish. Now he felt that it 
 was a sacred and solemn duty to fulfil it. 
 
 Presently, he heard Mark's footsteps in the gallery, and came 
 out to him. Bidding him station himself at the door, and not 
 allow any one to enter his room during his absence, he again 
 descended to the lower part of the house, quitted it by the glass 
 door opening from the library upon the lawn, and shaped his 
 course towards the Ivy Tower. 
 
 x2 
 
308 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 ATONEllENT. 
 
 He stood before the tower. A feeble liglit glimmered from a 
 narrow loophole. The light was burning in her room. He passed 
 through the arched entrance, ascended the spiral staircase, and 
 paused to draw breath. Another step would place him in the pre- 
 sence of the dead. But his approach had been heard ; the door was 
 opened by Lettice Rougham^ and he rushed into the room. 
 
 He saw only one object — a marble figure stretched upon the 
 couch — and, uttering a cry of anguish and despair, he sprang 
 towards it, flung himself upon his knees, and taking her hand, 
 pressed his lips to the clay-cold fingers — passionately imploring 
 forgiveness. 
 
 After a while he became calmer. He arose, and with bowed 
 head regarded his child. Yes, there she lay — she who had once 
 honoured him — had loved him always, and whose latest breath 
 had exhaled in prayer for him. There she lay ! — placidly beautiful 
 — an angelic smile on her lips — her dark hair unloosed, and wan- 
 dering over her neck and bosom, and contrasting with the marble 
 whiteness of her skin. 
 
 There she lay! — his only child — his only relative — the pride of 
 his heart — cut off in the morning of life, in her bloom and beauty 
 — destroyed by him — by her father ! For had not she herself told 
 him that the dread secret he had imposed upon her had killed 
 her ? His crime had weighed her down, and brought her to that 
 bed of death ! Madness was in the thought. 
 
 But, look again ! — ay, he must look again, for he could not with- 
 draw his gaze. The sight fascinated him. There she lay ! — the 
 virtuous, the irreproachable daughter of a wretched, guilty sire, 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 309 
 
 whose greatest misfortune had been that she was his child — whose 
 only fault was that she had obeyed his sinful injunctions ! Ye?, 
 there she lay ! — gone ! — lost to him for ever I 
 
 Forgiveness ! oh, forgiveness I 
 
 Again he knelt down by the couch, and clasped the icy hand. 
 His groans and remorseful ejaculations made those who listened 
 shake with terror. 
 
 But his grief was too violent to last long. Quitting his kneel- 
 ing posture he looked round, and for the first time became aware 
 that Lettice had a female companion. He could scarcely distin- 
 guish her, for she had withdrawn to the further corner of the 
 room ; but he knew who it must be. Who but Lucy Poynings 
 could be there at such an hour — at such a season ? 
 
 Slowly approaching Lucy, he said, in a voice of profound emo- 
 tion, which, was not without eficct upon the hearer, notwithstand- 
 ing the repugnance she felt towards him, 
 
 "I thank you. Miss Poynings, from the bottom of my heart, for 
 the devoted attention you have shown to my lost child. You have 
 been more than a sister to her, and have supplied that affection 
 which she had a riglit to expect from me — but which (alas !) she 
 never experienced. You knew her well, and appreciated her noble 
 qualities. Though unworthy of it, I was not ignorant of the in- 
 estimable value of the treasure entrusted to my charge — but 1 
 blindly cast it away in the search after earthly dross. But having 
 witnessed my anguish, you will understand the depth oi my re- 
 morse." 
 
 Here he paused for a moment, and then continued with a 
 solemnity so profoundly impressive^ as to leave no doubt of his sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 " Hear me, both of you," he cried, " and mark well my words ! 
 I ask no pity from you, for I deserve none; but do not turn 
 away till you have heard me out. I am a wretched, miserable 
 man, condemned of Heaven and my fellows. I have been guilty of 
 the basest and blackest ingratitude to my benefactor, and have 
 committed many offences, but that which lies heaviest on my soul 
 is my daughter's death. I have raised no hand against her, but 
 I feel, not the less, that I have brought her to an untimely grave. 
 Can guilt be greater than mine? Can I hope for pardon?" 
 
 " Yes, if you make atonement for the wrongs you have com- 
 
310 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 mitted, pardon will not be denied you," Lucy rejoined. " It was 
 your daughter's last hope that you might be brought to a state of 
 penitence." 
 
 "I am penitent — truly penitent," Fairlie cried, "and I will 
 make all the atonement in my power. Herein," he continued, 
 taking the sealed packet from his breast, " I have confessed the 
 wrongs I have done to Gage Monthermer, and have given back all 
 the property I have unjustly acquired from him. So far I have 
 obeyed my daughter's dying injunctions. The packet will be 
 found by Gage to-morrow. But this is not all; and I again pray 
 of you to attend to me, for what I have next to say concerns you 
 both." 
 
 " Concerns us !" Lucy exclaimed, in surprise. " In what, 
 way ?" 
 
 "You shall hear. I have other property, which I may 
 rightfully call my own, inasmuch as it was gained by honest 
 means before the death of my benefactor, Warwick Monthermer. 
 This property is not inconsiderable, and would have contented me, 
 had my wishes been moderate. But let that pass. I am alone in 
 the world — without relative or friend. My daughter has been taken 
 from me. But I desire to fulfil her wishes, and to make such dis- 
 position of my property as maybe in entire accordance with them. 
 I shall therefore leave it to those who loved her, whom she loved, 
 and who merited her love. I address myself first to you, Lucy 
 Poynings, as her best and dearest friend. Nay, hear me out. It 
 is not my voice, but the voice of my poor child, that now addresses 
 you. I have left the whole of this property to you — subject to 
 certain charges, which I will specify anon. Take it as a gift 
 from Clare. Happily, you do not need wealth ; but it will consti- 
 tute a marriage portion, and if hereafter — when his reformation 
 has been proved — you should (fortunately for him) bestow your 
 hand upon Gage, the bequest will have accomplished its object." 
 
 " Oh, sir ! speak not thus !" Lucy exclaimed. 
 
 " Such I know was my daughter's wish," Fairlie pursued. 
 " And now as to the charges I mentioned. They are but two in 
 number. The first is a marriage portion to this maiden — my 
 daughter's attached and faithful attendant, Lettice Rougham. The 
 few hundreds left her will but inadequately repay her services. 
 The remaining bequest is of a sum of money suflGlcient to purchase 
 
THE SPENDXnEIFT. 311 
 
 Cowbridge Farm, of which I unjustly dispossessed Lettice's father, 
 Mark Rougham, and which I now leave to that worthy man. 
 Except these charges," he added to Lucy, " all the rest is yours." 
 
