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 ■ fr 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE FOKTUNES 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COLVILLE FAMILY 
 
 OR, 
 
 A CLOUD AND ITS SILVER LINING : 
 
 a Christmas 
 
 By frank E. SAIEDLEY, 
 
 AUTHOR or “IKAMK FAIKLEGH,” “LEWIS AKUKDEL,” ETC. 
 
 Was I deceiv’d, or did a sable cloud 
 
 Turn forth, her silver lining on the night?— 
 
 I did not err, there does a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night.” 
 
 Comus. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY “PHIZ.” 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 GEORGE HOBY, 123, MOUNT STREET, 
 
 BERKELEY SQUARE. 
 
 1853. 
 
London ; 
 
 Printed by Stewakt and Murray, 
 Old Bailey. 
 

 4 
 
 TO THE THREE DEAR FRIENDS, 
 WHOSE KIND SYMPATHY AND APPROVAL 
 HAVE RENDERED THE COMPOSITION 
 OF THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 A PLEASURE, RATHER THAN A TOIL; 
 
 I HEREBY AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBE IT, 
 AS A SLIGHT TOKEN 
 OF THE ESTEEM AND REGARD 
 IN WHICH I HOLD THEM. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The Edinburgh JRemew for October last contains 
 the following* precise definition of a preface — 
 document which represents in the Court of Criticism 
 what the ^ pleadings’ are to the tribunals of jus- 
 tice ; and between these two there is this necessary 
 analogy, that unless the ^ case’ maintain the pre- 
 liminary statement, a nonsuit is the consequence.” 
 Now we frankly confess that to us this definition 
 presents a new and most alarming view of a pre- 
 face : the unfortunate author summoned by his own 
 rash act of authorship before the court of cri- 
 ticism,” is immediately expected to plead ” — i ,e, to 
 make a preliminary statement of all that he fondly 
 hopes his workmay prove to be — and if the case” 
 does not maintain this statement, a nonsuit is the 
 consequence which awful phrase, if it mean any- 
 thing, must signify that the book is not suited to 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the public taste, and that the poor author’s case” 
 is a very deplorable one indeed. 
 
 For instance in the present ^^case/’ the Edin- 
 burgh Iteview would require us to plead” that 
 ^^The Colville Family” is an agreeable little 
 Tale, in which the author’s design has been to 
 amuse and instruct his readers, by setting forth a 
 useful moral in a style now lively, now pathetic ; 
 and if our gentle public happen to take an obsti- 
 nate fit, and object to be either amused or instructed, 
 consider our liveliness deadly lively, evince an an- 
 tipathy to our pathos, and refuse to hear the 
 voice of the charmer charm he never so wisely,” 
 we, the unfortunate writer, are to be nonsuited.” 
 This is a verdict we covet so little, that with all due 
 respect to the Edmhurghy we shall not provoke it 
 by ^^pleading” anything, except that having written 
 the Tale, we are by that very fact exonerated from 
 forming any opinion whatsoever as to its virtues or 
 demerits ; and submit it to the public to decide 
 whether we have, in the words of the old north 
 country proverb, made a spoon, or spoiled a horn.” 
 
 But in our horror at the possibility of being 
 compelled to write ourselves down that which we 
 fervently hope we are not, a conceited — ahem ! — • 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 donkey, we are forgetting a ^^preliminary state- 
 ment’’ which we really are desirous of making. 
 The Colville Family was originally intended to ap- 
 pear before Christmas 1851, under the title of A 
 Cloud and its Silver Lining,” by which name it was 
 advertised accordingly. Illness prevented the Au- 
 thor from completing it in time, and the unfinished 
 manuscript was laid aside for several months. Du- 
 ring* that period the Authoress of A Trap to catch 
 a Sunbeam” contrived to catch A Cloud,” also, 
 and just when the writer of the present volume 
 had resumed his pen to add a silver lining to the 
 cloud” which he had blown a year before — lo ! and 
 behold ! another Cloud and its silver lining” ap- 
 peared to darken the fair prospect that he was fain 
 to hope awaited his unpublished effort. But clouds 
 are intangible affairs, entirely above our control, 
 requii'ing the might of cloud -compelling Jove” 
 himself to prevent their appearing where and when 
 they please ; and as, had we gone into the question 
 of priority of copyright, Milton and Mrs. S. C. 
 Hall might have instituted pleadings” which 
 would have seriously damaged our case,” we were 
 forced to submit to the loss of our cloud” with 
 the best grace we could assume. 
 
Vlll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Thus ‘‘mutato nomine * * fahula narratur^’* our 
 Tale appears under a different title j The Col- 
 ville Family, who were to have been studiously 
 concealed beneath The Cloud, have now boldly 
 emerged from its obscuring shadow, and invite the 
 public to regard them and their fortunes with as 
 favourable an eye as its conscience, (the public 
 conscience is a quality we have often heard of, but 
 of which we have never seen a clear definition ; 
 perhaps the Edinburgh Eemero will obligingly 
 supply this desideratum) will permit. And we 
 hereby make over to the Authoress of a ^^Trap 
 to catch a Sunbeam’’ all interest in clouds, mists, 
 fogs, vapours. Wills -o’ -the -Wisp, rainbows, halos, 
 and other meteorological phenomena available for 
 the purposes of metaphorical nomenclature \ and if 
 she be not obliged to us for this our resignation 
 in her favour, together wfith the fine long w^ords 
 in which we have expressed the same, gratitude 
 mi^st assuredly have departed from the bosoms of 
 the daughters of men. 
 
 London, December, 1852. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 pAGjK 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Two Pictures 1 
 
 The Brothers 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 6 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A Romantic Adventure 22 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Shuffling, Dealing, and Turning up a Knave 
 
 AND A Trump 4(i 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Fast Specimen of “ Young England ” . . 62 
 
 The Conspiracy 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 84 
 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Temptation 
 
 110 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Noeman’s Revenge 127 
 
 The Discoveey 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 148 
 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Teibunal of Justice 158 
 
 Loss AND Gain 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 175 
 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Rosebud Sketches feom Memoey . . . 185 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 An “Elegant Exteact” feom Blaie’s Seemons . 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Contains much Doctoes’ Stuff, and othee Rubbish 210 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Settles Theee of the Deamatis Pekson^e . . 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. AND LAST. 
 
 The Moeal— Deawn Veey Mild ! 
 
 . 241 
 
THE FOETUNES 
 
 or 
 
 THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TWO PICTURES. 
 
 A Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year ! 
 
 Words of course, in themselves good and well- 
 chosen, and embodying a wish which all who 
 love their neighbour, should feel and communi- 
 cate ; — God in his mercy grant there may be very 
 many who can respond to such a salutation hope- 
 fully ; for in this Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 there must be some who shrink from it as from 
 a bitter mockery. Of such are those who, loving 
 deeply, have lost, or fear to lose, the object of 
 their fond idolatry ; of such are those to whom, 
 gifted, perhaps, with an even wider capacity of 
 affection, such a fear would seem a blessing, for 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 then they would not have toiled through a lifetime, 
 lonely-hearted. A Merry Christmas, and a Happy 
 New Year ! God comfort those who shudder at 
 such kindly greeting ! 
 
 One short month since, a little space of time, 
 hut more than long enough for the performance 
 of many a deeper tragedy than that to which we 
 are about to refer, an artist, glancing into the sunny 
 breakfast-parlour of Ashburn Rectory, might have 
 ipade a pretty picture of the group on which his 
 eye would have fallen. 
 
 That gentleman (in rags he would equally have 
 looked such) with the calm, high forehead, mild 
 eye, and earnest, thoughtful mouth, must be the 
 father of the family \ for his dark hair shows many 
 a silver thread, and the lines that appear upon his 
 still smooth brow, can 'scarcely be the result of 
 mental occupation only; but, if we are right in 
 our conjecture, whence did that curly-pated nine- 
 year-old urchin, seated upon his knee, contrive to 
 get his arch, merry face ? for he can scarcely have 
 ^^come ahve ” out of one of Murillo’s paintings, to 
 give light and life to our family sketch. Oh ! we 
 see, it is his mother’s countenance the rogue has 
 appropriated, only the mischief in it is all his ov/n ; 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 3 
 
 for the expression of her still beautifol features is 
 chastened and pensive, as of one who has lived and 
 loved, and done angels’ work on earth, until the 
 pure soul within has stamped its impress on the 
 outward form. 
 
 But if you want something pretty — nay, we may 
 as well tell the whole truth, and say at once be- 
 witching — to look at, cast your eyes (you won’t 
 be in a hurry to remove them again) upon the 
 figTire seated at Mama’s right hand, and recog- 
 nizing her fac-simile (with twenty summers taken off 
 her age, and barely eighteen left), declare whether 
 that is not ^^nice,” rather. The expression is not 
 the same, we confess : more of the woman and less 
 of the angel, you will say. We admit it ; but then, 
 how could that little rosebud of a mouth look any- 
 thing but petulant? those violet eyes express . . 
 well, it’s difficult to tell what they don’t express 
 that is good, and fresh, and piquant, and gay, 
 and — must we add? — a very little bit coquettish 
 also ; — why, the very dimple on her chin — such a 
 well-modelled chin — has something pert and saucy 
 about it. There ! you ’ve seen enough of the little 
 beauty : you ’ll be falling in love with her di- 
 rectly ! 
 
4 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 No one could mistake the relationship existing- 
 between the gentleman we have already described^ 
 and that tall, graceful boy, with his pale, finely- 
 chiselled features, and classically-shaped head. 
 Even the earnest, thoughtful expression is com- 
 mon both to father and son, save that the curl 
 of the short upper Hp, which tells of pride in the 
 boy, has, in the man, acquired a character of chast- 
 ened dignity. 
 
 * Reader, do you like our picture? Let us ton 
 to another, less pleasing, but alas ! equally true. 
 
 The waves of time roll on, and, like a dream, 
 another month has lapsed into the sea of ages. 
 
 The sun is shining still ^ but it shines upon an 
 open grave, with aching heai4s around it. A good 
 man has died, and his brave, loving spirit has gone 
 whither his faith preceded him, and his good works 
 alone can follow him. Blessed are the dead that 
 die in the Lord.” 
 
 Let us reserve our sympathy for those who five 
 to mourn them. 
 
 When the cm^ate of Ashbum preached a funeral 
 sermon, recalling to the minds of those who had 
 pi*actically benefited by them, the virtues of their 
 late rector, holly garlands hung in the fine old 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 5 
 
 church; to commemorate the birth-time of One who 
 came to bring peace on earth; and good will 
 towards men;” but none dared to wish the widow 
 and orphans a merry Christmas and a happy New 
 Year; lest the wish might seem an insult to their 
 
 sorrow. 
 
6 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BROTHERS. 
 
 Percy^ I have been quiet so long-, and you say 
 'I must not stand upon my head, because it dis- 
 turbs Mama^ do come outj and let us ride the 
 pony by turns/’ implored little Hug*h Colville, in 
 a strenuous whisper; which was, however, clearly 
 audible throughout the small breakfast -parlour, 
 which was the scene of our family picture. 
 
 Percy Colville, the shy, handsome boy of our 
 sketch, looked up with a pensive smile from the 
 writing on which he was engaged, and shook his 
 head negatively, in token that he felt obliged to 
 refuse the request of his younger brother, in 
 whom the reader will recognize, with httle diffi- 
 culty, a certain Murillo-like urchin to whom he 
 has been already introduced. But the petition of 
 her youngest born had reached the ears of the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 7 
 
 widow, who (if she had a virtue which had 
 outgrown its due proportions till cavillers might 
 deem it a fault) was, perhaps, a little over in- 
 dulgent to Master Hugh. 
 
 My dear Percy, you have been writing for 
 me long enough,” she said : you will be ill if 
 
 you shut yourself up too much^ besides, Hugh 
 has been so good that he deserves his ride, and 
 you know I don’t like to trust him by himself.” 
 Percy hesitated: the writing on which he was 
 engaged was the copy of a surveyor’s report con- 
 cerning that 'oexata questio^ dilapidations. Some 
 difference of opinion had arisen on the subject 
 between the agent of the patron of the living 
 and Mrs. Colville’s solicitor, and a copy of the 
 report was to be forwarded by the next post to 
 Mr. Wakefield, Mrs. Colville’s legal adviser. The 
 matter was of importance, involving a considerable 
 sum of money. Percy was aware of these facts : 
 he knew, also, that he could only just finish his 
 task by the time the village post went out; and 
 he was about to declare that Hugh must give up 
 his ride for that day, when his mother, reading 
 his thoughts, stooped over him, and, kissing his 
 pale brow, whispered — 
 
8 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Do not refuse him^ dear Percy : remember, he 
 
 will not have many more rides ” 
 
 She paused, for her composure was failing, then 
 finished in a trembling voice. 
 
 You know the pony must be sold when we 
 go away.” 
 
 As she spoke, an expedient suggested itself to 
 Percy’s mind, and pressing his mother’s hand 
 affectionately, he closed his -writing -desk, and, 
 carrying it off under his arm, exclaimed : — 
 
 Come along, Hugh ! we ’ll take old Lion (he 
 wants a run, poor dog) as well as the pony, and 
 have a glorious scamper.” 
 
 And a glorious scamper they had, only Hugh 
 rode the whole way, and Percy ran by his side, 
 declaring that he greatly preferred it, which was 
 decidedly a pious fiction, if a fiction can ever be 
 pious. 
 
 Oh ! Mama, Mama ! do make breakfast — 
 come, quick ! there ’s a good Mama ! for I ’m 
 as himgry as — as — several sharks,” exclaimed 
 Hugh, rushing like a small express train into the 
 breakfast-parlour, on the following morning. 
 
 Oh, you naughty mad-cap, you ’ve shaken the 
 table, and made me blot ^That Smile’ all over!” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 9 
 
 cried his sister Emily, in vain endeavouring to 
 repair the misfortune which had accrued to the 
 popular melody” she was copying. 
 
 We suppose it is scarcely necessary to reintro- 
 duce you to Emily, dear reader. You have not 
 so soon forgotten the rosebud of a mouth, or 
 the dangerous dimple— trust you for that. 
 
 W^ell, I declare, so I have,” rejoined the cul- 
 prit, a little shocked and a good deal amused at 
 the mischief he had occasioned ; then striking into 
 the tune of the outraged ditty, he sang in an 
 impish soprano, and with grimaces wonderful to 
 behold — 
 
 “ That smile — ^when once — de-par-ar-ar-arted 
 Must leave — me bro — ^ken har-ar-ar-arted. 
 
 Oh ! Emily, what a mess we have made of ^ bro- 
 ken-hearted,’ to be sure; I’m so sorry, but 
 what fun !” 
 
 And then came a burst of ringing, happy, 
 childish laughter, which, of course, sealed his for- 
 giveness : no one could think him to blame after 
 that. 
 
 I wonder where Percy is ; I scarcely ever 
 knew him late before,” observed Mrs. Colville, 
 when quiet had been restored. 
 
10 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Sarah tells me he is out riding'/’ returned 
 Emiljj applying herself with very unnecessary 
 energy to cut bread and butter. 
 
 As she spoke, the clatter of horse’s feet became 
 audible, and, in another moment, Percy cantered 
 past the window. 
 
 Where can the boy have been?” ejaculated 
 Emily, holding* the loaf lovingly, as though she 
 were afraid of hurting the poor thing. 
 
 /^/know, I do!” observed Hugh, from under 
 the table, whence, having in his mind’s eye meta- 
 morphosed himself into a wolf, he was preparing 
 to spring out and devour Emily. 
 
 You know, Hugh ! ” repeated Mrs. Colville in 
 surprise \ come from under the table, then, and 
 tell me.” 
 
 But, Mama, I’m a wolf, and just going to 
 eat up Emily.” 
 
 Not now, dear,” was the calm reply, as if a 
 daughter more or less devoured by wild beasts, 
 was of little moment to that un-anxious mother; 
 come here and tell me about Percy.” 
 
 Well, you know. Mama,” began Hugh 
 emerging from his hiding-place, and assuming the 
 grave air of a raconteur^ when Percy came to 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILV. 
 
 11 
 
 bed last nighty he did not go to bed at all, that 
 is not for a very, very, very long time. Do you 
 know, I think’’ — and here he put on a solemn 
 face and spoke with an air of mystery — I think 
 he was not in bed at twelve o’clock, perhaps not 
 till almost one ! ” Having' disclosed this frightful 
 fact, he paused, and nodded like a bird, for the 
 greater effect, ere he continued : I went to sleep 
 
 long' before, but, whenever I opened my eyes, 
 there he sat, still write, write, writing' on, as if he 
 was writing his life, like Robinson Crusoe — only,” 
 he added parenthetically — only he’s got no man 
 Friday.” 
 
 But what could he be writing?” exclaimed 
 Emily, coquetting with the large bread-knife. 
 
 I know,” resumed Hugh \ then, having paused 
 to balance himself on one leg, and spin round like 
 a teetotum, he continued very fast, and without 
 any stops, for Percy’s footstep sounded in the hall : 
 he was writing the paper he had not time to 
 finish yesterday, because I wanted him to go out 
 with me and the pony; and this morning he got 
 up at six o’clock to ride over to Staplehurst, seven 
 miles there, and I don’t know how many back 
 again, to catch the post, and make it all the same 
 
12 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 as if it had been put in yesterday ; I know he did 
 because Sarah says so.’’ And, having* delivered 
 himself with the greatest vehemence of this some- 
 what incoherent account, he rushed up to his 
 brother, then entering the room, and, throwing 
 his arms roimd his waist, exclaimed, Oh ! Percy, 
 I’ve gone and told them all about your great 
 letter, and sitting up late, and everything, and 
 never remembered till now that you said I wasn’t 
 to ^ mention it to anybody. Oh ! I am so sorry, 
 but what fun ! ” and, assured by the expression of 
 Percy’s face that his crime was not quite unpar- 
 donable, Hugh’s merry, childish laugh again rang 
 through the apartment. 
 
 The mother’s heart was full: tears stood in her 
 eyes as, pressing her elder son to her bosom, she 
 murmured, Dear, dear Percy, you must not over- 
 task yoiu* streng*th thus.” 
 
 The post that morning brought the following 
 letter directed to Mrs. Colville : — 
 
 My Dear Sister, — That I have the will to 
 aid you in your distress you cannot doubt; that 
 the power to do so effectually, is denied me, adds 
 one more to the troubles of hfe. My impnident 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 13 
 
 marriage (he had run away with a pretty governess 
 at eighteen), and its subsequent consequences (he 
 had nine healthy children), force me to work hke a 
 horse in a mill in order to make both ends meet. Of 
 this I am not complaining. I did an unwise thing, 
 and must pay the necessary penalty. But I men- 
 tion these facts to prove to you the truth of my 
 assertion, that my power is not co-equal with my 
 will. The little I can do is this : I am share- 
 holder in an excellent proprietary school, where 
 boys are taught everything necessary to fit them 
 for a commercial fife j Wilfred Jacob has been 
 there two years, and is already conversant with, 
 or, as he famiharly terms it, well up in” tare and 
 tret. I trust Adolphus Samuel, Albert John, 
 Thomas Gabriel, and even the little Augustus 
 Timothy, will soon follow, and profit equally. I 
 therefore propose to send your two boys to this 
 school at my own cost; and, if the eldest distin- 
 guishes himself, as I am proud to believe Wilfred 
 Jacob will do, a desk in my counting-house (No. 
 8, Grubbinger-street, City) shall reward his dili- 
 gence. Clementina Jane desires her kindest re- 
 gards, and begs me to say that, should you finally 
 determine upon settling in London, she shall have 
 
14 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 much pleasure in looking out a cheap lodging for 
 you in some of the least expensive streets in the 
 vicinity of Smithfield. I am, dear Margaret, ever 
 your affectionate brother. 
 
 Goldsmith and Thryft. 
 
 ^^P.S. — So much for habit: I have become so 
 accustomed to sign for the firm, that I actually 
 forget that my name is Tobiah.” 
 
 Mrs. Colville closed the letter, with a sigh, and 
 placing it in her pocket, waited till the boys had 
 breakfasted. As soon as they had quitted the room 
 she handed it to her daughter, saying, Head that, 
 
 dear Emily : it is very kind of your uncle, but ” 
 
 Percy at a desk in Grubbinger-street ! Oh ! 
 my dearest Mama, what a dreadful idea !” exclaimed 
 the Rosebud, arching her brows, and pursing up 
 her pretty little mouth with an expression of the 
 most intense disapproval : Uncle Tobiah means 
 
 to be very kind, but he forgets what Percy is.” 
 
 Mrs. Colville shook her head mournfully. I am 
 afraid it is we who forget, love,” she said : Percy 
 
 can no longer hope to pursue the career marked 
 out for him — with the very limited means at my 
 disposal, college is quite out of the question \ 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 15 
 
 nay, if Sir Thomas Crawley persists in his demand 
 for the incoming tenant’s claim to these dilapida- 
 tions, and should prove his right to it, I shall 
 be unable to send the boys to school at all 5 indeed, 
 I must not reject your uncle’s offer rashly. I shall 
 consult Mr. Slowkopf on the subject : he is a very 
 prudent adviser.” 
 
 Oh ! if you mean to ask him, the matter is as 
 good as settled, and poor Percy chained to a desk 
 for life,” cried Emily. Ah !” she continued, as a 
 tall, thin, gaunt figure, clothed in rusty black, 
 passed the window, here he comes — the creature 
 always puts me in mind of that naughty proverb 
 about a certain person : one no sooner mentions him 
 than there he is at one’s elbow ; — but, if you really 
 want to talk sense to him. Mama dear, I’d better go, 
 for I shall only say pert things and disturb you : he is 
 so delightfully slow and matter-of-fact, that I never 
 can resist the temptation of plaguing him;” and 
 as she spoke, the Rosebud laughed a little silvery 
 laugh at her own wickedness, and tripped, fairy- 
 like, out of the apartment. 
 
 The worthy Mr. Slowkopf, who had held the 
 office of curate of Ashburn for about two years, 
 was a very good young man, and nothing else : 
 
16 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 all his other quahties were negative. He wasn’t 
 even positively a fool, though he looked and acted 
 the part admirably. He was essentially, and in 
 every sense of the word, a slow man : in manners, 
 ideas, and appearance, he was behind the age in 
 which he lived 3 in conversation he was behind the 
 subject discussed 3 if he laughed at a joke, which, 
 solemnly and heavily, he sometimes condescended 
 to do, it was invariably ten minutes after it had 
 'been made. He never heard of Puseyism till Tract 
 Ninety had been suppressed, or knew of the per- 
 secutions and imprisonments of Dr. Achilli till that 
 amateur martyr was giving tongue in Exeter Hall 3 
 he usually finished his fish when the cheese was 
 being put on table 3 and went to bed as other people 
 were getting up. Still, he had his good points. 
 Unlike King Charles, of naughty memory — 
 
 “ Who never said a foolish thing, 
 
 And never did a wise one,” 
 
 however dull and trite might be Mr. Slowkopf’s 
 remarks, his actions were invariably good and kind. 
 The village gossips, when they were very hard-up 
 for scandal, declared that, insensible as he appeared 
 to all such frivolities as the fascinations of the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 17 
 
 softer sex^ he was gradually taking* a slow turn ’’ 
 towards the Rosebud of Ashburn. Nay^ the ru- 
 mour was reported to have reached the delicate 
 eai-s of the emphatic she” herself j who was said to 
 have rephed, that as she was quite certain he would 
 never dream of telling his love till he heard she 
 was engaged to be married to some one else — in 
 which case, she should have a legitimate reason 
 for refusing him — the information did not occasion 
 her the slightest uneasiness. 
 
 However this might be, certain it is, that on the ' 
 morning in question, Mr. Slowkopf^ gaunt, ugly, 
 and awkward, solemnly stalked into the breakfast- 
 parlour, and that the widow, perplexed between her 
 good sense and her loving tenderness for her chil- 
 dren, laid before him her difficulties and her 
 brother’s letter. 
 
 The curate paused about three times as long 
 as was necessary, and then, in a deep, sepulchral 
 voice, observed — 
 
 In order to attain to a sound and logical 
 conclusion in regard to this weighty matter, it 
 behoves me first to assure myself that I rightly 
 comprehend the question propounded, and if, as I 
 conceive, it prove to be one which will not admit 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 of demonstration with a mathematical certainty; 
 then secondly, so to compare the different hypo- 
 theses which may present themselves, that, suffi- 
 cient weight being allotted to each, a just and 
 philosophical decision may be finally arrived at.” 
 
 Having, after this preamble, stated the case in 
 language as precise and carefully selected as though 
 he were framing a bill to lay before Parliament, 
 and were resolved to guard against the possibility 
 of the most astute legal Jehu driving a coach and 
 four through it, he argued the matter learnedly 
 and steadily for a good half-hour, ere he dug out 
 the ore of common sense from the mass of logical 
 rubbish beneath which he had buried it, and de- 
 cided in favour of Mr. Goldsmith’s proposal. 
 Pleased at his own cleverness in having solved 
 this difficult problem, and possessing unlimited 
 confidence in his oratorical powers, he volunteered 
 to communicate the decision thus formed, to the 
 person most nearly concerned therein, an offer to 
 which Mrs. Colville, feeling her strength unequal 
 to the task, reluctantly consented. 
 
 Percy listened in silence till Mr. Slowkopf had 
 talked himself out of breath, which it took him 
 some time to accomplish, for, in every sense of the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 19 
 
 term, he was awfully long’-winded ; — when at length 
 he was silent, the boy fixed his large eyes earnestly 
 upon his face as he replied, I understand, sir, we 
 are so poor that it is not possible to send me to a 
 public school, or to college as — as — my dear father 
 wished to have done ; but I do not see why I am 
 necessarily obliged to become a merchant’s clerk, 
 a position which I shall never be fit for, and which 
 I hate the idea of 5 the Colvilles have always been 
 gentlemen.” 
 
 A man may work for his living in some honest 
 occupation without forfeiting that title,” returned 
 Mr. Slowkopf sententiously. 
 
 Not as a merchant’s clerk,” was the haughty 
 reply : No ; let me be an artist, if I cannot 
 
 receive a gentleman’s education in England. I 
 know I have some talent for drawing, let me study 
 that, and then go to Italy, beautiful Italy, for a 
 few years ; people can live very cheaply abroad, 
 and I will be very careful. When I become 
 famous I shall grow rich, and be able to sup- 
 port Mama, and send Hugh to college, and 
 then I shall care less for not having been there 
 myself.” 
 
 Without attempting to regard your scheme 
 
20 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 in its many complicated hearings; or to ai*gne 
 the matter in its entire completeness, for which 
 time, unfoitunately, is wantiag,” remai’ked Mr. 
 Slowkopf deliberately ; I will place before you, 
 in limine, ceitam objections to it which render 
 the commercial career proposed by your excellent 
 uncle, if not m every point a more advantageous 
 aiTangement, at all events one more suited to the 
 present, position of affairs. Your uncle proposes 
 to take upon himself all immediate expense con- 
 nected with your education; while, as a clerk 
 in his countiug-house, you will be in the receipt 
 of a gradually increasiug salary. Your scheme 
 would demand a constant outlay of capital, for 
 certainly the next five years ; nay, it would be 
 no matter of surprise to me if ten years should 
 elapse, ere, by the precarious eammgs of an 
 artist’s career, you were enabled to render your- 
 self independent. In one case you will be an 
 assistance to your excellent mother, in the other 
 a burden upon her.” 
 
 Percy jwalked to the \\undow ; the burning 
 tears of disappointed ambition and mortified 
 pride rushed to his eyes, but he brushed them 
 hurriedly away, as he said in a firm, steady 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 21 
 
 voice, Thank you for telling me the truth, 
 Mr. Slowkopf ; we will accept my uncle’s 
 offer.” 
 
 Thus it came about that Percy and Hugh Col- 
 ville were entered as boarders at Doctor Donkie- 
 stir’s excellent proprietary commercial school. 
 
90 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE. 
 
 , The Rosebud of Ashbum possessed a female friend. 
 Caroline Selby was the daughter of Sir Thomas 
 Crawley’s agent. Sir Thomas Crawley was the 
 rich man of the neighbourhood, lord of the manor, 
 patron of the living, and owner of a splendid place 
 about a mile from the village ; but although Ash- 
 burn Priory was an old family-seat, the present 
 owner of the property had by no means always 
 been the great man he was at present; indeed, 
 it may be doubted whether, in justice, he had 
 any right to be so at all ; though, unfortunately, 
 in law he possessed a . very sufficient one. The 
 former possessor of Ashburn Priory, an irritable, 
 perverse, old man, had, in a moment of passion, 
 disinherited an only son (who had committed the 
 unpardonable crime of consulting his heart, rather 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 23 
 
 than his pocket, in the choice of a wife), making* 
 a will in favour of a relative whom he had never 
 seen, and of whom the little he had heard was 
 unfavourable. It is true, he never intended this 
 will to take effect; meaning*, when he had suf- 
 ficiently consulted his dig*nity, and marked his 
 disapproval of the sin against Mammon which 
 his son had committed, graciously to receive him 
 into favour again; but Death, who has no more 
 respect for ill-temper, than for many more amiable 
 qualities, did not allow him time to repair the 
 injustice he had committed, cutting him off with 
 an attack of bronchitis, and his son with a shilling, 
 at one fell stroke. The son, an amiable man, wdth 
 a large family (a conjunction so often to be ob- 
 served, that, to a speculative mind, it almost as- 
 sumes the relation of cause and effect) soon 
 spent his shilling, and, overtasking his strength 
 to replace it, ere long followed his unjust father, 
 though we can scarcely imagine that he travelled by 
 the same road. Before this latter event took place, 
 however, Mr. Thomas Crawley made his first ap- 
 pearance as lord of the manor of Ashburn, and 
 master of the Priory; and everybody was so 
 well aware what he was, that they carefully ab- 
 
24 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 stained from inquiring what he had been. To 
 those capable of judging, however, one thing was 
 unmistakeably apparent^ namely, that neither in 
 the past nor in the present, could his manners 
 and appearance entitle him to the designation of 
 a gentleman. That he himself entertained an un- 
 comfoi*table suspicion of this fact, might he 
 gathered from the indefatigable perseverance with 
 which he pursued the object of attaining to the 
 rank of knighthood. Up the rounds of a ladder 
 of gold he climbed into Parliament; once there, 
 if he voted according to his conscience, that in- 
 ward monitor must have been of a decidedly 
 versatile temperament; for the way in which he 
 wheeled about, and turned about, on every occa- 
 sion, conceivable and inconceivable, was without 
 precedent, save in the cases of Jim Crow, of giddy 
 memory, and of Weathercock versus Boreas and Co. 
 At last a crisis arrived; votes were worth more 
 than the men who gave them : a minister stayed 
 in who should have gone out; and Mr. Crawley 
 became Sir Thomas. And this was the man, who, 
 with a rent roll of 15,000Z. a year, was about 
 to avail himself of a legal quibble, in order to 
 extort from a widow and orphans a share of the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 25 
 
 little pittance that remained to them. His agent, 
 Mr. Selby, was a better man than his master; 
 and might have been better still, if his poverty, 
 and not his will,’’ had not led him to consent to 
 be the instrument wherewith Sir Thomas Craw- 
 ley, M.P., transacted much dirty work in Ash- 
 bura and its vicinity. At the time we treat of, 
 the will had so often yielded, that it had quite 
 lost the habit of asserting itself ; and the poverty, 
 profiting by this inertness, had gradually dis- 
 appeared, till Mr. Selby was generally looked 
 upon as a man well to do in the world, and 
 respected accordingly. 
 
 And this brings us back to the point from 
 whence we originally started; namely, that the 
 Rosebud of Ashburn possessed a female friend. 
 Now, the office of female friend to a Rosebud, 
 romantic and poetical as it sounds, was by no 
 means a sinecure; indeed, from the confidante of 
 Tilburina downward, these sympathizers of all 
 work have had hard places of it. Still there 
 appears to be no lack of amiable creatures ready to 
 devote themselves to the cause of friendship ; the 
 supply seems always to equal the demand. Possi- 
 bly occasional perquisites, in the shape of a heart 
 
26 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 caught in the rebound, as in the case of a dis- 
 carded lover, or the reversion of some hon parti^ 
 rejected for a more ehgihle offer, may have some- 
 thing to do with it — of this we cannot pretend to 
 judge. 
 
 That any such sordid notions influenced Caroline 
 Selby in her devotion to Emily Colville, we do 
 not believe; on the contrary, the friendship arose 
 from, and was cemented by, the Jack-Sprat-and- 
 , his-wife-like suitableness of their respective natures ; 
 Caroline having a decided call to look up to and 
 worship somebody, while Emily experienced an 
 equally strenuous necessity for being’ worshipped 
 and looked up to. But the Eosebud was subject 
 also to other necessities, which effectually preserved 
 her friend from falling into the snares of idleness. 
 First, she had a chronic necessity for talking 
 confidence,” — though how, in the quiet village of 
 Ashburn, she contrived to obtain a supply of mys- 
 teries to furnish forth subjects for these strictly 
 private colloquies, was the greatest mystery of all. 
 Then privy councils were held upon dress, in all 
 its branches, from staylaces up to blonde Berthes ; 
 and committees of ways and means had to com- 
 bat and arrange financial difficulties. Again, the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 27 
 
 affairs of their poorer neighbours required much 
 talking about, and speculating upon ; and their 
 little charities (for, despite sundry small weak- 
 nesses and frivolities natural to their age, or rather, 
 youth, and sex, the friends were thoroughly kind- 
 hearted, amiable girls), could not be planned, or 
 executed, without a necessary amount of conversa- 
 tion. Then there was a. town, three miles off 
 by the road, and two and a half by the fields, 
 where everything came fr'om ; for, though Ashburn 
 boasted a general” shop, yet those who were 
 rash enough to particularize any article they might 
 require, beyond the inevitable bacon, cheese, soap, 
 bad tea, worse sugar, starch, and hobnailed shoes, 
 upon which agricultural life is supported, only pre- 
 pared for themselves a disappointment. 
 