 " I will not question what you have thought fit to do, because 
 this is not a fitting moment for such discussion," Lucy rejoined; 
 " but you speak of your will as if it were to take effect imme- 
 diately. You may live for years." 
 
 "Lucy Poynings," Fairlie said, with increased solemnity, 
 " many hours will not elapse ere I shall join my daughter. I 
 have received a warning not to be mistaken. The sun will not 
 arise and find me among the living. But Heaven be praised! 
 I have made my preparations. I have done what lies in me to 
 expiate my ofiences." 
 
 He then moved slowly towards the bed, and looking down 
 tenderly upon his child, said, in a low tone, " Art thou content ' 
 with me, my daughter ? Have I obeyed thy wishes in all things ? 
 Speak to me! oh, speak to me!" he ejaculated, yielding to the 
 passionate impulse, and clasping the inanimate form in his arms. 
 
 " I answer for her," Lucy said. ^' She is content with you. 
 Regard well her features — and see if they smile not approval." 
 
 " They do — they do," Fairlie rejoined. " They speak forgive- 
 ness. Leave me alone with her for a short space, I implore of you. 
 I would pray by her side." 
 
 Thus exhorted, Lucy and her companion withdrew, and pro- 
 ceeded to an upper chamber in the tower. Both were moved to 
 tears, and Lettice sobbed audibly. 
 
 When they were gone, Fairlie knelt by tlie bedside, and prayed 
 fervently. While thus engaged, he fell into a sort of trance, 
 during which he imagined that his daughter appeared to him, 
 with looks of celestial beauty, and a smile beaming of Paradise, 
 telHng him he was forgiven. He was still in this state of ecstasy 
 when Lucy and her companion came down again. On hearing 
 them enter the chamber he arose. 
 
 " I have seen her !" he cried, " She has promised me pardon." 
 
 Lucy said nothing in contradiction, for she feared liis reason was 
 disturbed. 
 
 " And now I have done," he continued. " I commit her dear 
 remains to your charge. You will see the last rites performed. I 
 shall return to my own room, which I shall never quit again till I 
 
312 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 am taken from it. She has assured me I shall speedily join her. 
 And now mark my last words. The documents I have mentioned 
 — the confession and the will — will be found near me, when Gage 
 comes to-morrow morning to the Castle. Farewell!" 
 
 And once more bending down before his daughter, and pressing 
 his lips to her hand, he quitted the chamber. 
 
 Strength seemed to have been granted him for the effort he had 
 made — and for this effort only — for it was with the utmost difficulty 
 he regained the Castle, and on reaching the foot of the great staircase 
 he fell with a groan. Luckily, Mark Rougham heard him, from 
 the long gallery where he was stationed, and hastily descending, 
 carried him up the staircase. By his own desire Mark helped him 
 to his dressing-room, where he sank quite exhausted into a chair. 
 
 "You will be better for some restorative," Mark said, greatly 
 alarmed at his appearance, for he really believed him to be dying 
 
 "No — no — I want nothing. Leave me," Fairlie said, feebly. 
 
 " But I can't find i' my heart to leave you i' this state," Mark 
 rejoined. 
 
 "Go, I beg of you — nay, I insist," Fairlie said. " Keep watch 
 as I have directed in the gallery, and do not let any one enter my 
 room till Mr Monthermer's arrival to-morrow. He will find all 
 ready for him." 
 
 " He won't find you alive, I'm thinkin'," Mark muttered, as he 
 reluctantly withdrew. 
 
 Left alone, Fairlie mustered all his remaining strength for a final 
 effort. He locked the doors of his bed-chamber and dressing-room 
 — took out the two packets he had prepared — laid them on the 
 table, and extinguished the light. 
 
 Darkness and the voice of prayer. Presently the voice was 
 hushed, and there was a deep sigh. Then profound silence reigned 
 amidst the srloom. . • 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 313 
 
 LI 
 
 MOEN AT THE CASTLE. 
 
 The long, dread night is past, and mom is come. The new- 
 risen sun shines brightly upon the lordly groves near the Castle, 
 and disperses the white mists hanging over the marshy grounds 
 in the valleys. In the park the deer come tripping forth from 
 their coverts in the fern-brakes, and their slim figures and branch- 
 ing horns can be distinctly discerned as they cross the lengthening 
 glades. All nature is speedily aroused by the kindling beams of 
 the beneficent luminary. 
 
 But not alone does sunshine glitter upon grove and landscape ; 
 it gilds the proud vanes on the Castle, glitters on its many windows, 
 and clothes the magnificent fabric with splendour. The grand old 
 pile puts on its most imposing aspect. But as yet there is little 
 stir within. The God of Day peers in at the upper windows, and 
 espies drowsy menials slumbering off nocturnal potations. He tries 
 to look in at windows lower down, but thick curtains impede his 
 gaze. If he could pierce through these, he would behold the 
 gambler dreaming that his luck has deserted him — the epicure 
 groaning from a surfeit — the bacchanalian fevered by excess of 
 wine — the actress terrified by fancies that her beauty and fasci- 
 nations have fled. These persons are safe from the sun's scrutiny. 
 But into one room he looks steadily, and with an inquisitive eye. 
 What sees he there ? A kneeling figure — kneeling, but in a strange 
 posture, with hands extended, and head dropped upon the chair. 
 He pours his radiance upon it. But it moves not. It feels no 
 revivificating heat. The eyes will never again open to the light 
 of day. So the sunbeams fly from it and settle upon the table — * 
 lighting up two sealed packets — and an extinguished taper — the 
 emblem of the motionless figure at the chair. 
 
314 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 But not alone does the sunlight glorify and gladden the Castle 
 — it gleams on all around it — on the smooth velvet lawns, where 
 gardeners are already at work with scythe and roller, pursuing 
 their task gleefully — on the parterres — on the stately terraces, 
 where other gardeners may be seen wending to their work — on the 
 orchards — the stables, and outbuildings — on the grey walls of the 
 ancient Castle — and on the Ivy Tower. 
 
 Why does the sunlight settle on that narrow loophole ? Would 
 it look into another chamber of death ? Would it know what 
 is passing there ? A slanting beam shoots in through the 
 narrow aperture and falls upon a marble countenance, giving the 
 white transparent skin an indescribable beauty, and encircling the 
 head and its crown of dark hair with a nimbus of glory like a saint. 
 Two persons are beside that bed. One, overcome by fatigue, is 
 wrapped in slumber. The other watches with admiration the 
 magical effect of the sunbeams on the features of the dead. Never 
 has she seen aught so seraphic in expression — so effluent of beati- 
 tude, as that countenance. As she gazes, a conviction crosses the 
 watcher that the spirit of her departed friend is hovering near her, 
 whispering that she is about to Tving her flight to Heaven. All 
 she has stayed for on earth is accomplished. Even as the thought 
 crosses the beholder, the stream of sunlight has left the face — the 
 effulgence vanishes from brow and hair — and the marble features 
 resume their rigidity. Filled with unspeakable joy, the watcher 
 kneels by the couch and prays. 
 
 Meanwhile, the sun shines brightly on the Castle and its broad 
 domains ; and many of the tenantry who look towards it are struck 
 with surprise as they see, floating from the tall flagstaff on the roof, 
 a banner displaying the arms of Monthermer. The sight diffuses 
 universal joy throughout the whole of Monthermer's domains, for 
 all who behold it look upon it as a harbinger of the young squire's 
 restoration. He has come to his own again. He has defeated the 
 unjust steward. None have any love for Fairlie, and therefore all 
 rejoice in his downfal. With all his faults, Gage is a favoxirite with 
 the tenantry. They like him for his father's sake, whose memory 
 is universally revered ; and though not insensible to his errors, they 
 regard them with a lenient eye. He has had bad counsellors ; and 
 his guardian, who should have screened him from it, has thrown 
 temptation in his path. Thus they reason, and, from a variety of 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 315 
 
 causes, are overjoyed that a Monthermer will still rule over them. 
 To this joy, their own escsape from Fairlie naturally contributes. 
 They all know what they had to expect from that hard, griping 
 man. 
 
 Rumours have spread abroad — with the unaccountable rapidity 
 with which rumour always travels, as if wafted through the 
 air — of the disturbance that took' place at the Castle on the 
 previous day; and it is said that on the day, which has just 
 commenced, Gage, who has gone over to Reedham with young 
 Arthur Poynings, is to return to the house of his ancestors, 
 and drive the intruder fl-om it. Their best wishes are with him ; 
 and when they behold this banner — a flag first used by Squire 
 Warwick on the occasion of his son's birth, when it gave the 
 signal to all beholders that he kept open house — floating from 
 the summit of the Castle, they make sure that their hopes will be 
 realised. Fairlie, they imagine, would never willingly permit the 
 Aug to be unfurled. Little do they think that it was he who com- 
 manded its display. However, they regard its appearance as a 
 favourable omen, and one and all accept it as a signal to flock to 
 the Castle. 
 
 Thus the farmers, for miles and miles around, leave their work 
 and return to their homes, to tell their wives that the old flag is 
 floating from the Castle, and that they must go thither to see what 
 it means. So they don their best attire, and prepare to set forth. 
 Mounted on rough steeds — all stout Suffolk punches — they take 
 their way through the lanes leading to the Castle, their numbers gra- 
 dually increasing, until they form a troop of nigh two hundred horse- 
 men — a formidable band — and many of them declare that if the 
 young squire wants a hand to set him in his place again, he will 
 easily find it. The elders amongst them talk much of Squire 
 Warwick, and of the loss they sustained in his sudden death. 
 Ah! if he had but been spared, some of these greybeards say, 
 his son would have been a different person. A father would have 
 watched over him in his youth, and not encouraged him in his 
 follies like Muster Fairlie. All these seniors express a hope that at 
 last the young squire has sown his wild oats, in which case nothing 
 more ought be said against him. But young and old confidently 
 predict that Fairlie will be defeated, and the county rid of liim. 
 They little think that the object of their detestation is incapable 
 
316 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 of doing them further harm, or they might be more charitable in 
 their remarks. As it is, there is not a word of ill spoken by any 
 one against his daughter — who is equally beyond applause or cen- 
 sure. On the contrary, every tongue wags in her praise. 
 
 Chatting in this way, they enter the park, and ride slowly along 
 the broad and extensive avenue leading towards the Castle, from 
 the windows of which their approach is viewed with astonishment. 
 Arrived within a bowshot of the mansion, they come to a halt, 
 and after a little consultation with their leader — an old farmer 
 named Wingfield — they dismount, and lead their horses to the side 
 of the road, while one or two of their number are despatched to 
 the house to ascertain how matters stand. 
 
 "W-ithin the Castle all is confusion and insubordination. A 
 downright rebellion seems to have broken out amongst the house- 
 hold, and it is difhcult — if not impossible — to get an order obeyed. 
 Pudsey, who has latterly acted as a sort of major-domo to Fairlie, 
 and exercised supreme command over the servants, has lost all 
 authority. 
 
 The butler has had a quarrel and a fight. After a loud and 
 angry altercation with Messrs. Trickett and Tibbits, who having 
 called upon him to pay the money he had lost to them, and 
 not being able to obtain it, had termed him a miserable shuffler 
 and a cheat, besides applying other opprobrious epithets to him, 
 he had given them both the lie, and defied them to fistic 
 combat. Tibbits accepted the challenge ; and at the same moment 
 another fight was got up between Trickett and Chassemouche 
 — the Frenchman having resented the application made to him 
 for his debt of honour. Chassemouche would fain have had re- 
 course to the sword, as the only proper and gentlemanlike weapon 
 wherewith to settle a quarrel, but this being refused, he was 
 compelled to box. Needless to say that a few well-delivered 
 hits put him liors de combat. But he was speedily and com- 
 pletely avenged a few minutes later, when a set-to took place 
 between Bellairs and the victor. In this encounter Trickett got 
 the worst of it, and was very severely handled by his antagonist, 
 for, fine gentleman as he was, Bellairs exhibited remarkable pro- 
 ficiency in pugilistic science. Tibbits was equally well punished 
 by the butler, who knocked out two of his teeth and cut 
 open his mouth, after a dozen well-contested rounds. Pudsey's own 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 317 
 
 countenance bore pretty strong evidences of the fray, liis huge 
 copper-coloured nose being darkened to an inky dye, and swollen 
 to twice its usual dimensions; but this he did not mind at the 
 moment. These conflicts took place at an early hour, in the back 
 yard near the stables. After the fight, the butler withdrew to his 
 own room to repair his damaged features as well as he could; and 
 from this moment, as we have stated, his authority ended. When 
 he came forth again, with a piece of brown paper, steeped in 
 brandy, fixed to his swollen proboscis, all the servants laughed 
 at him, but none of them would do his bidding. 
 