 . This obliging town the Eosebud had a call to 
 visit, on an average, three times a week at the very 
 least y and of course, when the pony-chaise could 
 not be had, which, — as Hugh, by the agency of 
 that much enduring pony, existed rather as a cen- 
 taur than a biped, — was almost always the case, 
 CaroHne Selby was required as a walking com- 
 panion. 
 
 Having thus enlightened the reader as to the 
 
28 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 nature of the friendship existing between these 
 young ladies, together with other particulars, which, 
 at the risk of being considered prosy, we felt bound 
 to communicate to him, we resume the thread of 
 our narrative. 
 
 Three weeks had elapsed since Mrs. Colville had 
 accepted her brother’s offer, and the day approached 
 when Percy and Hugh were to quit the home of 
 their happy childhood, never again to return to 
 it. Mrs. Colville seldom alluded to the subject; 
 busying herself in preparing their clothes, and in 
 other necessary duties appertaining to the mistress 
 of a family. 
 
 Now it happened that Master Hugh wore turn- 
 over collars, famous for two peculiarities, viz. — the 
 moment they were put on, clean and smooth, they 
 became rumpled and dirty — and the strings, by 
 which they were fastened, were the victims to 
 a suicidal propensity for tearing themselves vio- 
 lently off, so that the amount of starch, labour, 
 and tape, required to preserve these collars in an 
 efficient condition, formed a serious item in the 
 household expenditure. 
 
 Although the excellent factotum, Sarah, declared 
 upon oath (not a mry naughty one) that she had 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 29 
 
 reviewed the delinquents cautiously that day fort- 
 night, and been able to report them fitted for ser- 
 vice, yet, at the eleventh hour, when she was 
 actually packing Hugh’s box, there were only 
 three strings and a quarter remaining among the 
 twelve collars, and there was no reliance to be 
 placed even upon them. Moreover, on examina- 
 tion, there was discovered to have been such 
 a run upon tape of late, that not an inch of 
 that useful article was forthcoming throughout the 
 entire establishment. Under these appalling cir- 
 cumstances, Emily nobly volunteered to go to 
 Flatville, and invest capital in the purchase of a 
 whole piece of tape.” But the boys were absent 
 on a skating expedition ; and the roads were slip- 
 pery, and the pony had not been roughed, and 
 Emily, not liking to walk by herself, set off, no 
 way loth, to enlist Caroline Selby as her com- 
 panion. 
 
 Here, however, a difficulty arose. Mr. Selby 
 was just starting in his phaeton, to drive over to 
 the railroad station, two miles beyond Flatville, 
 and his daughter was going with him, for the 
 sake of a drive. 
 
 Caroline was perplexed: had it been only to 
 
30 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 give up her own plans, she would gladly have 
 done so; but between her father and her friend, 
 a double sacrifice was required of her, and being 
 only a single woman, she was unable to meet 
 the demand. Mr. Selby, happily, hit upon an ex- 
 pedient. He proposed a compromise : Miss Colville 
 should do him the honour to take a seat in his 
 phaeton (he called it ph^^-^-ton), he would drive 
 her as far as Flatville ; his daughter should alight 
 With her ; they should make their little purchases 
 (the words in italics he uttered in a tone of the 
 enderest affection) ; and the phee-aton, in returning 
 from the station, should call and pick them up. 
 
 Mr. Selby was a very pohte man ; and per- 
 petually rubbed his hands together, as though he 
 were playing at washing them, a habit possibly 
 induced by a consciousness of all the dirty work 
 he had performed. Emily patronised him, steadily 
 disbelieving everything that was hinted against 
 him, because he was Caroline’s father, — a piece of 
 cepticism, amiable, illogical, and womanly, |which 
 we rather admire in the young lady than other- 
 wise. 
 
 Accordingly, favouring him with a bewitching 
 smile, that a better man than he might have been 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 31 
 
 proud to win^ she scarcely touched the hand he 
 held out to assist her (which he carefully dry- 
 washed afterwards, as though the contact even 
 of her fairy fingers had dissolved the spell of 
 its prudish purity), and sprang lightly into the 
 phee-aton.” 
 
 Half an hour’s drive brought them to Flatville, 
 where Mr. Selby, so to speak, washed his hands 
 of them, and went on to the railroad-station. Then 
 began the shopping, that most mysterious and 
 deeply-seated passion of the female heart — the one 
 master-vice which serves the ladies of England 
 instead of the turf, the wine-cup, and the gaming- 
 table, which mislead their lords. There can be 
 little doubt who first invented shopping! The 
 same hand that launched that arrow into the bosom 
 of private life, gave to the child-woman. Eve, the 
 apple that betrayed her — an apple which contained 
 the seeds of shopping. It is such a seductive, hypo- 
 cntical sin, too, this same shopping — one which 
 is so easily dressed up to resemble a virtue — that 
 it is almost impossible to distinguish its true cha- 
 racter, till the hill comes in : that, like the touch 
 of Ithuriel’s spear, reveals the fiend in all its 
 deformity. Every woman (that we have known) 
 
32 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 is more or less addicted to this ruinous practice^ 
 but some appear especially gifted with the fatal 
 talent, and, if the truth must be told, our little 
 heroine was one of these unfortunates. The amount 
 of shopping she would contrive to get, even out of 
 a piece of tape, was fearful to reflect upon. In the 
 first place, it was to be of a particular {very par- 
 ticular) texture, neither too coarse nor too fine; 
 then society would probably be uprooted, and the 
 Thames be set on fire, if it were a shade too wide, 
 or, worse still, too narrow. Again tape was use- 
 less, without needles and thread wherewith to 
 operate upon it; and for some time — indeed, till 
 the obsequious parrot of a shopman had gone 
 through his whole vocabulary of persuasion, and 
 become cynical and monosyllabic — all the needles 
 were too large ; and, that difficulty being overcome, 
 the thread (sewing-cotton Emily called it) took a 
 perverse turn, and would by no means sympathize 
 with the eyes of the selected needles, till the har* 
 assed shopman muttered a private aspiration in 
 regard to those useful orifices, which would have 
 cost him five shillings in any court of justice. But 
 he took his revenge, did that cunning shopman, for, 
 no sooner had Emily bought all that she required. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 33 
 
 
 than he suddenly recovered his good humour and 
 loquacity^ and placed before her exactly the very 
 articles she most desired^ and had not funds to 
 purchase withal, till Tantalus himself might have 
 appeared a gentleman who lived at home at ease, 
 by comparison with that sorely-tempted Rosebud.^’ 
 Still, what woman could do, she did, for she firmly 
 resisted everything, till an unlucky remnant of 
 magpie-coloured ribbon, the very thing she should 
 want when she changed her mourning, and which 
 she knew she should never meet with again,” a 
 ribbon so cheap that the shopman declared he was 
 giving it away” at the very moment when he was 
 adding two shillings to the bill on the strength of 
 it ) though this seductive ribbon beguiled her, the 
 little concession only proved that she was not above 
 humanity. With which fact we are well con- 
 tented, because, enjoying but a very distant and 
 limited acquaintance with such higher circles as 
 she would otherwise have mixed in, we might never 
 have heard of her existence. That she possessed 
 some power of self-denial she proved, by paying 
 her bill and quitting the shop the moment that 
 ribbon had conquered her; the next best thing to 
 resisting temptation being to fly from it. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Why^ Caroline dear^ we must have been an 
 age in that shop, it’s nearly five o’clock ! what can 
 have become of your father’s carriage,” exclaimed 
 Emily, glancing in dismay at the hands of the old 
 church clock, which pointed to a quarter to five. 
 
 Eeally I can’t conceive,” was the reply : some- 
 
 thing must have occurred to delay it, I suppose; 
 it will he growing dusk before we can get home 
 if we have to walk by the road, and we can scarcely 
 ' attempt the fields so late by ourselves.” 
 
 Mama will he so frightened,” suggested Emily, 
 if it gets at all dark before we retur-n — had we not 
 better start at once, and walk on till the carriage 
 overtakes us?” 
 
 Carohne agreed to this plan, merely proposing 
 the emendation that they should leave word they 
 had done so, and that the groom, if he ever ap- 
 peared, was to follow and endeavour to overtake 
 them. For this purpose they re-entered the finen- 
 draper’s shop, where, while they paused for a 
 moment to deliver the message, that vindictive 
 shopman actually w^as scoundrel enough to display 
 at arm’s length a flimsy black scarf {barege we 
 believe the villain called it) which, down to the 
 very pattern itself (opaque spots of the same 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 35 
 
 material, representing apparently a turnip with a 
 cocked hat on, though we can scarcely bring 
 ourselves to believe the draughtsman could se- 
 riously have thus planned the design), Emily had 
 dreamed of only the night before : such is the 
 heartlessness of men — at least of shopmen. 
 
 The two girls, having nobly withstood the scarf, 
 started energetically on their homeward walk, nor 
 were their tongues less active than their feet, but 
 then they had so much to talk about. The linen- 
 draper^s stock was first done ample justice to ; that 
 
 dear” silver gray mousseline de soWy which wasnT 
 dear at all, but as cheap as — (the ribbon perhaps, 
 on which the shopkeeper only realized some fifty 
 per cent., but then it was a remnant, and given 
 away) — and then those gloves, French kid, oh! 
 they must have been smuggled y how wrong it was 
 to smuggle, at least Papa (Selby) always said so, 
 but really the price was quite ridiculous; didn’t 
 Emily think so?” 
 
 Emily did not know about its being ridiculous, 
 but it was dreadfully tempting, and if she had 
 not made up her mind irrevocably against changing 
 any one of the three sovereigns she had in her 
 purse, and which must last her for pocket-money 
 
36 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 for the next two months, she should decidedly have 
 boug-ht a pair, really, for the sake of economy. 
 
 This fruitful and edifying* topic lasted them a 
 good mile and a half, and was not yet exhausted, 
 when Emily interrupted herself by exclaiming — 
 
 Upon my word iUs growing quite dusk • I won- 
 der whether that carriage is ever coming?’^ 
 
 I^m sure I hope so, for I’m getting dreadfully 
 frightened; ah! what’s that?” replied her com- 
 panion with a sudden start ; Oh ! it’s only a post, 
 how silly I am ; I declare I thought it was a man 
 with a pistol hooked — no — what is it they call it 
 when they’re dangerous and mean to go off. Dear?” 
 Cocked,” returned Emily ; but surely that is 
 a man, and a very uncomfortable looking one too ; 
 walk on quickly, and seem' as if you did not 
 perceive him ; perhaps he may not take any notice 
 of us.” 
 
 The advice was sound, but, unfortunately, the plan 
 did not prove as successful as it deserved to be ; the 
 individual in question, who, when they first came in 
 sight, was lying apparently asleep upon some fallen 
 timber by the road side, rose as they came near, and 
 approaching them, began in a tone half-impertinent, 
 half-imploring, to beg of them. He was a stout, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 37 
 
 ruffianly- looking fellow, dressed in a style which 
 accorded with his profession. The poor girls were 
 considerably frightened : they were quite a mile 
 from Ashburn, in a lonely part of the road* 
 the evening was closing in rapidly, and there was 
 no human being in sight, except their persecutor, 
 who, walking beside them, grew every minute 
 more pertinacious and imperative. With a most 
 transparent attempt at dignified composure, Emily 
 drew out her purse, and, taking a shilling from 
 it, handed it to him, saying, — 
 
 There, that is as much as we shall give you, so 
 you need not follow us any farther — good-evening.’’ 
 Taking the shilling, with a look of sulky dis- 
 satisfaction, the fellow paused for a moment in 
 irresolution* but, unfortunately, when Emily pro- 
 duced her purse, his eye had caught the sparkle 
 of gold, and his cupidity was too deeply excited 
 to be so easily satisfied: looking up and down 
 the road, to assure himself that no one was at 
 hand to interfere with his designs, he again fol- 
 lowed the trembling girls 5 and, coming up with 
 them, exclaimed : — 
 
 What ! will you only give a poor fellow that ’s 
 starving, a shilling? and you with a purse full of 
 
88 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 money in your pocket — and you calls yourselves 
 ladies too? It would only serve you right to 
 show you that ladies was no better than other 
 people.’’ 
 
 As he spoke, he pressed rudely against Caroline 
 Selby, who, shrinking from him, whispered in an 
 agony of terror — 
 
 Emily, what will become of us? Pray give 
 him some more money, and entreat him to go 
 away.” 
 
 Thus urged, Emily again drew forth her purse, 
 and, trembling at her own temerity, said in an 
 authoritative tone of voice — 
 
 There’s half-a-crown for you, and now g'o 
 away, and don’t annoy us any more.” 
 
 Not without something better worth taking 
 with me,” was the insolent reply, as, catching her 
 wrist, he attempted to force the purse from her 
 grasps but Emily, although greatly alarmed, had 
 a brave httle heart of her own, and held on stoutly, 
 till the unmanly ruffian, provoked at her perti- 
 nacity, used so much force that she relinquished 
 the purse; while at the same moment, partly 
 through pain, partly through fright, she uttered 
 a piercing scream. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 39 
 
 Now^ albeit insolent lords of the creation exult- 
 ing* in strong nerves, and not possessing soprano 
 voices, are accustomed to regard screaming as a 
 feeble-minded practice, equally useless and ridicu- 
 lous, yet in the instance before us, it proved of 
 the highest benefit, and by far the best thing, 
 which, under the circumstances, Emily could have 
 done ; for, as if he were some good genius evoked 
 by the Rosebud’s appeal, suddenly and unex- 
 pectedly a tall, agile figure, sprang through a 
 gap in the hedge, cleared the intervening space 
 at a bound, and, almost before the footpad was 
 aware of his approach, struck the scoundrel, with 
 a stick which he carried, so severe a blow over 
 the knuckles, that he dropped the purse ; while 
 at the same moment, seizing him by the throat, 
 he forced him backwards, and, putting out his 
 leg, tripped him up, and flung him heavily to 
 the ground. Placing his foot upon the breast of 
 his fallen foe, to prevent his rising, he turned 
 towards the fi-ightened girls, and, lifting his hat 
 so as to display his dark chestnut curls, he said, 
 courteously — 
 
 Do not be alarmed, ladies, I am quite able 
 to protect you.” 
 
40 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Then pointing* to the fallen man with his sticky 
 which he slightly shook at him with a menacing 
 gesture^ he continued — 
 
 Has the scoundrel robbed you of anything 
 but the purse?” 
 
 As she turned to answer, Emily raised her eyes 
 to the speaker’s face. He was young, apparently 
 not more than five or six and twenty \ the exertion 
 he had undergone had caused a bright flush to 
 overspread his usually pale features^ even at that 
 moment his look was calm and spiritual \ the pre- 
 vailing expression of his face was power, which 
 revealed itself in his flasliing eyes, and stern, com- 
 pressed mouth ; his voice, when he spoke, sounded 
 peculiarly rich and sweet. When Emily had in- 
 formed him that, with the exception of the purse, 
 they had sustained no loss, he continued — 
 
 But he was struggling with you when I came 
 up, he must, sui*ely, have hurt you \ are you quite 
 iminjured ?” 
 
 Both the girls having assured him that they 
 were merely frightened, and that until the moment 
 before he appeared, the man had simply been beg- 
 ging of them ; the stranger turned to his pros- 
 trate foe, saying, — 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 41 
 
 It would only serve you right for your un- 
 manly attack upon two defenceless women, if I 
 were to avail myself of the advantage I have 
 gained over you to take you into custody and 
 have you punished for the offence you have com- 
 mitted^ hut as I wish to spare these ladies the 
 alarm of witnessing any farther struggle between 
 us, I shall, with their permission, let you go ; 
 but mind this, I shall give a description of your 
 appearance at the nearest police station ; and if 
 you do not immediately quit this part of the 
 country, you will have rather more attention paid 
 you than you will find by any means agreeable. 
 So now take yourself off while you may.” 
 
 As he spoke, he removed his foot from the 
 scoundrefs breast, and, with difficulty restrain- 
 ing an impulse to bestow upon him a parting 
 kick, allowed him to rise, and slink doggedly 
 away. And now the Rosebud, who, between alarm 
 and gratitude, and shyness, and an embarrassing 
 consciousness that their champion was young and 
 handsome, was altogether in a great state of 
 agitation and excitement, felt it incumbent upon 
 her, as spokeswoman, to express her sentiments 
 as best she might. Accordingly, with some hesi- 
 
42 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tation and many blushes, which unfortunately the 
 increasing* darkness rendered invisible, she informed 
 the stranger how very much obliged to him they 
 were; and impressed upon his mind, the state of 
 abject terror from which he had relieved them, 
 glancing slightly at the anxiety they felt for the 
 favourable termination of the combat, and their 
 admiration of, and gratitude for, his heroic con- 
 duct. 
 
 The stranger received her acknowledgments with 
 a quiet smile, partly pleased, partly amused by the 
 young giiTs eagerness, then, in a few simple, cour- 
 teous, well-chosen words, he expressed the pleasure 
 he had felt in having been able to render them 
 such a slight service, adding, he should always con- 
 sider it a most fortunate occurrence that, owing to 
 a fancy which had seized him, to find his way from 
 the railroad station across the fields, he had been 
 enabled to arrive just at the most critical moment. 
 
 The Rosebud listened to him attentively. One 
 thing was quite evident, be he whom he might, 
 both his language and manner proved him a gen- 
 tleman. Mysterious and deeply interesting ! Could 
 it be Prince Albert, wandering about the country 
 in disguise, for some inexplicable purpose connected 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 43 
 
 with political economy ; oi* the Admirable Crichton^ 
 suddenly ^^come alive/’ to seek for a wife in the 
 nineteenth century ? 
 
 The arrival of the Pheeaton/’ which had been 
 taken poorly, and obliged to have its wheel oiled, 
 a process which, owing to the inefficiency of the 
 blacksmith who (^ faute de mieuoi) had been called 
 in to attend the patient, had occupied a longer 
 portion of time than was by any means necessary, 
 interrupted Emily’s conjectures. 
 
 The mysterious strangler, as soon as he under- 
 stood the connection between the vehicle and the 
 damsels he had rescued, politely handed them in ; 
 and, refusing Caroline’s timid offer of a seat, again 
 raised his hat, and the carriage driving on, was 
 soon lost to sight. 
 
 ^^Oh! Emily, what a brave, handsome, cour- 
 teous, interesting creature!” exclaimed Caroline, 
 enthusiastically ; who can he be ? ” 
 
 I can’t conceive 5 but we shall be sure to find 
 out, for he is walking in the direction of Ash- 
 bum,” was the reply. ^^He certainly knocked 
 that dreadful man down very cleverly, and was 
 extremely kind and goodnatured to us ; but do 
 you think him so very handsome ?” 
 
44 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 there can’t he a doubt about it. Those 
 pale^ interesting* features ; that lofty brow ; those 
 splendid flashing* eyes; the dark clusters of his 
 waving* hair ! ” 
 
 Carry, you’ve fallen in love with the man at 
 first sight, and are a susceptible little goose; he 
 is by no means the Adonis you make out; and, 
 remember we know nothing about him; he may 
 be a bagman for anything we can tell to the con- 
 trary,” rejoined Emily. 
 
 Now, I ’m quite certain he is a gentleman, 
 and most likely, something better still. He spoke 
 just like Lord Adolphus Fitztoplofty, when I 
 danced with him at the race-ball, and he asked 
 me whether I’d seen the ^Prophete,’ and if I 
 didn’t doat upon that dear Mario (so lucky that 
 he should fix upon the only opera I’d ever heard, 
 wasn’t it?), and yet you pretend to believe he’s 
 a bagman ; but I know you only say so to plague 
 me, you naughty thing* ;” and thus speaking, Caro- 
 line relieved her overwrought feelings by giving 
 her ft-iend a playful blow, which the most fragile 
 fly might have endured unshrinkingly. 
 
 My dear child, I never hinted anything of 
 the kind,” returned Emily; au contraire^ I be- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 45 
 
 lieve Lord Adolphus to be a thoroughly well- 
 authenticated young* nobleman^ and consider him 
 the most gentlemanly puppy I have ever met.’^ 
 
 Tiresome girl • you know I don’t mean Lord 
 Fitz. But I ’ll stake my penetration on the stran- 
 ger’s gentility ; you only abuse him because you 
 admire him so much that you are ashamed to own 
 it, you mean, deceitful girl.” 
 
 Silly child, how can you be so absurd ! ” said 
 the Rosebud 5 but, although it was so dark that, 
 if she had blushed, her friend could never have 
 discovered it, she turned away her head as she 
 spoke. 
 
46 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SHUFFLING, DEALING, AND TURNING UP A KNAVE 
 AND A TRUMP. 
 
 ^^Taee this to Sir Thomas Crawley and tell him 
 I am waiting',” 
 
 The servant to whom the above direction was 
 given, carried the card, to which it referred, to 
 his master, who, lifting it fi^om the silver waiter 
 on which it was presented, read the following 
 name, — The Rev. Ernest Carrington.” 
 
 Shew the gentleman into the library, and bring' 
 candles there directly,” said Sir Thomas ; then, 
 thrusting his fingers through the short, stiff, grey 
 bristles, suggestive of a venerable, and well-worn 
 scrubbing-brush, which constituted his head of 
 hair — an action which, to any one acquainted with 
 his habits, would have proved that he was 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 47 
 
 anxious and excited — he turned, and left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 When he entered the library, his excitement 
 seemed to have increased, and taken a crabbed 
 turn, for it was in no very cordial tone of voice 
 that he addressed his visitor. 
 
 If, as I presume, you have come here in con- 
 sequence of my letter, I must say you have 
 chosen a somewhat late hour for a business visit, 
 young gentleman.” 
 
 I lost no time, sir, in making the necessary 
 inquiries,” was the reply. Immediately on re- 
 ceiving your letter, I hastened to London, saw 
 your solicitor, perused my grandfather’s will, ob- 
 tained the information I required, and came down 
 by the first train which stopped at the Flatville 
 station, and as your man of business informed me 
 time was of importance, I would not wait till to- 
 morrow, lest the delay might cause you incon- 
 venience. If that is not sufficient apology for my 
 untimely visit, I have none other to offer.” 
 
 The calm, respectful, but at the same time per- 
 fectly self-possessed manner of the speaker, ap- 
 peared to have the same kind of effect upon his 
 auditor that the keeper’s eye has upon spme savage 
 
48 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 animal, for he replied, in a more civil tone than 
 he had yet used, — 
 
 ^^Yes, well — I see — yes. I am oblig*ed to you 
 for the prompt attention you have paid to my 
 letter.’’ He paused, then added, with affected in- 
 difference, — About the entail ^ you find of course 
 that the point raised was a wholly unnecessary 
 one, and that your signature is a mere matter of 
 form, to satisfy the absurd scruples of the party 
 negotiating for the purchase ; some people are so 
 ridiculously cautious, ha ! ha !” and here he laughed 
 a forced, uneasy laugh. 
 
 Such was by no means the view the solicitor, 
 whom I consulted in town, appeared to take of 
 the matter,” was Ernest’s quiet reply. So far 
 from it, that he declared, without my signature, 
 the title was worthless^ and that, if I were in- 
 clined to litigate the question, he had not a 
 doubt, that I should gain my cause. The estates, 
 he said, were clearly entailed \ and, therefore, my 
 grandfather could not alienate them without my 
 father’s consent, which, I need scarcely tell you, 
 he never attempted to obtain.” 
 
 Sir Thomas Crawley’s brow grew black as mid- 
 night. Preposterous,” he said, quite childish 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 49 
 
 and preposterous, I have taken counseFs opinion 
 on the pointy and they say you havn’t a leg* to 
 stand on. You must have consulted some very 
 ignorant person.’’ 
 
 On the contrary; it was Mr, S.^ of 
 
 street/’ replied Ernest^ naming a gentleman whose 
 reputation for legal knowledge and acumen was 
 undeniable ; but/’ he continued, it matters 
 little, for I have no intention of raising the question. 
 The animus of my gTandfather’s will is unmis- 
 takeable ; he meant to leave every acre away from 
 my father ; and I should scorn to hold the estate 
 on no better tenure than the juggling of a legal 
 quibble,” 
 
 Then you are prepared to sign the paper 
 resigning all claim upon the entailed estates, are 
 you ? ” inquired Sir Thomas, eagerly. 
 
 ^^Yes, this very moment, if you choose,” was 
 the ready answer. 
 
 Sir Thomas paused an instant in thought ere he 
 rephed. 
 
 There is no such extreme hurry : Mr. Selby, 
 my country agent, will be here to-morrow morning, 
 and can witness your signature. I am glad to find 
 that you take such a sensible view of the matter. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I had feared you might have formed some rash 
 hopes on the streng1;h of my application ; in fact^ I 
 was most unwilling to apply to you ; but — but — ” 
 
 ^^You found it impossible to make out a title 
 wliich could sell the estate without so doing/’ 
 interposed Ernest^ in a tone of quiet politeness, in 
 which it would have required perceptions quicker 
 and more delicate than those of Sir Thomas 
 Crawley, to have distinguished the covert satne 
 that lurked beneath it. 
 
 Exactly : one of those contemptible legal qidb- 
 bles which you so justly reprobate,” returned Sir 
 Thomas ; however, I am glad to perceive you 
 feel with me so completely. You will dine with 
 me ? and I have a bed very much at yom^ ser\dce.” 
 
 Ernest thanked him, but civilly declined. Sir 
 Thomas, however, persisted, he would take no 
 denial, and at length a compromise was effected, 
 Ernest consenting to dine with his rich relative, 
 on condition that he might return to the inn where 
 he had left his valise, in time to write one or 
 two letters of importance to go by the early post 
 the next morning. 
 
 The dinner passed off agreeably enough ; Ernest 
 being one of those happily - endowed individuals 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 51 
 
 who, without falsifying their own opinions, or 
 seeming the thing they are not, yet possess the 
 talent of adapting their conversation to those with 
 whom they are thrown in company, in such manner 
 as to set them [at ease, and draw out the best 
 points of their characters. 
 
 Sir Thomas experienced the full influence of 
 this fascination, and talked largely of his schemes 
 for the amelioration of his tenantry* of plans for 
 the revision and modification of the poor laws ; of 
 the advisability of erecting model lodging-houses 
 for the industrial classes, &c. &c., until he had 
 deceived his companion, and almost persuaded 
 himself, into the belief that he was an enlightened 
 philanthropist, overflowing with the milk of human, 
 kindness. 
 
 On his return to the inn at Ashburn, Ernest 
 wrote the following letter to an old college friend 
 who was junior partner in the office of the legal 
 luminary to whom he had alluded in his interview 
 with Sir Thomas Crawley. 
 
 dear Milford, — Since I saw you two 
 days ago, I have got through a considerable 
 amount of business, met with an adventure, and, in 
 
 library 
 
 university OF ILLINOIS 
 
52 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 short; condensed more active existence into the last 
 eig’ht-and-forty honrS; than one often accomphshes 
 in as many days. One thing I am delighted to 
 tell yoii; — I have succeeded in procuring employ- 
 ment; which will more than provide for the few 
 requirements without which one must degrade fi*om 
 the rank of gentleman. You can noW; therefore; 
 carry out the arrangement I explained to yoU; and 
 settle the small residue of my poor father’s pro- 
 perty upon my sisters ; — my mother; as you are 
 aware; having (I own against my wishes) married 
 again. Thanks to those unnaturally amiable rail- 
 road shares which my father bought just before his 
 decease; and which have turned out a really good 
 investment (I look upon anyone who; having 
 gambled in railroads leaves off a winner; as I 
 should at a rat; whO; nibbling at a baited trap; 
 carried off the cheese scatheless); they will thus be 
 able to hve in comparative comfort; especially on 
 the Continent; which their tastes lead them to 
 prefer. The employment I have obtained is not 
 exactly to my liking; but I shall look out for a 
 curacy if I find the duties of my position un- 
 bearably irksome. Owing to my wrangler’s degi^ee 
 I distanced some half dozen competitors; and 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 53 
 
 obtained the post of classical and mathematical 
 master at Doctor Donkiestir’s well known school, 
 almost as soon as I had entered my name as can- 
 didate. I begin my new duties the day after 
 to-morrow, at which time the school meets. 
 
 Having been thus enabled to place my sisters 
 beyond the reach of poverty, my last scruple in 
 regard to that which you are pleased to call my 
 absurd Quixotism about the entailed estates, has 
 vanished; and I, this evening, signified m propria 
 persona to Sir Thomas, my willingness to Mo a 
 little bit of Esau,’ as you irreverently term sign- 
 ing away my birthright ; —and here, par parenthhej 
 let me observe that you are too much addicted to 
 this style of Scriptural jesting — a fault the more 
 to be reprehended because (as I find to my cost) 
 it is decidedly infectious : verhim sat ! The afore- 
 said ^ Sir Thomas’ seems, as far as one can judge 
 on so short an acquaintance, by no means so 
 black as he is painted ; indeed, upon many of 
 the great social questions of the day, his ideas 
 coincide wonderfully with my own : he was polite 
 in the extreme, though I must confess his amia- 
 bility followed my declaration that I was willing 
 to meet his wishes in regard to the entail. 
 
54 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 This epistle has run to such an unexpected 
 length that I have no room to detail my adven- 
 ture, and will merely stimulate your curiosity by 
 adding that it was intensely romantic, and that 
 it contained the elements of the two tilings which, 
 in the old Trinity days, we esteemed the gi’eatest 
 pleasures in life ^ viz., a fight and a flirtation. 
 
 In consideration of my cloth I indulged in the 
 first sparingly, and abstained fi*om the last en- 
 tirely 5 though, as far as the twihght enabled me 
 to judge, the provocation was a very fair one. 
 I know the epithet this confession will obtain for 
 me ; but I had rather hear the ignominy of 
 being considered a ^muff’ than merit the de- 
 signation of a ‘ fast parson and so fare thee well. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 Ernest Carrington. 
 
 P.S. — Remember, my sisters are not to know 
 that I am sacrificing anything to add to their 
 income ; you are merely to inform them that, 
 my father’s affairs being at length arranged, they 
 will for the future he in the receipt of six hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds per annum, instead of the 
 four hundred which you before paid to them ; 
 and the delightful mist through which all women 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 55 
 
 regard business matters, will effectually prevent 
 their making any further discoveries.’’ 
 
 Having sealed his letter, Ernest betook himself 
 to bed, and fell asleep as contentedly as if he 
 had not sacrificed an estate worth 10,000/. to a 
 chivalrous scruple, and a patrimony of 200/. a 
 year, to brotherly affection. 
 
 Sir Thomas Crawley mig^ht consider him a 
 weak-minded, good-natured fool ; Milford de- 
 signate him a ^^muff.” But if there were a few 
 more such muffs and fools in this realm of good 
 King Mammon, that same kingdom might be 
 better worth living in. 
 
 By ten o’clock the next morning he was again 
 at Ashburn Priory; signed the deed, relinquish- 
 ing all claim upon the entailed estates; shook 
 hands cordially with the rich man who was thus 
 scheming to defraud him ; and started with a 
 light heart, and still lighter purse, to carry his 
 own carpet-bag seven miles to the railroad. About 
 a mile from the station, a pony-chaise overtook 
 him, driven by a stout serving -lad, and contain- 
 ing two gentlemanly -looking boys, dressed in 
 mourning, and a ponderous trunk carefully corded 
 
56 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and directed. As this vehicle approached^ Ernest, 
 who had walked fast, paused to wipe his brow, 
 at the same time resting his carpet-bag, which 
 he had carried on a stick over his shoulder, 
 upon the top of the last milestone. 
 
 The elder of the two boys regarded him atten- 
 tively; then whispered something to the younger, 
 who nodded and smiled in reply: making a sign 
 to the driver to stop, the elder boy, addressing 
 Ernest, began — 
 
 I beg your pardon, sir, hut you seem tired : 
 we are going to the Flatville Station, and have a 
 vacant seat at your service, if you please to ac- 
 cept it.’’ 
 
 I will, with the greatest pleasiue,” returned 
 Ernest, ^^if you are sure we shall not overweight 
 the pony.” 
 
 Oh, you needn’t be afraid — you need not he 
 in the least afraid of that, sir,” interposed the 
 younger hoy, confidently. Sampson can draw 
 us ; Sampson is as strong as ” 
 
 His Israelitish namesake, perhaps,” sug- 
 gested Ernest, placing his carpet-bag on the top 
 of the trunk, and springing lightly into the 
 pony-chaise. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 57 
 
 I was going* to say as strong as the 
 Elephant and Castle/’ remarked the younger hoy, 
 with a look of profound sagacity ; but, perhaps, 
 the original Sampson will do as well. What do 
 you say, Percy?” 
 
 I say that you are an absurd little chatter-box, 
 Hugh, and I have little doubt the gentleman thinks 
 so too,” returned his brother, — for the reader need 
 scarcely peruse the direction on the trunk, albeit 
 written in Percy’s plainest hand, to inform him that 
 the boys were the two young Colvilles, then leaving 
 home for the first time in their lives. 
 
 The parting had been a trying scene for all 
 the persons concerned; and poor Hugh had only 
 just recovered from the hearty cry in which 
 even his incipient manly dignity could not 
 preserve him from indulging, when they over- 
 took Ernest. 
 
 ‘‘ A chatter-box, perhaps, but not an absurd 
 one,” was the good-natured reply. feel par- 
 ticularly interested about the pony, I can assure 
 you; have you had him long? I dare say he 
 is a gi*eat favourite.” 
 
 This speech, which was addressed to Hugh, was 
 too much for the poor little fellow’s fortitude, and 
 
58 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 after a vain strugg'le to repress them, his scarcely 
 dried tears sprang forth anew. 
 
 Percy threw his arm round him, and drew him 
 affectionately to his side, as he said, in an explana- 
 tory whisper, He is going to school for the first 
 time, sir, and before he comes hack, the pony 
 we are so fond of, must be sold.’’ 
 
 And you ? ” enquired Ernest, interested by the 
 boy’s manner and appearance. 
 
 ' I am older, and therefore better able to bear 
 such little trials,” was the reply. Besides,” Percy 
 continued, in a lower tone, ^^my mother depends 
 upon me to take care of him, and keep up his 
 spirits, for he has no father now to protect 
 
 him.” 
 