 Never was such downright rebellion. The cook and her assistants 
 refused to prepare breakfast for the guests up-stairs, and the other 
 servants said they wouldn't wait upon them. They might shift for 
 tliemselves for what they cared. As to Mrs. Jenyns, the women 
 declared they were not going to wait upon the like of her ! They 
 wouldn't even let that forward hussy, Mrs. Davie?, who made so 
 free with the men, enter the servants'-hall. In vain Mr. Pudsey 
 warned them that if they continued this disobedient conduct Mr. 
 Fairlie would infallibly discharge them all. They didn't acknow- 
 ledge Mr. Fairlie as master. And if Mr. Fairlie teas master — as 
 the butler pretended — why didn't he show himself — why did he 
 keep his room, and order himself not to be disturbed before 
 noon ? Pudsey couldn't exactly answer this question. He owned 
 he thought it rather odd and injudicious, but Mr. Fairlie no 
 doubt had his reasons for what he did. This solution satisfied 
 nobody. They had seen Mark Rougham stationed at Mr. Fairlie's 
 door, and Mark had told them that Mr. Fairlie was not to be 
 disturbed, on any account, till Mr. Monthermer's arrival. What 
 did that mean? The butler couldn't say. Why had Blackford 
 and Loes unfurled the great banner? Mr. Pudsey couldn't answer 
 that question. But he would have the banner pulled down. A 
 dozen eager tongues, however, told him that this v/ould not be 
 permitted. In short, it became manifest to Pudsey that Fairlie's 
 control over the house had altogether ceased, and tliat he, as his 
 delegate, could no longer act. He therefore withdrew, since his 
 orders were only treated with disrespect and derision. Not know- 
 ing exactly what to do, and beginning to feel considerable un- 
 easiness as to the result of the day, he proceeded to the great 
 gallery with the fixed determination of having an interview with 
 
318 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Fairlie. But Mark Rougham was still there, and would not 
 suffer him to approach; and as Mark was now supported by 
 Blackford and Loes, Mr. Pudsey found himself in a minority, and 
 was compelled to retire. 
 
 By this time, some of the guests who had passed the night at 
 the Castle began to make their appearance, and all. of them ex- 
 pressed their dissatisfaction at the way in which they had been 
 treated. Loudly and repeatedly as they had rung their bells, no 
 one had come near them. Where were the valets? — where was 
 the perruquier? Not a coat was brushed, not a wig dressed, 
 not a shoe cleaned. Never was such shameful neglect. And 
 where were they to breakfast? Not in the dining-room, that was 
 impossible ! The table was covered with bottles and glasses, with 
 a great punch-bowl in the centre, and the room reeked of tobacco. 
 
 The slumbering sots who had made their couch upon the 
 floor were awakened by the entrance of the others, rubbed their 
 eyes, and asked for their morning draught, but no one would bring 
 them a tankard of ale. The guests then betook themselves to the 
 library, but in this quarter they experienced similar disappoint- 
 ment. No preparations were made for breakfast. The bell was pulled 
 violently — no one answered. What the deuce could it mean ? They 
 swore and stormed to no purpose. At last some of them went forth 
 and shouted lustily for Pudsey ; and thus invoked, the butler at 
 last deigned to make his appearance, and expressed his regrets — but 
 really the house was in such confusion, the servants were so un- 
 manageable, he feared there was very little chance of breakfast. 
 
 No chance of breakfast ! Zounds ! They would see about that. 
 So a large party, headed by Brice Bunbury, marched to the ser- 
 vants' -hall, and by their clamorous demands and incursions upon the 
 larder, increased the confusion already reigning in that quarter. 
 
 Sir Randal and Beau Freke fared no better than the others. 
 Luckily, as it happened, neither of them were very early risers, 
 and never thought of getting up until called by their valets, so 
 they did not undergo the annoyances that the rest experienced. 
 But when Mr. Trickett made his appearance in his master's room, 
 he apologised for not bringing his chocolate, and declared that 
 neither he nor Tibbits could obtain anything. 
 
 " Never was a house in such a state, sir ! " Trickett said. " The 
 servants are all at loggerheads, and will do nothing." 
 
THE SPElfDTHRIFT. 319*' 
 
 " And you seem to have been helping them, rascal," Sir Randal 
 cried, noticing the patches on the valet's countenance. " You have 
 been fighting." 
 
 " I was compelled to strike a blow or two in self-defence, Sir 
 Randal," Trickett replied ; " but if I may presume to advise, sir, 
 I would recommend your departure before Mr. Monthermer's ar- 
 rival. From what I can gather, the day will certainly go against 
 Mr. Fairlie." 
 
 *'Poh! nonsense," Sir Randal rejoined. '^Give me my dressing- 
 gown. No chocolate, you say. ^Sdcath! I must complain of this 
 neglect. Fairlie must rate his servants." 
 
 " Rate 'em, sir I Mr. Fairlie daren't show his face. He has 
 locked himself up in his room, and won't see anybody. As to the 
 servants, they have revolted — forsworn their allegiance — gone 
 over to the opposite faction." 
 
 " How d'ye mean, sirrah ? " 
 
 " They refuse to serve Mr. Fairlie any longer, and intend to go 
 over in a body to Mr. Monthermer. Our position at this moment 
 is the reverse of agreeable, sir. We can get nothing, sir — abso- 
 lutely nothing — except cuffs and kicks." 
 
 " As soon as I am dressed I will see Fairlie," Sir Randal said. 
 
 " No use, sir — time thrown away. He won't be disturbed, and 
 has placed people at his door to prevent intrusion. That great, 
 hulking, chairman-like animal, Mark Rougham, has stood on guard 
 there all night, they tell me — though how he came to have the post 
 assigned him I can't think, as he is one of Mr. Monthermer's 
 staunchest adherents. Pray allow me to order horses to be put to 
 the travelling-carriage, sir. If we stay, I don't know what may 
 happen from this mutinous household when the young squire ar- 
 rives." 
 
 '■' Perhaps it may be as well to have the carriage ready," Sir 
 Randal said, after a moment's reflection. " Assist me to dres^ and 
 then go and give the requisite orders about it." 
 
 Pretty much the same scene was enacted in Beau Freke's 
 chamber, Mr. Tibbits complaining just as bitterly as Trickett of the 
 servants' conduct, and expressing an equal desire to be off". Mr. 
 Freke, however, said he should be entirely guided in this respect 
 by Sir Randal, and depart or stay, as his friend elected. 
 
 As to Mrs. Jenyns, her morning dreams were broken by Mrs. 
 
320 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Davies, who stood by her couch with a look of dismay, and de- 
 scribed the turmoil going on down stairs, and how grossly she had 
 herself been insulted. 
 
 " I told 'em, mem, you would send every one of 'em about their 
 business ; but they only laughed at me, and went on worse than 
 afore. I couldn't get any chocklit for you, mem, — and if it 
 hadn't been for the perliteness of Mr. Bellairs, I shouldn't have 
 got a mossel of breakfast myself." 
 
 " What is Mr. Fairlie about, Davies, that he allows such a dis- 
 turbance to take place?" • 
 
 " Goodness knows what he's about, mem, — but he's locked up in 
 his room, and will see no one." 
 
 " He will see ?7«e," Mrs. Jenyns rejoined. "I must make all 
 haste I can with my toilet. I will wear my white negligee." 
 
 When fully attired, Mrs. Jenyns went towards Fairlie's room, 
 and as she entered the long gallery she perceived Mark Rougham 
 and the two servants standing before the door. Blackford ad- 
 vanced to meet her, and told her that if she was coming to Mr. 
 Fairlie she might spare herself the trouble, as he could not be 
 seen at present. ^ 
 
 "Not be seen?" Mrs. Jenyns echoed, struck by the man's 
 manner. " Is he a prisoner ?" 
 
 Blackford made no reply, but bowed, and stepped back* to his 
 companions. 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns felt a presentiment that something strange had 
 happened, but it seemed useless to go on, so she retired with 
 Davies. Shortly afterwards, as she stood at the head of the stair- 
 case, debating within herself what it would be best to do, she was 
 joined by Randal and Beau Freke, with whom she had some talk, 
 in the course of which they told her that, like herself, they had 
 been unable to see Fairlie — and they all agreed that his conduct, 
 to say the least of it, was inexplicable and mysterious. Mrs. 
 Jenyns learnt from the gentlemen that they had made preparations 
 ibr immediate departure, and, by their advice, she sent Davies to 
 have her own carriage got ready. The party then descended 
 to the entrance-hall, where they met Brlce Bunbury, who told 
 them how badly he had been used in regard to breakfast. " How- 
 ever, by foraging about in the larder, I managed to pick up 
 something," he said. " Between ourselves," he added, " I suspect 
 it's all up with Fairlie." 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. • 321 
 
 It was at this juncture that the troop of farmers halted, as we 
 have described, at the end of the avenue; and the party, wonder- 
 ing what they were come about, went forth in front of the house 
 to look at them, and having satisfied their curiosity, were about to 
 return, when they were arrested by hearing loud and repeated 
 huzzas from the troop, and it was then perceived that another 
 cavalcade was coming along the avenue. The shouts of the farmers 
 left no doubt that the young squire was now at hand ; and the 
 party, having no especial desire to greet him on his arrival, with- 
 drew into the house. 
 
322 • THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 LIL 
 
 HOW THE YOUNG SQUIRE CAME TO HIS OWN AGAIN. 
 
 The cavalcade approacliei ; headed by Monthermer and Arthur 
 Poynings. Close behind them rode five or six gentlemen of the 
 county, who had been hastily summoned for the purpose, and 
 then came Sir Hugh's carriage, in which sat the old baronet him- 
 self, his chaplain. Parson Chedworth, and Mr. Clavering and Mr. 
 Houghton, both of them magistrates and neighbours. After the 
 carriage rode a posse of constables. Thus attended, Gage ap- 
 proached the house of his ancestors. His features were ex- 
 tremely pale, as might naturally be expected from the anxiety 
 he had recently undergone, but his deportment and manner were 
 firm and determined in the highest degree, and it was evident to 
 all who beheld him that he had become an altered man. On seeing 
 the troop of tenantry collected at the end of the avenue he 
 quickened his pace, and rode towards them alone. Arthur holding 
 back for the moment. 
 
 "Welcome! my good friends, welcome!" Gage cried, removing 
 his hat as he drew near the farmers. " I am right glad to see you 
 here to-day. But how have you been summoned ?" 
 
 " "We all saw that flag, your honour," Farmer Netherfield re- 
 plied, " and took it as a signal to repair to the Castle." 
 
 "I beheld it myself — miles off," Gage rejoined. "I know not 
 by what friendly hand it has been unfurled, but the signal was well 
 given, since it has brought you hither. Supported by you, I 
 fear nothing — and you may unhesitatingly support me, for my 
 cause is just." 
 
 A deafening shout followed this brief address, and Gage, escorted 
 by the whole of this immense retinue, rode slowly along the broad 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 323 
 
 gravel walk towards the principal entrance of the mansion. His ap- 
 proach had been watched by the inmates of the Castle, and instead 
 of any opposition being offered to his entrance, the doors were 
 thrown wide open, while a crowd of servants rushed forth to bid 
 him welcome. There was a contest amongst them as to who should 
 aid him to alight. At a sign from Gage, the band of tenantry 
 moved on to a little distance, where they got off their horses, 
 and a certain number of them proceeded with the animals to the 
 stables, while the others came back to the house. Meanwhile, 
 Arthur Poynings and those with him had likewise dismounted ^ 
 and were received by Gage, who stood on the threshold. They 
 passed on, and Sir Hugh Poynings, the chaplain, and the magis- 
 trates next alighted, and entered the • hall, where Gage awaited 
 them. The constables statioi|^d themselves at the door, and then 
 Gage, turning to Sir Hugh and the magistrates, said : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I hereby take possession of my house and the do- 
 mains belonging to it, of which I have been wrongfully deprived 
 by Mr. Fairlie, and I call upon you to aid me, in case of need, in 
 maintaining possession." 
 
 " You shall have such assistance as the law can afford you in 
 establishing your rights," Sir Hugh said ; " but, as far as I can dis- 
 cern, you are not likely to meet with much opposition. Where is 
 Mr. Fairlie? I expected to see him come forward to contest your 
 claim." 
 
 Scarcely was the question asked, than Mark Rougham (who 
 on hearing the noise occasioned by the arrival of Gage and his 
 retinue had hastily descended the great staircase) broke through 
 the ranks of the servants, and approaching Monthermer, whispered 
 a few words in his ear. Their import must have been strange 
 and startling, to judge from their effect upon the hearer. He 
 gazed inquiringly at the speaker, whose grave looks confirmed his 
 relation. 
 