 Ernest glanced involuntarily at their deep mourn- 
 ing, and there was a pause ; for the cir-cumstance 
 brought vividly before his recollection a similar 
 period of sorrow, when death had been busy 
 
 among his own loved ones, and his father and a 
 
 younger brother, of whom Percy strongly re- 
 minded him, had been called from this world of 
 care, and sin, and sorrow, to that better land 
 where the wicked cease from troubhng, and 
 the weary are at rest.” The silence was at 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 59 
 
 length broken by Hiigh^ whose grief was a 
 very April kind of affair, even at the worst of 
 times. 
 
 I suppose you ’re not going to school, sir, too ? ” 
 he said, addressing Ernest, while a merry sparkle 
 in his eye belied the simplicity the question in- 
 dicated. 
 
 Perhaps I may be,” returned Ernest, smiling 
 at the applicability of the question to his own situa- 
 tion. If I should tell you that I were going 
 to do so, would you believe me ? ” 
 
 I don’t think I should,” replied Hugh, regard- 
 ing him attentively. People don’t usually go to 
 school when they’ve these things on their faces;” 
 and as he spoke he, with a gesture half coaxing half 
 arch, gave a gentle twitch to Ernest’s curling 
 whiskers. 
 
 Percy, afraid Hugh’s sudden rush into intimacy 
 might annoy the stranger, attempted to restrain 
 him ; but Ernest, with a good-natured smile, pre- 
 vented him. 
 
 Do not check him,” he said ; our friendship 
 will not end any sooner because it has begun rather 
 rapidly.” He then entered into conversation with 
 the boys, choosing subjects in which he imagined 
 
60 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 they would feel interest^ and enlarging upon them 
 so cleverly and amusingly, that ere they reached 
 the station, he had completely captivated the fresh, 
 warm hearts of his young companions. 
 
 What will you say if I guess where you are 
 going to?’’ he inquired of Hugh, as they drove 
 up to the station. 
 
 Why, if you guess right, I shall say you must 
 he a conjurer,” was the reply. 
 
 I think you are going to Doctor Donkiestir’s 
 school at Tickletown. Am I right ?” 
 
 Quite, quite right,” exclaimed Hugh, clapping 
 his hands in delighted surprise ; but you must 
 be a conjurer ; how did you contrive to find it 
 out?” 
 
 Ernest enjoyed his mystification for a minute 
 or so \ then, casting his eyes on the box, observed 
 quietly, I was taught to read when I was a good 
 little boy ; and your brother has written that direc- 
 tion so plainly, that I must have been blind if I 
 had not been able to decipher it.” 
 
 Oh, you cheat ! anybody could have done 
 that,” returned Hugh, contemptuously; ^^and I 
 to think you a conjurer ! Why, I expected to see 
 you take twenty eggs out of an empty bag, and 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 61 
 
 make a boiled plum-pudding in your bat 5 like 
 the man we saw perform last year. I say, Percy^ 
 it strikes me I Ve been making a goose of my- 
 self.’’ 
 
 u Yery decidedly/’ was Percy’s quiet reply. 
 
C2 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A FAST SPECIMEN OF “ YOUNG ENGLAND." 
 
 / 
 
 The railroad-station at Flatville was a larg’e and 
 central one^ two or three branches converging* at 
 that point and joining* the main line. A train 
 fi*om London was due before that by which the 
 Colvilles were to proceed^ would start. Almost 
 at the moment our little party arrived, it made its 
 appearance, the engine snorting and puffing as 
 though it were about to burst with spite at having 
 been forced to draw so heavy a train at the rate of 
 fifty miles an hour. 
 
 This is the train by which our cousin Wilfi*ed 
 Goldsmith was to arrive ; but it is so long since I 
 last saw him, that I scarcely expect to recognize 
 him,” observed Percy. 
 
 Oh ! I hope we shall not miss him, for he will 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 63 
 
 take care that they don’t put us into a wrong' 
 carriage and carry us off to some desolate island^ 
 where we shall never he heard of any more till 
 we have been eaten by the savages^ like Captain 
 Cook; and then you know it will be too late/’ 
 suggested Hugh. 
 
 I will ensure you against that catastrophe/’ 
 observed Ernest, even if your cousin should not 
 make his appearance ; for I am going as far as 
 Tickletown, and we will travel in the same car- 
 riage ; see they are bringing them up now — follow 
 me.” 
 
 So saying, and having committed the important 
 trunk to the care of an amiable and intelligent 
 porter, Ernest selected a carriage, and the trio took 
 their seats. Just before the train was about to 
 start, an individual bustled up, followed by a porter- 
 carrying a writing-desk and a railway-rug glowing 
 with all the colours of the rainbow. The moment 
 the door was opened he sprang in with such energy 
 as nearly to overturn poor Hugh. 
 
 Beg j^our pardon, little boy, but ’pon my^ word 
 I didn’t see you — you ought to grow a couple of 
 sizes larger to travel safe by rail ; it was nearly a 
 case of infanticide — a s'po 'ilt child, as somebody calls 
 
64 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 it. Thatll do; Velveteens’’ (tliis was addressed to 
 the porter ) ; gently with that writing-desk if ^ou 
 please; there’s all my personal jewellery and several 
 £500 notes in it. That’s the time of day; sorry, 
 the directors set their faces against tippings but the 
 first occasion on which we meet in private life^ half- 
 a-crown awaits you; till then, Velveteens, as the 
 Archbishop says in the play, accept my blessing.” 
 The speaker was either a very small man, or a 
 large boy dressed in adult clothing— at first sight 
 it was not easy to determine w^hich — till closer 
 observation detected in the breaking voice, now 
 hoarse now shi^ill, the youthful complexion and 
 straggling unformed figure, sufficient evidence that 
 the latter hypothesis was the correct one. His 
 outer boy was encased in a rough, very loose pea- 
 jacket, with preternatural buttons, a pah* of the 
 very loudest” checked trousers, real Wellington 
 boots, with heels not above three inches high, a 
 shawl round his neck, in regard to which even 
 Emily’s perfidious shopman might have been be- 
 heved had he declared the colours to be indisputably 
 ^fast^ while a velvet travelhng-cap with a bullion 
 tassel, completed his costume. Having wrapped 
 his rug round his lower hmbs, and gone through a 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 65 
 
 most elaborate pantomime of making’ himself com- 
 fortable, he condescended to favour his companions 
 with a glance of patronizing scrutiny; apparently 
 satisfying himself, by this means, that they were 
 sufficiently respectable to be honoured by his con- 
 versation, he turned to Ernest, saying — 
 
 Fine open weather this, sir — jolly for the 
 hunting — none of your confounded frosts to-day — 
 regular break-up yesterday evening, and been thaw- 
 ing like bricks ever since — fond of hunting, sir ?’’ 
 
 I consider it a fine, manly sport, but too dan- 
 gerous for little boys to be allowed to indulge in,” 
 returned Ernest, drily. 
 
 Either not detecting, or more probably purposely 
 ignoring, the covert satire of this speech, the fast 
 young gentleman appeared to agree in the sentiment ; 
 
 Yes ; that’s true enough,” he said : for in- 
 
 stance, I would n’t advise this small shaver” (in- 
 dicating with a motion of the eyelid Hugh, who 
 sat watching him with breathless astonishment) to 
 trust himself across country outside a horse; but 
 when one has come to— ahem ! years of discretion, 
 and learned how to take care of oneself, the purpose 
 for which divines tell us we are sent into the world, 
 why the more hunting one gets the jollier, I say.” 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Have you ever been out hunting* yourself, may 
 I ask?” inquired Ernest, fixing his penetrating* 
 g*lance full on the boy’s countenance ^ who, despite 
 his fastness, was not, when asked a straightforward 
 question, prepared to tell an actual lie, though, to 
 adhere to the exact truth would have made his 
 previous remarks appear singularly inconsistent and 
 uncalled for ; accordingly he answered — 
 
 Ay — well — yes — oh! of course I’ve been out 
 hunting — ar — not exactly on horseback, perhaps, 
 but it’s just the same thing, you know; — what a 
 shocking slow train this is to be sure — they hardly 
 do their five and thirty miles an hour : I shall 
 certainly write to the Times about it, if they 
 don’t mind what they’re at.” 
 
 During this speech, Hugh’s sharp eyes had de- 
 ciphered the direction on the important writing- 
 desk, containing the jewellery and the incalculable 
 number of £600 notes, and he promulgated the 
 result of his discovery thus : — ^ Wilfred J. Gold- 
 smith, Esquire’ : what ! are you our cousin Wilfred ? 
 why I took you for a gentleman !” 
 
 Oh, Hugh ! ” exclaimed Percy, scandalized at 
 his brother’s rudeness. 
 
 No, I don’t mean that,” continued Hugh quickly, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 67 
 
 while Ernest turned away his head to hide an irre- 
 pressible smile y I mean I took you for a grown 
 up gentleman^ and not a boy like Percy, you know.” 
 This involuntary tribute to the man-about-town- 
 like adultness of his manners and appearance, de- 
 lighted Wilfred Jacob more than the most elaborate 
 compliment courtier could have devised ; at length 
 he had found some one to believe in him, and to 
 take him at his own valuation, and he adopted and 
 steadily patronized Hugh, from that time forth. 
 He was much too wide-awake, however, to allow 
 this to appear* replying in the off-hand manner 
 which he affected — 
 
 Rather an equivocal compliment that, young 
 ’un • but I expect it was better meant than ex- 
 pressed^ so I’ll take the will for the deed, as 
 the lawyer’s clerk did after he’d mixed the 
 ^ dog’s-nose’ rather too stiff at his early dinner. 
 
 ^ Always give credit for good intentions’ is a copy 
 old Splitnib (so called from an analogy between his 
 professional avocations, and the fact of his having, 
 in bygone hours, fallen over a form and divided 
 the bridge of his own proboscis) will set you writing 
 before you are many days older* and in me you 
 behold a living embodiment of the precept.” 
 
68 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 How was it we did not see you at the station^ 
 Cousin Wilfred?” inquired Percy; we waited as 
 long as we dared^ till we thought we should lose 
 the train^ looking for you.” 
 
 Why; you see^ my dear boy,” began Wilfred; 
 stretching out a boot beyond the rainbow-coloured 
 wrapper; for the purpose of tapping it admiringly 
 with a dandyfied little cane; leaving the modern 
 Babylon by the seven o’clock a.m.; I necessarily 
 breakfasted early ; and aS; according to Cocker; the 
 interval between six a.m. and one p.m. embraces 
 seven hourS; I experienced; on my arrival at the 
 Flatville station; the very uncomfortable sensation 
 of nature abhorring a vacuum in my breadbasket ; 
 and as even Curtins himself could scarcely have 
 contrived to fill up a similar gulf by jumping 
 down his own throat; I walked first into the re- 
 freshment room; and then into a basin of mock- 
 turtle soup. A deucedly pretty gal it was who 
 handed it to mO; too; uncommon attentive she 
 was to be sure : in fact; entre nous,^ he continued, 
 leaning confidentially towards Ernest; it strikes 
 me she wasn’t altogether insensible to the personal 
 attractions of ^ yours truly’ — do you twig?” 
 
 Ernest smiled as he replied; Of course she 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 69 
 
 charged for her admiration, as well as for your 
 luncheon.” 
 
 Eeal turtle as well as mock, eh ? I hope you 
 don’t mean any insinuation about a calf’s head tdo ! 
 But, now you mention it, I do think seven-and- 
 sixpence was rather high for a basin of soup, — ah ! 
 the women, they make sad fools of us youth ; but, 
 as the old lady piously remarked, when her pet dog- 
 died of repletion, ^ such is life, which is the end of 
 all things,’ — heigh-ho ! ” 
 
 Having relieved his feelings by venting a deep 
 sigh. Master (he would have annihilated us for so 
 calling him) Wilfred Jacob, who appeared gifted 
 with an interminable flow of conversation, and an 
 insatiable delight in listening to his own voice, again 
 addi*essed his companions, exclaiming — 
 
 I tell you what it is, gentlemen : the cares of 
 existence, and the heartlessness of that deluding 
 mock - turtle soup gal, are weighing upon my 
 spirits to such a degree, that nothing short of a 
 mild cigar can bring me round again : that is, 
 always supposing you, none of you, entertain a 
 rooted aversion (you perceive the pun?) to the 
 leaves of the Indian herb.” 
 
 I presume you are aware that smoking in a 
 
70 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 first-class carriage is against the rules of the railway 
 company/’ suggested Ernest. 
 
 I know that some such prejudice exists in their 
 feeble minds/’ was the rejoinder; hut they are 
 not obliged to learn anything about it, are they? 
 ^ where ignorance is bliss/ you know.” 
 
 The first porter who opens the door is certain 
 to perceive the smell ; and of course if he inquires 
 whence it proceeds, I shall not attempt to disguise 
 the truth,” returned Ernest. 
 
 Never' fear,” was the reply; even if such an 
 alarming contingency were to accrue, I know a safe 
 dodge to throw him off the scent.” 
 
 If I possessed any authority over you, I should 
 strongly remonstrate against your violating such 
 a wise and useful regulation,” observed Ernest 
 gravely. 
 
 That fearful moral responsibility not resting 
 upon your conscience — for which, as a philanthropist, 
 I feel humbly thankful — I shall, with your leave, 
 waste no more precious time, hut go ahead at 
 once.” So saying, the young pickle drew from his 
 pocket a small, neatly-finished leather case, well 
 filled with cigars ; having politely offered it in turn 
 to each of his companions, who were unanimous 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 71 
 
 in their refusal^ he selected a cigar^ lighted it by 
 means of a piece of German tinder^ and^ placing it 
 in his mouthy began puffing away with equal zest 
 and science. 
 
 Having set it going to his satisfaction, he re- 
 moved it for a moment, and, emitting a gracefid 
 wreath of smoke, resumed — Capital good cigars 
 these—came from Fribourg and Pontets — I never 
 smoke any others — better change your mind and 
 
 take one, Mr. ’pon my word your name has 
 
 escaped me?’’ 
 
 Are you quite certain you ever knew it ?” 
 inquired Ernest, whilst a smile of quiet intelligence 
 curled his handsome mouth. 
 
 In no degree disconcerted. Master Wilfred took 
 another long pull at his cigar ere he replied, Not 
 to be done, eh, sir ? Well I respect a man all the 
 more for being unpumpable; dodginess in all its 
 branches is the virtue I most venerate.” 
 
 And what i8 dodginess, please. Cousin Wilfred,” 
 inquired Hugh, upon whose youthful intelligence 
 slang was, for the first time, dawning with all its 
 fascinating eloquence. 
 
 Dodginess, my verdant young relative, is a 
 psychological attribute compounded of equal por- 
 
72 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tions of presence of mind and fertility of resource^ 
 which enables every ^ cove ’ (cove is a generic 
 appellation for indiscriminate male humanity thus 
 happily endowed, to rise superior to all the minor 
 obstacles of existence; as, for example, — when I, 
 trying* to pump the gentleman opposite in regard to 
 his patronymic, was by him foiled in my attempt, 
 and - convicted of the logical absurdity of having 
 declared myself to have forgotten that which I had 
 never known; or again, — when, this morning, my 
 governor, your venerable uncle, who, beniglited 
 innocent that he is, hopes to coerce me into giving- 
 up smoking, took from me my cigar-case, but 
 allowed me to regain it by picking his pocket 
 thereof, while squabbling with the cabman for an 
 extra sixpence ; — mind you recollect all this, for, in 
 these days, slang is completely the language of 
 fashionable life. Were I that epitome of slowness, 
 the ^ father of a family,’ I should have the young 
 idea taught to clothe itself in slang from the cradle 
 upwards. And now as I’ve a notion the train is 
 approaching a station, and my cigar has arrived at 
 its terminus, you shall witness a specimen of 
 dodginess with your own eyes ; — be silent and 
 observe me attentively— ahem !” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 73 
 
 He then flung the end of his cigar out of window, 
 and, assuming an air of great consequence, waited 
 till the train stopped; the moment it did so, he 
 summoned a porter. 
 
 Porter, open the door ! ” The man obeyed. 
 
 Put your head in and tell me what this carriage 
 smells of.” 
 
 The porter, looking surprised at the request,^ 
 complied — It smells tobaccer-efied like to me,” 
 he observed after a minute’s investigation. 
 
 Tobaccerefied indeed ! ” repeated Wilfred J acob, 
 in a tone of the deepest indignation ; some brute 
 has been smoking in this carriage, I’m certain of 
 it ! a first-class carriage, too. I tell you what, 
 porter, when gentlemen pay for the comfort and 
 convenience of a first-class carriage, they expect to 
 enjoy what they pay for, and not to be poisoned 
 alive with the odour of tobacco.” 
 
 Smoking ain’t never allowed in the fust class, 
 sir,” pleaded the embarrassed porter. 
 
 It may not be allowed, but it has been donCy 
 was the captious reply: I’ll take my oath some 
 
 one has been smoking in this carriage; I’m as 
 certain of it as if I ’d seen ’em myself ; my nose 
 never deceives me; — what’s your name?” 
 
74 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 My name be Johnson • but I’ll call the station- 
 master to speak to you^ sir.” 
 
 By no means 5 it’s no fault of his/’ replied Wil- 
 fred, hastily, feeling anything but desirous that a 
 more enlightened intellect should be brought to 
 bear upon the question : no, I shall write to the 
 
 directors, to complain, and call you to witness 
 that I mentioned the fact at the first station we 
 stopped at. It ’s absurd to pretend to make rules, 
 and then suffer them to be broken in this way. 
 Shut the door; I shall remember your name — 
 Johnson!” and as he uttered the last word, the 
 train started. 
 
 His companions exchanged glances : Percy’s ex- 
 pressed disapproval ; Hugh’s mingled surprise and 
 delight ; while Ernest was so much amused at the 
 boy’s ready wit and cool impudence, that, for the 
 life of him, he could not reprove him for the de- 
 ception. 
 
 When the recollection of this little incident had, 
 in some degree, worn off, Percy asked his cousin 
 how he liked Doctor Donkiestir’s school ; and 
 begged him to tell them a little about the man- 
 ners and customs of the place to which they were 
 going. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 ?5 
 
 Put you up to a thing or two^ eh ? Give 
 you some small insight into the time of day ? 
 Well; I suppose; as it ^s all in the family; and 
 you’re Tickletonians yourselves; or about to be- 
 come SO; it ’s no breach of confidence. You won’t 
 split; sir?” he continued; appealingly; to Ernest. 
 
 Honour amongst thieveS; eh ?” 
 
 You may trust mO;” was the concise reply. 
 
 First tell me; upon your honour; that you are 
 not a friend of any of the masters; then;” stipulated 
 Wilfred, 
 
 Upon my honour I am not a friend of any 
 of them;” was the slightly Jesuitical reply. 
 
 That ’s all right then. You look like a brick 
 (I ’m a bit of a physiognomist you see); so I ’ll trust 
 you. In the first place; masters : there’s the Doctor; 
 alias old Donkey; alias (his name is John) JackasS; 
 with sundry other derivatives; more caustic than 
 complimentary. Well; he’s not altogether a bad 
 sort of felloW; only he makes a fuss about trifles 5 
 and is especially jealous if he fancies that any 
 one appears likely to interfere with what he calls 
 his prerogative 3 in fact; he would be a stunner 
 if his temper did not stand in his way; but; on 
 the whole; the boys like him; and so look over his 
 
76 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 little failing's. Then^ there a sort of second mas- 
 ter, ^Mat and Clat’ we call him, which is short 
 for mathematical and classical ; but we are chang*- 
 ing horses in that quarter, so, till we have tried 
 the new animal (pretty well tried he will be, too, 
 before weVe done with him, I expect), it’s im- 
 possible to say how he may suit us 5 only, if he 
 ain’t a tolerably wide-awake cove, I pity him ; for, 
 between master and boys, he ’ll have a sweet time 
 of it, poor devil ! Then there are two ushers — Hex- 
 ameter and Pentameter (famiharly Hex. and Pen.), 
 so termed because one is six feet high and the 
 other scarcely above five : they are not gentlemen, 
 therefore they don’t act as siek^ so of course we 
 ^ chouse ’ and bully them as much as we dare. 
 Then there’s old Splitnib, a coach of the most 
 unmitigated slowness, but who writes a wonderful 
 hand ; and, finally and lastly. Monsieur Beaugentil, 
 the French master, who is more involuntarily comic 
 than all the rest of his frog-devouring nation put 
 together. These worthies rule, and are ruled by, 
 a floating capital of some two hundred boys, more 
 or less, of whom the eldest may be about seven- 
 teen or eighteen, and the youngest on a par with 
 this juvenile shaver here.” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 77 
 
 And do you work very hard inquired Percy. 
 Not we,” was the reply. Of course, for de- 
 cency’s sake, we do something*. It don’t pay for 
 a fellow to be quite an ignorant fool in these days, 
 unless he happens to have been born a lord, or 
 experienced some such jolly dispensation at start- 
 ing; but as for hard work, — no thank ye. What ’s 
 the use of having a fag, if you can’t get your 
 exercises done for you, I should like to know?” 
 What ’s a fag ?” inquired Hugh. 
 
 The first effect of this apparently simple ques- 
 tion was to throw the person to whom it was ad- 
 dressed into a state of the most violent laughter. 
 As soon as he could recover breath, he gasped 
 out, Oh, lor ! it ’s very fatiguing ; you ’ll be 
 the death of me with your blessed innocence, that 
 you will.” 
 
 After a less severe relapse, he continued, You^W 
 soon know what fagging means, you poor, unfortu- 
 nate, green little warmint ; though I think I shall 
 honour you by taking you myself. I ’ve a right to 
 a fag now I ’m in the fifth form ; and the chap 
 I had last half, has left. You seem a jolly, good- 
 tempered little beggar, and I shouldn’t like to see 
 you made miserable.” 
 
78 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 He shall never be ill-used while I am alive/^ 
 exclaimed Percy^ with flashing eyes. 
 
 That’s a very proper and plucky sentiment 
 on your part; my dear boy/’ returned Wilfred ; 
 ^Mjut it’s a precious deal easier to talk about 
 than to act upon. You can’t thrash a whole 
 school; especially when some of them are almost 
 men grown. Such chaps as Biggington or Thwack- 
 ingS; who can polish off a coalheaver in sporting 
 style; for instance; your namesake Hotspur him- 
 self would have found such fellow^s as them tough 
 customers. All you can do with them is to keep 
 ’em in good humour while you caU; and get out 
 of their way when you can’t.” 
 
 But all this time you have not told me what a 
 fag iS;” interrupted Hugh. 
 
 ^^Well; a fag is a small boy; taken possession 
 of by a larger boy; according to an old established 
 precedent; against which the masters set their faces 
 in vain. The small boy thus enslaved is termed 
 a fag; and his duties are to do everything the 
 larger boy finds it impossible; or disagreeable to 
 do himself. If the small boy performs these duties 
 zealously and goodhumouredly; he is only kicked 
 and driven about like a dog; and survives to become 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 79 
 
 a fifth, and e?z;entually a sixth form boy, and takes 
 his chang-e out of fags of his own. If he sulks, 
 or neglects orders, he is either half or threequarters 
 murdered, according to the hands he falls into, and 
 is usually taken away from the school, or other- 
 ways expended, before he reaches hobble-de-hoy’s 
 estate. And now, have I made that clear to your 
 juvenile capacity? — Yes? — Then mind you profit 
 by it, or I shall have to show you practically 
 how Tickletonians tickle,” and as he spoke, he 
 pointed suggestively to his cane, though a good- 
 natured twinkle in his eye contradicted the threat. 
 
 Having thus broken ground, he favoured the 
 company with a series of dissolving views, illus- 
 trating various episodes of Tickletonian life, wherein 
 were vividly pourtrayed scrapes got into and out of 
 with much ability, and more impudence, by certain 
 scholastic heroes, past and present; but the gist 
 of each anecdote lying in the discomfiture or mys- 
 tification of one or more of the masters, it is 
 scarcely to be supposed, giving Wilfred Jacob 
 credit for the most open disposition imaginable, 
 that he would have been quite so communicative, 
 had he divined the capacity in which Ernest Car- 
 rington was then journeying to Ticklctown. 
 
80 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 When they reached the station at which they 
 were to alight^ an omnibus^ provided by Doctor 
 Donkiestir, was in waiting to convey any of his 
 scholars who might arrive by that train. Ernest^ 
 who was not to present himself till the following 
 mornings and had availed himself of the opportunity 
 to accept the invitation of an old college fiiend, 
 from whom he had originally heard of the vacancy^ 
 here took leave of his young companions^ saying, 
 as he did so — 
 
 Good by. As I should not much wonder 
 if we were to meet again sooner than you at all 
 expect, I wish you to remember, that if at any 
 time you require advice or assistance, you will find 
 a friend in Ernest Carrington.” 
 
 He then took Wilfred’s arm, and drawing him 
 aside, observed, — I have allowed you to run on in 
 a way which I am sure you would have endeavoured 
 to avoid had you known who I was. I did so, not 
 from any mean wish to entrap you into confessions 
 of which I might afterwards make use to your 
 disadvantage, but simply in order to gain some 
 insight into your true character; and now I will 
 make a compact with you : as long as you behave 
 kindly towards your two cousins, who interest me 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 81 
 
 exceedingly, and befriend them as your superior 
 knowledge of the world ” (the slightly ironical em- 
 phasis with which he pronounced the last few words 
 was not lost upon his auditor, who, for once in 
 his life, felt conscious that he had made himself 
 ridiculous), and especially of the little world com- 
 prised in a boy’s school, will enable you to do, I 
 shall forget anything I may have heard this morn- 
 ing. I will only add, that I have misjudged your 
 character if you consider the condition I have pro- 
 posed a hard one.” 
 
 Before I attempt to make a suitable reply to 
 your mysterious and startling communication, allow 
 me, sir, to inquire, in the most respectful manner 
 possible, first, who you are; secondly, what you 
 are?” returned Wilfred Jacob, in a quieter tone 
 than he had yet made use of. 
 
 The Eev. Ernest Carrington, classical and 
 mathematical master (or, familiarly, Clat. and Mat.) 
 in Dr. Donkiestir’s school at Tickletown, at your 
 service,” was the reply. 
 
 The first effect of this announcement was to 
 elicit from the fast young gentleman ” a pro- 
 longed and expressive whistle ; next came an aside, 
 Well, if I haven’t gone and put my foot in it 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 deepish rather, it’s a pity.” Then, turning to 
 Ernest, he asked, abruptly, — 
 
 Ton your honour, as a gentleman, Mr. Car- 
 ring-ton, if I stick to the young Colvilles like a 
 trump, you won’t peach ?” 
 
 Upon my honour,” was the fi*ank reply. 
 
 It’s a bargain, then,” rejoined Wilfred. And 
 now, sir, before we sink the amenities of social life, 
 
 ■ in the less jovial relation of master and pupil, allow 
 me the honour of shaking hands with you, while 
 at the same time you must permit me to express 
 my opinion, that your conduct has been brickish 
 in the extreme.” 
 
 With a smile called forth by the peculiar 
 phraseology, and strange admixture of good feel- 
 ing and never-failing impudence, of his new ally, 
 Ernest shook hands with him good-naturedly, 
 and turned to depart; but Wilfi^ed Jacob detained 
 him. 
 
 One slight additional favour would oblige,” 
 he said. A discreet silence in regard to the cigar 
 episode would be a desirable addenda to om- 
 compact. Our friend Donkiestir has prejudices — 
 verbum sat — a nod is as good as a wink. Fare- 
 well ; ^ we meet again at Philippi.’ ” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 83 
 
 So saying, lie bowed low, removing a very 
 shining new hat, wherewith he had replaced the 
 gorgeous travelling cap, and hurried after his 
 cousins, who were by this time seated in, and 
 sole tenants of the omnibus, where they presented, 
 so to speak, a very forlorn and castaway appear- 
 ance. 
 
84 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Percy, have you heard the news inquired 
 Hugh, eagerly, some five weeks after his arrival 
 at Tickletown ^ and as he spoke, he began dancing 
 and chnging round his brother in a state of the 
 greatest excitement. 
 
 ^^What news, Hugh?” returned Percy, who, 
 seated at his desk, was writing with the greatest 
 assiduity. 
 
 Oh, then, you have n’t heard,” resumed Hugh. 
 ^^Well, you know that a company of actors are 
 performing at the Tickletown Theatre, and that 
 aU the boys are mad to go and see them ; and no 
 wonder either, for, from what Wilfred and others, 
 who have seen one in London, say, a play must he 
 the most wonderful, glorious, joUiest, brickish-est 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 85 
 
 thing going.” Hugh was making surprising ad- 
 vances in slang, under his cousin’s able tuition ; 
 his progress in dear Doctor Valpy’s Latin Delectus, 
 was by no means equally rapid. 
 
 I know what you have told me ; but I know, 
 also, that the Doctor has expressly forbidden any of 
 the boys, even the sixth form, to go to the theatre, 
 on pain of expulsion. His reason, and it seems to 
 me a good one, being, that he cannot exercise any 
 surveillance (that means care, or watchfulness) over 
 them, if they are allowed to be out late at night,” 
 returned Percy, gravely. 
 
 ^^Yes; but you don’t know that the manager 
 has written to the Doctor to say that he will 
 give a morning performance, and select only pieces 
 of which the Doctor shall approve, if he will allow 
 the boys to go, and the dear, good, jolly old Doctor 
 has said *yes,’ and granted a half holiday next 
 Thursday for the purpose, and I ’ll never call him 
 old Donkey any more, if Biggington kills me for 
 refusing. But Percy, dear Percy, do you think 
 there is any chance that we could go ? ” 
 
 Now, although at first sight this question would 
 appear a very simple one, it was by no means 
 so easy to answer as might be imagined. In 
 
86 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the first place, Percy had a vague and indistinct 
 notion that his mother disapproved of theatrical 
 entertainments; cei'tainly, as far as his own per- 
 sonal feelings were concerned, the recent loss he 
 had sustained, with all its painful consequences, 
 rendered him indisposed to enjoy any such amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Then, again, on the score of expense: their 
 pocket-money was very limited, Hugh being 
 allowed sixpence, Percy a shilling a week, — a 
 sum which was barely sufficient to supply slate- 
 pencils, ink, peg-tops, clasp-knives, toffy,” and 
 all the other innumerable and incomprehensible 
 sine qua nons of a public school-boy’s existence. 
 
 Although he had suffered both obloquy and in- 
 convenience on account of the paucity of his funds, 
 Percy had resolved that, during their first quarter, 
 nothing should induce him to apply to their mother 
 for more; and, when Percy had resolved upon a 
 thing, because he considered it a matter of prin- 
 ciple, Hugh was aware that Gibraltar itself was 
 not more immoveable. 
 
 It was, therefore, with rather a blank expression 
 of countenance that he replied to his brother’s in- 
 quiry of what it would cost ; — 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 87 
 
 The admission is to be half-a-crown each.” 
 
 Then we cannot go/’ returned Percy ; for 1 
 have not been able to save any of my allowance, 
 neither do I imagine have you.” 
 
 One reason why Percy found a difficulty in saving 
 was, that Hugh was for ever losing things whiph 
 must be replaced, or breaking things which required 
 mending, or earnestly desirous of something or 
 other which Percy could not bear to see him 
 wishing for in vain, — for be it known, that unless 
 some matter of deep feeling, or right principle, 
 were concerned, his elder brother spoiled Hugh as 
 thoroughly and unconsciously as anybody. Thus, 
 in point of fact, Master Hugh spent, in addition to 
 his own sixpence, some ninepence out of every 
 shilling of Percy’s. 
 
 But Hugh’s selfishness was a fault of which 
 he was himself perfectly unaware. Not being of, 
 what minor modern treatises on Christian ethics 
 consider it the thing* to term, an introspective 
 habit of mind,” and knowing* that if Percy required 
 such a sacrifice, he would willing*ly allow his right 
 hand, the hand with which he played marbles, 
 to be cut off in his service ; he was so accustomed 
 to consider that, because he was the younges 
 
88 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 everything was to be given up to him, that he 
 forgot the injustice of such an arrangement. 
 
 Not a halfpenny/’ was Hugh’s reply ^ that cake 
 woman cleaned me out yesterday. What a goose 
 I am to be so fond of cakes ; but I like to have 
 enough to give some to the other fellows too, and 
 all we little chaps have a weakness for cakes ; — but 
 have you got no money ? ” 
 
 Percy shook his head. Breaking windows, 
 and losing other boys’ balls, are expensive amuse- 
 ments, Hugh,” he said. Remember, I have got 
 you out of several scrapes of that kind since we 
 have been here. Of course, I was glad enough 
 to do so \ but I only mention it to account for my 
 being nearly as poor as yourself. A shilling a week 
 is soon exhausted.” 
 
 Hugh paused in deep perplexity \ at last he said 
 slowly, and in a hesitating voice, Mama would 
 send us the money, I think, if you would not mind 
 writing to tell her that you had no objection, and 
 that I wished to go so very, very much.” 
 
 But I should mind writing for such a purpose,” 
 returned Percy ; and I will explain to you why : 
 since dear Papa’s death. Mama has been very poor, 
 and she is likely to be poorer still, I am afraid, for 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 89 
 
 she writes me word that Sir Thomas Crawley still 
 persists in his demand^ and Mr. Wakefield is afraid 
 she will have to pay it whenever a new clergyman 
 is appointed.^^ 
 
 How wicked ! how cruel of Sir Thomas ! in- 
 terrupted Hugh vehemently ) and he as rich as 
 an old Jew, too ; — I hate him !” 
 
 Gently, Hugh, you must not speak in that 
 way ) every man has a right to obtain anything the 
 law of the land will award him. But now I have 
 told you this, I am sure you would not wish me to 
 write and ask Mama to send us money to be spent 
 in amusement, which she must deny herself and 
 Emily the actual necessaries of life in order to 
 procure.” Percy waited for an answer with some 
 anxiety, but, in a matter of feeling, Hugh would never 
 have been likely to occasion him disappointment. 
 
 Do not write for the world, Percy,” he said ; 
 I would rather never see a play in my life, than 
 grieve dearest Mama. Oh, Percy! I wish I were 
 a man, then I^d work hard, and keep her and 
 Emily, and give them pleasures and luxuries, and 
 make them quite happy j and as for Sir Thomas, 
 I’d punch his head for him, as Wilfred says.” 
 