 " If this be so, it entirely alters the complexion of affairs,'* 
 Gage muttered. " I must pray you, Sir Hugh — and you,.gentlemen: 
 (to the magistrates), and you, Arthur — with the officers, to accom- 
 pany me to Fairlie's rooms. Your presence will be needed." 
 
 Attended by the persons he had indicated, he ascended the 
 staircase, and proceeded along the gallery. He looked so grave 
 and pre-occupied, that Sir Hugh forebore to question him. Arthur 
 
324 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 also was silent, for a suspicion of the truth had flashed upon him. 
 They soon reached their destination. Mark Rougham, who had 
 preceded them, was standing at the door of the dressing-room. 
 The other servants were gone. 
 
 Gage rapped against the door, but no answer was returned. 
 
 "I did not expect it," he said, in answer to Sir Hugh's in- 
 quiring glances. " The door must be burst open." 
 
 " Stay ! let me try," Mr. Clavering interposed, ^' before you 
 have recourse to violence. Mr. Fairlie! Mr. Fairlie!" he ex- 
 claimed, knocking sharply against the door. 
 
 ^^ Muster Fairlie cannot answer," Mark Rougham said. 
 
 And hurling his huge frame against the door, it burst open. 
 
 Then it became apparent to all why no answer had been re- 
 turned to their summons. They ent^'ed reverently, for the presence 
 of death always inspires respect. Awe was impressed on every 
 countenance, but Gage was far more profoundly moved than the 
 others. 
 
 Casting his eyes round the chamber, Mr. Clavering at once per- 
 ceived the two packets on the table, and ascertaining how they 
 were addressed, called Monthermer's attention to them. One of 
 the packets bore the inscription — " To be opened first ;" and com- 
 plying with the direction. Gage broke the seals, and withdrew for 
 a few minutes to the window, to read the letter enclosed. After 
 perusing it, he turned to the others and said, " The unhappy man 
 has made full atonement for the wrongs he has done. Feeling the 
 near approach of death, he has herein confessed all his offences, and 
 surrendered the whole of the Monthermer property to me. He 
 also states that the will under which he wrongfully acted was not 
 my father's last will, but the true will is still in existence, and in 
 the possession of Mrs. Jenyns, by whom it is unlawfully detained. 
 He ends by imploring my forgiveness. 
 
 " And he has it," Gage continued, advancing towards the body 
 and standing beside it ; " Heaven is my witness, most unhappy 
 man, that I fully and freely forgive thee !" 
 
 Deep silence prevailed for a moment, and the chaplain then ad- 
 vanced towards Gage, and said : 
 
 *' You have done well, sir. He deserves your forgiveness, for he 
 has made reparation. A lesson may be learnt from the end of 
 this misguided man. Possessed of many qualities calculated to 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 325 
 
 advance him in the world — great intelligence, acuteness, industry, 
 perseverance — he lacked one quality, the want of which rendered 
 all others void — Integrity. Hence his talents were ill-directed, 
 and led him into obhque paths. Excessive cupidity was his bane. 
 Determined to grow rich — no matter by what means — he yielded 
 to temptation, and fell. Had he but been honest, he might be 
 now alive and respected. And how many anxieties — how many 
 afflictions would have been spared him ! Vainly did he en- 
 deavour to build himself up a mansion with his ill-gotten gains ! 
 The baseless fabric at once crumbled to dust. But he is gone. 
 And let us look upon him with an eye of compassion. Let 
 us hope that he may obtain remission of his sins. Are we not 
 told, that ' When the wicked man turneth away from his wicked- 
 ness, and doeth that whicli is lawful and right, he shall save his soul 
 alive ?' He has done justice at the last, and would appear to have 
 sincerely repented. He has died in the act of supplication. May 
 his prayer be heard ! May Heaven have mercy on his soul ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " Gage fervently ejaculated. And the exclamation was 
 repeated with equal fervour by all the bystanders. 
 
 " And now I can commit poor Clare's confession to the flames," 
 Arthur Poynings observed to Gage. " It is well that its produc- 
 tion has been unnecessary." 
 
 " Here is another packet which you have not yet examined, 
 Mr. Monthermer," Mr. Clavering observed. 
 
 The latter took it, broke open the seals, and, after casting his eye 
 over the document it contained, said, with evident emotion, 
 
 " It is his last will, and concerns you. Sir Hugh." 
 
 "How so?" the old baronet rejoined. By the aid of his 
 spectacles he managed to decipher the will. " Why, so it does 
 concern me — that is, it concerns my daughter, to whom — for there 
 must be no secret in it — he has bequeathed all the property right- 
 fully belonging to him, and which he himself estimates at about 
 10,000Z. — subject, however, to two deductions — namely, to a sum 
 sufficient to purchase Cowbridge Farm (if Mr. Gage Monthermer 
 be willing to sell it) for Mark Rougham (hold your tongue, Mark ! 
 — hold your tongue, sir ! and let me finish), and another sum of 
 500/. to be bestowed as a wedding portion upon Lettice, daughter 
 of the said Mark Rougham." 
 
 "Has he done all this, Sir Hugh?— has he, indeed?" Mark cried. 
 
326 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 "Why, haven't I just read the will, fellow?" 
 " Cowbridge Farm mine ! the object of all my wishes," Mark 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Ay, it is freely yours, Mark," Gage cried. " I bestow it upon 
 
 you." 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " Sir Hugh interposed. " Give him the farm, 
 if you please, Gage ; but it must be valued, and the price agreed 
 upon added to Lettice's wedding portion. That's the proper way 
 to settle matters. Egad ! this is the strangest will that ever came 
 under my inspection. Have you read it through, Gage?" 
 
 " I have. Sir Hugh," the young man replied. " He states that 
 his desire is to carry out his daughter's wishes ; and I know that it 
 was poor Clare's wish that the event therein mentioned should take 
 place." 
 
 " "Well, there shall be no obstacle to its fulfilment on my part, 
 provided " 
 
 " Enough, Sir Hugh ; I understand," Gage interrupted, gravely. 
 " When I have proved myself worthy of an alliance with your 
 daughter I shall not fail to seek it." 
 
 " I have no fears of you now — none whatever," the old baronet 
 rejoined. " After the conversation we had together last night, 
 coupled with what Arthur has told me of you, I entertain no doubt 
 of your thorough reformation. I stand in the light of a father to 
 you, and look upon you as a prodigal son — and a sad prodigal you 
 have been, it must be owned — but let that pass. If, after due 
 probation on your part, Lucy receives an offer of your hand, and 
 is disposed to accept you, I shall raise no objection. But let us 
 change the subject. We have plenty of other matter before us." 
 
 " I presume there can be no doubt that Fairlie's death arose 
 from natural causes ?" Mr. Clavering remarked. 
 
 " He expressly mentions in the preliminary part of the confes- 
 sion which I hold in my hand," Monthermer replied, " that he had 
 been attacked by a fit of extraordinary severity, and that having 
 little hope of living till the morning, he employed the interval 
 allowed him between the attack and its expected recurrence in 
 preparation for eternity." 
 
 " Enough, sir," the magistrate replied. 
 
 All papers lying about were then placed in the chest, which was 
 locked and sealed up by the magistrates. This done, the whole 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 327 
 
 party quitted the room, leaving the constables at the door, with 
 strict injunctions to allow no one to enter without authority. 
 
 As they descended the staircase, Gage observed to Sir Hugh, 
 ^' I have now a disagreeable duty to perform. The house must be 
 cleared of all the harpies of whatever degree that have so long in- 
 fested it." 
 
 " You are right," Sir Hugh returned. " A grand clearance 
 must be made. But I should think most of them will have spared 
 you the trouble, and have taken themselves off already." 
 
 The old baronet's surmise proved correct. As they reached 
 the entrance-hall, several of Gage's late dissolute associates were 
 seen hastily traversing it — evidently beating a retreat — and so pre- 
 cipitate were their movements, that Sir Hugh could not refrain 
 from laughing at them. But his mirth was speedily checked, as 
 he observed four persons issue from a room on the ground-floor. 
 They were in travelling attire, and were attended by a couple 
 of valets and a lady's maid. It is needless to say who they 
 were. Simultaneously with their appearance in the entrance- 
 hall, two travelling chariots drove up) to the open door. Sir 
 Randal's carriage being first, he walked slowly towards it, ac- 
 companied by Beau Freke. They both looked disdainfully at 
 Gage and his companions, and raised their hats as they passed. 
 Close behind them walked Brice Bunbury, looking rather crest- 
 fallen. When Sir Randal had passed Gage a few paces, he 
 paused for a moment, and surveyed the young man scornfully. 
 Monthermer might have yielded to the provocation if Arthur had 
 not restrained him. As it was, he dismissed the insolent baronet 
 with a gesture of contempt. 
 
 While these persons were getting into their carriage, Mrs. 
 Jenyns came on with Davies. The actress had not abated a jot 
 of her spirit, and looked beautiful as ever. At a sign from Gage, 
 Mr. Clavering stepped forward. 
 
 " I am sorry you cannot be permitted to depart, madam," he 
 said. " You are charged with having in your possession, and un- 
 lawfully detaining, the last will of Warwick de Monthermer, Esq., 
 late owner of this mansion, and unless you deliver it up, I and my 
 brother magistrate shall be compelled to order your arrest." 
 
 "I have no intention of depriving Mr. Monthermer of his 
 father's will, sir," Mrs. Jenyns repUed. " It is here." And taking 
 
328 THE SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 it from her bosom she gracefully presented it to Gage, " That 
 ought to have been worth something to me, but since Mr. Fairlie 
 is no more, it is valueless as waste paper." And then she added, 
 smiling maliciously at Gage, " you are in luck just now. I wish 
 you joy of your fortune. But how long will it last? — I give you 
 a year." 
 
 '^ Your jests are out of season, madam," Sir Hugh observed. 
 " Mr. Monthermer means to lead a new life. He has reformed." 
 
 " His reformation is of too recent date to offer much security 
 for its continuance," Mrs. Jenyns replied, "and for my part I 
 have little faith in it. Gage reform ! You must be credulous 
 indeed, Sir Hugh, if you beHeve in such an impossibility ! " 
 
 " But I do, madam," the old baronet cried, angrily. " He is 
 setting about it in the right way, clearing his house of such pestilent 
 vermin as have Just gone out, and such worthless baggages as you." 
 
 " Much obliged to you for the compliment. Sir Hugh," she 
 replied. "I suppose you think he will make an excellent son- 
 in-law, but if you give him your daughter, I suspect you will find 
 out your mistake. Better wait a few months, I think, sir. Adieu I" 
 
 With this she was about to move on, when her progress was 
 arrested by an extraordinary noise outside the door. Yells, groans, 
 and menaces were heard, followed by the crash of broken glass. 
 Sir Randal and his friends, it turned out, had scarcely got into the 
 carriage, when the farmers, who were collected in front of the 
 house, having been made acquainted with their character by the 
 servants, commenced a sudden and furious assault upon them. 
 Three or four stout varlets seized the horses' heads, and though 
 the postilion used his whip vigorously, they kept their hold. Others 
 rushed to the carriage-door, shivered the glass in the window, 
 which had been hastily pulled up, and forcibly dragged out the 
 persons inside, pulling off their perukes, tearing their finery, and 
 belabouring them without mercy. The two valets were treated in 
 the same way; and Joyce Wilford — Lettice's suitor — who owed 
 Messrs. Trickett and Tibbits a grudge for their foppish assiduities 
 to his intended, did not neglect this opportunity of revenging 
 himself. All the while the crowd were shouting, and loading 
 their victims with every ignominious epithet, of which gamblers, 
 sharpers, and scoundrels were the mildest terms. "We'll teach 
 you to come to the Castle again," the aggressors roared ; " let's 
 
THE SPENDTHRIFT. 329 
 
 take 'em a* three to th* horse-pond, and souse 'em in 't within an 
 inch of their lives." 
 
 And the threat would undoubtedly have been executed if Gage 
 had not rushed forth, and with difficulty effected their hbera- 
 tion. 
 
 " Leave 'em to us, sir," the rustics cried. " We know how to 
 deal wi' 'em. Don't concern yourself about 'em." 
 
 "But I must concern myself about them, my good friends," 
 Gage replied. " I command you to release them instantly." 
 
 The injunction was reluctantly obeyed. Brice Bunbury, with his 
 frightened looks and torn apparel, looked a most deplorable object. 
 Beau Freke had received some severe contusions ; but Sir Randal 
 was the worst off, for his arm was broken. Gage proffered assist- 
 ance, but the baronet haughtily refused it, and eyeing his aggressors 
 fiercely, he got into the carriage, which was then allowed to drive 
 off. 
 