 So saying Hugh returned the caress his delighted 
 
90 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 brother bestowed on him, and walked off manfully. 
 But his courage only lasted till he had made his 
 way into an old hay-loft over a large rambling 
 stable, capable of holding twenty horses, but now 
 devoted to the use of the Doctor’s fat pony, and a 
 cow and calf, also the property of that dignitary. 
 Having reached his hiding-place, his fortitude gave 
 way, and he bewailed his disappointment with a 
 hearty cry ; for he was but a child after all, poor 
 little fellow ! and a spoiled one as well, and to 
 such, however differently advanced Christians may 
 appreciate the quality, self-denial appears a very 
 harsh and uncomfortable virtue. 
 
 On the morning of the important day, a 
 fresh trial awaited him; Wilfred Jacob, who had 
 thoroughly fulfilled his promise to Ernest Car- 
 rington, by saving Hugh from ill-usage, and Percy 
 from many of the annoyances to which his proud, 
 sensitive nature, rendered him peculiarly susceptible, 
 as soon as breakfast was concluded shouted vo- 
 ciferously for his fag, 
 
 Hugh ! Hugh Colville ! where has the yoimg 
 warment hidden himself ; oh ! there you are ; 
 come here you imp of darkness, I shall have to 
 give you that thrashing I’ve owed you so long. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 91 
 
 I know I shall^ and^ when it does come^ old Bogie 
 have mercy on your precious bones ! for I shall 
 have none. Now, listen to me ; the moment morn- 
 ing school is up, cut away like a flash of greased 
 lightning, and turn out my things to dress. Let 
 me see— I shall wear— hold up your head, sir, and 
 look attentive!—! shall wear — ahem!— my white 
 d’Orsay overcoat ; the light blue coatee with fancy 
 silk buttons j the pink satin under-waistcoat^ the 
 green embroidered vest with coral buttons; the 
 blue neck-tie with crimson ends ; the MacFerntosh 
 plaid trousers, those with the green ground and 
 broad red, and blue, and white checks over it ; and 
 the polished boots — do you twig? Now, then, 
 repeat it all, that I may be sure youVe taken it in 
 coiTect.” 
 
 D’Orsay wrap ; blue coatee ; pink under, green 
 and coral over vests; blue and crimson choaker; 
 MacFerntosh sit-upons ; and japanned trotter-cases,” 
 returned Hugh, gabbling over the different items 
 with the velocity at which tradition has decreed it 
 proper to inform society that Peter Piper picked a 
 peck of pepper.” 
 
 Bravo ! young ’un, you improve apace ; but 
 you took to slang uncommon kindly from the first. 
 
92 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I will say that for you. Well, when youVe looked 
 out the toggery, and — ahem! — brought me my 
 shaving water; — I’ve felt, for some time past, a 
 tickling sensation at the sides of my face, which, 
 I am sure, indicates the approach of whiskers. 
 Ar — I should be rather a good-looking fellow if I 
 had but got whiskers, I flatter myself; would ’nt 
 I wear ’em bushy, that’s all. As soon as you’ve 
 done all I’ve told you, jump into your own juvenile 
 habiliments, and be ready to go with me at a 
 moment’s notice.” 
 
 But— but you know, Wilfred, I’m not to go,” 
 faultered poor Hugh. 
 
 Not to go, why not ? Who says so ? What I 
 has Percy cut up rough, with his sanctified. Puri- 
 tanical, Puseyitical, pontifical, hieroglyphical no- 
 tions; oh! I’ll soon talk him round; — I’ve the 
 highest possible respect for morality and piety and 
 all that sort of thing, particularly on Sundays, but 
 to fancy they’ve got anything to do with going to 
 the play, is an association of ideas little short of 
 downright sacrilege, to my notion.” 
 
 No, it is not that,” returned Hugh; Percy 
 would have let me go, only — ” 
 
 Only what?” inquired Wilfred; come, make 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 93 
 
 haste, I’ve got thirty lines of Terence to knock off 
 before I go up to Carrington.” 
 
 Only we’ve both spent our allowance, and I’ve 
 not got money to pay,” replied poor Hugh, fairly 
 driven into confessing his poverty. 
 
 Phew ! ” whistled his patron, no assets forth- 
 coming, eh; that’s unfortunate, all the more so, 
 because just at the present epoch my own financial 
 arrangements are in a somewhat embarrassed con- 
 dition — ar — banker’s account overdrawn — owing to 
 their confounded free-trade, I expect, I can’t get 
 my rents paid up, — in fact, to be frank with you, 
 when this play business was first started, I, with 
 incautious liberality, volunteered to make one of 
 a jovial crew of fifth-formers, who intend to follow 
 up the theatrical entertainments with a sort of 
 posthumous dejeune d la fourchette of oysters and 
 porter. Well, sir, when I came to examine into 
 the state of my funds, I, after much deep and in- 
 tricate calculation, arrived at the following result, 
 viz., that I had contracted liabilities to the amount 
 of one pound five, while to meet them I possessed 
 the exact sum of two shillings and threepence-half- 
 penny — the half-penny being scarcely an efficient coin 
 of the realm, by reason of my having that morning 
 
94 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 punclied a large hole in its centre, for a mechanical 
 experiment which failed. Under these circumstances 
 I immediately wrote to the governor, saying that 
 several unusually distressing cases of charity having 
 come under my notice since I had last received his 
 blessing and a ten pound note, the blessing alone re- 
 mained I adding that another case more urgent than 
 any of the former now appealing to my sympathies, 
 I trusted he would not object to replace the money 
 without unnecessary delay. They say it is a wise 
 child who knows his ov/n father; certainly in 
 this particular instance I seem to have formed a 
 strangely mistaken estimate of the manners and 
 customs of mine, for yesterday morning I received 
 from him the following heartless reply : — 
 
 ^^^Dear Wilfred Jacob, — As I happen to 
 know your charity is of the kind which begins and 
 ends at home, and as two pounds a week is rather 
 more than I wish you to spend on lollipops, I 
 strongly recommend total abstinence from such 
 delicacies for the next fortnight, at the expiration 
 of which period you may look for a five pound note 
 (the last you will receive before the hohdays), from 
 ^ Your affectionate Father.’ 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY, 
 
 95 
 
 Well, my father being thus obdurate, the only 
 alternative that remained for me was to apply to 
 my uncle, in consequence of which application my 
 watch will have a little extra ticMng to do for the 
 next fortnight 5 my relation, on the security of 
 that valuable, favouring me with the loan of five 
 and twenty shillings. Thus, the admission to the 
 theatre being two and sixpence, you will perceive, 
 by a reference to ^ Smithes Wealth of Nations,^ I 
 am still twopence -half- penny behind the world, 
 which sum I must beg, borrow, or otherwise rea- 
 lize before two o’clock to-day, at which time the 
 doors open. So you see, young ’un, I literally 
 cannot treat you, for which, without chaffing, I’m 
 really uncommon sorry 5 — but never mind, put your 
 trust in jollity, and depend upon it something to 
 your advantage will turn up some day,” and with 
 this well-meant, but slightly vague attempt at 
 consolation, Wilfred Jacob passed on to have, as 
 he termed it, a go in” at Terence. 
 
 In the meantime, a solemn and important dis- 
 cussion was being held among the boys of the sixth 
 form (some of whom were lads of seventeen and 
 eighteen, and considered themselves young men), as 
 to whether these morning theatricals, being got up 
 
96 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 solely with a view to the juveniles, were not infra 
 dig, Bigg’in^on, who had grown up to fit his 
 name, and stood six-feet-one in his stockings, and 
 who moreover, in virtue of the date of his entrance, 
 as well as from his strength and prowess, was 
 looked upon as leader of the school, decidedly set 
 his face against it, and declared, with unnecessary 
 vehemence of expression, that the play might be — 
 that to which its author would have especially 
 ' objected— before he would go to see it. 
 
 Stradwick quite agreed with him, which fact 
 possessed every advantage but that of novelty; 
 Stradwick being a mere reflection, and by no means 
 a brilliant one, of Biggington. 
 
 Fowler also considered the thing would be in- 
 fernally slow, nothing sporting about it; besides 
 Jackass (alas for boy nature that so could para- 
 phrase the respectable name of Doctor John Don- 
 kiestir !) was going himself, and would have nothing 
 to do but to watch them, so that if a fellow hap- 
 pened to sneeze, he would be safe to get an im- 
 position for winking at an actress; for his part he’d 
 rather be in school at once. 
 
 Norman and Piper followed on the same side; 
 Swann, Pitt, Kitely, Martin, and Jones, agreed 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 97 
 
 with the foregoing^ but had an original opinion of 
 their own^ that old Donkey was growing super- 
 annuated. 
 
 On the other hand, Warmingham, Gaston, and 
 some dozen others, although considering that an 
 exception ought to have been made in favour of the 
 sixth form, thought the measure a judicious one, as 
 far as the little fellows were concerned, and were, 
 therefore, prepared to pocket their dignity and 
 go ; — unless anybody had got anything better to 
 propose. 
 
 I tell you what, Gaston, that was not a had 
 notion of yours about an exception being made in 
 favour of the sixth; surely if that were properly 
 placed before old Jack, he could never be so besotted 
 as to refuse,’’ observed Fowler. 
 
 Bravo, Fowler ! ” exclaimed several voices ; 
 let us draw up a formal representation of the 
 aftair, and send a deputation with it to Jack.” 
 
 What do you say, Bigging*ton?” inquired Fowler. 
 
 Simply that I ’ll have nothing to do with it ; 
 I ’ll neither sign the address, nor head the deputa- 
 tion,” was the sulky reply: I consider I’ve de- 
 
 meaned myself too much to Jack already, in sub- 
 mitting to his absurd prejudices.” 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Biggington and I view the matter exactly in 
 the same light/’ observed Stradwick : you’d all 
 
 better give up the notion directly.” 
 
 Speak for yourself^ stupid!” returned Bigging- 
 ton : if Fowler and the rest like to try, let them, 
 
 and they’ll see what will come of it; my own 
 feelings are purely personal. Don’t you see, fool,” 
 he continued, drawing his satellite aside, by the 
 plan I adopt, they will do the dirty work, and, if 
 they succeed, I shall profit by it; if they fail, I 
 avoid the slight of having my request refused.” 
 
 Then what shall I do?” inquired Stradwick, 
 who possessed just intellect enough to perceive that 
 his rule of blindly following his leader would, in this 
 case, annoy, rather than propitiate, the autocrat. 
 
 Why — a — you see, you are — that is, we are 
 differently — a — in fact, in your position I should 
 decidedly sign the address; though — stop, wait a 
 minute — on second thoughts it strikes me it may 
 look odd to have every name but one on the list : 
 Jack may think I’ve got some dodge in my head. 
 Well, — never mind: if you like to follow my 
 example you can,” returned the slightly selfish 
 Biggington. 
 
 Accordingly, Gaston, who was famous as a 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 99 
 
 scribe, wrote the address; and Fowler, and some 
 half-dozen others, carfied it up to the Doctor. 
 
 Doctor Donkiestir, who was a tall, fine-looking 
 man, of about fifty, with a clever, energetic 
 countenance, marked, however, by the stern, 
 worried expression, common to schoolmasters, re- 
 ceived the deputation courteously, read the address, 
 and then observed — 
 
 All the sixth appear to have signed this, 
 except Biggington and Stradwick: why are their 
 names absent?’^ 
 
 There was a moment’s pause, and then Fowler, 
 who was naturally of an open, fearless disposition, 
 replied : — 
 
 I believe, sir, Biggington preferred giving up 
 going to the theatre, to asking a favour which 
 he considered it unlikely you would grant; and 
 Stradwick generally does whatever Biggington 
 does.” 
 
 As Fowler announced this well-known fact, a 
 general smile, which even the Doctor’s presence 
 could not enthely restrain, went the round of the 
 deputation. 
 
 The doctor seemed not to notice it, though a 
 twinkle in the corner of his eye revealed to those 
 
100 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 who knew his eveiy look, that he was not so 
 unobservant as he appeared. • 
 
 Big*g*ing’ton and his friend are very prudent/’ 
 he said with a slig'htly ironical emphasis on the 
 last word. He then paused a moment in thought 
 ere he continued, — I am very sorry that I con- 
 sider it my duty to refuse your request, for the 
 straightforward, gentlemanly way in which you 
 have preferred it, has much pleased me^ hut I 
 cannot believe that I should be fulfilling the trust 
 reposed in me by your parents, if I were to allow 
 you to be exposed to the temptations of a theatre, 
 in a town, at night, when it would be impossible 
 for me to exercise the slightest vigilance over 
 you * and this applies more strongly to the sixth 
 form than to the younger boys, as many of you 
 are almost young men, and peculiarly liable to 
 the evil influences to which I allude. As some 
 compensation, I will grant a whole holiday, either 
 for skating, if the weather permits, or boating, 
 or cricketing, later in the season, whichever you 
 may prefer. I hope, as a proof that you do not 
 think I have been imnecessarily strict, the sixth 
 will think better of it, and that I shall see many 
 of their faces at the theatre this morning.” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 101 
 
 The Doctor’s harangue was not without its 
 effect, for Fowler (Vho, though somewhat of a 
 pickle, was of a warm-hearted, generous disposi- 
 tion) thanked the head master for the promised 
 holiday, and declared his intention of going to 
 the morning performance. Gaston, Warmingham, 
 and the rest of that party, followed his lead, and 
 the deputation withdrew. 
 
 So you ’ve eaten humble pie for nothing, been 
 humbugged into promising to go to a childish affair 
 you ought to be ashamed to be seen at, and been 
 choused out of the only bit of fun and jollity that 
 has come in our way this half. I wish you joy 
 of your promised holiday, you good little boys,” 
 was Biggington’s sarcastic speech, when he learned 
 the result of their mission. 
 
 Chaff away, Big-un,” (a familiar abbreviation 
 of Biggington’s patronymic, of which only the elite 
 of the sixth were permitted to make use) returned 
 Fowler, good-humouredly. ^^Jacky’s a stunning, 
 good old fellow, after all, and I, for one, shall 
 go, to show him I don’t bear malice ; you ’d better 
 pocket yom* dignity for once, Big-un, and come 
 too!” 
 
 '^fldoI’U be 
 
 (something naughty-ed), 
 
102 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 was the unamiable reply ; and, turning on his heel, 
 Biggington walked angi^ily away, followed, at no 
 great distance, by Stradwick, and two or three 
 other recusants. 
 
 In spite, however, of their disapproval, the morn- 
 ing performance went off with great eclat; and 
 those who attended it, amongst whom were a 
 large proportion of the sixth form boys, raved 
 about their delight to such a degree, that even 
 Biggington, albeit he pretended to take the mat- 
 ter with a high hand, felt intensely provoked, 
 and thrashed most unmercifully a small boy, who, 
 in the innocence of his heart, incautiously promul- 
 gated his opinion, within the tyrant’s hearing, that 
 ^^any one who could have gone and did not, 
 must be a precious slow coach and no mistake.” 
 
 As for the fictions founded on facts, upon which 
 the prolific imagination of Wilfred Jacob delighted 
 ^to expatiate, they had such an effect upon poor 
 Hugh, that he fairly cried himself to sleep that 
 night, from sheer vexation and disappointment. 
 
 The next morning, a flashily dressed, sharp-look- 
 ing young man, who was none other than the 
 usher introduced by Wilfred Jacob into his de- 
 scription of the Tickletown masters by the nick- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 103 
 
 name of Pentameter, but whose proper appellation 
 was Sprattly, and who was, as Wilfred had truly 
 stated, anything* but a g*entleman, approached a 
 group, consisting* of Big*ging*ton, Stradwick, and 
 one or two others, with whom he appeared on 
 the most intimate and confidential terms. 
 
 I say, old fellows,” he began ; is it actually 
 true that the Doctor won’t let you g*o to the 
 theatre at night ?” 
 
 Yes, worse luck,” was the reply. 
 
 And are you going to stand it quietly?” con- 
 tinued Sprattly. 
 
 Eh ? why what can we do to help ourselves ? 
 If the whole of the sixth had stuck together, 
 we might have made something of it; but that 
 ass, Fowler, was talked over. He says Jack ap- 
 pealed to his feelings, or sympathies, or some 
 such disgusting rubbish. So Fowler went, and 
 took half the form with him; and altogether, if 
 I was to express my true opinion, I think the 
 whole affair is about as absurd, not to say disgrace- 
 ful, to all parties as it well can be.” 
 
 Norman, the speaker, was a tall, slender strip- 
 ling about seventeen, with well-cut features and 
 beautiful glossy hair of a raven blackness, which 
 
104 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 he wore long, and evidently bestowed much care 
 upon ; but his cold, gray eyes, and the immoveable 
 expression of his mouth, gave a clue to his true 
 character, viz., a clear vigorous intellect, but a 
 total deficiency of that which is commonly called 
 heart. He was very anxious to leave the school, as 
 a rich relation, who had taken a fancy to him, and 
 intended to make him his heir, had purchased for 
 him a commission in a cavalry regiment, on the 
 strength of which he affected a poco~curante air ; 
 and possessing great natural powers of sarcasm, 
 made himself feared and looked up to by the other 
 boys. Outwardly he and Bigging*ton were the 
 greatest allies possible, but beneath the surface lay 
 hidden a mine of envy, hatred, malice, and all 
 uncharitableness, which only required the applica- 
 tion of a match to cause an explosion, the effects of 
 which could scarcely be foreseen. 
 
 ^^It’s an awful bore, really,’’ replied Sprattly, 
 for my cousin Courtenay Trevanion ” 
 
 Which, being interpreted, means Jack Sprat- 
 tly,” interrupted Norman, sarcastically. 
 
 No ! come, really Norman, ’pon my life 
 you’re too bad. I told you of his being my re- 
 lation quite in confidence. All theatricals have a 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 105 
 
 professional name^ and a fellow may as well choose 
 a spicy one as not, while he is about it,’’ continued 
 Sprattly ; but I was going to tell you about to- 
 night. They are going to do the ^ Beggars’ Opera/ 
 Cordeha Ophelia Elphinstone ” — 
 
 Alias Betsey Slasher,” put in the incorrigible 
 Norman. 
 
 Plays ^ Polly Peachum,’ ” continued Sprattly, 
 not heeding the interruption. Coralie, the French 
 girl, does ^Lucy Lockit,’ and Courtenay — or Jack, 
 if you will have it so,” he added quickly, perceiv- 
 ing that Norman was again about to speak — Jack 
 himself is cast for ^Macheath’; stunningly he’ll 
 play it too, for I heard him last winter — can ’t he 
 just tip ’em, ^ How happy could I be with either’ 
 in style? — Uncommon well he looks, too, in the 
 highwayman’s dress, red frock-coat, with gold frogs, 
 and high shiny leather boots ; but Jack’s a 
 regular spicy-looking fellow.” 
 
 Little too much of the lamps and sawdust 
 about him,” returned Norman, superciliously. 
 
 He paused a moment, then turning to Bigging- 
 ton, he said abruptly, fixing his piercing glance 
 upon him as he spoke — 
 
 Big., we must go to this affair.” 
 
106 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Tims appealed to, the cock of the school, who 
 at heart was more dunghill than game, like most 
 other bullies, turned rather pale as he replied in a 
 low voice — 
 
 How is it to he done ? ’’ 
 have ideas on the subject,” returned Norman, 
 confidently ; hut we need not trouble other folks 
 with our private affairs. I don’t exactly agree 
 with Solomon about the advisability of a multitude 
 of counsellors.” 
 
 If you ’re good for a spree I ’ll stick to you 
 to the backbone,” exclaimed Terry, a boy nearly 
 sixteen, who was a thorough pickle at heart, and 
 worshipped Norman, as Stradwick did Biggington, 
 only with enthusiasm, instead of servility. 
 
 Stradwick, the remaining member of the party, 
 was beginning slowly and gravely, I shall 
 
 do whatever Big ” when a shout of laughter 
 
 from Norman, Sprattly, and Terry cut him short. 
 As soon as Sprattly had sufficiently recovered Irom 
 the effects of his hilarity to he able to speak, he 
 observed — 
 
 Well, if you naughty boys are determined to 
 plot mischief, of course I must not hear it; only, 
 if we should meet by any accident behind the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 107 
 
 scenes of the theatre, I shall have much pleasure in 
 introducing* you to Polly Peachum and the fasci- 
 nating* Coralie ; by-the-by, let me g*ive you a hint : 
 that stuck-up parson, young* Carring*ton, is a pre- 
 cious sig*ht more wide awake than the Don, so 
 keep out of his way as much as you can,” and 
 having* thus spoken. Pentameter Sprattly carried 
 off his five feet four of vulg*ar humanity, with the 
 most conceited air possible of underbred pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 What a thoroug*h snob that unfortunate little 
 Pen. has improved into,” observed Norman, as soon 
 as the amiable usher was out of earshot. 
 
 He never was anything* else since IVe known 
 the animal,” returned Big*g*ing*ton, surlily ; that’s 
 him all the world over: he’ll g*ive a fellow infor- 
 mation which he knows will set him raving* to do a 
 thing, and then come out with his humbugging, 
 ^ Well, you would do it 5 I told you you’d get into 
 a scrape.’ I wonder what his object now is ?” 
 
 Oh ! merely to help his cousin, or, more 
 likely brother, Jack,” was the reply. They’re 
 as much alike as two men can be, only 
 our Spratt left off growing a couple of years 
 too soon; if Jack draws a good house his salary 
 
108 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 will be raised. And now 1^11 explain to you my 
 plan, as far as it is at present matured;” and so 
 saying*, Norman unfolded to them a scheme — with 
 the details whereof we need not trouble the reader 
 — which, from his intimate acquaintance with the 
 manners and customs of both masters and boys, 
 he had been enabled to adapt to circumstances so 
 cleverly, that even the cautious Big*g*ing*ton con- 
 fessed he could only discover one flaw in it. 
 
 And that is,” he continued, supposing* every- 
 thing* to have g*one smoothly up to the moment of 
 our return, pray how are we to g*et in, when every 
 door and window will be carefully closed and 
 barred, and the Doctor’s six-barrelled revolver, which 
 he is so proud of, awaiting* us if we make noise 
 sufficient to rouse him?” 
 
 I’ve ideas on that point, too,” returned Nor- 
 man, meditatively; I’m certain I remember a 
 window in that old loft over the stable, by which I 
 used, when a little shaver, to get in and out 
 through the school-room skylight : I must contrive 
 to make some excuse for inspecting the premises.” 
 I’ll tell you who knows more about the loft 
 than all the rest of us put together,” exclaimed 
 Terry ; and that is little Colville : he has a pet 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 109 
 
 cat that resides in those parts^ and he is constantly 
 climbing* and scrambling* about up there, and has 
 the place pretty much to himself, I suspect ; for 
 most of the juveniles have faith in a g’host, which 
 Hug-h Colville seems too plucky to care for.’" 
 
 That was exactly my case some ten years ag*o,” 
 returned Norman : find little Colville and send 
 
 him here to me, and let us meet ag*ain in Bigg*ing*- 
 ton’s room after morning school, when I will 
 report progress, and the afiair shall be finally 
 arranged. Now be off with you, different ways : 
 we must not be seen talking together too long.” 
 And so with breasts more or less burdened by a 
 consciousness of their evil secret, the conspirators 
 parted. 
 
no 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 Come here, Colville. How is your cat this morn- 
 ing?” inquired Norman, as Hugh approached, a 
 good deal puzzled, and rather alarmed, at his 
 summons, by reason of the fact that when a sixth 
 form boy sent for one of the little fellows, the 
 interview, however it might begin, usually ended 
 by the juvenile coming in for a thrashing. 
 
 Thank you, sir, she is very well,” replied 
 Hugh; then, judging from. Norman’s face that 
 no very adverse fate awaited him, he continued, 
 If you please, sir, she caught a rat this morn- 
 ing, all her own self; such a monster, sir.” 
 
 Indeed ! she must be a most meritorious and 
 praiseworthy animal,” returned Norman ; then, 
 anxious to set the little fellow at his ease before 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 Ill 
 
 he began to pump him, he continued — How did 
 you like the play yesterday I were you very much 
 charmed?^’ 
 
 I did not go, if you please, sir.’^ 
 
 Ha ! how was that ? Did the Doctor keep 
 you in for a punishment, or don’t you care about 
 such things?” inquired Norman, pretty well fore- 
 seeing the answer. 
 
 ^^No, it was not that, sir,” returned Hugh. I 
 should have been delighted to go 5 but I had 
 spent all my pocket-money, and so could not pay 
 for entrance.” 
 
 Unlucky for you — very,” rejoined Norman • I 
 wish I ’d known it sooner, I ’d have tipped you 
 the half-crown; more particularly as I want you 
 to do something for me. You know the loft 
 well?” 
 
 Hugh gTinned, as he replied, Every inch of 
 it, sir.” 
 
 So used I when I was your age. Is not there 
 a httle square window, or trap-door, by which 
 one can get on the top of the school-room, near 
 the part of the skylight which opens ? and which 
 can be reached by standing on the Doctor’s 
 desk?” inquired Norman. 
 
112 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Yes^ sir/’ was the reply. I often g*et up 
 that way if the hoys are plagiieing me, and they 
 don’t dare to follow me because it is dark inside 
 that part of the loft, and they are afraid of a 
 ghost 5 but I’m sure there’s no ghost, or else 
 Puss would not leave her kittens there : if the 
 kittens are safe, why should not I be?” 
 
 Norman smiled at this specimen of juvenile 
 logic. 
 
 That’s right,” he said, stroking Hugh’s curly 
 pate, you ’re a plucky little fellow ^ and now show 
 me this window. I want to see if I have for- 
 gotten the way.” 
 
 I ’ll show it to you, and willingly, sir,” re- 
 turned Hugh, whose affections were easily won, 
 more especially when one of the sixth condescended 
 to lay siege to themj ^^but you won’t be able to 
 get through yourself, now. You were a little 
 fellow like me, I suppose, when you used to 
 do so.” 
 
 This information was what the immortal Dick 
 Swiveller would have termed ^^a staggerer,” and 
 for a moment, Norman began to fear his scheme 
 was knocked on the head; but possessing two 
 main elements of greatness, namely, — presence 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 113 
 
 of mind and fertility of resource — an alternative 
 occurred to him which, although by no means so 
 safe or easy as his original plan, might yet be 
 practicable. Everything depended on the charac- 
 ter of the child before him: of its strong points 
 he had already some experience, and felt satis- 
 fied that he might rely on them. The boy 
 possessed pluck enough for his purpose : he had 
 now to test his weakness. 
 
 Suppose,” he began — ^^mind, I only say sup- 
 pose — there were yet a chance of your going to 
 the theatre, what should you think of it ? ” 
 
 Think ? why I should be ready to jump out 
 of my skin for joy, to be sure!” returned Hugh, 
 his eyes sparkling, and his cheeks flushing at the 
 bare idea. 
 
 Norman had gained a step: — he perceived the 
 strength of the temptation he had to ofler. 
 
 ^^Well,” he said, after keeping Hugh in an 
 agony of expectation for a minute or two, there 
 is a chance ; but it must depend on whether you 
 do exactly as I wish and approve. In the first 
 place, promise me not to say a word to anybody 
 about this conversation, or even mention tliat I 
 have been talking to you; — in the second place, 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 come to me in Biggington’s room^ as soon as 
 dinner is over.” 
 
 Please^ sir^ may not I tell Percy ? I always 
 tell him everything/’ pleaded Hugh. 
 
 Did you tell him who broke the Doctor’s ink- 
 glass?” inquired Norman, sarcastically. 
 
 Now, this inquiry refeiTed to a little affair which 
 had occm’red within a week of Hugh’s first arrival 
 at school. Indulging in that propensity, common 
 alike to boys and monkeys, viz., of examining 
 everything with their fingers’ ends, Hugh had 
 allowed to fall, and thus broken. Dr. Donkiestir’s 
 own pecuhar ink-glass. Overwhelmed with the 
 awful nature of the offence he had committed, and 
 expecting, at the very least, to be flogged for 
 the same, the poor child sat down by the side of 
 the devastation he had caused, and commenced 
 the uncomfortable operation of crying his eyes out. 
 
 In this forlorn condition he was discovered by 
 Norman, who, without being really kind-hearted, 
 possessed that not uncommon species of negatively 
 selfish good-natuie, which leads people to dishke 
 to look on distress, physical or mental. Moreover, 
 the fact of Hugh being a very pretty boy, pleased 
 his taste, and therefore interested him. Accord- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 115 
 
 ing'ly; he first inquired the cause of his grief, and 
 then devised a remedy. 
 
 It so happened, that Norman’s own ink-bottle 
 and the one which Hugh had just broken, were, 
 as nearly as possible, similar. He knew, moreover, 
 that the Doctor was by no means observant of 
 .such minor particulars. He, accordingly, substi- 
 tuted his bottle for the broken one, assisted Hugh 
 to clear away all traces of the accident, and ad- 
 vising him to keep his own counsel, left him 
 greatly consoled. But Hugh felt a conscious- 
 ness that there was something in this transaction 
 of which Percy would not approve ; and, fearful 
 lest, in his strict sense of honour, he should pro- 
 nounce it necessary to acquaint the Doctor with 
 his delinquency, his moral courage failed him, 
 and, up to the moment in which Norman asked 
 him the question, he had never revealed the mis- 
 deed to his brother. It was the first time he 
 had ever been guilty of that mildest form of 
 lying, suppression of the truth* but the stone 
 of dissimulation once set rolling, soon gathers 
 force, which the feeble hand that sufficed to put 
 it in motion, is powerless to restrain. 
 
 Nor was Hugh’s fir.st little sin ” fated to prove 
 
116 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 an exception to the rule. Of course he was oblig’ed 
 to confess to Norman that he had not told his 
 brother, and of course Norman replied that what 
 he had done once, he could do again ; and that if 
 he cared to go to the play, he must not tell Percy 
 or any one ; and Hugh, not having* a word to say 
 in denial, the discussion ended by his promising to 
 preserve a strict silence on the subject, and to come 
 to Norman in Biggington’s room. 
 
 In that same apartment vras assembled, that 
 afternoon, a solemn conclave. Biggington took 
 the chair (there was but one); Stradwick drew 
 a box from under the bed and seated himself 
 upon it in an attitude exactly copied from that 
 of Biggington; Norman, resting* his elbow on the 
 chimney-piece, remained standing ; while Terry 
 turned a wash-hand basin topsy-turvy, and perched 
 himself, monkey-like, on the apex of the semi-cone 
 thus created. After a moment’s silence, Bigging- 
 ton exclaimed — • 
 
 ^^Well, Norman, hovr are we going on? have 
 you brought your plan to perfection yet?” 
 
 Unforeseen difficulties have sprung up,” was the 
 re})ly, but none which the three Ps, patience, 
 perseverance, and pluck, will not carry us through.” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 117 
 
 Difficulties be hanged/^ rejoined Biggington, 
 impetuously. I tell you one thing, go I will, by 
 fair means or foul j the fact is, Trevanion’’ Jack 
 Sprattly,” murmured Norman, ^^With a great 
 pair of false moustachios on him,’^ urged Terry) 
 ^^has been here, and promised to take us behind 
 the scenes, and to come and sup with us at the 
 Bull afterwards, and induce Coralie and the other 
 girl to come too.’^ 
 
 Ay! and Coralie ^s a stunner and no mistake,’’ 
 observed Terry ; such a pair of black eyes, by 
 Jove ! They go through a fellow like — like ” 
 
 Bradawls,” suggested Stradwick, compla- 
 cently. 
 
 A pointed illustration decidedly,” resumed 
 Terry ; but I was walking the day before 
 yesterday with Old Beaugentil when we met this 
 said Coralie, taking a constitutional for the benefit 
 of her complexion ; the moment Beaugentil set 
 eyes upon her, he went off into an ecstasy, throwing 
 up his arms and capering about like a bear on hot 
 bricks. ^ Mais, ce n^est pas possible ! ’ he exclaimed, 
 ’vot shall I be’ old ? JEst ce toi Coralie ? Am it 
 thou Coreliar, zie daughtaire of thy mama, zie 
 beloafed de ma premihre jeunesse 1 et quelle ange ! 
 
118 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 vot an angle ! mai ange du del, a right angle of 
 ’eaven ! Voyez done, Monsieur Terrie ; permettez 
 que je vous presente, mon cher sieve, Monsieur 
 Terrie, jeune homme charment ; mais rHest pas que 
 Mademoiselle est jolie; ees not Mees superhe, 
 beautifiil; magnijique, pretty veil!’ and so the old 
 boy ran on till I was in fits.” 
 
 What is your confounded difficulty^ Norman/’ 
 inquired Biggington^ abruptly. 
 
 Why, the window in the loft turns out to be 
 too small for anything bigger than a boy to get 
 through,” was the reply. 
 
 Biggington muttered something imintelligible, 
 wliich it would be the height of charity to con- 
 sider a good word, as he continued — 
 
 ^^What do you mean to do then?” 
 
 Put a small boy through it who shall open the 
 back door into the school-room for us, where\)y we 
 shall enter and walk up to bed,” returned Norman, 
 stroking the raven down on his upper lip, where 
 the cavalry moustache” was just beginning to 
 show itself. 
 
 And what chance is there of finding a boy 
 who you can trust to do such a thing?” asked 
 Biggington gloomily. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 119 
 
 He is already found, or I am much mistaken,” 
 was the answer. Moreover, properly handled, 
 he’ll do the thin^ well, and, con amorCy I’d sooner 
 work with one willing agent than with twenty 
 forced ones.” 
 
 And his name?” 
 
 The younger Colville.” 
 
 Biggington mused — He might do it; but his 
 brother will not allow him,” he said after a pause. 
 
 His brother will have no voice in the matter, 
 for he will know nothing about it,” returned Nor- 
 man : but you shall judge for yourselves, for I 
 
 have appointed the boy to come to me here. Only 
 leave me to talk to him, and don’t bully or frighten 
 the little fellow, else you will defeat your own 
 object. If, when you have seen liim, you wish me 
 to persevere with the plan, Biggington, stroke your 
 chin thus.” 
 
 As Norman raised his hand to indicate the 
 appointed signal, a modest tap at the door was 
 audible, and, on the bolt being withdrawn, Hugh 
 made his appearance, and, at a sign from Norman, 
 entered. The door was closed and fastened by 
 Terry, who resumed his seat on the inverted wash- 
 hand basin, with the air of a monarch ascending his 
 
120 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 throne. Hug'h bore the scrutiny to which all the 
 plotters^ Biggington in particular, subjected him, 
 unflinchingly; he looked rather more grave and 
 anxious than was his wont, but did not appear 
 intimidated or abashed, though he stood in the 
 awful presence of the cock of the school. 
 
 Come here, Colville,” began Norman; then, as 
 the boy approached, he continued, fixing his piercing- 
 glance upon him, have you mentioned what we 
 were talking about this morning to anybody ? ” 
 
 No, sir,” was the unhesitating reply. 
 
 Not to your brother, even? don’t attempt to 
 deceive me ! ” 
 
 No indeed, sir, I would not tell a lie ; if I had 
 mentioned it to Percy, I’d say so at once,” returned 
 Hugh, colouring' at his assertion being doubted. 
 
 I believe you,” replied Norman, glancing 
 towards Bigging1:on as he spoke to attract his 
 attention. I am sure you are a brave, honour- 
 able boy, who would neither tell a lie nor betray a 
 secret, which is worse if anything.” 
 
 At this commendation, Hugh’s eyes sparkled, 
 and a bright, honest smile lit up his innocent, 
 childish face, which ought to have touched the 
 hearts and disarmed the purpose of those who, for 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 121 
 
 their own selfish ends^ were thus deliberately lead- 
 ing him into evil ; it probably would have done so^ 
 were it not a well established fact in pathology, 
 that, during the phase of public-schoolboy-hood, 
 the human heart remains in a torpid or chrysalis 
 states the animal, at that period, consisting of a 
 head, a stomach, and (fortunately for those who 
 have the control of it, as well as for its future 
 chance of developing into a reasonable mortal) a 
 tail also. Not being actuated by any such tender 
 feehngs, or indeed by any feelings at all, except 
 selfish ones, Biggington replied to Norman’s look 
 by stroking his chin. Stradwick stroked his at the 
 same moment, giving involuntarily a slight shudder 
 at the alarming future to which he was thus com- 
 mitting himself. Terry only grinned, which indeed 
 was his invariable custom on all occasions, solemn 
 or comic. 
 
 As I am now convinced that you are trust- 
 worthy,” resumed Norman, I am going to tell 
 you a secret; the secret, in fact, upon the safe 
 keeping of which depends your going to the play.” 
 
 Or getting every bone in your skin broken,” 
 muttered Biggington in an aside, which was, how- 
 ever, sufficiently audible to convey to Hugh a 
 
122 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 knowledge of tke alternative which awaited 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Biggington, these other gentlemen^ and 
 myself/’ continued Norman, ^^mean to go to the 
 theatre this evening, and if you will do exactly as 
 we tell you, we will take you with us.” 
 
 But the Doctor!” exclaimed Hugh, aghast. 
 
 That is the very point I was about to touch 
 upon,” rejoined Norman in no way discomposed : 
 the Doctor not approving of the yoimger boys 
 being out at night, thought himself obhged to give 
 a general order to the whole school; but at the 
 same time, he contrived to have it hinted privately 
 to nSy that if the elder members of the sixth form 
 chose to go, he should not make any inquiries 
 about it, the only point he insisted on, being, that 
 such an expedition must be managed privately, 
 and without his being supposed to know anything 
 about it. Now, in order to contrive this, w^e had 
 thought of making our way in at night (we can 
 easily get out unobserved after five o’clock school), 
 through the window in the loft ; but, as you say, 
 and as I now remember, it is too small to render 
 that possible, we want you to get through the sky- 
 light into the school-room (as we were talking 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 123 
 
 about this morning’), and unfasten the little door 
 which opens into the playground ; it is only secured 
 by one bolt, which is not above your reach, so you 
 can easily undo it. If you wiU undertake this, 
 and promise faithfully not to breathe a word about 
 it to anybody, you shall go with us to the play.” 
 
 Poor Hugh was sorely puzzled ; and his sense 
 of right and wrong entirely confused; one idea, 
 however, soon extricating itself from the chaos, he 
 immediately gave it utterance. The Doctor,” 
 he said, will be angry with me^ sir, though he 
 may not be so with you, for I am only a little 
 fellow, and a long way off the sixth form.” 
 
 Norman hesitated; he knew that if they were 
 discovered he should be quite unable to protect the 
 child from punishment, and a sense of self-respect 
 made him averse to pledge himself to anything 
 which he could not perform. 
 
 Biggington was trammelled by no such scruples. 
 
 Never fear, young ’im,” he said ; if the Doctor 
 should by any chance speak to you on the subject, 
 just refer him quietly to me ; merely say, — Bigging- 
 ton desired me to go; Biggington will explain 
 everything; — and you’ll have no more trouble from 
 the Doctor. Don’t you think so, Stradwick?” 
 
124 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Oh ! certainly/^ was the reply : refer him to 
 
 Biggington by all means ; say — Bigging*ton desired 
 
 me to go ; Biggington will ” 
 
 ^^That will do/’ interrupted Terry, grinning. 
 
 Shut up, Slow-coach, we didn’t encore the senti- 
 ment \ moreover, I can perceive by the expression 
 of our young friend’s optics, that he is awake to 
 a sense of his sitiwation. The play, a jolly good 
 supper, and immortal honour and renown, on one 
 hand ; and an awful thrashing from Bigging-ton, 
 with a gentle refresher from myself appended, on 
 the other ; between such a Scylla and Charybdis he 
 will hardly be inclined to forestall Jack Sprattly 
 by singing ^ How happy could I be with either.’ 
 So now, young ’un, favour us with your senti- 
 ments.” 
 
 If I might but tell Percy ! ” pleaded Hugh, 
 glancing appealingly towards Norman. * 
 
 That individual shook his head. 
 
 ^^If you do,” he said, ^^you will have broken 
 the trust reposed in you, and proved yourself a 
 mean-spirited, cowardly child, quite unfit for the 
 service we require of you, or the pleasure with 
 which we propose to reward you; — tell your 
 brother and you lose the play.” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 125 
 
 Poor Hugh ! his better nature made one final 
 struggle, but he had dallied with the temptation 
 till it had obtained too firm a hold on his imagina- 
 tion to be shaken off, and so, like many folks older 
 and wiser than himself, who have indulged in a 
 reprehensible longing for some forbidden fi‘uit till 
 the appetite has grown too strong to be resisted, 
 he fell. 
 
 I will promise,’’ he said. I do so want to see 
 the play, and you will take care of me if the 
 Doctor is angry, Mr. Biggington?” 
 
 Oh, decidedly ; both myself and Stradwick,” 
 was the reply. Stradwick and the Doctor are 
 hand and glove just now, because Straddy’s such 
 a dab at Euripides.” 
 
 This insinuation referred to the uncomfortable 
 fact, that the head master had that morning in- 
 formed Stradwick, in consequence of his total 
 inability to construe the ancient Greek in question, 
 that if after another week he did not perceive a 
 very decided improvement, he should be under the 
 disagreeable necessity of degrading him to the 
 fifth form. Stradwick, therefore, hung his head 
 sheepishly as he echoed — 
 
 ‘‘ Oh yes, decidedly.” 
 
126 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 We iinderstaiid each other, then, and had better 
 agree to meet here, prepared to start, at a quarter 
 to six,’’ observed Norman. 
 
 A general assent was given, and the conspirators 
 separated. Norman glanced at his victim 5 there 
 was a determined look in the boy’s face, which 
 gave assurance that he would go through with the 
 task he had undertaken. Eesolution was one of 
 the few qualities Norman reverenced, and for a 
 moment he repented the evil into which he was 
 leading the child ; but the two strongest passions 
 of his nature, ambition and revenge, were hnked 
 with his scheme for that evening, and he could not 
 relinquish it. 
 
 Courage, little one,” he said, laying his hand 
 on Hugh’s curly pate 5 ^^if you and I hve, and 
 as something here,” and he touched his forehead as 
 he spoke, tells me will be the case, I achieve 
 greatness, I will not forget this evening. Silence 
 and courage ! ” 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NORMAN’S REVENGE. 
 
 When the devil suggests some pleasant but wrong 
 scheme to frail humanity^ his dupes generally find 
 him a most amiable and efficient patron at the 
 beginning of the enterprise, however he may leave 
 them in the lurch when the fatal catastrophe ap- 
 proaches. To give that much-abused personage his 
 due, on the occasion to which we are about to 
 allude, he adhered to his word like the gentleman 
 Shakespeare has declared him to be, for — as at 
 seven o’clock the very small curtain of the very 
 minor” theatre at Tickletown drew up, and the 
 limited orchestra, with a hoarse, eccentric, and ad 
 lUntuvi bass, left off playing — four distinguished- 
 looking young gentlemen entered the stage box, 
 and arranged the drapery in such manner that, 
 tiiemselves unseen, they might alike be able to 
 
128 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 witness the performance, and criticise the house, 
 which, in virtue of its being the fascinating 
 Courtenay Trevanion’s ( alias Jack Sprattly’s ) 
 benefit, was crowded by all the rank and fashion 
 of Tickletown. 
 
 Any person who had very closely observed this 
 same box, might have perceived peeping from 
 under the corner of the red curtain nearest the 
 stage, a little, eager, restless, excited face, watching 
 ' with the deepest and most engrossing interest, every 
 trifle that occurred, as though it presented some 
 great and striking novelty. Had the looker-on been 
 of a speculative turn of mind, he might have 
 wondered why this little, bright face, which ought 
 naturally to have expressed nothing but childish 
 delight and surprise, should have had this ex- 
 pression marred by an anxious, scared look, which 
 occasionally passed across the boy’s intelligent 
 features. To the reader, however, this evidence 
 that Hugh Colville was feeling slightly ill-at-ease, 
 even in the midst of his enjoyment, need present 
 no mystery. But as the play proceeded, and Polly 
 made her appearance, looking like a single angel, 
 and singing like a whole covey of them, interest 
 and delight overpowered conscience, and when 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 129 
 
 Jack Sprattly came on in jet black boots and 
 moustachios, and bright red coat and cheeks^ and 
 swaggering about the stage as Macheath^ and 
 looking so divinely impudent, sang in a rich 
 rollicking tenor, ^^How happy could I be with 
 either,” tol-de-rolhng at the end with a devil- 
 may-care joviality, which produced him three 
 several encores, Hugh Colville’s dehght waxed 
 to such a pitch that he mentally decided if the 
 Doctor had suddenly appeared, armed with his 
 stoutest cane, and then and there varied the per- 
 formance by flogging him before the faces of the 
 assembled audience, the exquisite pleasure he en- 
 joyed would have been cheaply purchased at even 
 that frightful cost. 
 
 Then followed a pantomime ! Hugh’s first pan- 
 tomime ! 
 
 Juvenile reader whose first pantomime is yet to 
 come, mark my words, the words of one who speaks 
 from experience ; you look forward eagerly, no 
 doubt, to the wonderful time when you shall be a 
 grown-up man, and do as you please, which you 
 firmly believe will involve always sitting up till 
 three o’clock in the morning'* riding a prancing 
 horse all day • eating unlimited plum-pudding Avith- 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 out uncomfortable consequences j and having* that very 
 pretty little g*irl next door, with whom you danced, 
 and, in your small unassuming* way, flirted also, at 
 the children's ball last Christmas, ^own up into 
 a beautiful wife for you, who will always do exactly 
 what you wish her, and never go near Howell and 
 James’s at any price. You have heard poets and 
 other licensed story-tellers rave about there being 
 
 “ Nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love’s young dream ; ” 
 
 or prate of the dehghts of ambition ; the charms of 
 fame ; the pleasures of hope, and of memory • the 
 satisfaction of a good conscience ; or the inestimable 
 blessings of domestic felicity — which, in a general 
 way, means paying taxes and settling bills : — you 
 may have heard all this, and beheved much or 
 little of it, as your bump of veneration happens to 
 be largely developed, or otherwise. But, what I 
 am going to tell you is a real great fact,” and do 
 you remember it, and act upon it accordingly. The 
 liappiest time of your life ought to be, and probably 
 therefore will be, the glorious night on which you, 
 a light-hearted, merry child, witness your first 
 pantomime! — and you may go with my compli- 
 ments to Papa and inform him that I say so. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 131 
 
 At all events, Hugh Colville felt strongly that 
 until he had seen a clown he had been ignorant of 
 the real dignity of human nature, or the sublime 
 heights to which, properly cultivated, it was capa- 
 ble of soaring. Columbine also (as enacted by that 
 houri, Juliettina Matilda Slammock) impressed him 
 with a deep sense of the sylph-like grace and 
 ethereal purity of woman, all but the very pink 
 calves of her seraphic legs, in regard to which, 
 beautiful and praiseworthy as they were, viewing 
 them in the abstract as mere bounding, pirouetting, 
 sliding, and ghding machines, he could not help 
 indulging some scruples of conscience, mentally 
 classing them with unpaid-for toffy, clandestine 
 nine-pins on Sunday, and the few other examples of 
 the pleasant, but wrong’’ principle, which had 
 come within the limits of his juvenile experience ; 
 and he was just considering that, if Heaven had 
 vouchsafed to place him in the proud and enviable 
 position of her elder brother, he should have mildly 
 remonstrated against her making such a very pro- 
 minent feature of her legs; when, to his surprise 
 and regret, Virtue suddenly triumphed, and Vice 
 being punished in the person of the Lurid Wizard 
 of the Forty-locked Murderer’s Cavern, who was 
 
132 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 dragged by three supernumerary fiends to a naughty 
 place under the stage^ the curtain fell; and all was 
 over. 
 
 The next phase of the evening was to Hugh one 
 strange and uncomfortable scene of inexplicable 
 confusion. Biggington^ Norman^ and his com- 
 panions went behind the scenes, under the aus- 
 pices of Jack Sprattly, who did not look nearly 
 so brave and glorious out of his scarlet coat, and 
 Hugh followed them for fear of being lost, re- 
 ceiving at their hands, much the same kind, and 
 degree of attention, that a httle dog would have 
 met with. 
 
 Of all miserable, desolate, chaotic-looking places, 
 the stage of a theatre in dishabille, is one of the 
 most forlorn. The incomprehensible machinery for 
 scene shifting, the frightful backs of all the 
 brilliant effects, the dirt, the smell of the lamps, 
 the ropes, the rubbish, the dangerous, trap-doors, 
 the tired, sleepy carpenters, the haggard snobbish 
 actors, and, worse than all, the pale hollow-eyed 
 actresses, with their forced heartless laughter — a 
 very mockery of mirth— of all places for destroy- 
 ing illusion, commend me to the region behind the 
 scenes as the most dismally effectual. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 133 
 
 Biggington, Norman, and Stradwick, having 
 disappeared somewhere within the mysterious pre- 
 cincts of the green-room, where they remained long 
 enough for Terry to jump over everything, and 
 tumble down everywhere, and set wrong bells ring- 
 ing in all kinds of unexpected places, and have a 
 terrific combat with nobody in virtue of a pro- 
 perty sword and buckler wherewith he had ille- 
 gally armed himself— the party reassembled, and 
 without farther delay proceeded to The Bull/^ 
 
 This respectable quadruped must have been, in 
 his interesting life-time, a most rare and wonder- 
 ful creature, at least, if he at all resembled his 
 portrait, which hung creaking on a species of jovial 
 gibbet in front of the hostelrie bearing his name. 
 The picture certainly may have been a likeness, 
 but as it represented the bovine original got up 
 regardless of expense, in richly gilt hoofs and 
 horns, with his tail twisted over his back in the 
 shape of a horizontal figure of eight and ending in 
 a bright golden flame, while such a cluster of 
 Hyperion curls waved over his massive brow, as 
 involuntaiily to suggest the idea of his wearing one 
 of those false fronts, paraded by self-deluding old 
 ladies in the forlorn hope of deceiving society on the 
 
134 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 score of their undesirable longevity, we can scarcely 
 conceive the artist to have adhered to nature 
 with a proper degree of pre-Raphaelite severity* 
 Be this as it may, the present proprietor of the 
 Bull had exerted all his energies to provide a 
 supper commensurate with the dignity and gulli- 
 bility of the givers of the feast j and Hugh Col- 
 ville’s eyes sparkled with delight, when the goodly 
 array of nice thing's first met his gaze ^ for, though 
 by no means greedy, he was still almost a child, 
 and was a hungry school-boy into the bargain— 
 need we say more ? 
 
 Then arrived Courtenay Trevanion {cdias Jack 
 Spractly) and the young ladies, who, from a strict 
 sense of propriety, which was one of their marked 
 characteristics, had refused to come unless they 
 might be allowed to bring with them Mrs. Belvi- 
 dera Fitz-Siddons as chaperone. This great lady, 
 for such she was in every sense of the word, had 
 done the heavy tragedy business for many years 
 with immense eclat j until latterly she had gi*own 
 too heavy even for that, which fact had been pain- 
 fully impressed upon her by reason of her constantly, 
 at harrowing moments of heart-rending despair, dis- 
 appearing suddenly fi'om before the streaming eyes 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 135 
 
 of the astonished audience, down traps calculated to 
 support mortals of moderate (but not immoderate) 
 weight. Finding that these unexpected disappear- 
 ances tended to impart a burlesque character to her 
 acting, rather than to increase the pathos thereof, 
 Mrs. B. Fitz-Siddons had wisely restricted herself 
 to such parts as suited her advanced years; and 
 now, having, by the trifling addition of sixpence 
 weekly to his salary, bribed the call-boy to chalk 
 B. T. (beware traps !) upon all dangerous footing, 
 she still shone in the elderly comic line, and played 
 Mrs. Malaprop and Mrs. Backbite to delighted 
 audiences. For the rest, this illustrious woman 
 rojoiced in a pair of large, bold, uncomfortable, 
 black eyes; a man’s voice, slightly the worse for 
 
 vreai* and and a little failing she had ; stifl’ 
 
 horse-hair-like curls, which might have been her 
 own only that she had a harmless scruple against 
 wasting money on paying her bills ; and a general 
 hooked outline, so essentially Israelitish, that her 
 green-room cognomen of Mother Moses ” ap- 
 j)eared by no means inappropriate. Of the young 
 ladies we will only say that, like all young ladies, 
 they were irresistible. 
 
 Just at first starting, matters appeared a little 
 
136 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 dull and unpromising*; the fact being* that the 
 two elder Tickletonians, not finding*, when put 
 to the test, that they were quite such thorough 
 men of the world as they imagined themselves, 
 suffered under an uncomfortable inability to make 
 small talk; while Jack Sprattly, possessing a most 
 inconvenient appetite, was so engTossed with the 
 good cheer before him, that conversation, under the 
 chcumstances, became a physical impossibility. 
 
 As the supper progTessed, however, and more es- 
 pecially when the champagne (which really was not 
 bad for Tickletown) had made two or three rounds, 
 affairs began to brighten. Mrs. Fitz-Siddons, un- 
 like the voracious Macheath (which hungry high- 
 wayman still continued to demolish a supper more 
 fitted for forty thieves than for one), was able to 
 eat, drink, and talk at the same moment ; and soon, 
 by the cheerful, not to say jolly, style ahke of the 
 sentiments she expressed, and of the manner in 
 which she expressed them, succeeded in placing the 
 young people,” as she called them, upon a more 
 friendly footing. 
 
 Cora-lee, my love,” she began (and be it ob- 
 served, parenthetically, that this noble woman 
 spoke with a slight Irish brogme — a philological 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 137 
 
 fact to be accounted for only by the hypothesis, 
 which she herself had started on a particular oc- 
 casion, when she was suffering from a temporary 
 nervous affection which confused her speech and 
 imparted a slight unsteadiness to her gait, viz., 
 that her mother must have been an Irishman), 
 
 Cora-lee, my love ! don’t ye see Mr. Biggington 
 waiting to take wine with ye ^ thank ye, sir, since 
 you’re so very pressing I’ll not refuse; only up to 
 my thumb, if you please, sir” (as she spoke, she, 
 with delig'htful unconsciousness, ran her thumb up 
 the glass as the wine advanced, until her digit and 
 the champagne reached the brim simultaneously). 
 
 Your health, Mr. Norman, sir; 0-phaliur, my dar- 
 ling, the same to you ; — it’s the cavalry you’re going 
 into, Mr. Norman, they do tell me, and its an 
 ornament you’ll be to the ridgemint — fine men 
 they are, the Lancers. I’d a brother in them once ; 
 maybe you’ll have heard tell of Major Fitz-Siddons ? 
 Six feet six did he stand in his stocking-soles, till 
 he fell gloriously leading a forlorn hope at the siege 
 of — of — bless the name of the place! now I 
 can’t for the life of me lay my tongue to it.” 
 
 Troy, perhaps,” suggested Terry, politely. 
 
 Belleisle, more likely,” put in Jack Sprattly : 
 
138 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 it was the first word he had uttered since they 
 sat down, and he had a largish tartlet in his 
 mouth as he spoke ; — swallowing the morsel, he 
 continued in a whisper to Biggington, next to 
 whom he w^as seated, — 
 
 ^^The major was no major at all, but only a 
 private, and was drummed out of the regiment 
 for stealing the captain’s shirts.” 
 
 Having once found his tongue, which was not 
 'until he had more than satisfied even his un- 
 compromising appetite. Jack proceeded to make 
 use (we can scarcely in conscience say, good use) 
 of it, to relate all sorts of anecdotes, theatrical 
 and otherwise, of which the wit was so small 
 as scarcely to deserve the name, while what ought 
 to have been the moral was rather the reverse. 
 
 Then, quite by accident, another gentleman con- 
 nected with the theatre called to speak to Mr. 
 Sprattly, so of course he was invited to join them, 
 and proved a great acquisition to the party, as it 
 was generally reported of him that there was no 
 subject, grave or gay, human or divine, on wliich 
 he could not perpetrate a bad pun • and certainly on 
 that evening he did his best, or, more correctly, his 
 worst, to justify popular opinion. And thus a vast 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 139 
 
 amount of nonsense was talked, and many bottles 
 of wine drunk, until Norman conceived that the 
 time was ripe for the execution of his project. 
 
 It has before been intimated that the apparent 
 friendship existing* between Bigg-ington and Norman 
 was based upon a most false and hoUow foundation, 
 the truth being that the cock of the school, who 
 was older than Norman, had, in times passed, 
 availed himself of his superior strength, to bully, 
 and impose insults and indignities upon, his junior, 
 under which the proud spirit of the embryo lancer 
 had chafed, until a deep thirst for revenge was 
 excited, which he only waited a favourable oppor- 
 tunity to satisfy. During the previous year, a 
 change had taken place in their relation to each 
 other. Biggington having grown up, was, by the 
 immutable laws of nature, prevented from growing 
 any higher, while Norman, in obedience to the same 
 laws, grew steadily after him until he also had 
 attained the full stature of man; while, although 
 of a slighter build, he had so strengthened his frame 
 by athletic exercises, that he was now no con- 
 temptible antagonist even for the colossal Bigging- 
 ton. That the bully himself was aware of this 
 fact, may be gathered fi’om the extreme care with 
 
140 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 which he avoided giving Norman an opportunity of 
 picking a quarrel with him — a line of policy which, 
 until the evem'ng in question, had proved most 
 successful. 
 
 Norman, although apparently enjoying him- 
 self to the utmost, and constantly hastening the 
 circulation of the decanters, contrived to drink 
 very little wine. Biggington, on the other hand, 
 who was essentially animal in his tastes, indulged 
 ' freely, until the effects became unmistakeably 
 apparent in his flushed cheeks and rapid, thick 
 utterance. During the earlier part of the evening, 
 he had devoted his attentions to the amiable and 
 accomplished Cordelia Ophelia Elphinstone {alias 
 Betsey Slasher), as he found that young lady, who 
 was of a singularly affable, not to say free and 
 easy, disposition, least trouble to get on with j and 
 Biggington hated trouble. But as Coralie’s dif- 
 fidence vanished before the influence of the cham- 
 pagne, and the polished compliments which Norman 
 from time to time addressed to her not unwilling 
 ears, she laughed and displayed her white teeth, 
 and uttered piquant nothings in the prettiest broken 
 English imaginable, till she appeared altogether 
 so fascinating, that Biggington began to perceive 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 141 
 
 he had made a mistake^ which the wine he drank 
 rendered him determined at all hazards to remedy, 
 Norman^ who watched him <^closely, remarking- 
 this, redoubled his attentions to Coralie, and Big- 
 g'ing’ton’s dissatisfaction and ill-temper became so 
 unmistakeable that they were observed even by 
 Mrs. Fitz-Siddons, whose troublesome nerves were 
 again beginning to inconvenience her, as was 
 evinced by a slight disposition towards the un- 
 romantic spasmodic affection popularly termed hic- 
 coughs, accompanied by an inappropriate and in- 
 voluntary wink, with which she punctuated (so to 
 speak) her sentences. Feeling desirous that so 
 agreeable an evening should end as harmoniously as 
 it had begun, she tossed off a final bumper of 
 claret (Mrs. Fitz-S. was great at claret), and, turn- 
 ing to the young ladies, began, — 
 
 Cora-lee my love, 0-phaliur my darling (wink), 
 all that’s bright, my dears, must (hiccough) — must 
 (wink) — the fondest hearts must part ; ^ parting is 
 such sweet sorrow,’ you remember ! Not another 
 drop, I’m obleeged to ye, Mr. Biggington, sir — 
 well, if you will (wink) I suppose I must (hiccough) ; 
 
 we weaker vessels you know ” 
 
 ^^Hold as much as the strong ones,” interposed 
 
142 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Jack^ and carry it off a precious sight better too^ 
 and no mistake/' he added sotto voce to his 
 punning fiiend^ glancing towards Biggington as he 
 spoke. 
 
 In the mean time, the young ladies, having risen, 
 were looking for their bonnets and mantles. Terry, 
 whose strong point was activity, had discovered 
 Miss Ophelia's shawl, and with many grimaces as 
 of a polite monkey, had placed it over her shoulders, 
 and Norman was about to perform the same 
 friendly office by Coralie, when Biggington sprang 
 to his feet, and advancing with a slight unsteadi- 
 ness in his gait, exclaimed in a hoarse, angry voice. 
 
 Give me that shawl directly, Norman ; I 
 intend to escort Miss Coralie home." 
 
 Excuse me," was the quiet reply, ‘‘ having 
 found the shawl, I shall not yield the privilege of 
 placing it over the the fair owner's shoulders, to 
 you or any one." 
 
 Won’t you, bj^ ?" returned Biggington, 
 
 with an oath ; we'll soon see that ! " and as he 
 
 spoke he gi^asped the shawl with one hand, while 
 he attempted to push Norman aside with the other. 
 
 Drawing hack to avoid his grasp, Norman whis- 
 pered to TeiTy, Watch and see who strikes the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 143 
 
 first blow, and then lock the door and put the key 
 in your pocket,’’ 
 
 Irritated at the tenacity with wliieh Norman 
 still retained his hold on the shawl, Big^gton 
 pressed angrily forward, when, by putting out his 
 foot, Norman contrived to trip him up, while, by a 
 slight push, he caused him to lose his balance, so 
 that he reeled and would have fallen, had not Jack 
 Sprattly caught him just at the critical moment. 
 Rendered furious by the laugh which followed 
 his discomfiture, and losing sight of his habitual 
 caution from the effects of the wine he had drunk, 
 Biggington’s savage nature blazed forth in its full 
 ferocity, and, springing forward with a bound like 
 that of some wild animal, he aimed a blow at 
 Norman’s head, wliich, if it had taken effect as it 
 was intended, would have ended the struggle at 
 once. 
 
 But Norman was prepared for such a salute, and 
 dodging aside, received the blow on his shoulder, 
 whence it glanced off innocuously ^ then, before his 
 antagonist could recover his guard, he rushed in, and 
 planted a well-directed hit on his face, in a direction 
 which was certain to render him the proprietor of a 
 black eye for the next week to come, at the very 
 
144 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 least. Thereupon ensued a grand shindy. Terry, in 
 obedience to Norman’s directions, having* recorded 
 in the tablet of his memory the fact that Bigging*- 
 ton had struck the first blow, hastened to lock the 
 door and secrete the key^ having accomplished 
 . these feats, he called out A ring ! a ring ! ” at 
 the same time exhorting the combatants to take it 
 sweetly and easily, and to fight fair, and like gen- 
 tlemen of the sixth form. 
 
 The two girls, frightened out of their affectation, 
 shrank into the farthest corner of the apartment, 
 where they clung to each other in speechless terror. 
 Mrs. Belvidera Fitz-Siddons, considerably flustered 
 (no other word could express her exact state of 
 mind so graphically), in trying to get out of the 
 way, fell first over and finally upon a sofa, where, 
 after making one or two abortive efforts to rise, 
 she remained uttering incoherent ejaculations to 
 which no one paid the slightest attention. 
 
 Jack Sprattly made a feeble and futile attempt to 
 bring about are conciliation; but his friend— who, 
 from being invariably cast as the benevolent uncle, 
 or philanthrophic benefactor, in all the genteel 
 comedies, had, by a not unnatural reaction, 
 acquired a sanguinary and democratic habit of 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 145 
 
 mind; drew him back, muttering in a theatrical 
 whisper : 
 
 Let the serpent-brood of haughty aristocrats 
 prey upon each other, J ack 5 there will be more 
 room in the world for the honest sons of labour.” 
 
 In the mean time, after a short but spirited rally, 
 the combatants came to the ground together, when 
 Terry picked up Norman and gave him a knee, 
 while Stradwick, frightened out of his wits (the 
 few he possessed), did the same by Biggington. 
 Five or six rounds ensued, but as Norman, who was, 
 to begin with, the most scientific pugilist, appeared 
 perfectly cool and self-possessed, while Biggington 
 was furious with rage, and excited and bewildered 
 by the wine he had imbibed, each round terminated 
 in Norman’s favour; he having escaped any dis- 
 figuring blow, while his antagonist’s countenance 
 already showed marks of severe punishment. When 
 the seventh round commenced, Norman again suc- 
 ceeding in planting a well-directed hit on the bridge 
 of his adversary’s nose, it became evident that the 
 bully’s temporary courage was failing him, and 
 that one or two more rounds would completely 
 exhaust it. 
 
 By this time, the landlord of the inn and liis 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 myrmidons had been aroused by the noise^ and were 
 clamouring at the door demanding admission^ but 
 so effectually had Terry hidden the key^ that Jack 
 Sprattly, unable to find it^ was reduced to shout to 
 them to burst the door open. This, however, was 
 more easily said than done, for the door was made 
 of stout oak, and the fastenings were strong, and in 
 good repair. 
 
 In the eighth round Biggington, rendered furious 
 by pain, pressed so hard upon Norman that, in 
 avoiding his blows, he entangled his foot in the 
 carpet, and stumbled, while at the same moment 
 a left-handed hit from his opponent catching him 
 on the side of his head, brought him to the ground 
 so violently that, when raised on his second’s knee, 
 he stared wildly about him, and scarcely appeared 
 conscious where he was ; — but a few moments 
 served to restore him, and when time was called, 
 he sprang to his feet with an expression of coun- 
 tenance which showed that he meant mischief. 
 
 ' Biggington, elated by his success, fought with 
 more energy and spirit than he had shown in 
 the last round or two, but in attempting to end 
 the conflict by a tremendous hit, he over-reached 
 himself, and Norman, seizing the opportunity, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 147 
 
 drew back bis arm, then, flinging- it out from 
 the shoulder, with the force and rapidity of a 
 sledge hammer, caught his antagonist a crashing 
 blow on the forehead, before which he went down 
 like a shot, and when time was again called, he 
 still remained stunned and insensible. At the same 
 moment the fastenings of the door suddenly gave 
 way, and the landlord and his wife, supported by 
 the entire dramatis persona of the establishment, 
 appeared upon the scene of action in various atti- 
 tudes of teiTor and amazement. 
 
148 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 Ernest Carrington sat in the retirement of 
 his httle study and gave himself up to thought. 
 His scholastic labours were over for the day, and 
 with a head too tired for mental occupation, and a 
 heart too full of the great problem of existence 
 to find pleasure in frivolous amusements, he sat 
 resting his aching brow upon his hand, pondering 
 the mighty enigma of human life, in general, 
 and his own individual experience of it, in par- 
 ticular. He thought of the aspirations of his boy- 
 hood, of the bright hopes of his later youth, and 
 mentally compared them with the dark reality of 
 his manhood; he called to mind the dreams of 
 greatness which he had pictured to himself — not 
 the false and hollow greatness of mere rank and 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 149 
 
 riches, but the true greatness of living; to become a 
 benefactor to his species ; the greatness which he 
 sought when he took upon him the duties, and 
 privileges, and responsibilities of his sacred calling ; 
 greatness the praise whereof is uttered by the lips 
 of widows and orphans, and written on broken 
 and contrite hearts, to be transferred thence, by an 
 angefs hand, to the Book of Life. And then, for 
 he was young and loving-hearted, he thought of 
 softer, brighter visions ; of a fair ideal Being with an 
 angefs brow, and a woman’s form, who should pass 
 by his side through life, and loving him more than 
 all things else, save the GOD who gave them to 
 each other, should meet him again, and be his reward 
 in Heaven, where perfect bliss would be ensured by 
 the certainty that they should part no more. And 
 in what had these bright visions ended ? A life of 
 solitary drudgery. Even independence, the one 
 thing that sweetens labour — the power of carrying 
 out his own ideas of right and wrong — even that, 
 by his subordinate position was denied to him. 
 And why was all this ? What wrong had he com- 
 mitted to deserve so severe a punishment? Why was 
 he condemned to this mental prison-discipline, this 
 alternation between psychological oakum-picking. 
 
150 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and solitary (Confinement ? Nay, was not his present 
 position the result of his own unselfishness and 
 liberality ? If he had not given up his patrimony 
 for the benefit of his sisters^ nor rehnquished his 
 claim upon the entailed propei'ty, he would have pos- 
 sessed a fair income, on which he could have lived 
 comfortably until he should have met with some 
 ecclesiastical preferment, the duties of which would 
 have afforded him the opportunities he sought, of 
 devoting himself to the good of others. If not 
 permitted to exercise the talents committed to him 
 to the glory of God, why was he born into this 
 world at all ? Poor Ernest ! he had yet to learn 
 that hardest of all lessons, to an eager energetic 
 spirit: he had yet to acquire belief in the great 
 truth, that, 
 
 “ they also serve 
 
 Who stand and wait ! ” 
 
 But his trial was more nearly ended than he 
 was aware of : even as he sat there late into the 
 night, pondering on the evils of his position, but 
 perceiving no means of escaping from them, the 
 very fact of his unaccustomed wakefulness, con- 
 stituted the first link of the chain of events, which 
 was to bring about his deliverance. Days afterwards, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 151 
 
 this idea struck him, and taug-ht him an useful 
 lesson. 
 
 The great clock in the school-room had just 
 proclaimed, for the benefit of the black-beetles, 
 crickets, and mice then tenanting the apartment, 
 the interesting fact that it was 2 a. m., and Ernest, 
 weary and dispirited, had just determined to put 
 himself and his troubles to bed, when he recollected 
 that he had left some Greek exercises, which he 
 had to look over before the school opened the next 
 morning, lying on his desk in the school-room. 
 Anxious not to disturb any one, he substituted a 
 pair of soft slippers for his boots, and knowing 
 exactly the spot in which he had left the papers, 
 he determined to dispense with a candle. Feeling 
 his way cautiously, he descended the stairs and 
 reached the school-room without any contretemps 
 — but here a difficulty arose, for some one had 
 moved the papers. Recollecting he had some lu- 
 cifers in his desk, he was preparing to light a 
 taper which he kept there for the purpose of 
 sealing letters, when a sound, as of footsteps in 
 the play-ground, caught his ear ; — he paused to 
 listen • — the steps appeared to come nearer, till at 
 length they approached the outer door* — from the 
 
152 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 sound it was evident that there were two or three 
 persons. When they reached the door, they paused 
 and spoke to each other in a low whisper^ then 
 Ernest became aware, from the altered nature of 
 the sounds, that some one was climbing’ into the 
 loft over the stable : his first idea was, that they 
 were common pilferers, intending to steal the 
 Doctor’s oats ; but it occm’red to him that there 
 might be some communication between the loft 
 ^nd the dwelling-house, and that they were 
 burglars attempting to effect an entrance ; de- 
 sirous of obtaining more certain knowledge before 
 he gave any alarm, Ernest remained motionless, 
 listening to the sounds without. Suddenly, a noise 
 above him caused him to look up; as he did so, 
 a small window in the sky-Hght was cautiously 
 opened, and a boy’s head and shoidders were 
 thrust in ; — seeing this, Ernest stooped down so as 
 to become hidden by the rails of the desk. Having 
 reconnoitred the apartment, and imagining it un- 
 tenanted, the owner of the head and shoulders 
 noiselessly drew in the rest of his small person; 
 then, hanging by his hands, he allowed his legs 
 to drop, till, with his feet, he was enabled to 
 reach the doctor’s desk, which was considerably 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 153 
 
 higher than any of the others ; he next closed the 
 window, and silently gliding down the slope of 
 the desk, by aid of a high stool gained terra 
 Jirmd. 
 
 Ernest’s first impulse was to collar him, but on 
 second thoughts he determined to wait, and let 
 the affair develope itself a little further. Having 
 reached the ground, Hugh (for of course the 
 reader has long since surmised that it was that 
 misguided child) crept cautiously to the outer door, 
 and withdrew the bolt ) as he did so, Ernest 
 noiselessly crossed the apartment, and when the 
 door opened, collared the first person who attempted 
 to enter. A short, but severe struggle ensued, 
 which ended in Ernest’s favour: finding himself 
 foiled in his endeavours to free himself from the 
 young tutor’s grasp, Norman (for he it was) 
 observed quietly — 
 
 Let me go, Mr. Carrington, you have half 
 strangled me : I shall not attempt to escape.” 
 
 I’ll take good care of that,” returned Ernest 
 drily, releasing his grasp on his antagonist’s throat, 
 though he still retained his hold on his collar. 
 
 Oblige me by walking across the room,” he 
 continued : I must take measures for securing your 
 
164 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 companions in this nocturnal amusement^ as well as 
 yourself.’’ 
 
 So saying* he conducted Norman to the door 
 of the school-room, which led to the interior of 
 the house — this he locked — then, still retaining 
 his hold on his prisoner’s collar, he rang a hell 
 which communicated with the Doctor’s private 
 apartments. In the mean time, perceiving farther 
 concealment to be impossible, Biggington, leaning 
 on Stradwick’s arm, and Terry’s shoulder, entered 
 considerably the worse for wear, and flung himself 
 doggedly on a bench. The sound of approach- 
 ing footsteps soon broke the uncomfortable silence 
 which followed the capture of Norman. Ernest 
 unfastened the door, and Dr. Donkiestir, followed 
 by a man servant with a lantern and a thick stick, 
 hastily entered. 
 
 Ha ! Mr. Carrington ! Norman ! What is all 
 this ? What is all this?” he exclaimed, as his eye 
 fell upon the two most prominent figures. 
 
 In a few words, Ernest explained his own share 
 in the matter; then, setting Norman at liberty, 
 he crossed his arms on his breast, and leaning 
 against a high desk, left the Doctor to finish 
 the adventure. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 155 
 
 In the first place^ who have we here ? ’’ 
 inquired the head master sternly. Eeceiving* no 
 answer^ he took the lantern from the servant^ and 
 held it so that the light fell in turn on the 
 faces of the different delinquents, remarking as he 
 did so — Norman ! I believed you to have been too 
 much of a gentleman to have been mixed up in an 
 affair of this kind— you have disappointed me ; go 
 to your room, I shall speak to you to-morrow. 
 Biggington ! why what is the matter with him 
 throwing the light of the lantern full upon his 
 swollen and discoloured features, he continued — 
 Why youVe been fighting, sir, and are partially 
 intoxicated ! Disgusting ! you shall disgrace my 
 school no longer. Stradwick ! with Biggington, of 
 course. At all events, I am glad to perceive you 
 are sober — fighting is a vice I never suspected you 
 of. Terry ! have all the pains I have taken with 
 you, led to no better result than this? but I 
 suppose you choose to copy Norman, even in his 
 faults ! And lastly, who is this poor child you have 
 suborned to aid you in your nefarious practices? 
 The younger Colville ! Your brother should have 
 prevented this ! ” 
 
 Poor Hugh, his worst fears realized, had been 
 
156 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 crouching* close to Terry (the most good-natured 
 of the party) in an agony of apprehension ; but, at 
 this insinuation, all his love for Percy, together 
 with the innate sense of justice which was one oi 
 his best traits, rose up within him, and, at any cost, 
 he hastened to repel if-. 
 
 Percy knew nothing of it 5 knows nothing yet,’’ 
 he said ; I have deceived him ; and it will serve 
 me rig'ht if you flog me to death, sir, but do not be 
 .angry with dear Percy 5” and here a burst of tears 
 choked his utterance. 
 
 The Doctor was as much affected as a school- 
 master can be. 
 
 Poor child!” he replied^ ^^do not be alarmed 
 for your brother ; if he is, as you state, ignorant of 
 this business, he has nothing to fear. You may 
 all,” he added, raising his voice — you may all 
 depend upon my acting with the most strict and 
 impartial justice : and now to your dcrrnitories 
 instantly. I shall investigate this affair most 
 scrupulously to-morrow.” 
 
 So saying, the Doctor withdrew, courteously 
 but stiffly bowing to Ernest \ leaving the man- 
 servant, with the thick stick and the lantern, 
 to see the delinquents safely to bed \ where it is 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 157 
 
 but charitable to desire for them a good 
 night ; a consolation we can scarcely expect them 
 to obtain, however much we may wish they may 
 get it ! 
 
158 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TRIBUNAL OF JUSTICE. 
 
 It cannot be a pleasant thing* to be going to be 
 hanged ! — however thoroughly you may be aware 
 that you deserve it — however clearly you may per- 
 ceive that it will be for the good of society^ nay, 
 possibly, looking beyond the present time, for your 
 own good also ; yet the stubborn fact must ever 
 remain the same — it cannot be a pleasant thing 
 to be going to be hanged ! 
 
 Now, although as the law at present stands, 
 they do not' exactly hang refractory, or dis- 
 obedient schoolboys, yet there is a process 
 analogous thereunto, though milder in degree, 
 termed flogging, to which such juvenile oflenders 
 are occasionally subjected ^ and this process it 
 was which, as Hugh Colville sobbed forth his 
 penitence and remorse on his brother’s neck. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 159 
 
 loomed large in the distance, and hung over him, 
 and weighed upon him, and crushed him down into 
 a very abject and desponding condition indeed. 
 It was not not simply the pain (though that con- 
 stituted a large and uncomfoi-table item in his 
 depression) that frightened him, but the publicity, 
 the exposure, the disgrace, were more than he 
 could bear to contemplate ; — while Percy, cut to the 
 heart by his brother’s misconduct, yet sympathizing 
 with a bitter intensity in his dread of the probable 
 consequences, could only comfort him with feeble 
 hopes of commutation of punishment, which his 
 reason belied. 
 
 Poor little Hugh! how deeply did he repent 
 having yielded to the temptation ; how bitterly did 
 he reproach himself for having deceived Percy ; 
 what vow^s of amendment did he register, if only 
 he should escape that dreaded floggings and how 
 pale did he turn, and how sick at heart with 
 apprehension did he feel, when the bell rang for 
 morning school, and he knew that before it broke 
 up, his fate w^ould be decided. 
 
 As the boys assembled in the great school-room, 
 it was evident by their eager, excited faces, and by 
 a general amount of subdued whispering, that the 
 
160 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 news of the escapade of the previous night had 
 transpired, and all eyes were fixed on Norman, 
 Stradwick, and Terry (Biggington did not appear) ; 
 even Hugh Colville came in for a degree of obser- 
 vation, which served still more to embarrass and 
 distress him. 
 
 As the clock struck eight, the Doctor, followed 
 by the other masters, entered ; and the cloud that 
 hung upon his brow was without the smallest 
 vestige of a silver lining, and appeared so awful, 
 and portentous, as to strike terror into the stoutest 
 hearts. The moment prayers were ended, the head 
 master rose and said, in a clear, stern voice : — 
 
 Before school commences I have a painful 
 duty to perform. Regardless of my express pro- 
 hibition, certain scholars of the sixth form have 
 ventured to break through the regulations of the 
 school — which do not permit any of the boys to be 
 out at night — and have been to the theatre, taking 
 with them one of the younger boys, who, on their 
 return, was put through a window, and made to 
 unbolt the school-room door in order to admit 
 them. How they employed their time after they 
 quitted the theatre, I have yet to discover ; but 
 they did not return till two o’clock in the morning 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 161 
 
 — one of them in a disgTaceful state of intoxication. 
 As the whole school is aware of my orders, and 
 the manner in which they have been disobeyed, 
 I consider it salutary that they should also be 
 witnesses of my method of dealing with the cul- 
 prits, so as at once to vindicate my authority, 
 and to mark my disapprobation of their rebellious 
 and ungentlemanly conduct.” 
 
 The Doctor then resumed his seat, and continued 
 — ^^Let those whose names are mentioned, step 
 forward — Biggington ! ” 
 
 There was a moment’s breathless silence, and 
 then, with trembling knees, downcast eyes, and 
 g-uilty sheepish manner, Stradwick replied, that 
 ^^Biggington was too ill to leave his bed.” 
 
 am not surprised,” was the reply. ^^Let 
 Norman, Stradwick, Terry, and the younger Col- 
 ville stand forward.” 
 
 With a proud, haughty bearing, Norman ad- 
 vanced, and placed himself immediately in front 
 of the head-master’s desk. Crestfallen and sulky 
 Stradwick shambled after him. A moment’s delay 
 took place ere Hugh could muster sufficient 
 physical strength to tear himself from his bro- 
 ther’s side: while Percy was near him, he felt 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 some degree of security: but Terry put his arm 
 round him, and whispering, Cheer up, young ^un, 
 flogging’s nothing when you’re used to it, and 
 I dare say the Doctor will let you off easy — 
 never say die,” half led, half carried him to the 
 tribunal of justice. 
 
 ^^You are the eldest, Norman,” observed the 
 Doctor, fixing his stern glance upon him • and 
 I will therefore deal first with you — whatever 
 faults you may possess, I have never known you 
 tell me an untruth, and therefore I shall, for the 
 satisfaction of myself and those around me, ask 
 you one or two questions, which you are at liberty 
 to answer or not, as you may prefer. In the first 
 place, do you admit the truth of the accusation 
 brought against you?” 
 
 ^^Yes, sir,” was the quiet, self-possessed reply, 
 in a tone neither disrespectful, nor penitent. 
 
 Have you any objection to give me an account 
 of the expedition, especially how you passed the 
 evening after you quitted the theatre?” was the 
 next inquiry. 
 
 Norman paused for a moment, in thought, ere 
 he answered — My only objection. Doctor Don- 
 kiestir, would be the possibility of betraying my 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 163 
 
 companions; but it appears to me, that as you 
 saw and reco^ized us on our return, and are 
 acquainted with the main facts of the case, the 
 little I shall have to add, will tend rather to help 
 than to injure them. For private reasons of my 
 own, I proposed to Biggington to go to the 
 theatre last night, and devised a scheme by which 
 we might accomplish our purpose; but the loft 
 window being too small to admit the passage of a 
 man^s body, I bribed little Colville to accompany 
 us with a promise of taking him to the play, 
 which he had missed the other morning, forbidding 
 him to tell his brother lest he should prevent him. 
 We shpped out after five o’clock school, Stradwick 
 and Terry accompanying us, went to the theatre, 
 and supped afterwards at a tavern with some of 
 the actors and actresses; towards the end of the 
 evening Biggington insulted and struck me, I 
 returned the blow, and we fought: in the last 
 round, a blow I gave him stunned him; and it 
 was some little time before he recovered sufficiently 
 to walk back : as soon as he was able to do so, we 
 returned — of the rest you are yourself aware, sir.” 
 When Norman had left off speaking. Doctor 
 Donkiestir paused for a moment ere he replied : — 
 
164 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Your account completely agTees with all the 
 facts I have been able to acquire in regard to this 
 disgraceful affair. You admit the truth of the 
 accusation brought against you, and, by your own 
 statement, confess that you were the originator 
 of the scheme 3 you have also demeaned yourself 
 so far as to quarrel with a youth in a state of 
 partial intoxication, and, as it appears to me, 
 availed yourself of his incapable condition to punish 
 him most severely. It has always been a chief 
 object with me, and one in which I have been in 
 many instances most successful, to induce the elder 
 scholars to set a good example to the younger ones j 
 up to the present time I have been well satisfied 
 with you upon this point, I am the more surprised 
 and disappointed at your late gross misconduct. 
 My duty is clear. No kind of subordination 
 could be kept up in the school, if I were not to 
 visit such an offence as that of which you have 
 beenguilty, with the most severe punishment it is 
 in my power to inflict ; I have, therefore, resolved 
 to expel you and Biggington. You may now re- 
 sume your seat, and, when school is over, come to 
 my study, where I shall acquaint you with the 
 arrangements I propose to make for your imme- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 165 
 
 diate departure. Stradwick^ have you anything to 
 say in your defence ? ” 
 
 Stradwick, thus appealed to, remained uneasily 
 shifting from leg to leg, until at last he bleated 
 forth, in a half-crying tone of voice, — 
 
 If you please, sir, I went because Biggington 
 went.” 
 
 As the abject parasite uttered these words, a 
 furtive smile went the round of the school, but the 
 Doctor’s face relaxed not a muscle as he said 
 sternly, — 
 
 I have long observed the weak and servile 
 manner in which you have imitated the worst 
 points in Biggington’s character ; I, therefore, can- 
 not do better than afford you a practical lesson, 
 how, by participating in his vices, you must also 
 share in the punishment they entail. I, therefore, 
 expel you also — sit down. Now, Terry, how came 
 you to be of this party ? Heedless and imprudent 
 I have long known you to be, but disobedient I 
 have never before found you.” 
 
 For a moment Terry hung his head, and a tear 
 glistened in his clear, blue eye ; dashing it away, he 
 raised his face to that of the Doctor, as he replied 
 earnestly,— 
 
166 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 It was the fiin and excitement of the thing 
 tempted me, sir, and I never thought about how 
 wrong it was, till it was too late for thinking to be 
 of any use. I am most of all sorry to have dis- 
 obeyed you, and forfeited your good opinion, and 
 if you will but give me a chance of regaining it, 
 I ^11 cheerfully bear any punishment you like to 
 inflict.’^ 
 
 The head-master paused ere he answered : — 
 
 I will take you at your word ; I shall not 
 expel you, but degrade you to the lower schoo*. 
 On every holiday and half-holiday during this half- 
 year, you will remain in, and employ your time in 
 construing and learning by heart six hundred lines 
 of Greek tragedy ; and lastly, you are forbidden to 
 contend for any of the prizes before the holidays. 
 If it were not against my rule to administer cor- 
 poral punishment to boys in the fifth and sixth 
 forms, you would scarcely have escaped so easily. 
 Resume your place, sir. Now, Hugh Colville, tell 
 me the truth 5 did the elder boys force you to 
 accompany them, or merely induce you to do so by 
 promising to take you to the play?'’ 
 
 Poor Hugh ! all eyes were turned upon him, 
 as, hastily swallowing his tears, he rephed — 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 167 
 
 ^^Biggington promised me a thrasliiiig if I 
 refused to go; but it was’nt that, sir; it was the 
 play did it^ sir : I did so want to see a play.’’ 
 For a moment; a faint gleam of pity passed 
 over the Doctor’s face, but had vanished, ere he 
 resumed i — 
 
 am sorry that I feel it impossible to look 
 over this, your first offence; — you are so young 
 a child that I believed and hoped you had scarcely 
 been in a position to exercise your own free will 
 in this instance — that, in fact, you had been merely 
 a passive instrument in the hands of your elders ; 
 but this does not appear to have been the case — 
 you evidently, being aware of my orders to the 
 contrary, were persuaded to share in this expedi- 
 tion in order to witness a play, and you studiously 
 concealed your intention from your brother, because, 
 he being older and steadier than yourself, you 
 feared he might interfere to prevent you from 
 going, knowing well that he would disapprove of 
 your so doing. I consider this so highly reprehen- 
 sible, that, in justice, I am bound to punish you 
 for it, and the only punishment likely to make 
 much impression on one of your age and character, 
 and to inspire you with a salutary dread of, and 
 
168 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 respect for, properly constituted authority, is a 
 flogging-, which will be administered to you in 
 private, as soon as morning-school breaks up.” 
 
 Hugh, who had listened to the Doctor^s address 
 as if life or death hung upon his words, clasped 
 his hands together in an agony of supplication as 
 his worst fears became realized ; the head-master, 
 however, who had hun-ied over the latter part of 
 his speech as though he had mistrusted in some 
 degree his own resolution, turned hastily away, 
 and began arranging the papers on his desk, and 
 poor Hugh, finding all hope shut out from him, 
 crept back to his brother’s side, and burying his 
 face on Percy’s shoulder, gave way to a burst of 
 passionate, but silent, weeping. 
 
 During the Doctor’s address to Hugh, Norman, 
 who during the whole of his own examination, and 
 sentence, had appeared perfectly cool, self-possessed, 
 and almost indifferent, began for the first time to 
 evince symptoms of uneasiness : — when the decree 
 for the flogging was promulgated, he unconsciously 
 bit his lip and clenched and unclenched his hand 
 convulsively ; but when Hugh burst into tears, he 
 rose and said in an eager, excited voice — 
 
 I beg your pardon, Doctor Donkiestir, but 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 169 
 
 I believe, in fact I am certain, this poor child was 
 assured that if the affair came to your knowledge, 
 he should be protected from the effects of your 
 displeasure.” 
 
 By those who, for their own selfish purposes, 
 were leading him into evil, I presume ? ” inquired 
 the Doctor. Norman making no reply, he con- 
 tinued : — Did you tell this little fellow such an 
 untruth — pledging yourself to that which you 
 knew you were unable to perform ? ” 
 
 If I did not actually say so, I allowed it to be 
 said in my presence without contradicting it, which 
 amounts to the same thing, sir,” replied Norman, 
 colouring. 
 
 I am glad to see that you have sufficient right 
 feeling left to be ashamed of your heartless and 
 unmanly conduct,” resumed the head-master; ^^and 
 I can devise no more fitting punishment, than to 
 show you by practical experience, how powerless 
 you are to counteract the evil consequences of the 
 wrong you have committed. Your appeal only 
 confirms my decision in regard to little Colville.” 
 Norman had hitherto succeeded beyond his ex- 
 pectations in his cleverly-devised scheme. His ob- 
 ject had been to secure two points : first to wreak 
 
170 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 his revenge on Biggington, by forcing him into 
 a struggle, for which he had been for some weeks 
 past privately training under the auspices of a 
 retired pugilist, who kept a public-house in the 
 neighbomhood ; and, secondly, to be expelled for so 
 doing, by which event he should be enabled to join 
 the regiment to which he had been appointed, and 
 upon which all his hopes and wishes were just now 
 centred, four months sooner than he otherwise 
 could have done. Accordingly, till Hugh Colville, 
 for whom he had taken a decided liking, was sen- 
 tenced to be flogged, Norman had been inwardly 
 congratulating himself on his success ; but the fact 
 of being unable to protect this child, to w^hom he 
 had by implication pledged himself, wounded his 
 pride and self-respect to such a degree, that, as the 
 Doctor had truly observed, no more efiective punish- 
 ment could have been devised for him. 
 
 In the meantime Percy had been working himself 
 up into a dreadful state of mind. The reflection that 
 Hugh, his lost father’s darling, who had scarcely 
 had a cross word spoken to him in his lifetime, and 
 even since he had been at school (owing to his own 
 watchfulness, and the rough good nature of their 
 cousin Wilfred Goldsmith), had never received an 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 171 
 
 angry blow — the reflection that Hng*h, his pet, 
 everybody’s pet, was going* to be flogged, was more 
 than he could bear with equanimity. What could 
 be done to save him? He glanced inquiringly 
 towards Wilfred, but that knowing young gentle- 
 man shook his head despondingly — the case was 
 beyond his skill; — determined to risk a last appeal, 
 he half rose from his seat, but the Doctor’s quick 
 glance detected the movement, and he said in a 
 decided, but not an unkind, tone of voice — 
 
 Sit down, Percy Colville ; I am doing what is 
 best for your brother’s future interests, and my 
 decision is irrevocable. I will not hear another 
 word on this subject from anybody,” he continued 
 angrily, perceiving that Percy still seemed inclined 
 to remonstrate. 
 
 Ernest Carrington’s desk was so situated that 
 he could not only see each movement of the two 
 Colvilles, but could actually hear every word they 
 spoke to each other; thus he became aware that, 
 at the moment in which the Doctor addressed 
 Percy, Hugh started, and made a manful effort to 
 subdue his tears. 
 
 ^^Hush, Percy,” he said, in a broken whis- 
 per, ^^hush, dear, he will be angry with you. I 
 
172 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 dare say I can bear itj it’s only the disgrace 
 I’m thinking of, and that somebody may tell 
 Mama of it, and make her imhappy, perhaps.” 
 And here, despite his efforts, a sob choked his 
 utterance. 
 
 Ernest caught the import of the whisper, and 
 at the same moment he became aware of a 
 timid and appealing glance from Percy, which 
 Hugh also observing, a new light broke in upon 
 him ^ for the first time, believing equally in 
 Ernest’s will and power to assist him, a hope of 
 deliverance suggested itself to him ^ and, with an 
 expressive little face, in which every passing 
 thought and emotion could be read as in an open 
 book, he also fixed his large tearful eyes implor- 
 ingly upon Ernest’s countenance. 
 
 And Ernest — in his own private mind, he had 
 all along considered the Doctor injudiciously se- 
 vere in regard to Hugh — he had duly estimated 
 the strength of the temptation, and the poor 
 child’s weakness — he had also perceived the depth 
 and sincerity of Hugh’s repentance, and now his 
 promise to do his best to befriend the orphan boys, 
 and the recollection of the fact that he had been 
 the involuntary instrument of Hugh’s detection. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 173 
 
 recurred to him with a force that was irresistible, 
 and springing’ from his seat, he said, — 
 
 Doctor Donkiestir, I fear the petition I am 
 about to urge may be opposed to the etiquette of 
 the school, but I ask, as a personal favour, that 
 Hugh Colville may not be flogged.’’ 
 
 The Doctor’s brow grew dark, but self-restraint 
 in speech had long since become habitual to him. 
 
 I believe,” he said, — I believe I have clearly 
 signified my wish that no further attempt to 
 influence me in Hugh Colville’s favour should 
 be made.” 
 
 I am aware of your prohibition, sir, ” returned 
 Ernest, completely carried a'way by feeling, but I 
 have pledged myself to befriend these orphan boys, 
 and I will not fly from my word 5 I therefore 
 again ask, as a personal favour, that Hugh Colville 
 shall be let off.” 
 
 The Doctor’s lips worked convulsively, but by a 
 great exertion of self-control he a second time 
 restrained himself from any outward expression of 
 anger. 
 
 I grant your request, Mr. Carrington,” he said 
 gravely, your position as second master in this 
 school necessitates my doing so. How far your 
 
174 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 having urged it, proves you to he unfitted for that 
 position, is a question which I have yet to consider, 
 Hugh Colville, you may thank Mr. Carrington 
 for your escape fi*om a well-deserved flogging: I 
 hope the narrowness of this escape may impress 
 you for the future, and that, while under my 
 tuition, you may never again merit so severe and 
 disgraceful a punishment. And now let the sixth 
 form come up to me in mathematics.’’ 
 
 ' And so the scene ended. Ernest had redeemed 
 his word, and saved Hugh from a flogging, but 
 at what amount of personal sacrifice remained yet 
 to be proved. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 Sir Thomas Crawley paced up and down his 
 handsome library, a prey to anxiety; much de- 
 pended on the turn events mig'ht take over which 
 he had no control, but which yet must exercise 
 a great and lasting influence on his future career. 
 A ministerial crisis was at hand, and the party 
 to which Sir Thomas belonged, would either be 
 turned out, or would retain their position reinforced 
 by a coalition with some of their opponents, and 
 thus become stronger than they had ever before 
 felt themselves. If they went out, Sir Thomas 
 was prepared, cleverly and respectably to rat, and 
 come in again with the opposition; but if they 
 remained in, he was equally prepared to adhere to 
 
176 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 them with the most unshakeahle fidelity, and to 
 make himself as generally useful and agreeable 
 as in him lay : either way he trusted to see his 
 services rewarded by a baronetcy, and he was only 
 waiting for this desirable consummation, to make 
 an offer of his bad heart, and dirty hand, to the 
 ugly younger daughter of a very aristocratic, dis- 
 agreeable, old nobleman. If he succeeded in all 
 this, he told himself he should have reached the 
 height of his ambition, and mentally promised his 
 conscience (for, reader, he^ had a conscience as well 
 as you and I, though we, in our superior sanctity, 
 regard it as a poor limp, damaged, washed-out 
 piece of goods, and look down upon it accordingly, 
 like two fine old English Pharisees as we are) to 
 give up sneaking and shuffling, which he called tact 
 and policy, and live virtuously ever after, as became 
 a member of the aristocracy — thus fitting himself 
 to proceed, ma the family vault, to take possession 
 of the Ashburn estates in another world, in regard 
 to which, he was fain to own that his title at 
 present was a little — just a very little — doubtful. 
 What a bad man Sir Thomas was, to be sure ! 
 How lucky, dear reader, that you and I are so 
 much better than he ! 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 177 
 
 But Sir Thomas had two friends in the Minis- 
 try, Messrs. Tadpole, and Taper, (the Honourable 
 Benjamin DTsraeli knows them, and has made 
 notable mention of them in his tale of Coningsby,) 
 whose views were exactly in accordance with his 
 own, i, e . — to take the best possible care of their 
 own interests, and (whenever that purpose could 
 be best insured by their so doing) of each other’s 
 also 5 and Sir Thomas had that morning received 
 the following note, marked private and confi- 
 dential,” from his friend Tadpole : — 
 
 Dear Sir Thomas, — I have just learned, from 
 
 an unmistahealle quarter, that it is Lord ’s 
 
 (naming the Premier for the time being) intention 
 to apply to you for your living of Ashburn, for 
 
 the nephew of Mr. , the colonial Bishop of 
 
 Boreanigger. The coalition is still quite upon the 
 cards, so it would scarcely be advisable to say 
 ^ no’ ; while, if they go out, which is more than 
 probable, to say ^yes’, would be certain to give 
 offence where you would least wish to do so. 
 I would, therefore, suggest that, if you have 
 not already filled up the vacancy, it would 
 be most desirable to do so, without delay, 
 
 ff 
 
178 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and you will thus avoid the difficulty — verbum 
 sat, 
 
 I am, dear Sir ThomaS; yours very faithfully, 
 
 Tadpole. 
 
 P.S. You will kindly hear in mind that clerk- 
 ship in the Woods and Forests; young* Grig, Mrs. 
 Tadpole’s nephew, is a very promising lad, and in 
 good hands might do credit to his patron.” 
 
 Sir Thomas read and re-read the letter. How 
 fortunate that Tadpole had ferreted out this in- 
 formation ! but for that he might have been forced 
 to commit himself irrevocably to the losing side — 
 horrible idea ! Yes, Tadpole was right : the living 
 must be disposed of without an hour’s delay : who 
 should he give it to ? It must be some one with- 
 out political influence or connection, lest he should 
 give offence to either party ! At this moment, from 
 one of those strange chances which occasionally 
 appear to determine the whole destiny of a life- 
 time by the agency of a mere trifle. Sir Thomas 
 knocked some papers off his desk, and as he stooped 
 to pick them up, the card Ernest Carrington had 
 sent in some weeks before, fell from among them. 
 He raised it, and regarding it fixedly, as though he 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 179 
 
 were scrutinizing the person whose name it bore, 
 muttered, — 
 
 Young Carrington, he is in the Church — 
 why should not he do ? He might, of course, 
 be had at a minute’s notice ,• — £800 a year would 
 be a fortune to him ; — besides, there’s policy in the 
 thing — I find North-park (a farm of some five 
 hundred acres) is in the entail ; if he were to get 
 scent of it, and could obtain access to the papers, 
 he might claim it any day ; his boyish, chivalrous 
 scruples are sure to wear out; this would bind 
 him to me by the tie of gratitude: he is just 
 one of those hot-headed, romantic dispositions that 
 are always absurdly grateful. Gad ! I could not 
 have hit on a fitter person ; I’ll write to him at 
 once : I’ve got his direction, somewhere — as he 
 spoke, he began tossing over papers and letters 
 in search of the missing direction — A very good 
 thought,” he continued : I could see through that 
 
 young fellow in a minute ; he may be managed as 
 easy as a child, if you only take advantage of his 
 weak points. I like ’em of what they call a generous 
 disposition; they show you their whole hand at 
 starting : it’s your close, crafty, quiet dogs that are 
 the hardest to deal with. I shall make a point 
 
180 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 with him that he gets every farthing out of that 
 proud, haughty Mrs. Colville, and her conceited, 
 stuck-up minx of a daughter; they’ve never liked 
 me, I know : they’ll he sorry for it some day.” 
 Ernest Carrington, when he returned to his 
 rooms after morning school, found two letters on 
 his table. The first he opened was from Dr. 
 Donkiestir, and ran as follows : — 
 
 dear Sir, — It is with considerable pain 
 that I feel it my duty to urge upon you the pro- 
 priety of resigning your position, as Mathematical 
 and Classical Master, at the school of which I have 
 the honour to he principal. As regards talent and ac- 
 quirements, I have never before had so able an assis- 
 tant, hut there are other quahties necessary in the 
 onerous position of second-master of such a school 
 as that over which I have, since its estahhshment, 
 presided, which are equally important. In these, 
 the injudicious manner in which you this morning 
 allowed, what I admit to have been an impulse of 
 generous feeling, to hurry you into a breach of 
 scholastic discipline, which a more hasty man than 
 myself, might have construed into a personal 
 insult, proves you to be utterly wanting. It is to 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 181 
 
 avoid the possibility of your again placing both 
 yourself and me in such a false and difficult 
 position, that I thus reluctantly press upon you the 
 advisabihty of your immediate resignation. When 
 a few more years shall have passed over your head, 
 maturing your judgment, and tempering your 
 impulsive disposition, I can conceive you would be 
 eminently qualified for the responsible, yet in- 
 teresting, office of an instructor to youth. In the 
 mean time, I would advise your looking out for 
 a curacy, or a situation as tutor to some young 
 nobleman about to travel, and I shall have much 
 pleasure in giving you unexceptionable testimonials, 
 or in furthering your interest, to the extent of my 
 power, in any other manner you may point out. — 
 Awaiting your reply, 
 
 remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very faithfully, 
 
 Hannibal John Donkiestir, D.D.” 
 
 '' So that is my reward for my philanthropy, 
 js it ? ” was Ernest Carrington’s mental comment 
 as he finished perusing the Doctor’s letter. Well, 
 I dare say I did wrong to interfere, but I should 
 hate myself if I could have sat by and watched 
 
182 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the expression in that boy, Percy Colville’s, beau- 
 tiful face, or listened to that poor little child’s 
 heart-broken sobs, and not tried to help them — I 
 am glad I’ve saved the little fellow at all events ; 
 no more teaching for me; I’d sooner go out as a 
 missionary, and try to wash blackamore heathens 
 into piebald Christians than that. Well, now for a 
 curacy, hard labour, and genteel starvation on £80 
 a year; never mind, I shall be my own master 
 at all events, and may do some good amongst the 
 poor people ; no drudgery can be worse than this 
 horse-in-a-mill life I have been leading of late. A 
 letter from Sir Thomas Crawley! What can he 
 want of me ? I’ve no more birthrights to give 
 away for a mess of pottage ; ” and with such hard, 
 but not unnatural, thoughts running in his brain, 
 he broke the seal, and read as follows ; — 
 
 dear young Kinsman, — Ever since 
 I had the pleasure of making your acquaint- 
 ance, and learning the very sensible views you 
 hold on all topics, political and religious — views 
 which agTee so remarkably with my own — I 
 have been turning in my mind how best I may 
 assist you, and have come to the conclusion that 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 183 
 
 I cannot better discharge my duty as a patron 
 of ecclesiastical preferment, than by offering you 
 my living of Ashburn, now vacant. The parish 
 contains fi’om six hundred, to six hundred and 
 fifty souls, and the living is worth eight hundred 
 per annum, with a parsonage-house and glebe 
 attached; you will thus be rendered independent 
 of any pecuniary difficulties, and able to apply 
 your mind entirely to that deeply interesting 
 subject, the religious and social improvement of the 
 labouring classes. I have only two provisos to 
 make : — one is, that if you approve of the position 
 I offer you, you will signify your acceptance of it 
 by return of post (my reason for this I will explain 
 satisfactorily when we meet). The other, that 
 you promise to urge your claim upon the estate of 
 the late incumbent for dilapidations in the house 
 and glebe. I am sure you will agree with me, that 
 the Church is bound, in this latitudinarian age, to 
 protect her property ; and I can bestow my living 
 upon no one who will not give me a distinct pledge 
 upon this point. 
 
 I remain, my dear young kinsman. 
 
 Your affectionate friend and relative, 
 
 ^^Thomas Crawley, K.C.B/’ 
 
184 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Poor Ernest ! The revulsion of feeling was 
 almost too much for him^ and in his contrition for 
 the hard thoughts he had entertained of Sir 
 Thomas Crawley, he dashed off a hasty letter, full 
 of generous feeling and overflowing with gratitude, 
 in which he thankfully accepted the living, and 
 pledged himself to see full justice done to the 
 interests of the Church as embodied in the Ashburn 
 Eectory dilapidations : he was sorry for it after- 
 wards, when but we must not anticipate ! 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 185 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE KOSEBUD SKETCHES FROM MEMORY. 
 
 Reader ! dear reader ! nay, on the chance of your 
 bein^ a young lady, and, therefore, necessarily charm- 
 ing, we will go the whole leng-th of the adjective, 
 and say at once, dear^^if reader ! (of course, asking 
 your pardon for the liberty, and feeling quite sure 
 you are only too ready to grant it, because you are 
 such an amiable sex)^ — dearest reader, don’t you 
 think — (by the way, how very becoming that new 
 dodge of plaiting a pig-tail of your back hair, and 
 twisting it round like a coronal over your front hair, is 
 to you — it gives quite a Classical, Grecian, Etruscan, 
 and all that sort of thing, style to your contour ) — 
 don’t you think, dearest reader, that we have for 
 much too long a time lost sight of, and practically 
 ignored, and altogether cruelly and abominably 
 
186 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 deserted, and neglected, the Eosebud of Ashburn ? 
 and she all the while, in the self-denial of her nature 
 (a species of self-denial, by the way, which would 
 he very generally practised and become exceedingly 
 popular, if we were hut sufficiently philantliropic to 
 divulge the recipe), has been only growing prettier 
 and more fatally fascinating every day. 
 
 Oh, that dangerous, irresistible, little Eosebud ! 
 There she sat, looking as demure as if she was n’t 
 always ready to smash any amount of hearts into 
 the smallest possible pieces, on the shortest notice 
 imaginable, toiling busily over an absurd httle 
 crochet purse, which she was manufacturing liter- 
 ally by hook and by crook,” against Mr. Selby’s 
 birthday, when she intended to present him with it 
 
 to keep all his sovereigns in” ; though if he could 
 have kept all his sovereigns in that pretty little 
 folly, the said folly would very soon have had a 
 sinecure, and poor Mr. Selby have been a ruined 
 snob, instead of a prosperous one. 
 
 Now, we do not object to mention in confidence, 
 though we should not wish it repeated, that the 
 Eosebud, albeit a most dutiful and affectionate 
 daughter, had, since the boys went to school, found 
 her life very dull and monotonous, and was getting 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 187 
 
 decidedly hard up for excitement ^ — pleasurable 
 excitement would, of course, have been her choice, 
 but even a little mild persecution would not have 
 come amiss, in this dearth of variety : — she had ex- 
 pected Sir Thomas Crawley would have g-iven away 
 the living-, and some horrid interloper have arrived to 
 turn them out of house and home ere this, but no , 
 day after day passed by without producing- even the 
 g-host of an incident, and the unfortunate and vic- 
 timized Kosebud was reduced to sit by herself and 
 look pretty, without anyone to reap the benefit there- 
 of. What a cruel situation for a vivacious Eosebud 1 
 Mrs. Colville had been absent nearly an hour, 
 and Emily, who stayed at home to g-et on with her 
 crochet (for the next day was the eventful birthday, 
 and she was alarmed lest her offering- should not be 
 ready in time), had been all by her small and pretty 
 self, and had croched away so hard that she had 
 crochM herself into a headache 5 — perceiving- this to 
 be the case, she laid down her work and fell a 
 thinking, and having- nothing agreeable to reflect 
 upon in the present, she began to ^^try back’’ till 
 she had mentally jibbed as far as the day when 
 she, and her friend Caroline, had been frightened by 
 the footpad, and rescued by an interesting young 
 
188 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 stranger, whom you and I, dearest reader, know to 
 have been Ernest Carrington, although the Rosebud 
 was still in ignorance of that fact. From sheer 
 listlessness, and want of anything better to think 
 about, Emily began speculating as to whom her 
 deliverer could possibly have been, and whether, by 
 any odd chance, she should ever meet him again, 
 and if so, whether he would recollect her, or she 
 him, when it occurred to her to try if she could 
 Temember his features well enough to sketch them. 
 Emily had rather a talent for taking hkenesses, 
 so she provided herself with a pencil and a piece of 
 paper, and drew away till she had produced, what 
 an auctioneer would have termed, a splendid por- 
 trait of a nice young man.’^ Having accomplished 
 this feat, she held up her performance to scrutinize 
 it, drawing back her head and bending her slender 
 neck from side to side, hke some graceful bird, till 
 she got the light to fall properly upon her sketch — 
 ^^Yes, I think that is very like him,” she said, 
 ^^only it has’ntgot quite his expression — there was 
 something so calm and — spiritual I suppose it 
 would be called, in his look ; he was very handsome 
 certainly; I wonder who he could be ! ” Resuming 
 her pencil, she added two or three finishing touches, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 189 
 
 then appended to it her initials, and the date, with 
 the intention of adding it to a select gallery of 
 portraits of remarkable ball-partners, and other 
 heroes of her imagination, which reposed inviolate 
 within the sacred precincts of her writing-desk; 
 but, at this moment, the house-door opened and 
 Mrs. Colville entered, so hastily that Emily had 
 only time to thrust her portrait between the leaves 
 of the nearest book, (which happened to be a volume 
 of Blair’s Sermons), ere her mother had joined 
 her. 
 
 Mama, you are tired,” she said, as Mrs. 
 Colville, hurriedly drawing off her gloves, seated 
 herself on the sofa; observing her more attentively 
 
 she continued, You look pale, and You are not 
 
 ill ? Has anything happened ? ” 
 
 Mrs. Colville smiled faintly. I am not ill, 
 darling,” she said, ^^but — but — the new rector is 
 appointed, and we must leave this house next week,” 
 and overcome by the idea of quitting the home 
 where she had passed so many happy years with 
 liim who was no more, but whom she had loved, nay, 
 itill loved so well (for hers was one of those rare 
 and true affections which only legin on earth), the 
 widow burst into tears. In an instant, Emily 
 
190 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 flew to her side, quietly removed her bonnet, and 
 then, with the dehcate instinct of a true woman^s 
 nature, feeling that her sympathy could best he 
 shown by silent tenderness, she gently drew her 
 mother’s head towards her till it rested on her 
 bosom, and suffered her to weep unrestrained. 
 But Mrs. Colville, although on this occasion the 
 suddenness of the shock had overcome her habitual 
 self-control, was by no means a weak character, and 
 'she soon recovered herself. 
 
 I did not mean to distress you thus, dearest,” 
 she said, but the announcement was made to me 
 so abruptly ; Sir Thomas — I do not wish to speak 
 against him — but he is not a man of any delicacy 
 of feeling.” 
 
 ^^He!” interrupted Emily, ^^he has no more 
 feeling than the most obdurate old paving-stone 
 that ever refused to be macadamized.” 
 
 He has certainly not shown much consideration 
 towards us in our sorrow,” returned the widow, but 
 I bear him no ill-will; he only exacts his legal 
 rights, and I have no business to blame him because 
 nature has not gifted him with delicate percep- 
 tions. But I was going to tell you; Mr. Selby 
 received a note from him this morning, saying — 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 191 
 
 but here it is ^ Mr. Selby gave it me to show 
 you.” 
 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Colville placed the note in 
 her daughter’s hands. It ran thus : — 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have at length found a suitable 
 person on whom to bestow the living of Ashburn. 
 The new incumbent will read himself in on Sunday 
 next. I presume, from the length of time which 
 has elapsed since the late rector’s decease, that his 
 family have quitted the parsonage. Should this not 
 be the case, will you apprize Mrs. Colville of my 
 desii-e that she should do so with as little loss of 
 time as possible. The gentleman to whom I have 
 given the preferment, holds most strongly the same 
 views as myself, as to the necessity of guarding 
 against the deterioration of Church property, and 
 has, at my suggestion, written to Mrs. Colville’s 
 solicitor, to announce his intention of claiming, to 
 the utmost farthing, the sum due for dilapidations ; 
 which debt I depend upon you to see liquidated. 
 You will oblige me by doing everything in your 
 jiower to facilitate all arrangements the new rector 
 may wish to make. I leave Ashburn early to- 
 morrow for London 5 therefore shall be glad to see 
 
192 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 you this evening‘s when I can explain my intentions 
 more fully. 
 
 I remain, dear sir, 
 
 Yours, &c., 
 
 Thomas Crawley, K.C.B.’^ 
 
 What a cruel, heartless letter ! ” exclaimed 
 Emily 5 ^^and this horrible new rector appears 
 to he as unfeeling- as his patron; but of cour-se 
 Sir Thomas has picked out some dreadful old 
 creature like himself ; he had better have given 
 the living to dear tiresome Mr. Slowkopf than to 
 this unpleasant man. But Mama, dearest, what 
 is to become of us ? ” 
 
 ^^Mr. Selby advises my taking the cottage on 
 the common,” was the reply : it will just hold 
 
 us and the boys, and I do not wish to quit this 
 neighbourhood, at least till Percy is old enough 
 to leave school.” 
 
 Well, the plan has its advantages ; it would 
 break my heart to leave dear Caroline, certainly,” 
 rejoined the Rosebud, musing ; the worst feature 
 in the case is this dreadful new rector — IVe 
 taken a thorough aversion to him already — it is 
 so unpleasant to dislike one’s clergyman ! I know 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 193 
 
 he will be horrible^ I’ve a presentiment abont 
 him, and my presentiments always come true.” 
 
 And so the Eosebud chatted on, partly to make 
 up for her long silence, and partly to divert her 
 mother from the sad thoughts which she could see 
 were still depressing her, till Sarah coming to lay 
 the cloth for their frugal meal, she tripped off 
 to get ready for dinner, quite forgetting a cer- 
 tain portrait she had sketched , and Mrs. Colville, 
 being of a neat and orderly disposition, perceiving 
 a stray volume of Blair’s sermons lying about, 
 put it, and all it contained, away in its proper 
 place in the book-shelves. 
 
 Saturday came, and with it the new rector; 
 he was to stay at Mr. Selby’s till the rectory was 
 ready for him. Despite her prejudices and pre- 
 sentiments, the Rosebud w’as decidedly curious to 
 see him, and actually made a pretence to gather 
 some flowers for the drawing-room (although 
 they were to leave on Monday), in hopes that, 
 hidden behind the great laurel, she might catch 
 a glimpse of him in the act of arriving, Caro- 
 line having told her by what train he was to 
 travel. But unfortunately, after waiting a 
 quailer of an hour, she had just gone into the 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 house for the g-arden-scissars, when the railway 
 fly drove past, and her utmost endeavours only 
 enabled her to catch the retreating outline of 
 — a black leather portmanteau. Before she 
 went in, however, Mr. Slowkopf, who in his heavy 
 way was always extremely gallant towards the 
 Eosebud, made his appearance clad in his best 
 suit of black (which was inferior to any other 
 clergyman’s worst), on his way to dine cJiez 
 Selby, and be introduced to his new rector; and 
 hearing from the young lady (who looked upon 
 him in the light of a half-childish grandpapa, or 
 thereabouts), that she wished to learn something 
 of the appearance, manners, habits, customs, 
 zoology, pathology, ethnology, and general statis- 
 tics, of the illustrious stranger, he promised to 
 look in for five minutes on his way home (being 
 Saturday night he should come away very early), 
 and report progress. 
 
 Of course Emily told her Mama of this 
 arrangement, and of course Mrs. Colville smiled, 
 and called her a silly little goose for not having 
 patience to wait till to-morrow; adding that, for 
 her own part, she was used to Mr. Slowkopf, 
 and should be sorry to see any one else in his 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 195 
 
 place; and then with a sigh she quitted the 
 room. 
 
 Ten o’clock came, and with it Mr. Slowkopf^ 
 who looked and felt rather peculiar, which might 
 be accounted for by the fact that his usual beverage 
 was spring water, but that, on the evening in 
 question, he had been prevailed upon to drink two 
 or three glasses of wine. Instead of creeping 
 into the most lonely corner of the apartment, and 
 finding something uncomfortable to sit upon, he 
 advanced boldly into the room and saying cheer- 
 fully, Well, you see, ladies, here I am,” he drew 
 an arm-chair exactly between Mrs. Colville and the 
 fire, and seated himself thereupon, chuckling with 
 the air of a man conscious of a good joke, but 
 completely in the dark as to what might be the 
 nature, or subject, thereof. 
 
 The Rosebud was so deeply affected (in what 
 manner we leave our readers to guess) by this 
 unaccountable behaviour, that she dared not 
 trust herself to speak; so Mrs. Colville, seeing 
 that the curate appeared likely to chuckle himself 
 to sleep without making any further attempts at 
 conversation, began — Well, Mr. Slowkopf, are 
 you never going to satisfy our curiosity? ” 
 
196 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Thus adjured; that individual started; looked 
 round in confusion; and then in some degree re- 
 lapsing into his usual manner; only smiling 
 vacantly all the time; he said; — 
 
 Before I can comply with your request; my 
 dear Madam; I must inquire to what particular 
 subject the curiosity to which you allude especially 
 applies ? 
 
 Oh ! Mr. Slowkopf; you’re only trying to te^sO;” 
 exclaimed Emily; recovering her voice and her 
 curiosity simultaneously. Of course about the new 
 rector : what ’s he like ? come; tell us — quick ! ” 
 
 He ’s like;” replied the curate; pausing on 
 each syllable; as if conversation were an electric 
 telegraph office; and he had to pay extra for 
 every additional word he uttered — he ’s very 
 like — most other young clergymen.” 
 
 Then he is young ? ” continued Emily; in- 
 terrogatively : ^^is he tall; gentlemanly; hand- 
 some ? ” 
 
 He ’s not; at least as far as I observed — 
 but such things don’t make much impression on 
 me” wonder what does was Emily’s 
 
 sotto voce comment) — but I should say; he ’s 
 not what would be generally called — hard featured. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 197 
 
 I only hope^ ” lie continued solemnly — I only 
 liope^ that he may turn out to be sound : there 
 was something I did’nt like about that Hock.’’ 
 
 Indeed ! ” returned Emily, looking very 
 grave, with the exception of her eyes, which were 
 laughing wickedly, incipient spavin, perhaps.” 
 
 For a moment Mr. Slowkopf gazed at her in 
 sheer amazement; then a faint consciousness of 
 her meaning gradually dawned upon him, and 
 he replied, — 
 
 Similarity of sound has not unnaturally misled 
 you in regard to the import of my observa- 
 tion, Miss Emily : the Hock to which I alluded 
 was not, as you conceive, the elbow-joint of a 
 horse’s hind-leg, but a choice sample of Ehenish 
 wine, hospitably produced by Mr. Selby for our 
 gratification; in regard to which Mr. Carrington 
 was pleased to observe that it was not the only 
 good thing that came from Germany — a remark 
 which I conceived might refer to the German 
 school of theology, whence, by logical progres- 
 sion, I was led to doubt the soundness of the 
 new rector’s doctrinal views.” 
 
 And having delivered himself of this ponderous 
 explanation, Mr. Slowkopf rose up as suddenly as if 
 
198 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 he had been propelled by a spring', after the fashion 
 of that much-enduring* public character Jack-in-a 
 box, and abruptly taking leave of the two ladies, 
 broke his shins over a chair, and was gone. 
 
 ^^Why, Mama dear, what has come to the 
 creature ? ’’ exclaimed Emily : is he going* en- 
 
 tirely to take leave of the few senses wherewith 
 nature has so scantily endowed him?” 
 
 You ’re too pert to him, my love,” was the 
 reply ; he ’s a very excellent young man ; and 
 always drinking water at home, is naturally more 
 elated by a glass or two of wine, than a less ab- 
 stemious person would be,” 
 
 Oh ! that is the secret, is it — the wretch !; I 
 shall send him some teetotal tracts to-morrow. 
 I ’ve got ^ A Voice from the Pump,’ and ^ Cold 
 Comfort for Christians ’ still left : they ’ll suit his 
 case charmingly.” 
 
 And so saying, the incorrigible Eosebud tripped 
 off to bed, where straightway falling asleep, she 
 dreamed, that being in church, and the new rector 
 turning out to be a fine young piebald centaur, she 
 clearly perceived, as he cantered up the pulpit 
 stairs whisking* a most unclerical switch tail, that 
 he was decidedly spavined in the off hind-leg. 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN “ ELEGANT EXTRACT ” FROM BLAIR’S SERMONS. 
 
 An unfortunate necessity existing to compress 
 this our veracious history of ^Hhe fortunes of 
 the Colville family/’ within the limits of one 
 small volume, a great many incidents on which 
 we would gladly expatiate, can merely he sketched 
 in outline, while we must leave the reader’s 
 imagination to fill in the details. 
 
 Amongst these ^Hancy portraits” must he in- 
 cluded the pretty face of our little heroine, 
 characterized hy the look of astonishment with 
 which she recognized, in her new spiritual pastor, 
 the handsome hero of the footpad adventure, 
 together with the becoming hlush consequent 
 upon the discovery. 
 
 Another leaf of the sketch-hook must he de- 
 
200 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 voted to Percy and Hug-h’s first return for the 
 holidays, and their delig*ht in renewing their ac- 
 quaintance with their kind friend and protector 
 at Tickletown^ together with the consequent inti- 
 macy which ensued between the cottage and the 
 rectory. 
 
 The new incumbent soon won golden opinions’’ 
 from rich and poor. Sir Thomas Crawley^ who had 
 wriggled himself into the new ministry^ and obtained 
 ' the appointment of ambassador to the court of one 
 of the German potentates — a position which he hoped 
 would secure the baronetcy as a retiring pension — 
 had a kind of superstitious notion that his success 
 was a reward for the good action of appointing 
 Ernest Carrington to the living of Ashburn, and 
 in order still to propitiate the fickle goddess, he 
 continued to heap favours upon his protege, till 
 worthy Mr. Selby, unaccustomed to such freaks 
 of benevolence on the part of his patron, began 
 to fear the air of Germany had produced some 
 strange efiect upon Sir Thomas’s brain. 
 
 Mr. Slowkopf, too, had gradually arrived at 
 the conviction that Mr. Carrington was a most 
 praiseworthy and remarkable young man,” and 
 once assured that he had no lingering affection for 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 201 
 
 modern Teutonic heresies^ he yielded himself to 
 the fascinations of his rector’s manner and address^ 
 and became one of the most devoted of his 
 admirers. 
 
 Faithful to his pledge^ Ernest exacted every 
 farthing of the dilapidations to which he had a 
 legal claim ; hut then he took at a valuation Mrs. 
 Colville’s furniture and live stock (comprising 
 Sampson the pony^ an orthodox and superannuated 
 cow, some fine old Protestant cocks and hens,, 
 the annual pig, and the perennial yard-dog', 
 which latter individual always harked in the 
 wrong place, would go to church whenever he 
 could get loose, and cost rather more to feed 
 than did his new master) — and trusting to the 
 mistiness which usually obscures the female in- 
 tellect in regard to business matters, contrived to 
 pay a sum for these conveniences which made the 
 dilapidations fall very lightly upon the widow’s 
 pocket. 
 
 Whether Mrs. Colville was more clear-sighted 
 than he expected, or whether his kind interference 
 to protect Hugh from punishment, of which she 
 heard an account from Percy, had won her 
 heart, certain it is that the dislike with which 
 
202 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the widow was prepared to view her lost hus- 
 band^s successor, soon changed to an almost 
 maternal regard for the young man who so well 
 performed the duties which Mr. Colville’s death 
 had left unfulfilled. The only person who ap- 
 peared insensible to the merits of this general 
 favourite, was the capricious little Rosebud ^ but 
 she, very early in the session, seceded to the 
 opposition benches, and constituted in her own 
 ' graceful person a formidable minority of one. 
 
 Nearly two years had elapsed since our tale 
 began, and Percy and Hugh were again at home 
 for their Christmas holidays. The party, consisting 
 of Mrs. Colville and Emily, the two boys, their 
 cousin Wilfred, now promoted to tail coats and 
 a stool in the paternal counting-house, and the 
 rector and curate, who having happened to look 
 in, had been asked to stay to tea, were gathered 
 round the fire in the snug little drawing-room in 
 the cottage. There had been a pause in the con- 
 versation, of which Mr. Slowkopf availed himself 
 to address the Rosebud. 
 
 ^^It is a singular and remarkable fact, Miss 
 Emily,” he began in his usual deliberate manner ; 
 it is a most singular and remarkable fact, that in- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 203 
 
 timate as I have long* had the privilege of being 
 in this family, I never, until this morning, when 
 Master Hugh obligingly gave me an account of 
 the transaction, was aware of your having been 
 alarmed by a footpad and providentially rescued 
 by the benevolent interference of our excellent 
 rector here : ” and as he spoke he indicated Ernest 
 by a flap of his larboard fin, with about as much 
 grace as a seal might have displayed under similar 
 circumstances. 
 
 Ay, what was that ? inquired Wilfred 
 Goldsmith, eagerly. ^^Tell us about it it. Short- 
 shanks” (an elegant Tickletonian soubriquet for 
 Hugh) : I like to hear of shindies.” 
 
 Thus appealed to, Hugh, nothing loth, proceeded 
 to give a full, true, and particular account of the 
 adventure, which, as Ernest was aware that he 
 must have derived his information originally from 
 the Rosebud herself, he hstened to with a quiet 
 smile, more particularly when he heard himself 
 described as a tall and graceful young man of 
 singularly prepossessing appearance. 
 
 Well, it was a plucky thing well done, and I 
 give you credit for it, Mr. Carrington,” was WiU 
 fred’s comment, as Hugh concluded. 
 
204 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Keally I ’m quite overpowered/’ returned 
 Ernest; with an atFectation of extreme humility; 
 
 my poor exertions were a great deal too humble 
 to deserve an eulogium from Mr. Wilfred Gold- 
 smith.” Wilfred; who since we last heard of him 
 had altered only by becoming in every respect 
 rather more sO; winced slightly; for he knew 
 that Ernest was laughing at him * — lest any 
 one else should make the same discovery; he 
 hastened to divert attention by attacking his fair 
 relative. 
 
 You must have been finely astonished; Cousin 
 Emily;” he said; when you recognized the interest- 
 ing knight-errant peeping over the pulpit-cushion. ” 
 Did you know him again directly; Emmy?” 
 inquired Hugh. 
 
 Of course she did;” rejoined Wilfred. Do you 
 think she did not dream of the features of her 
 gallant deliverer twice a week regularly for the 
 next half-year; at least.” 
 
 Indeed; I did nothing of the kind; you absurd 
 hoy ! ” exclaimed the Rosebud; eagerly. As well 
 as I remember; I did happen to recognize Mr. Car- 
 rington; hut I really wonder that I should have 
 done SO; for I was so dreadfully frightened on the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 205 
 
 first occasion, that I could think of nothing* hut the 
 horrible man who had attempted to take my purse 
 and as the proud Puss uttered this slightly apochry- 
 phal statement, she gave her head a little pettish 
 toss, which meant a great deal, and expressed its 
 meaning unmistakeahly — at least so thought Ernest 
 Carrington* and the grave expression of his face 
 became graver than ever. 
 
 Talking of falling among thieves,’’ began Mr. 
 Slowkopf, addressing Ernest, reminds me of the 
 last time 1 met you.” 
 
 Complimentary, very,” muttered Wilfred, sotto 
 voce. 
 
 We were then discussing the subject of white 
 lies, as they are called,” resumed Mr. Slowkopf; 
 
 now I have since recollected a passage in one of 
 the sermons of that learned and excellent divine, 
 Blair, which affords a curious commentary on what 
 we were saying. I cannot remember his words, 
 but you’ll find it in the fourth sermon in the second 
 volume.” 
 
 We have Blair’s Sermons, ” remarked Mrs. 
 Colville; ^^they are on the hook-shelves by you, 
 Mr. Carrington, if you wish to refer to the 
 passage.” 
 
206 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 ^^Tlie second volume, I think you said, Slow- 
 kopf?’’ inquired Ernest, taking- down the hook 
 as he spoke ^ — receiving an affirmative grunt, the 
 young clergyman turned his chair, so that the fire- 
 light fell strongly on the hook, leaving his face in 
 shadow, which circumstance prevented the fact 
 from transpiring, that scarcely had he opened the 
 volume when he gave a sudden start, then coloured 
 violently, and then examined the page before him 
 / most carefully and minutely. Having completed 
 his investigation, he turned over two or three 
 leaves, and in his usual voice and manner, read 
 aloud the paragraph to which the curate had 
 referred. 
 
 In the mean time,> Hugh, by dint of coaxing, 
 had inveigled his mother into providing the mate- 
 rials for a howl of snapdragon, wherein, to his great 
 delight, Mr. Slowkopf was induced solemnly, 
 heavily, and perseveringly, to burn his reverend 
 fingers in fishing out almonds and raisins, which 
 he invariably dropped, for Hug-h to pick up and 
 eat. Just when the fun was at the highest, and 
 even Mrs. Colville joining heartily in the chorus of 
 laughter, Ernest approached the Eosebud, with the 
 volume still in his hand, and said quietly — 
 
THE COLVILLE FA MIL V. 207 
 
 Pray, Miss Colville, do you ever study Blair’s 
 Sermons ? ” 
 
 Oh, I have read some of them,” was the reply ; 
 ^^but why do you ask? — cannot you find what you 
 expected ?” 
 
 ^^On the contrary, I have found more than I 
 expected,” was the answer. 
 
 Indeed! and what might that he?” returned 
 the Eosebud, wholly unconscious of the dangerous 
 ground upon which she was treading. 
 
 Only, as Mr. Slowkopf judiciously observed, a 
 very singular commentary on the subject we were 
 discussing — white lies 1 ” was the reply, and as he 
 spoke, Ernest opened the volume he held in his 
 hand, and disclosed to the eyes of the horrified 
 Rosebud, a certain pencil-sketch, with its tell-tale 
 date and initials, which possibly the reader may 
 not have forgotten as entirely as the fair artist had 
 done. 
 
 In an instant a crimson blush suffused her face 
 and neck, and turning away her head, she struggled 
 successfully against a strong inclination to burst 
 into tears \ recovering herself, she said hastily, and 
 in a tone which indicated a mixture of wounded 
 feehng and of anger — 
 
208 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I consider you have insulted me, Mr. Carring- 
 ton • it is most unkind — unworthy of you ! ” 
 
 What Ernest might have replied to this espe- 
 cially unpleasant address, can never be known, for 
 at that moment, Mr. Slowkopf, in an agony of 
 digital combustion, overturned the howl of snap- 
 dragon, and during the confusion which ensu^, 
 Emily contrived to leave the drawing-room unob- 
 served. 
 
 For some reason or other, Ernest did not sleep 
 very well that night ; and the first thing next 
 morning, he wrote a note, explanatory and apolo- 
 getic, to the Rosebud, and having despatched it, 
 sat down to finish his sermon, but got no farther 
 than dearly beloved,’’ till the messenger returned. 
 The answer contained his epistle unopened, and the 
 following note : — 
 
 Miss Colville presents her compliments to Mr. 
 Carrington, and begs to say, that as any discussion 
 of the occurrence of yesterday evening must be 
 equally useless and painful, she has thought it most 
 advisable to return his note unread. Miss Colville 
 trusts Mr. Carrington will not allow this affair to 
 influence his manner towards Mrs. Colville or the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 209 
 
 boys, as such an interruption to an intimacy which 
 is so agreeable and beneficial to them, would 
 prove a source of deep and additional annoyance 
 to her.” 
 
 Ernest was very sorry for what he had done, but 
 li| saw this was not the fitting time to endeavour 
 to repair the breach; so, being a sensible young 
 man, he let the Eosebud have her own wilful way ; 
 and when the boys returned to school, informed 
 Mrs. Colville he was going to prepare a volume of 
 sermons for publication, which would occupy all 
 his leisure hours ; and that she must not think he 
 meant to cut her, if his visits assumed the angelic 
 property of being ^^few and far between;” — as he 
 said this, he observed the Rosebud’s eyes fixed upon 
 him with a peculiar expression in them — could it 
 be regret ? 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. • 
 
 CONTAINS MUCH DOCTOR’S STUFF, AND OTHER 
 RUBBISH. 
 
 Ernest was true to his word — all that spring 
 and summer, he worked at his sermons, and his 
 parish, like an ecclesiastical galley-slave, till the 
 volume was finished, and all the people had become 
 so good, that if it had not been for christenings, 
 weddings, and funerals, they would scarcely have 
 required the services of a clergyman at all. Indeed, 
 carrying out the doctrine of self-denial logically, 
 and to its fullest extent, we doubt whether a rec- 
 tor might not he regarded as a superfluous luxury, 
 a kind of canonical pomp and vanity, and therefore 
 a stumbling-block to be removed from the spiritual 
 highway of that super-excellent community. 
 
 But writing sermons, and instilling pure and lofty 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 211 
 
 principles into the decidedly earthly minds of small 
 shopkeepers and needy agricultural labourers, albeit 
 a high and sacred calling, considered abstractedly 
 and as a whole, is yet, taken in detail, a very trying 
 vocation to a man possessing, in no common degree, 
 a taste for intellectual pursuits, and a strong appre- 
 ciation of refined society. Thus it came to pass 
 that one fine morning (it was the 12th of August) 
 Ernest, having written a report of a district meeting 
 for the propagation of the Gospel in parts so very 
 foreign that the propagators themselves would have 
 been puzzled to find them on the map, leaned back 
 in his chair and wondered how sundry college 
 friends of his were getting on among the grouse ; 
 when a note in the Eosebud’s handwriting was 
 brought to him ; with sparkling eyes, and a slight 
 accession of colour to his pale cheeks, he read as 
 follows : — 
 
 Dear Mr. Carrington, — Mama is very ill — 
 how ill I do not know — and fear to learn. Mr. 
 Pillanbill (do you consider him clever ?) tells me not 
 to be alarmed, which frightens me terribly. May 
 I hope you will come to us — poor Mama is able 
 
212 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and anxious to see you, and you will tell me 
 whether anything* else can, or oug’ht to be, done. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Emily Colville.” 
 
 Within ten minutes after the note had reached 
 him, Ernest was at the cottage. Emily received 
 
 him with a blush and a smile. How kind and 
 
 good of you to come so quickly ! ” she said. Tears 
 trembled in her eyes. Ernest had never seen her 
 look so pretty. 
 
 How good of you to send for me,” he replied : 
 I hope,” he continued — I hope it proves that 
 I am forgiven ? ” 
 
 Emily hung her head — If you please, we will 
 never refer to that again,” she said, entreatingly : 
 I was very proud and foolish, and behaved very ill ; 
 but you are wise enough to forgive, and kind 
 enough to forget : is it not so ? ” 
 
 Ernest took her hand and pressed it warmly, nor 
 was it immediately withdrawn. 
 
 Mrs. Colville was seriously ill ^ and having sat 
 with her for some time, the rector obtained her 
 permission to inquire whether Mr. Pillanbill would 
 object to meet Dr. Twiggit, and learn if they agreed 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 213 
 
 in their view of the case, just to satisfy Miss Col- 
 ville’s natural anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Pillanbill gTaciously consented. Dr. Twiggit 
 resided ten miles off, and had too good a practice near 
 home to make it worth his while to poach upon his 
 (P.’s) manor for the sake of a single outlying patient 
 with a limited purse. So Dr. Twiggit was summoned 
 and came ; he was a little man with a large hooked 
 nose, and an ornithological cast of countenance, as 
 of a shrewd fowl. Having strutted and clapped his 
 wings, and, so to speak, crowed over the apothecary 
 and the Eosebud, and looked as if he would have 
 liked uncommonly to fight Ernest for a handful of 
 barley, he entered the sick-room, where first, with 
 two little bright bead-like eyes, he looked clean 
 through poor Mrs. Colville into the mattress and 
 feather-bed; next he stretched out a claw to feel 
 her pulse, then he pecked at her to make her put 
 out her tongue, then he shook his feathers and 
 crowed over her^ and then he chased Pillanbill 
 round and out of the room for the consultation, 
 which ran thus : — 
 
 Twiggit , — Clear case ! ” 
 
 Pillanbill , — No mistake.” 
 
 Twiggit, — ^^Hepatico-cerebreosistosis, first stage.” 
 
214 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 PillanhilL — Quite so/^ 
 
 Twiggit , — What have you thrown in ? 
 
 Pillanbill hands prescription. Hydrarg : — mys- 
 terious cipher looking* like a 3 with two heads 
 — Rhei : ptdvo : — another cipher worse than the 
 first, &c.y &G. 
 
 Twiggit reads — Hum ! yes, ha ! good ’’ (re-r 
 turns prescription), can’t be better — ar — I think 
 that is all to day, ar — needn’t send for me unless 
 any symptoms of spiflicatio appear, and then it 
 will be too late ; keep the feet warm, head cool, 
 nourishing slops, bland puddings, but you know — 
 good morning.” 
 
 So saying, the talented M.D., who was in himself 
 a modern instance of the mythical relation existing 
 between Esculapius and the cock, strutted out to his 
 carriage a richer man by five guineas than he had 
 been when he quitted that vehicle. 
 
 Mrs. Colville’s was a very severe illness, and at 
 one time her state was most critical; but, thanks 
 to a patient and resigned spirit, and an excellent 
 constitution, after three weeks of intense anxiety 
 to those who watched over her, she began to 
 show symptoms of amendment. From the day 
 on which Ernest had received the Rosebud’s sum- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 215 
 
 monS; to the happy moment when doctors Twigg-it 
 and Pillanbill took their leave, he had shown the 
 unceasing affection of a son towards Mrs. Colville, 
 and of a brother towards Emily. Hour after hour 
 had he attended the sick woman’s bedside, reading 
 to her, or conversing with her on those all import- 
 ant subjects, that, at such seasons, become invested 
 with a deep and solemn interest, which in our hap- 
 pier moments they too often fail to excite in our 
 weak and fallen natures. And as Emily sat by and 
 heard the words of the inspired volume, rendered 
 yet more beautiful and impressive by the correct 
 taste, true feeling, and rich mellow voice of the 
 reader, or listened as, with a wisdom beyond his 
 years, a wisdom not of this world, Ernest explained 
 away difficulties, and threw the clear light of a 
 strong and vigorous understanding on the great 
 truths of our Holy Eeligion, what wonder if some 
 of the reverence and affection which such teaching 
 must excite in every pure and gentle bosom, grew 
 to cling around the teacher. Or what wonder, 
 either, that when Ernest saw the scornful, capri- 
 cious, half-child-like little coquette, whose sparkling 
 beauty had charmed his fancy, change, the instant 
 sorrow laid its chastening touch upon her brow, 
 
216 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 into the thoughtful, tender, devoted woman, the 
 ministering angel beside the couch of sickness, 
 whose gentle, never-failing tact, and quiet power 
 of steadfast patient endurance, man’s stronger, 
 more energetic nature, may envy, but can never 
 attain to ; — ^what wonder if, where he had before 
 admired, he now grew to love. 
 
 It is a good thing* to love ! So much mawkish 
 sentimentality, and bombastic nonsense — so many 
 white-muslined tears, and boarding-school senti- 
 mentalities, have been heaped around its counterfeit, 
 that healthy minds not unnaturally scoff at the 
 passion — until they feel it ; and thus has one of the 
 highest emotions of which our nature is capable, 
 been brought into undeserved disrepute. A deep, 
 true, earnest, unselfish affection, such as an honest 
 man (^^the noblest work of God”) is capable of 
 feeling for a woman worthy to call it forth, raises, 
 purifies, and spiritualizes his whole being, enlarges 
 his sympathies, and (by affording a new motive for 
 exertion) stimulates his faculties, and thus causes 
 him to do the work he may lay his hand to, better 
 than he would have executed it without such an 
 incentive. The Apostle tells us, If a man say, I 
 love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar,” and 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 217 
 
 a great truth is embodied in the text : a nature 
 capable of forming a deep unselfish attachment to 
 one of God’s creatures, raises its possessor in the 
 scale of creation, and enables him to adore his 
 Maker and love his fellows, with a zealous earnest- 
 ness and reality, of which a self-engrossed character 
 is incapable — therefore, as we began by saying, — 
 it is a good thing to love ! 
 
 As Mrs. Colville’s recovery progressed, it was 
 Ernest Carrington who drew her about in her gar- 
 den-chair, and as she grew yet stronger, it was on 
 his arm she leaned when, with feeble steps, she 
 began once again to resume her daily walks ; and 
 as, with grateful heart, Emily watched the colour 
 slowly returning to her mother’s pale cheeks, she 
 almost felt as if it was to Ernest that she owed her 
 beloved parent’s restoration. 
 
 One morning, about a month after Mr. Pillanbill 
 had finally taken leave, and when every vestige of 
 his first syllable had been swallowed, and his last 
 syllable (which was a very long' one) had been paid^ 
 Ernest, whilst waiting until Mrs. Colville was ready 
 for her accustomed walk, had a letter with a foreign 
 postmark put into his hand. Emily, who watched him 
 while he read it, saw him start and chang'e colour. 
 
218 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 anything the matter?” she inquired, as he 
 refolded the letter. 
 
 ^^Yes — no — that is, I think you cannot any 
 longer be anxious about Mrs. Colville : her health, 
 thank God, is perfectly restored ? ” 
 
 Oh yes, I trust so,” was the reply, but why 
 do you ask ? ” 
 
 Because I must leave you for a time, and if 
 you felt nervous or uncomfortable about your mo- 
 ther, we could arrange for Percy to return a week 
 or two before the holidays — what do you say? — 
 he might be a comfort to you ? ” 
 
 As Ernest spoke, he stooped to pick up the ^ 
 envelope of the letter, and thus failed to observe 
 that Emily started and turned pale when he said 
 he must leave her : the letter was from Sir Tho- 
 mas Crawley’s valet; his master was very ill — 
 dangerously ill he was afraid ; he had been unwell 
 for some time, and had gone to Baden for change 
 of air; hut instead of recovering, he had grown 
 worse every day, until finally, after a long interview 
 with his medical advisers, he desired Hemmings to 
 write to Mr. Selby and Mr. Carrington, begging 
 them to come out to him without delay, and bring 
 with them some clever English physician. When 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 219 
 
 Mrs. Colville appeared and learned this intelligence, 
 she fully agreed with Ernest that no time should he 
 lost in setting off, and after a few minutes’ conver- 
 sation on the subject, the rector rose to take his 
 leave, saying that he should probably start the next 
 morning. 
 
 ^^Mama has persuaded me to go for an hour 
 or two to the Selbys’ this evening; Caroline 
 would take no refusal, and Miss Plainfille is com- 
 ing to sit with Mama. Shall I see you th ere ? ” 
 asked the Eosebud quietly. 
 
 Well then, farewell dear Mrs. Colville,” ex- 
 claimed Ernest warmly, having answered Emily’s 
 question in the affirmative ; I leave you in very 
 good hands, and expect to find you stronger than 
 ever when I return.” 
 
 The evening at the Selhys’ was a very pleasant 
 one, both to Emily and to Ernest, only instead of 
 two hours, it appeared to last about ten minutes. 
 
 Mr. Carrington, I’m afraid I must be rude 
 enough to ask you to step into my office and look 
 at the arrangements I have made for our journey 
 to-morrow,” observed Mr. Selby late in the evening. 
 
 Certainly, I will follow you in one moment,” 
 was the reply. 
 
220 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 There was a small apartment opening ont of 
 the drawing-room, fitted up as a boudoir for the 
 benefit of Caroline Selby. In this snuggery the 
 two young ladies had been looking over some 
 water-colour sketches, but Caroline Selby had 
 just been called away, and the Eosebud was left 
 by herself. At that instant Ernest joined her. 
 
 Emily,” he said, and his voice was low and 
 tremulous — Emily, I have come to bid you good- 
 
 by-” 
 
 Must you go already '? ” was the rejoinder. 
 
 Indeed, I fear so,” returned Ernest. There 
 was a pause, and then he resumed, in a voice 
 which trembled with emotion, Emily, we have 
 been very happy of late.” 
 
 Oh, yes ! ” she murmured, almost uncon- 
 sciously. 
 
 And you,” he continued — you have been 
 very kind and gentle. Emily, you will not for- 
 get me — will not grow cold towards me again?” 
 She made no reply, but her silence was more 
 eloquent than words. At that moment Mr. Selby^s 
 footstep sounded on the stairs. 
 
 I must go,” Ernest resumed : Emily, dear 
 
 Emily ! good-by ) — God bless you !” He took her 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 221 
 
 soft, warm, little hand in his own • she allowed him 
 to retain it unresistingly ; he pressed it, and his 
 heart heat quickly when he felt the pressure faintly 
 but unmistakably returned. With a sudden im- 
 pulse, he raised the little hand still imprisoned in 
 his to his lips, kissed it, and tore himself away. 
 As he paused to close the door, a slight sound 
 caught his ear : could he it a sob ? 
 
 How long it might have been after his departure 
 ere the noise of approaching voices roused Emily 
 from the mental abstraction into which she had 
 fallen, that young lady herself never knew — it 
 might have been one minute, it might have been 
 ten. When she did awake to a sense of outward 
 things, the following speech from the lips of Mrs. 
 Selby, a good-natured, vulgar woman, arrested her 
 attention : — 
 
 And so, ma’am, if Sir Thomas Crawley dies, 
 which my husband fears is only too probable, Mr. 
 Carrington is as likely to be his heir as anybody I 
 can think of.” 
 
 And then he’ll go and marry that pert, stuck- 
 up Emily Colville, I suppose” (the speaker was 
 Mrs. Pillanbill, who owned three awful daughters, 
 unattached) ; that girl’s played her cards well, and 
 
222 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 no mistake. It was easy to see she set her cap 
 at him from the first — probably calculated on his 
 being* Sir Thomas’s heir all along. Oh, she’s a 
 deep one, trust her ! ” 
 
 And as the speakers passed on, their words 
 became inaudible in the distance ; but Emily had 
 heard too much for her peace of mind. All night 
 long she lay awake weeping — for she resolved, if 
 Ernest should be Sir Thomas’s heir, and asked her 
 ' to become his wife, she must and would refuse him, 
 if the resolution broke her heart. 
 
 Oh, Eosebud ! Eosebud! beware of pride— -the 
 sin that peopled Hell ! 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 223 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SETTLES THREE OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Sir Thomas Crawley had sneaked and shuffled 
 through life, and by doing so with a degree of 
 talent which, if exerted in a righteous cause, might 
 have gained him the love and respect of good men, 
 had obtained the world’s prizes, riches and rank. 
 But tact and cleverness, rank and riches, were 
 equally useless to him now, for he had met with 
 an opponent whom he could neither bribe, nor 
 cheat, nor intimidate, nor cajole. Face to face with 
 death, all his worldly wisdom failed him. Dying ! 
 he could not believe it — so much yet remained for 
 him to do. If he could but live for two months 
 longer he should he a baronet — for two years, and 
 he might have married the proud peer’s daughter, 
 
224 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and transmitted the rank and honours he had won 
 to a long Hne of descendants. Then, indeed, then, 
 when he had accomplished something, then the idea 
 of death might not have appeared so monstrous, 
 so impossible. But even then he should have 
 required a little time to prepare for death. Poor, 
 self-deceived fool ! as if every hour you have 
 lived, every word you have spoken — ay, and every 
 thought you have thought, were not preparing you 
 for death, and for eternity. It is not what you 
 have achieved, that will help you now ; it is what 
 you have been — what you are ! The meek and 
 lowly of heart wull compose the aristocracy of 
 Heaven; and the lame, and the halt, and the blind, 
 who have borne their cross patiently, shall be its 
 mighty ones: he who best has loved God and his 
 neighbour — he whose life has been one unconscious 
 preparation for death — he shall reap the reward; — 
 else is Heaven but a mockery, and death — the ^Tong 
 dark day of nothingness ” — the sceptic’s idea of 
 death, — extinction, annihilation, is the only reality. 
 
 Sir Thomas Crawley was dying; he knew it before 
 Ernest Carrington brought the English physician ; 
 he knew it when the physician’s eye first met his 
 own ; he knew it when Mr. Selby urged him to 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 225 
 
 sign his will. But he could not, he would not 
 beheve it. He was weak, he said ; Germany did 
 not agree with him ; he had worked too hard, and 
 required rest and society : that was his reason for 
 summoning* Mr. Carring*ton. Had Selby broug“ht 
 the papers he required ? — old Sir Ralph Carring*- 
 ton’s will ? — good ! and his own will ? — good ! Let 
 that be destroyed now, before his eyes — good! — 
 he should make a fresh one — when he reached 
 Ashburn Priory 1 But he did not do so, for 
 the very good reason that men in their cofSins 
 cannot make wills, and Sir Thomas reached 
 Ashburn a corpse, and took up his abode in the 
 family vault, handsomely bound in mahogany and 
 black velvet, ornamented with a real silver plate, 
 whereupon were engraved a goodly list of virtues, 
 of which nobody had suspected him when living, 
 but of which the undertaker always kept a large 
 ready-made supply on hand, for the benefit of 
 such of his customers as were rich enough to 
 afford them. Nothing was said about his vices 
 perhaps because the silver plate was not half long 
 enough to contain them. 
 
 Dear reader, shall you like to have a silver 
 plate ? For myself, a little one of Britannia 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 metal; with Peccavi ” engraved upon it, will suit 
 me well enough ; hut then I am only a poor author; 
 and if any of my works should happen to survive 
 me in morocco coverS; I shall care little what sort 
 of boards the hand that traced them lies bound in. 
 
 During the time Ernest was in Germany; the 
 Eosebud was decidedly out of spirits; restlesS; and 
 anxious; and when the news of Sir Thomas 
 Crawley’s death arrived; she became so nervous 
 and dejected; that Mrs. Colville grew quite uneasy 
 about her. 
 
 One fine morning Mrs. Selby paid them a 
 visit; evidently full of news. It soon came 
 out; — she had heard from Mr. Selby ; he and Mr. 
 Carrington would be home the next day; and— 
 would Mrs. Colville believe it ?— poor dear Sir 
 Thomas had died without signing his last will and 
 testament ; so all the property would gO; under a 
 former one; to his heir; Mr. Peter Crawley; a very 
 fine young man; in a large way of business in 
 Manchester; though of course he’d give up all 
 that sort of thing now. She; Mrs. Selby;, was only 
 sorry on one account: — she had nevei* been able 
 to get it out of Mr. Selby; he was so ridiculously 
 close, but she was almost certain Sir Thomas had 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 227 
 
 left £20^000 to Mr. Carrington in his last will, 
 and he would have spent the money so well, it 
 certainly was a thousand pities; hut Mr. Peter 
 Crawley would benefit, and he was such a very 
 fine young man ; a fortunate family the Crawleys 
 were, certainly. 
 
 That day at dinner, Mrs. Colville remarked her 
 daughter’s appetite was returning, and that she 
 began to look like herself again ; which she attri- 
 buted to a certain quinine mixture wherewith the 
 Rosebud had been victimized, and which she 
 canonized accordingly. 
 
 Ernest and Mr. Selby arrived when due, and the 
 legend of Mr. Peter Crawley’s heirship remained 
 uncontradicted — nay, was confirmed by that very 
 fine young man’s arrival, in high health and spirits, 
 to enact the part of chief mourner. Ernest was 
 much occupied by parish affairs, and by the 
 an-angements for the approaching funeral (in re- 
 gard to which, Mr. Selby appeared resolved to 
 consult him much more than he wished, or Mr. 
 Peter Crawley seemed to relish) ; but all his leisure 
 moments he spent at the cottage, and had no reason 
 to complain of the reception he met with from 
 either mother or daughter. 
 
228 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 And SO; in due course of time, the duy for the 
 funeral arrived. Now, it is an acknowledged fact, 
 that funerals and weddings are the two dullest and 
 most sombre occasions on which human creatures 
 assemble themselves together, and are therefore 
 equally insipid to describe ; only a funeral labours 
 under the additional disadvantage, that it is against 
 every rule of good taste and right feehng to poke 
 fun at it. We feel, therefore, that we have our 
 public ’’ with us, when, without entering into de- 
 tail, we beg them to consider Sir Thomas Crawley 
 handsomely and appropriately interred ; with the 
 necessary amount of black crape, crocodile tears, 
 and funereal foppery. 
 
 After the ceremony was over, Mr. Selby ate an 
 excellent luncheon at the expense of the estate, to 
 provide against the possible contingency of re- 
 quhing the performance repeated on his own 
 account, after a verdict of ^^died of inanition,” 
 and then prepared to read the will— only, after 
 searching high and low, and in every intermediate 
 altitude, no will was forthcoming, so the next best 
 thing was to inform a small and select coterie of 
 ravening wolves, and daughters of the horse-leech, 
 there met together in bombazine and black sheep’s- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 229 
 
 clothing* {alias broadcloth), and styling* themselves 
 •elations of the dear departed (which, in more 
 senses than one, they certainly were), all that he 
 'Selby) knew about the matter. This was; that 
 dnce his accession to the Manor of Ashburn, Sir 
 Thomas Crawley had made two wills ; — the first, 
 jequeathing* the bulk of the property to Mr. Peter 
 Jrawley, he had duly sig*ned, sealed, and delivered ; 
 he second he had never completed. That, when 
 Sir Thomas, in his last illness, summoned Mr. Selby 
 to Baden, he had desired him to brin^ with him 
 :hree documents, viz., old Sir Ralph Carrington’s 
 will, under which he had originally inherited the 
 property ; his own completed will ; and the draught 
 )f the more recent one, then incomplete. That Sir 
 Thomas had carefully perused every clause of Sir 
 Ralph’s will ; then, begging Mr. Selby to take espe- 
 cial care of it, he desired him to destroy both the 
 others in his presence ; adding, that they neither of 
 them carried out his present intentions, and that, on 
 his return to the Priory, he should give instructions 
 for a fresh one. That he (Mr. Selby) declining 
 to destroy the wills without witnesses of his doing 
 so, by Sir Thomas Crawley’s express desire, the 
 valet and the English physician were summoned, 
 
230 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and in their presence he burned the wills. The 
 property must, therefore, be disposed of according 
 to the will of the late Sir Ralph Carringion. 
 
 We will save the reader (and ourselves) the 
 trouble of wading- through the mire of that most 
 senseless abuse of the Queen’s English, and her 
 subjects’ common sense, yclept legal phraseology,” 
 which ought to be rendered illegal without delay ; 
 and proceed at once to state, that, in the event of 
 plain Thomas Crawley (not then be-knighted) dying 
 intestate and without issue, the property was to 
 revert to the eldest son of Reginald Carrington, 
 &c., &c., who, as the reader may probably con- 
 jecture, was the cut off ” son of Sir Hugh, and 
 the father of the present rector of Ashburn. 
 
 Ernest Carrington, therefore, the ci-devant ma- 
 thematical and classical master of Dr. Donkiestir’s 
 school at Tickletown, was now lord of the manor of 
 Ashburn, 'patron of his own living, and owner ol 
 Ashburn Priory, besides, if he chose to revive the 
 dormant title, a baronet also. 
 
 On hearing this announcement, that fine young 
 man Mr. Peter Crawley, said a naughty word, and 
 then tried to look as if somebody else had done it, 
 frowning portentously at the oldest ravening wolf, 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 231 
 
 wliO; with the rest of the pack, appeared eager to 
 turn and rend somebody, and were only restrained 
 from an outbreak of ferocity by the tightness of 
 their (black) sheep’s clothing; while the Misses 
 Horse-leech, despite their bombazine and flounces, 
 cast sanguinary glances on Mr. Selby, and would 
 probably there and then have fixed upon him, and 
 exhausted his vital fluid, albeit his personal appear- 
 ance was scarcely suggestive of an agreeable escu- 
 lent, but for the presence of the bystanders. 
 
 The Rosebud heard the news before she slept that 
 night — slept, did we say ? — poor little self-tortured 
 victim to a delusion of the arch-enemy — if agonized 
 sobs, threatening to part soul and body ; if pale 
 cheeks, throbbing bosom, streaming eyes, and burn- 
 ing brow, be signs of sleep, then indeed was the 
 expression rightly chosen. Ernest also, either by 
 some strange vibration of the sympathetic chain 
 which unites those who truly love — (my dear strong- 
 minded old gentleman, albeit you are the father 
 of a family, ” and a fair specimen of the ancient 
 Turk of private life into the bargain, your saying 
 
 Pish ! folly ! German rubbish ! ” does not affect 
 me in the slightest degree, probably because the 
 sympathetic link which so much offends you, does 
 
232 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 not unite our spirits, which will, I fear, always 
 more or less effervesce rather than mingle, by being 
 brought in contact with one another) — Ernest also, 
 either from some sympathetic influence, or fi*om the 
 natural impetuosity of his disposition, was so rest- 
 less and excited that night, that he determined the 
 next day should decide whether he was to be more 
 happy, or more miserable, than anybody had ever 
 been before — except, perhaps, the fm other ardent 
 , young men who have lived and loved, ’’ and got 
 into desperate states of mind about it, since the 
 days when Noah went a-yachting. 
 
 Accordingly, knowing that Mrs. Colville had 
 usually breakfasted in her own room since her ill- 
 ness, and seldom made her appearance in the draw- 
 ing-room till about twelve o’clock, Ernest (as soon as 
 he had finished his breakfast, and written two or 
 three business letters, which were fertile in mistakes 
 and erasures, seeing that his hand had written them 
 while his mind was far away, ”) walked down to 
 the cottage, let himself in, and without announce- 
 ment made his way into the drawing-room, as he 
 had often done before, where, opening the door, he 
 found, as he had fondly hoped to do, the Rosebud 
 blooming alone ) ” only that she was not blooming 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 233 
 
 at all, but looking especially pale and washed out, 
 by reason of the tempestuous night she had passed. 
 Not but that the storm of feeling which had 
 swept over her maiden soul, and left its traces 
 behind, had added a depth and (if we may the use 
 the term) pathos to her beauty, which it wanted 
 previously. She turned, if possible, still more pale 
 as he entered ; then, by a strong exercise of self- 
 control, she strove, with tolerable success, to receive 
 him in her usual manner. After a few common- 
 place inquiries and responses had passed between 
 them, Emily, by a great effort, felicitated him on 
 his accession of fortune. He smiled mournfully. 
 
 Do not congratulate me, Emily,” he said : it is 
 
 a vast and fearful responsibility. My career would 
 have been a simpler and happier one without it, 
 but it is God’s will to call me to a more prominent 
 position, and I will not shrink from the cares and 
 duties it will impose upon me.” He paused, then 
 with a forced smile, which most ineffectually con- 
 cealed his agitation, continued, should make 
 but a poor advocate I fear ; for here am I setting 
 forth all the evils and difficulties of my new posi- 
 tion, when my object in coming here — an object in 
 the attainment of which the whole happiness of my 
 
234 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 existence is centred — is to ask you to share it.” He 
 then in a few simple^ truthful^ and therefore elo- 
 quent words, told her of his deep affection for her, 
 and of his earnest desii*e to do what mortal might, 
 to guard her from, or to mitigate, all the sorrows 
 which more or less fall to the lot of each of us, 
 confident that, in striving to provide for her hap- 
 piness, he should insure his own. 
 
 Emily heard him to the end without interruption, 
 and, save that she grew paler, and that her features 
 assumed a more fixed and immovable 'expression, 
 she evinced no sign of being in the slightest degree 
 affected by his appeal. When he had concluded, 
 she thanked him for the compliment he had paid 
 her, but informed him that, although she should 
 always regard him in the light of a dear and valued 
 friend, and hoped he would not deprive her of a 
 privilege she so highly appreciated, yet that she 
 could never become anything more to him than a 
 friend — in fact, she decidedly and unequivocally 
 refused him. 
 
 Ernest was thunderstricken ! He was no cox- 
 comb, but neither was he devoid of penetration * and 
 he knew her so well — had traced, as he believed, so 
 clearly the rise and progress of her affection for 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 235 
 
 him — an affection ripened^ and as it were^ sanctified^ 
 by their joint attendance beside her mother’s sick 
 bed — that, although from a slight tendency to way- 
 wardness which he was aware lurked in her dispo- 
 sition, he anticipated some little difficulty in obtain- 
 ing her consent to their union, yet the idea that 
 his offer should be met with a calm and deliberate 
 refusal, had never occurred to him as even a pos- 
 sibility. After a minute’s pause, he exclaimed, — 
 
 I am grieved, — pained beyond expression ! — * 
 nay,” he continued, gaining courage from the 
 strength of his convictions, I will even add, sur- 
 prised. Emily, I cannot bring myself to believe that 
 my offer has come upon you unexpectedly \ you 
 must have been aware of my affection for you?” 
 Receiving no answer, he continued in a sterner tone, 
 am then to understand that, perceiving my 
 attachment, without returning it, you have led me 
 on merely to gratify your heartless vanity, till, in my 
 weak trustfulness, I have placed it in your power to 
 inflict this blow upon me — a blow, the effects of 
 which years will fail to counteract. It is not my pride 
 that is wounded : the little pride I ever possessed has 
 been pretty well taken out of me by the drudgery 
 of life ere this \ but that such deep, unselfish love, 
 
236 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 such entire boundless trusty should have been thus 
 bitterly deceived^ thus heartlessly rejected, and by 
 one who seemed all truth, innocence, and gentle- 
 ness. Oh ! it is unnatural, incredible ! ” He sprang 
 from his chair, and began pacing the room with 
 rapid strides, then continued, But I will overcome 
 it ; it is unworthy to be thus affected — to feel thus 
 for one capable of such deception. No ! cost me 
 what it may, I will crush ! ” 
 
 Gently, my dear sir, gently : you may crush ex- 
 actly what you please of your own, your outraged 
 affections, your rejected heart, or that very nice 
 new hat which you purchased in your way through 
 London, though that would be the most wantonly 
 extravagant act of the three ; but you mustn’t crush 
 our Eosebud, albeit she is such a heartless little 
 tigress. Ay! you may well stop and look at 
 her! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. 
 Carrington ! so you ought ! And you a clergyman 
 too ! 
 
 Stop and look at her ! Why, what was there to 
 see in that calm, expressionless face, that cold stoical 
 exterior? — only that the said stoicism had turned out 
 a dead failure, broken down with its would-be-pro. 
 fessor at the critical moment, and there she was cry- 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 237 
 
 ing her woman’s tender heart out, through her 
 woman’s beautiful eyes, more like Niobe than Plato, 
 by long odds. 
 
 When Ernest perceived this, he experienced 
 
 what dear Mrs. would call, in her very 
 
 affecting third- volume style, a tremendous revul- 
 sion of feeling,” under the influence of which he 
 seated himself beside the weeping Eosebud, and, 
 taking her poor, cold, little hand, said— 
 
 Emily, dearest Emily, what is all this? Why! 
 you are making yourself as miserable as you have 
 made me 1 Come, treat me as a friend — a brother : 
 confide in me. You must have some reason for 
 what you are doing. Tell me ” — and here, despite 
 his best efforts, his voice faltered — ^^tell me — 
 your happiness is ever my first consideration, and, 
 even though it involve the ruin of my dearest 
 hopes, I will strive to secure it — do you love 
 another?” 
 
 She did not speak ; in fact, she could not just 
 at that moment, by reason of the glohus-hysterimis 
 interfering with the action of the larynx — to 
 write technically — or because of a choking sensa- 
 tion in the throat, if any reader prefers the collo- 
 quial style ; but she had very expressive eyes, and 
 
238 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 they said no ” just as plainly, or rather as 
 prettily, as her lips could have done. 
 
 Ernest felt better* if she did not love any- 
 body else, she must in time love him. Such 
 affection as his must produce a return — he knew, 
 
 he felt but you see the line of argument, 
 
 dear reader. Well, then, what was the hitch? 
 Ernest pondered ^ at last, a bright idea occurred to 
 him. The change in Emily had taken place since 
 the previous day. Yes, that was it! So he 
 
 half muttered, half thought, to himself : Some 
 
 absurd, romantic, generous scruple about this 
 confounded”*—! am afraid he said confounded — 
 fortune.” He then continued aloud, rather in 
 the tone in which he talked to the very little 
 children in the Sunday-school : — 
 
 Now listen to me, dear Emily. The hap- 
 piness of my life, and, as I cannot but hope ” 
 (charitable hope ! ), of yours also, is at stake. 
 I once again tell you that I love you, as I 
 have never loved before — as I shall never love 
 again; that I love you with the one, deep, en- 
 during passion of my life-time. And I ask you 
 — I adjure you — for both our sakes, to tell me, 
 as truly as the fact will appear on that solemn 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 239 
 
 day when the secrets of all hearts shall be known, 
 do you return my affection? — Emily, dearest, do 
 you love me?’’ 
 
 Well, of course she could not say ^^No,” for that 
 would have been false; she must say something*, 
 for, Sunday-school manner and all, Ernest had 
 become rather awful at last, so there was nothing 
 left for her but to say Yes ” — which she did 
 
 accordingly. That, in fact, settled the question; 
 for, naturally, Ernest decided, if she loved him, she 
 must and should marry him ; and then he elicited 
 from her, that it wm the fortune, upon which he 
 observed — 
 
 Very well : that he had hoped and intended 
 to send Percy to college, and to buy Hugh a com- 
 mission, and to build a church at Devils-port, 
 and to despatch a bran-new missionary to Sam- 
 hohamhoo, and to erect some very uncomfort- 
 able model cottages for the poor people, and to 
 double Mr. Slowkopf’s salary; but that if Emily 
 persisted in refusing him because of the fortune, he 
 would that very afternoon make it over by a deed 
 of gift to that fine young man Mr. Peter Crawley, 
 and marry her on the £800 per annum which he 
 received as rector.” 
 
240 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 And so, as it was quite clear that he meant what 
 he said, and was prepared to act up to it, the 
 poor Rosebud was ohhged to give in, and consent 
 to accept him, fortune and all. 
 
 Thus the interview ended as happily as it had 
 begTin miserably j and if Ernest didn’t steal a kiss 
 ere he took leave, it must have been because he 
 was a clergyman, and had the fear of the bishop 
 before his eyes; — though if the bishop had been 
 at all a good-natured one, he would surely have 
 winked at such an offence — certainly an arch- 
 bishop would have done so ! 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XVL, AND LAST. 
 
 THE MORAL— DEAWN VERY MILD ! 
 
 Once again it was Christmas-day. At Ashbnrn 
 Priory the plum -pud ding was a great fact;” 
 Hugh Colville said so, and he ought to have 
 known, for he ate enough, not to say too much, 
 of it to test its merits— at least, if there be any 
 truth in the old proverb, that ^^the proof of the 
 pudding is in the eating.” But there were other 
 good things at Ashburn Priory beside plum- 
 pudding. Love, and Joy, and Peace dwelt there, 
 and pure Religion shed her mild light upon that 
 happy household. The cloud which had hung 
 over the fortunes of the Colville family, had passed 
 away, and the silver lining alone remained to 
 testify that although 
 
 “ In every life some rain must fall, 
 
 Some days be dark and dreary,” 
 
 yet that rain falls only to fertilize the ground and 
 enable it to bring forth fruit and flowers ; and the 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 THE FORTUNES OP 
 
 metaphor holds good in the case before us. The 
 sorrow which had fallen upon the Colville family 
 had been a chastening sorrow^ and its effects were 
 to be recognized in a goodly crop of virtues. 
 
 The proud and sensitive disposition of Percy, had 
 been strengthened and fitted for intercourse with 
 the every-day world, by the rough teaching of the 
 commercial school, and he was about to enter on 
 his Oxford career, a wiser and a better man than a 
 more refined mode of education would have ren- 
 dered him. 
 
 Hughes volatile and impetuous disposition had 
 been also favourably acted upon, by the misfor- 
 tune which caused him to be placed under Doctor 
 Donkiestir’s firm and judicious rule; and he had 
 learned one essential requisite for a soldier’s pro- 
 fession, on which, since he had been to spend a 
 day with Norman (now a captain in the — th 
 Lancers) at the Flatville barracks, he had set his 
 heart, viz., obedience. 
 
 Mrs. Colville was almost perfect when we were 
 first introduced to her; but the loss of one she 
 had loved so well, had taught her to place her 
 affections still more firmly on things above.” 
 
 As for the Kosebud — bless her! all that the 
 
THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 243 
 
 cloud had done for her was to make her the most 
 charming little wife that ever has heen^ or ever will 
 he 5 and if Ernest Carrington had not thought so^ 
 and doated upon her accordingly , we would; even at 
 this eleventh hour of our tale, have procured a 
 divorce and married her to a duke. But if we had 
 been compelled to take so decided a step, we should 
 have been sorely puzzled how to dispose of an 
 autocratic and imperative baby, with a loud soprano 
 voice, a decidedly dangerous temper, and a general 
 tipsiness of appearance, which had established 
 itself at the Priory, and was said by everybody to 
 be the very image of its parents — a statement 
 which, unlike the plum-pudding of immortal me- 
 mory, was not a great fact, but, to speak mildly, 
 an enormous — ’t other thing ! 
 
 If any one cares to know what became of Mr. 
 Slowkopf, we beg to state that after Emily^s 
 marriage, he grew, day by day, more and more 
 heavy and dejected, till at last he — died of a 
 broken heart ? — by no means — married Caroline 
 Selby, on the principle of the Persian saying : 
 that if she was’nt the Rose (bud), she had dwelt 
 near the Rose (bud). Moreover, they are very 
 happy together, and live at the rectory ; Ernest 
 
244 
 
 THE COLVILLE FAMILY. 
 
 having, on Mr. Slowkopf s marriage, resigned the 
 living in his favour, although he still generally 
 preaches once every Sunday in Ashburn Church, 
 and once at the new chapel-of-ease at Devil’s-port ; 
 for, in Ernest, riches had wrought no chang'e, save 
 that, by enabling him to extend his charities, his 
 sphere of usefulness was enlarged. His darling 
 wish is now fulfilled : he is free to devote his whole 
 time and talents to the welfare of others; and his 
 position, as both landlord and spiritual pastor, af- 
 fords him opportunities for carrying out his schemes 
 for the amelioration, moral and physical, of the 
 labouring classes, with a degree of success which 
 few philanthropists are so fortunate as to obtain. 
 
 Reader, our tale is told. Should it assist you to 
 while away some rainy morning of life, and at the 
 same time, lead you to remember that above the 
 clouds which lour so darkly, the blue Heaven lies 
 in its deep tranquillity, and the glorious sun still 
 shines brightly, able, when it shall be God’s good 
 pleasure, to dispel the vapours that oppress you and 
 again shed its light and warmth into your spirit — 
 the end for which we have written will be answered. 
 
 London : Printed by Stewakt and Mueeay, Old Bailey. 
 

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