 "Yo'n gi'en that proud chap summat to remember yo' by, 
 lads," Farmer Netherfield remarked, with a grin ; " and yo'n 
 spoiled a' their finery." 
 
 " Those two impudent puppies won't forget me in a hurry, I'm 
 thinking," Joyce Wilford chuckled. " I've given both a smartish 
 taste o' my cudgel, to teach 'em what to expect if they make love 
 to another man's sweetheart. Ho ! ho !" 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns had witnessed this scene with much alarm. 
 
 ^' Am I to be exposed to like outrage ?" she cried. 
 
 " No, madam," Arthur Poynings rejoined ; " I will answer for it 
 these worthy fellows will never injure a woman. They have too 
 much respect for the sex, however unworthily it may be repre- 
 sented in your instance." 
 
 Mrs. Jenyns did not think fit to make any rejoinder, and only 
 partially reassured, she tiipped off to her carriage with Davies, 
 and ensconced herself as quickly as she could inside it. As 
 Arthur Poynings had promised, she received no molestation ; but 
 as she looked out, she beheld nothing but scowling and indignant 
 looks fixed upon her, while hisses and hooting could not be §a- 
 tirely repressed. However, the postilion bore her rapidly out of 
 the reach of these unpleasant sounds. This was her last appear- 
 ance at Monthermer Castle. 
 
330 THE SPENDTHRIFl'. 
 
 " Well, at length you have got rid of them all," Sir Hugh cried. 
 
 " Of all, except certain rascally hirelings," Gage replied. 
 
 " Pudsey, Bellairs, and the French hairdresser, have already de- 
 camped, with some others," Blackford observed. 
 
 " In that case, the house is completely cleared," Gage said. 
 
 Then, going to the door, he called out in a loud voice, " Come 
 in, my friends — come in ! I am once more master of Monthermer 
 Castle." 
 
 Thus invited, the whole of the tenantry rushed in, and the area 
 of the entrance-hall was scarcely large enough to contain them. 
 The young squire stood at the foot of the grand staircase to give 
 them welcome. Then arose such a shout as had never been heard 
 before within that mansion. A hundred hands were stretched 
 out eagerly to Gage, who heartily grasped all that came within 
 reach. Blessings were showered upon his head by all the old 
 men, and every good wish was lavished upon him by the young. 
 It was impossible not to be affected by such strong demon- 
 strations of attachment, and Gage was greatly moved. In a voice 
 of profound emotion, he cried, " If anything were wanting to 
 complete my cure, my good friends, your kindness would effect 
 it. But, believe me, I am a changed man. I have seen the folly 
 of my ways, and the rest of my life shall be modelled upon that of 
 my father, whom you all loved and respected." 
 
 " A better model could not be selected," Sir Hugh cried. 
 
 " Impossible ! impossible ! " several voices responded. And the 
 cheering was renewed even more enthusiastically than before. 
 
 " Now listen to me for a moment, my good friends," Sir Hugh 
 said. "The young squire has told you that he means to model 
 himself upon his father, and he could not do better. I am sure he 
 will act up to his word, and in this persuasion, I tell him before 
 you all — and you know Pm a man of my word — that if he comes 
 to me a year hence and asks me for my daughter, he shall have 
 her." 
 
 Gage warmly grasped the hand extended to him. 
 
 «Sir Hugh's announcement was received with immense cheering, 
 as well as a good deal of laughter. Some of the younger rustics 
 thought a year's probation too long, and that the term ought to be 
 abridged to a fourth of that period ; but the seniors held that 
 
rUE SPENDTHRIFl'. 331 
 
 Sir Hugh was quite right — not that they had any fears of the 
 young squire — but it was prudent and proper. 
 
 Gage then once more addressed his tenantry, thanking then; for 
 their presence and support, and begging them to make themselves 
 at home in the house. Everything that circumstances would admit 
 should be done for their accommodation — but he could not pre- 
 cisely answer for the state of the larder. However, he could ven- 
 ture to promise that there was wine enough in the cellar to enable 
 them to drink his health. He concluded his address by requesting 
 a certain number of them to follow him to the servants'-hall, 
 whither he proceeded, and where, by his directions, refreshments 
 of all kinds were speedily served. A cask of strong ale was 
 broached, and liberally distributed. Meanwhile, the dining-room 
 had been hastily put to rights, and here a still larger party sat 
 down, while the rest were elsewhere accommodated — so that all 
 fared equally well. It is needless to say that the young squire's 
 health was drunk, and in bumpers, as he himself had proposed. 
 
 Life is a mingled yarn of joy and woe, and we must interrupt 
 these festivities for a moment to follow Gage and Arthur Poynings 
 on a sad errand to the Ivy Tower. Neither of them went to the 
 chamber of death, but they saw Lettice Rougham, who told them 
 what had been done. Already Clare had been placed in her coffin, 
 and Lucy Poynings having fully discharged all the offices of 
 friendship, had gone home in a carriage which had been sent for 
 her by Sir Hugh. Her strength was completely exhausted. We 
 pass over the consultation that next took place between the two 
 young men. But it was decided that the father and daughter should 
 be interred in a village churchyard hard by — in a grave which 
 had already one tenant — the mother of one and the wife of the 
 other. 
 
 And now, ere parting with little Lettice Rougham, let us say 
 that, some three months later, she made Joyce Wilford one of the 
 happiest young fellows in Suffolk, and brought him a good wed- 
 ding portion, too. But happy as Joyce was, he was not a whit 
 happier than his father-in-law, Mark Rougham, who by this time 
 had become owner of his long-coveted Cowbridge Farm. 
 
 When Gage and Arthur, after a while, returned to the mansion 
 with slow steps and saddened looks, the tenants were still making 
 
332 THE SPENDTHRIF 1 . 
 
 the roofs ring with their shouts of "T.niif.- ]\Cq to the young Squire, 
 and may every blessing attend him ! 
 
 A blessing did attend him. Poor Clare slept in her grave, but 
 her wishes were fulfilled. In little more than a year afterwards, 
 Lucy was united to Gage, and his good resolutions being strictly 
 adhered to, and his character modelled, as he had promised it should 
 be, on that of bis father — a perfect English country gentleman 
 — she found that there is some truth in the saying that " A 
 Reformed Rake makes the best Husband." 
 
 'm. 
 
 the end. 
 
 C. WHITING-, BKAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND.