LI E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVER5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V. i 
 
 n- 
 
 V
 
 ST. G-EORG-E'S HALL, 
 
 LANGHAM PLACE. 
 
 iniBER THE IMMEDIATE PATRONAGE OF 
 
 HER ROTAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS TECK. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. the Countess Spekcer. 
 The Rt. Hon. the Countess Denbigh. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Isabella Schcster. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Caroline Stirling. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Elizabeth Bcxteel. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Henniker. 
 The Rt. Hon. Mrs. Pletdell Bouverie. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Elliot. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. the Countess Lichfteu); 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Louisa Legge. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Caroline Pratt. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Charlotte Clinton. 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Tkuileston. 
 Lady Hervey Brcce 
 The Hon. Mrs Cradock. 
 Mrs. Edward Baring, 
 
 and Madame Van de Weter. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. EICHARD BLAGEOYE 
 
 (assisted by emikent artistes), will give a 
 
 SERIES OF SIX CONCERTS, 
 
 AT THE ABOVE HALL, ' 
 
 ON" TIITJIiSDA.Y EVENINGrS, 
 
 JANUARY 27th. 
 FEBRUARY 24th. 
 MARCH 24tli. 
 
 APRIL 28tll. 
 MAY 26tli. 
 JUNE SOtli. 
 
 1870. 
 
 Pianoforte -.—Mrs. RICHARD BLAGROVE (Miss Freeth). 
 
 Tbeble and Baritone Concertinas and Solo Viola: 
 Mb. RICHARD BLAGROVE. 
 
 >
 
 — Eailways, postages— in a word, all the mitnerous facilities of the 
 age— have almost annihilated distance, and, as a natural result, 
 caused an individual trade between country customers and London 
 establishments. Those who do not visit town, so as to select and 
 purchase directly, send for patterns from which they can give their 
 orders. But as all apparent advantages on the one hand have more 
 or less their corresponding drawbacks, so this system is not without 
 its bane. Pushing tradesmen make a market by oflfering goods at 
 lower rates than they can possibly be-sold at to realise a fair profits 
 The bait traps the unreflective, and the result is that the receipts en 
 masse are not equal to the tempting samples. There is no new inven- 
 tion in this ; it has been practised in wholesale merchandise and by 
 candidates for contracts, as the proverb hath it, since there were hills 
 and valleys. But we grieve to add it is sometimes resorted to by 
 those whom one would credit for more integrity. Ladies, therefore, 
 need exercise caution, and place confidence only in houses of old- 
 established fame, for rapidly-made businesses are not generally reli- 
 able. And to what does this assertion amount more than to the fact 
 that nothing great can be effected not only without labour but with- 
 out time, and that Rome was not built, as the old saying says, in a 
 day ? Messrs. Jay, of Eegent-street, whose name is well known 
 amongst the few on the list of hondjide establishments in the metro- 
 polis, have adopted a plan for assisting country ladies in choosing 
 for themselves London fashions and fabrics. And their customers may 
 rest assured that they will thus be enabled to obtain goods of every 
 quality, both low and high priced, at the most reasonable terms — 
 that is, the terms of small profits for quick returns— and that they 
 may firmly rely upon the thoroughly corresponding character of 
 samples and supplies. — From the Court Journal. 
 
 ♦
 
 MATFAIE TO MILLBANK. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 
 BT 
 
 RICHAED HAREIS, 
 
 Author of " New NobiUty," &c. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 
 1870. 
 
 [ALL RIGHTS BESEBVED.]
 
 V.I 
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAM. 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ MONEY OR LOVE. 
 
 > " Words ! and what are words ?" said Edgar 
 
 ^ Hindly. " I have promised to marry her, 
 
 it is true ; but the value of a promise in these 
 
 matters, according to the world's estimation, is 
 
 ^^but as a feather in the air; the current of 
 
 •^ circumstances will govern, not be controlled 
 
 -Sby it. And yet — yet — I love her, and she is 
 
 lovely, loveable and true : the proudest peeress 
 
 has not a fairer form or a nobler soul ; heaven 
 
 vol. I. B
 
 2 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 is in her face and God in her heart. But she is 
 the child of those whom my family would despise ; 
 I should be called fool were I to marry her. Love 
 and Fortune are once more at variance, and on 
 the battle ground of my own heart must the 
 conflict rage; dire must be the struggle, but — " 
 The young man left the sentence unfinished, and 
 resting his head on his hand, seemed to yield to 
 the conflict of emotions that tortured him ; 
 his eyes assumed that glassy, vacant stare which 
 tells that the soul is wandering from the confines 
 of reason and losing itself in the regions of 
 fancy. 
 
 His reverie was disturbed by a elight knock at 
 the door, which was immediately followed by the 
 entrance of Job Hawkins, an intimate companion. 
 
 " Well, old fellow," said the visitor, "you 
 think rather loudly — what's up now ?" 
 
 Edgar smiled, but so faintly that it scarcely 
 indicated any pleasurable emotion. 
 
 " Nothing," he answered. 
 
 ** You ought to be the happiest fellow in the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 9 
 
 world," said Job ; " a pretty girl and six thou- 
 sand a year is not so ridiculous a thing for a 
 fellow to begin life with — besides, it will just set 
 you right ; clear off your liabilities, save the old 
 family crib, and keep the ghosts of your ancestors 
 in their respective hemispheres." 
 
 Edgar drank a glass of wine without making 
 any reply. Every word of Job was a dart which 
 seemed to prick his brain. 
 
 " Help yourself," he said. 
 
 " But what ails you, Edgar ? this last month 
 you have not been the same fellow. I suppose 
 you worry about the old trees you sold — but you 
 know the saying about timber and heirs." 
 
 " Hang the timber," said Edgar ; '* I wish it 
 had been ten times as much, depend upon it I 
 would have shaved the old park as bare as it is at 
 this day. I'm not such a fool as to regard a few 
 sticks in any such serious light." 
 
 '* Well, you're a riddle I shan't try to guess 
 any longer," said Job, who was burning all the 
 while to unmask his companion. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Drink your wine," said Edgar. 
 
 And they both drank ; for it was far from the 
 inclination of Job to disobey any such command, 
 especially on the present occasion, when he knew 
 that it would, in all probability, enable him to 
 extract from his companion the secret of his 
 peculiar demeanour. 
 
 " Well," said Edgar, after another interval of 
 silence, " I believe you would help a fellow if you 
 could. Job." 
 
 Job laughed as he turned the glass between his 
 fingers and sipped the costly beverage which 
 it contained ; he knew his man pretty well, for he 
 had often dealt with him on difficult grounds, 
 and he felt that, if need be, he could almost ex- 
 tract a tooth from him, to say nothing of a 
 secret. 
 
 " I believe you have known me long enough to 
 trust me," said Job ; " but if you cannot, don't 
 tell me your troubles, for it's no part of my busi- 
 ness to pry into a fellow's secrets." 
 
 Edgar sighed, ^but it was very slightly, so 
 
 m
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 slightly that it was rather an effort to suppress 
 emotion than a voluntary betrayal of it. 
 
 " You know, Job," he began, '' I'm in an un- 
 comfortable plight ; you have heard of course of 
 my intended marriage with Lucy Walters ?" 
 
 " Not a very uncomfortable plight that," said 
 Job. 
 
 '* Stay a moment," continued Edgar, " per- 
 haps you know also of a certain Lizzy Wilming- 
 ton, who lives near Raymond Park.'' 
 
 *• Lizzy Wilmington," said Job, thoughtfully, 
 and with some attempt at concealment of his 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Come, Job, that will not do," said Edgar; 
 " your memory must be particularly treacherous 
 just now if you have no recollection of last May's 
 picnic, when — " 
 
 " 0, you mean her, do you ?" said Job, " ex- 
 actly ; but the deuce, you have no obstacle in that 
 quarter, surely. She's pretty enough it's true, 
 and I remember well with what envy the ladies 
 regarded her — that was a strange vagary !" 
 
 ^' Strange enough, I grant you," replied Edgar ; 
 
 I
 
 0" MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 *' but you know I was always fond of romance, 
 and that was just the incident to delight me." 
 
 "Well, but you are not surely in love with 
 the daughter of a — what the deuce is she ? — ha ! 
 ha ! that's romance if you like." 
 
 " Look, Job, I have promised her marriage ; 
 and the fact is I would not for a hundred Lucy 
 Walters discard that girl^-she's a very princess 
 in disguise." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Job, '^ Vd give my 
 right hand to relieve you of the good fortune 
 that looks upon you through the eyes of Lucy 
 Walters. You're about the luckiest fellow in 
 the world, and the blindest. The idea of Lizzy 
 Wilmington casting a shadow upon such a pros- 
 pect; why it's the very thing you want, the 
 only means in the world to save you from down- 
 right ruin. The fact is, Hindley, you must have 
 her if it's only for her money." 
 
 Edgar shook his head and sipped his wine. 
 
 " But for that accursed Jew," said he, " I 
 should have been happy and independent." 
 
 " And now," said Job, " you are the envy of 
 
 .-i^
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 7 
 
 one half the county and the admiration of the 
 other ; but be as it may between you and Lizzy, 
 alfairs stand thus — we owe four thousand to 
 Scraggs, twenty bills of five hundred each are 
 due sometime within the next month, and the 
 bill of foreclosure has just another six weeks to 
 run —and, depend upon it, Solomon is not the man 
 to extend the time willingly." 
 
 " I know it," said Edgar; ** he is a scamp." 
 
 '* What is to be done, then ? — fortune opens a 
 door for your escape, and one wide enough to take 
 Raymond Park through with you. The fact is 
 you must have Lucy." 
 
 ** But it doesn't follow that I shall have the 
 handling of her money to such an extent that I 
 am to spend it all the first year in liquidating my 
 debts." 
 
 " Marry her," said Job, " and chance the 
 rest; at present no one but myself and our 
 creditors know how we stand. Old Walters 
 thinks you as rich as Croesus, and the surprise to 
 the old boy after your marriage when he discovers
 
 8 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 his mistake will help you amazingly, for it's ten 
 to one that a stroke of apoplexy will finish his 
 anxiety in the matter before he has time to send 
 for his lawyer and tie up the remainder of his 
 wealth : it's capital, capital, I think." 
 
 " I couldn't act so diabolically," said Edgar ; 
 " honour would compel me to lay all my circum- 
 stances before him." 
 
 Job laughed heartily as he replenished his 
 glass. 
 
 ^' I fear, my friend, it's too late for you and me 
 to study honour, with some score of bills staring 
 us in the face to the tune of ten thousand 
 pounds ; but for my own part I don't care a jot. 
 I shall just renew mine as they fall due, and let 
 old Solomon in for it at last." 
 
 " But how ?" asked Edgar. " You have no 
 more securities, and it seems to me that your 
 governor has already a suspicion that you are not 
 the steadiest fellow in the world : and he must 
 possess a pretty full chest if you have not almost 
 exhausted your share of the booty."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 9 
 
 Job winked and gave a slight toss of the head. 
 
 *' I have no misgivings on that score,*' said he. 
 " Necessity, you know, is the mother of a very 
 clever daughter, and so long as I belong to the 
 family I shall ensure the service of this very 
 useful handmaid." 
 
 *< Well, you are a strange fellow, Job, and the 
 most admirable schemer in the world. You 
 scheme into debt and then scheme out of it. But 
 with all your talent for surmounting obstacles, 
 you don't offer me any advice respecting my own 
 dilemma. " 
 
 •' I ought to have Job's patience as well as his 
 name," said Hawkins, " to bear with you while 
 you talk at such a rate. Your only dilemma is 
 that you are asked to marry an heiress." 
 
 *' No, no. Job," answered Edgar, ^* my dilemma 
 
 is that it would be to my interest to do so, nay, 
 
 that I am pledged to do so, and at the same time 
 
 I am bound in honour to fulfil my promise to 
 
 another. " 
 
 " And she penniless," said Job. " Well, then, 
 
 B 5
 
 10 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 being thus foolishly pledged to both, as you term 
 it, the question is, which pledge you shall dis- 
 pense with ? Which is most to your advantage to 
 redeem ? For my part, my resolve would soon 
 be taken. Beauty's but the blush of the morn* 
 ing, and soon fades away ; so if you love poverty 
 because it happens to be beautiful, you will have 
 to bear its inconvenience and its stigma when its 
 charms are gone. Now, I grant you the money 
 of even Lucy Walters would terribly shrink when 
 it came in contact with old Solomon ; but then 
 it would redeem ^ Raymond,' it would keep you 
 clear of old Scraggs, and by careful speculation 
 you might recover with it a great deal of what is 
 lost." 
 
 ** It is impossible to give her up," said Edgar, 
 more to himself than to Job, who was anxiously 
 watching every change of his friend's counte- 
 nance, as he endeavoured, by circuitous approaches, 
 to get at the secret which was half betrayed by 
 the careful language of Edgar. 
 
 " Impossible to give up Lucy ?" Job replied,
 
 MAYFAIR TO MlLLBAl^. 11 
 
 "impossible, unless you are downiight mad. 
 What in the name of Fortune should you scruple 
 about? Why, its reported that the wedding-day 
 is fixed for the sixteenth." 
 
 " It cannot be," said Edgar, in a tone which 
 showed too plainly the deep emotion of his heart, 
 and the struggle that was at that moment tor- 
 menting him ; " the wine is with you. Job." 
 
 Job filled again, and looked triumphantly at 
 Edgar's unutterably demure aspect ; but with all 
 Job's powers of penetration, he failed to discover 
 the secret which he felt was hidden beneath the 
 apparent confidence of his friend. 
 
 " Look," said Edgar, as Job rose to depart, 
 " it is utterly impossible for me to marry Lucy, 
 unless Lizzy — " he paused. 
 
 " Lizzy what?" said Job, ^' consents ?" 
 
 Edgar's brain reeled. 
 
 " Keep the matter quiet. Job. If the wedding 
 must come off it must ; but to tell you the truth 
 I would rather have half the money without the 
 daughter, than all the money with ; and in fact I
 
 12 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANE. 
 
 am determined to have Lizzy, come of it what 
 may." 
 
 " But I suppose you will send her to school,'* 
 suggested Job ; " hardly the thing you know now 
 a days to have a girl who can neither play nor 
 speak anything but plain English. However, 
 that's for your consideration, not mine. I merely 
 throw it out by way of suggestion, with the 
 familiarity of an old friend. Good night — good 
 night." 
 
 *' It was exceedingly like Job, that," thought 
 Edgar, as he flung himself into his easy chair ; 
 "he's an ingenious dog. The idea will do, 
 Lizzy must be sent to France for her education ; 
 but yet the difficulty grows greater as I proceed. 
 The remedy will not cure the disease of this 
 cursed misplaced passion; Beauty, thou art poison, 
 and love, with all thy sentiment and ecstasy, thou 
 art but madness after all !"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 13 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 THE HAWKINSES. 
 
 When Job Hawkins took his departure, he felt 
 an unusual degree of satisfaction, as he compli- 
 mented himself upon the happy knack which he 
 possessed of " drawing out" his friend. Job was 
 a man of the world, and before proceeding 
 further, it may be desirable to give some in- 
 formation respecting this gentleman's origin, 
 character, and breeding. 
 
 Job was the son of a miser, or rather of a per- 
 son who had made an immense deal of money by
 
 14 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 some extraordinary method or other — ^for to say 
 that ordinary means would lift a man from 
 beggary, and in a few years set him among the 
 wealthiest citizens of the metropolis, would be to 
 utter a sheer absurdity. It may have been that 
 the older Hawkins was a successful speculator ; 
 at all events he was a successful trader of some 
 kind. His ostensible occupation had been that 
 of an iron founder, and ** the foundry," was the 
 common description of his town establishment, 
 although the premises indicated by that term 
 were not of such dimensions as those usually 
 devoted to that kind of business. The foundry 
 was on a small scale ; but it was evidently large 
 enough for the purposes of the elder Hawkins, 
 as was manifest from the rapidity with which 
 he rose in the social scale j in a few years he 
 had become one of the richest men in the city. 
 Streets were called by his name, and he was the 
 owner of them; estates in the country were 
 purchased, and first a suburban villa, then a 
 country mansion, was the residence of the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 15 
 
 wealthy " mercliant ;'' sucli was the addition 
 which the old man was pleased to append to his 
 name. Few cared to inquire what merchant he 
 was, for he was a merchant prince, as all might 
 see who would take the trouble to observe the 
 splendour of his home and the magnificence of 
 the estates he purchased from time to time. 
 
 I have said that Hawkins was a miser, and 
 strange as the term may seem when contrasted 
 with the latter part of my description, it will 
 appear more clearly from a further examination 
 of the old man's character. He had been reared 
 in obscurity and penury. The habits he had 
 contracted in that position clung to him through 
 life. His wealth had come upon him so fast that 
 he was absolutely rich, even while he believed 
 himself to be struggling for a living. His tastes 
 were inexpensive ; his habits penurious, and his 
 disposition niggardly. He was, in fact, a man 
 determined to make money, and not to spend it. 
 Therefore the saving, careful, economical trades- 
 man who intended to be rich at the expense of
 
 16 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 much self-sacrifice, gradually grew into the 
 grasping, miserly, avaricious merchant, whose 
 great aim was to augment his wealth by the 
 very same means he had employed to obtain it. 
 He had been the architect of his own fortune, but, 
 substantially as he had built it, he was afraid to 
 take away the scaffolding for fear it should fall. 
 So old Hawkins lived in the mansion of a 
 gentleman with the parsimony of a beggar. 
 
 But as children grew up it was apparent to the 
 merchant that they must move in a different 
 circle from that in which he had been accustomed 
 to perform his daily course ; there was a very 
 indistinct notion as to what the precise extent of 
 this enlarged circle should be. I will, therefore, 
 dwell for a moment on the course of life he had 
 marked out for the one with whose history we 
 shall be more intimately acquainted by and bye. 
 
 Poor Job, though ignorant of the fact, came 
 into the world with the punishment of the law 
 upon his head— shame that it could be so ; and 
 as the youth expanded from a clever boy into
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 17 
 
 a promising, shrewd, ambitious man, his keen 
 eye very soon wandered over the expanse of 
 his father's estates. The determination he came 
 to from this survey was that he must sweep away 
 the foundry, with all its connections, and betake 
 himself to the task of completing the work which 
 his father had so substantially begun. The 
 youth's designs were worthy the ambition that 
 prompted, and the object that invited them. There 
 v^as wealth enough, evidently, to buy half the 
 rotten boroughs in the kingdom, whenever he 
 should be sufficiently advanced in years and posi- 
 tion to make the purchase. Job thought it was 
 desirable to obtain a certain status -^ for his father, 
 with all his wealth, could never impart that ; he 
 was therefore articled to the law. 
 
 As the elder Hawkins observed the developing 
 ability of his son, he was not altogether blind to 
 his youthful ambition. Job already talked like 
 a lawyer, and the clever manner in which he be- 
 gan to enquire into the titles of his father's mul- 
 titudinous estates, pronouncing this good ; that
 
 18 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 
 
 secure ; a third good to hold, but bad to sell ; and 
 a fourth clearly bad, convinced the old man that 
 the boy, as he was wont to term him, possessed 
 a marvellous ability for the profession he had 
 chosen, and would one day make a splendid con- 
 veyancer ; that was, supposing he devoted himself 
 to that branch of legal study ; for even illiterate 
 old Hawkins knew something of the fact that 
 conveyancing was an important branch of the pro- 
 fession, and required considerable skill. It was 
 the old man's delight of a winter evening to smoke 
 his long churchwarden pipe, and contemplate the 
 assiduous Job as he perused the various parch- 
 ments which were exhumed from the old iron 
 chest for the purpose of improving the boy's 
 mind, and familiarising it with the mouldy tech- 
 nicalities of the conveyancer's art ; and it was a 
 moment of exultation when he heard him ex- 
 patiate upon the validity of the different docu- 
 ments presented to him. Bed time often came 
 before the learned and learning Job could be pre- 
 vailed upon to postpone his studies till the fol-
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 19 
 
 lowing evening. Then there was the careful 
 arrangement of the discoloured mass of parch- 
 ments ; the separate packets being carefully tied 
 up in their brown-paper wrappers, and replaced 
 in the gigantic box. 
 
 By these means Job certainly acquired a great 
 deal of knowledge, which he will probably turn to 
 practical account by and bye ; and, moreover, the 
 aspiring student obtained a complete acquaintance 
 with his father's estates. Better than the old man 
 knew his wealth, was it known to Master Job; 
 and as he began to understand the value of 
 money, and the exact relationship which existed 
 between mortgagors and mortgagees, the thought 
 sometimes crossed his mind as to the enormous 
 amount of money which might be raised by means 
 of mere mortgages, if " the old man chose." 
 Why the thought should have occurred to him it 
 is not quite easy to say. He never heard or sus- 
 pected that his sire wanted money ; indeed, he 
 knew that he did not; that is to say, his 
 requirements were bounded by the phrase that
 
 20 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 he only wanted as much as he could get. But 
 as the principles of mortgaging unfolded them- 
 selves to Job's comprehensive mind, the whole 
 process expanded into a science which more and 
 more impressed him with admiration of the 
 Srtupendous wisdom of the law. It was won- 
 derful to think that some twenty thousand pounds 
 might be raised, for instance, upon the '^ Hawkins 
 Park Estate," without so much as damaging it, 
 without felling a stick of timber, or inj uring a blade 
 of grass ; and, one evening as he was walking 
 from his office to ^* The Place," smoking his cigar, 
 he almost reasoned himself into the belief that 
 the old man was a great fool for not mortgaging ; 
 and he certainly appeared to Job's mind, to par- 
 take of the disposition of that familiar quadruped, 
 " the dog in the manger ;" he (I mean Hawkins) 
 would neither mortgage himself nor let anyone 
 else mortgage. I am not quite sure as to 
 whether the young and inexperienced student 
 really meant what he thought; but this he 
 did mean, that " the governor" was a deucedly
 
 MAYFAia TO MILLBANK. 21 
 
 rich old fellow, had got more estates than he could 
 manage, and might as well let him manage them 
 for him. Job was certain he could make more 
 of them, and while he would be able to put more 
 money into his governor's pocket he would at the 
 same time put a little into his own. So when he 
 arrived at " The Place," and in the course of his 
 usual studies was examining minutely the title of 
 '^ the Malvern estate," which consisted of some 
 seventy houses of small and large dimensions, the 
 young man commenced with sundry indirect allu- 
 sions to the pecuniary relationship which existed 
 between the landlord and his tenantry. 
 
 '' Do you know, governor," remarked Job, " I 
 think this estate is capable of wonderful improve- 
 ment." 
 
 '* Perhaps so, boy," said the old man, " but we 
 might get worse tenants." 
 
 *' And you might get better," replied Job, '^ or 
 if you don't get better, you might make these 
 present ones an infinitely deal better than they 
 are."
 
 22 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 "How SO, boy?" 
 
 ** By making them pay more rent," said Job, 
 "And then, again, old Piglead, your con- 
 fidential agent, is drawing a good round divi- 
 dend from them all — subtracting from their pro- 
 ceeds. Wants managing, governor — wants man- 
 aging." 
 
 The elder Hawkins pufi'ed a large cloud from 
 his sealing-waxed churchwarden, and looked to- 
 wards the window at an angle of about forty- five. 
 Then he turned his glance upon " the boy," who 
 was eyeing him with profound thought. 
 
 " You may be right, boy," said Hawkins, " but 
 I can't do these things myself, you know, and 
 there is no one in whom I can place confidence 
 as I can in Piglead." 
 
 " Not in me, I suppose ?" said Job. 
 
 " As for that, boy, you know 1 have always 
 believed in you as my right hand," 
 
 ** I could manage these things in a better man- 
 ner," said Job, "because I should take an 
 interest in it. As for Piglead, he only applies
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 2S 
 
 himself to the task for the commission he gets. 
 I would do it without any commission at alL" 
 
 ** You're a brave boy," said the old man, '*but 
 you know your studies must be looked to. I want 
 you to make a man." 
 
 " A man !" said Job. " And how many years 
 after twenty-one does it take to accomplish that 
 little business ?" 
 
 *^ Twenty-one !" said the old man, and a sigh 
 came forth with the tobacco smoke. 
 
 " I believe I was twenty-one the day before 
 yesterday," said Job, " at least, mother told me 
 it was so, and the family Bible thus registers it." 
 
 ** The first time I knew there were two Jobs in 
 the Bible," said Hawkins. 
 
 " And for aught I know," answered the son, 
 " I think they are equally patient ; for my name- 
 sake never knew what it was to exist in profes- 
 sional life on two pounds a week." 
 
 " Two pounds a week, Job !" exclaimed the old 
 miser. " Must not have too grand ideas, Job, 
 before thee canst realise them."
 
 24 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " But I don't grumble, sir," replied Job. " I 
 never did grumble, did I ?" 
 
 " No, Job ; waat always a good boy enough ; 
 and too much money's a temptation." 
 
 And Job thought the want of it was a tempta- 
 tion too. 
 
 " Well, look you," said the old man, " I dare 
 say you do want a liftle more now, if you're 
 twenty-one.'' 
 
 " If twenty-one has anything to do with it," 
 answered Job, " I am sure I do ; but it's not 
 my affairs that I wish to speak of; my in- 
 terest is, of course, entwined with yours, and I 
 don't ask a farthing for any services I perform 
 for you." 
 
 " Wast always a good boy," said the old man, 
 " and I know what boys are before they're twenty 
 one — can't keep them out o' the sweet shops." 
 
 Whether old Hawkins was speaking in jest or 
 earnest it is impossible to say, but if he had 
 thoroughly known the character of the boy 
 he would have been inclined to doubt whether
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 25 
 
 the young gentleman's later propensities had been 
 for lollipops and sugar candy. 
 
 Aft^r some further conversation it was agreed 
 that Job was to try his hand on the management 
 of the Malvern estate, and if he succeeded in 
 increasing the revenues he was ultimately to be 
 entrusted with the whole of the estates. The old 
 man was delighted with the thought that his 
 income would be augmented, while Job was con- 
 vinced that under his careful management he could 
 make it ten times more available either for lease- 
 holds, mortgages, or absolute sales. In Job's legal 
 mind it was wonderful how many different kinds 
 of estates and interests he could carve oat of 
 the original fee-simple, without in the least 
 involving his father in difficulties — in fact there 
 was no difficulty in the whole thing, with the 
 exception of obtaining his father's signature to a 
 document which he drew up that night at his 
 obscure lodgings. The old man's liberality was 
 evinced by his voluntarily offering Job an addition 
 often shillings to his weeklypittance, for the trouble 
 
 VOL. I. >vl
 
 26 MAYFAIU TO MILLBANK. 
 
 of managing seventy houses, which offer the mag- 
 nanimous son declined, affirming that he had no 
 intention of being a paid agent of his own father, 
 although if he pleased to consider his position and 
 income he might make him any further allowance 
 independently of the agency, which he thought he 
 could afford. In plain terms Job would accept a 
 hundred or five hundred a year as a gentleman 
 from his governor, but he would not condescend 
 to receive a single shilling as his agent. 
 
 " Wast always a good boy, Job," said the old 
 man, as he shook his dutiful son by the hand and 
 wished him good night.
 
 MAYFAIU TO MILLBANK. 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SCHEMING. 
 
 One more chapter in Job. The first considera- 
 tion that entered the mind of the young lawyer 
 naturally was the course to be adopted in order to 
 render his new appointment as profitable as pos- 
 sible. To solve this problem, three things were 
 necessary, a comfortable fire, a good cigar, and a 
 tolerably strong glass of grog. 
 
 A few pus's diffused a goodly and fragrant 
 cloud, into which Job's eyes wandered, now par- 
 tially closed, now dilated, as though he wascare- 
 
 c 2
 
 28 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 fully endeavouring to get the proper focus, a 
 praper focus being necessary in order to see dis- 
 tinctly and understand clearly the subtile visions 
 which fashion themselves upon that transient 
 background. 
 
 " Let me see," he began, " I owe that con- 
 founded Gregory two thousand pounds, with in- 
 terest at six per cent. ; that is not so much. I 
 owe about — about two — say three hundred to 
 Snipp and Buckrum ; that is not a great deal. 
 Three bills fall due next week of a thousand 
 each ; they must be met, even if Snipp and Buck- 
 rum wait a little longer, which they will be very 
 happy to do if I give them another substantial 
 order. Gregory won't mind waiting either, es- 
 pecially if I borrow another thousand at increased 
 interest, and give him real security. By Jove ! 
 this is the luckiest thing in the world ; fancy 
 the governor falling so readily into my views — 
 capital — now then ; suppose I borrow from 
 old Gregory enough to clear off — say twelve 
 thousand — but stop — twelve thousand, which
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 29 
 
 estate will do it ? I can mortgage the Renfrew 
 farms, the only available ones, I think, at present 
 Very well, there's no harm in mortgaging, that's 
 clear, because it doesn't injure the estate ; " 
 (another puff or two and then a repetition) " it 
 doesn't injure the estate — it doesn't injure the old 
 man — and, it doesn't injure me. I'm sure it 
 won't injure Gregory. Now the rents — let me 
 see — let me see; the rents — the rents of those 
 two farms are only five hundred a year — no one 
 will advance twelve thousand on securities that 
 only produce five hundred a year. That's a bad 
 job, but then the farms are worth more. I might 
 make new leases" (Job's eyes brightened and 
 he sipped again), '^that is, I might obtain copies 
 of the present ones, and merely alter the dates 
 and rentals so as to make these money-lend- 
 ing dogs believe what is really true. There's 
 no harm, surely, in making one believe the truth 
 —it won't harm the lender, because he will have 
 security for his money; it won't harm the old 
 man, because he will get just the same rents ; it 
 won't harm the tenants, because they will pay no
 
 80 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 more than they do now ; and it won't harm me. 
 But stop — how shall I manage it ? First get the 
 counterparts, then get similar ones engrossed 
 with iocreased rentals, and then — the signatures 
 -—that's the— ^" Job came to a pause, and 
 slowly rising from his seat, wandered medita- 
 tively across the chamber to his book-shelves, 
 glanced his eye along the familiar volumes till 
 it rested on '^ Roscoe's Criminal Law,'* withdrew 
 it from the shelf, and sauntered back to his chair. 
 Bis next business was to scan the index, and 
 having found the word " Forgery," referred to 
 the page which treated of that offence. " Forgery," 
 he muttered, ^' here it is — hem — legally then, I 
 suppose it would be forgery ; but as it injures no 
 one, I can't see that it is moral forgery ; and the 
 fact is, I don't care much whether it is or not, it's 
 no use to have over nice scruples in a matter of 
 this sort; to forge the name of my Lord 
 Duke might be something serious (although I 
 shouldn't stand much about that) ; but to imitate 
 the handwriting, and the plebeian name of a west- 
 country farmer, is no great matter — at all events,
 
 MAYFAIB TO MELLBANK. 31 
 
 I don't care a great deal whether it is or not I 
 mean to injure no one — it's merely for security — " 
 
 He paused again, as if to reconnoitre. What 
 he wanted was to raise money by mortgage of 
 this property. How was he, the mere manager 
 of the estate, to mortgage it? 
 
 It took another cigar and a somewhat stronger 
 glass of grog to accomplish this, but Job was equal 
 to the task. 
 
 " Kow, then, a deed of gift from the governor to 
 me would do it all ; but if I get the draught 
 drawn Gregory will not prepare the deed without 
 authority from the governor, at least he'd be an 
 ass if he did. I think I've sufficiently proved 
 that there's no harm in mortgaging ; if not, there's 
 no harm in taking the means to that end. A 
 letter from my father to Gregory would do the 
 trick, — instruct him to prepare a deed of gift of 
 the Renfrew estates to me in fee, that will do ; 
 not that I mean to commit an act of fraud. 
 Heaven forbid ! No such evil intent belonofs to 
 Job ; in fact, the governor might rather approve
 
 32 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 of it for aught I know. However, I won't chance 
 that, but I'll have the letter ready. I dare say 
 the governor wouldn^t mind my using his name; 
 in fact, I'm sure he wouldn't, so I need not 
 trouble myself about that either. The whole 
 contrivance, then, is simply this, a letter from 
 the governor to Gregory instructing him to 
 give me the property — that is, to prepare a 
 deed of conveyance for that purpose. All that I 
 shall have to do will be to write my father's name 
 to these instructions; and I pledge my honour 
 that I'll do it so neatly that the old boy shall 
 never have occasion to blame me for a bad imita- 
 tion. ^ Wast alrcays a good hoy. Job, is what he 
 says, so here's to his jolly good health." 
 
 Thus saying, for Job finished his meditations 
 by uttering the last sentence aloud, the " good 
 boy " emptied his glass and retired to his bed. 
 
 It is on the night after this important mental 
 debate that my first chapter introduces Job to 
 the reader in company with Edgar Hindly.
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A WORTHY ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 It was Job's policy to marry his friend to Lucy 
 Walters, but he knew that his plans would be 
 frustrated if Lizzy were permitted to stand in 
 the way of so advantageous an alliance. The fact 
 that Edgar entertained no affection for the heiress 
 was rather to his own advantage than otherwise ; 
 for the probability was that the young husband 
 would have less scruples about availing himself 
 of his wife's property ; and her influence over him 
 would be proportionately decreased. 
 
 o5
 
 34 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 In the multifarious dealings in which Edgar 
 and the youthful lawyer had been engaged, it will 
 hardly appear mysterious if the latter had ex- 
 erted the cunning of his profession in involving 
 his friend in difficulties to a far greater extent 
 than he was aware of; so that while Messrs. 
 Edgar and Job appeared to be entangled in the 
 meshes of inextricable insolvency, and while they 
 both seemed to be equally indebted to sundry 
 bill discounters and money lenders, the truth 
 was that Job was rather a creditor of Edgar than 
 a co-debtor. He had acted as an agent of Solo- 
 mon and others. They all fished in the same 
 stream, but while Job held the rod the crafty Jew 
 plyed the landing-net. It is doubtful, however, 
 whether the cunning of the lawyer was not a 
 full match for that of the host of bill-brokers 
 and money-mongers with whom he had to do. 
 The honourable profession which old Hawkins had 
 given his son, the latter on all occasions deter- 
 mined, if possible, to turn to good account ; con- 
 sequently, while he was the willing instrument of
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK, 2^' 
 
 Solomon, and while Solomon chuckled over the 
 manner in which he employed his agent, lending 
 him freely on post-obits and other securities, 
 the intention of Job was not to pay a single 
 farthing of all he ever borrowed, and at the same 
 time to obtain as much as possible of the game 
 which he was so assiduously driving into their 
 capacious nets. 
 
 There was a little back parlour in Solomon's 
 dingy house where a good deal of business had 
 been done in his lifetime as well as in that of his 
 father. It was the depository of the title deeds 
 of many a fair estate in " merrie England ; " for 
 Solomon had been a useful man in his time 
 in helping fellows out of difficulties ; when all 
 other friends failed there was a sure one in him; 
 he had been Job's comforter in many a discon- 
 solate hour of that young gentleman's career. 
 Solomon had known the elder Hawkins from his 
 boyhood ; they had played together, and it was 
 hardly likely that he would neglect the son of 
 his early friend.
 
 36 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 "Boys must have money/' the old man 
 would say, whenever Job went to him, and he 
 was never contradicted on this point. 
 
 A few nights after the interview between Hindly 
 and his friend Job, the latter wended his way to the 
 narrow street in which Solomon's house was sit- 
 uated. A light tap at the door aroused the only 
 inmate, the veritable Solomon himself, who shuf- 
 fled along the dark passage with a feeble, flicker- 
 ing candle in one hand and a good sized horse pis- 
 tol in the other; this observation was made 
 through the keyhole, and the young man burst 
 into a hearty laugh, which was scarcely sup- 
 pressed by the time Solomon reached the door. 
 
 A croaking, husky voice demanded who was 
 there ; but Job had hardly yet sufficiently com- 
 posed himself to reply. A perfect stillness suc- 
 ceeded for a minute, and then there was a sound, 
 a very unmistakable one, of the clicking of a 
 pistol lock. 
 
 " Who's there, I say ? " again enquired the 
 money-lender.
 
 MAYFATR TO MILLBANK. 37 
 
 " All right," responded Job. 
 
 '« Who?" 
 
 "I\Ir. Hawkins." 
 
 " Beg yonr paro^, sir," said Solomon ; " in 
 one momait— just allow me — " 
 
 The conclusion of the sentence, however, was 
 inaudible, for the old man had retreated from 
 the door, and as he returned, a short time 
 after, without the formidable weapon, it was evi- 
 dent that the "just allow me " had reference 
 to the concealment of that unfriendly instru- 
 ment. There was a rattling of heavy chains and 
 a scrooping of bolts, then a pull at the massy 
 door, which for awhile resisted the strength of 
 Solomon. 
 
 " Allow me," said Job, and before the money- 
 lender could step aside, the force with which Mr. 
 Hawkins applied his foot to the obdurate oak 
 caused it to fly back upon the worthy Solomon 
 and send him reeling down the passage. 
 
 However, if his words were to be relied on, it 
 was " all right," and Job stepped into the deso-
 
 38 MAYPAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 late mansion. Bolts, chains, and bars were again 
 adjusted, and the two men were soon seated before 
 a very meagre fire in a little room, which was 
 called an office. 
 
 Solomon slightly hemmed, like a very diffident 
 i^eaker after he has got so far in his intended 
 oration as " Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen." 
 
 Job poked the fire, more, it seemed, by way of 
 diversion than for any real purpose it served or 
 was intended to serve, for the exhausted cinders 
 were in a most unenviable mood of utter des- 
 pondency * 
 
 The little gleaming eyes of Solomon pierced 
 into those of Job, then examined carefully his 
 face, but he said nothing. Each was waiting for 
 the other to begin. 
 
 *^ How's father, Mr^ Hawkins ? " enquired 
 Solomon. 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you," answered Job, " ex- 
 cept that a stiffish stroke of apoplexy has 
 somewhat unsettled him this last day or two*" 
 
 ^* Apoplexy ! " exclaimed Solomon. " You
 
 MAYFAia TO MILLBANK. 39 
 
 don't mean that, sare. Poor fellow I poor 
 fellow!" 
 
 *^ Ohj it was nothing," said Job; "you know 
 he*s subject to that sort of thing." 
 
 " Subject ! " answered Solomon. '* Why, I 
 never heard of anybody having more than three." 
 
 " I see," said Job, " you adhere to the old 
 theory of one, two, three, and away I The fact 
 is, the governor's had two, and is *as hearty 
 as a buck.' " 
 
 '* Vary shorry," said Solomon. " I would go 
 and shee him, but you know how difficult it is for 
 me to leave bushinesh — bushinesh, you know, ish 
 bushinesh." 
 
 " He sees nobody," said Job, " except that old 
 confidential fellov7 of his, Piglead." 
 
 ** Of coursh," said Solomon, with exquisite 
 cunning, " his afiairsh are all settled. You being 
 in de legal trade you know, of coursh — " 
 
 " I am happy to say everything — that is — " 
 Job was rather anxious to pause, but found it
 
 40 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 somewhat difficult. *'0f course," he added, 
 " everything will be all right ; but with such a 
 property there will daily accrue little matters 
 which will require adjustment — and — and— so 
 on—" 
 
 " Exactly ; but with respect to the bulk of the 
 propertish ?" 
 
 ** That, as a matter of course — but I never in- 
 terfere — there is nobody else to inherit if we 
 don't ; but this I know, I am to have the Ren- 
 frew farms." 
 
 " Vary happy — vavj happy to hear it indeed. 
 Good propertish — ^let me see, prodush a pretty 
 good income, eh?" 
 
 ^' About twelve hundred a year," said Job." 
 
 "Then—" 
 
 ** But these I am to have immediately. You 
 know the fact is, Solomon, a young fellow enter- 
 ing life must have something to begin on," 
 
 "Exactly," said Solomon; '' but will you shell ? 
 Shupposhe not — mortgage probably— mort^a^^/*"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 41 
 
 *' I should not dare to sell during the gover- 
 nor's life ; it would probably cut off my hopes of 
 anything hereafter," 
 
 '* Jist sho," said Solomon, with a tone and look 
 of disappointment. 
 
 " And if he knew I mortgaged it would pro- 
 bably ruin me ; must be very careful, jou know, 
 Solomon, how I proceed. If I mortgage it 
 must be done very quietly. Do you understand?" 
 
 '^ Perfectly, my dear sare, per/*^ctly." 
 
 ** I presume," continued Job, ^'you don't 
 want your money ? If so, Gregory has a client 
 who will advance me whatever I require on the 
 Kenfrew farms ; he has now the deed of gift pre- 
 paring." 
 
 " I place every confidensh in you, sare," said 
 Solomon, ** and to prove that I do not want the 
 monish, I shall be vary happy to advance on the 
 Eenfrew farmsh. Yes, sare." 
 
 " We will talk of it by and bye," said Job ; 
 
 at present I have sufficient." 
 
 ** Good," said Solomon ; " but what might you 
 
 cc
 
 42 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 think de Renfrew estates to be wort ? What are 
 they wort ?" 
 
 *' I should expect them to realise twenty 
 thousand," said Job. 
 
 The keen eyes of the old man lit up with eager 
 emotion, and he longed to handle the crackling 
 parchment which represented so much wealth. 
 
 *' Suppose we have a cigar, Solomon ?" 
 
 " And a glash of wine, eh ? " said the Jew ; 
 ''some good old shtuff here — good old shtuff, 
 sare." 
 
 As he spoke he went to an iron safe and took 
 from it a bottle thickly coated with dust and 
 cobwebs. 
 
 *' I thought these safes were all filled with 
 deeds," said Job. 
 
 ''Not all, sare — not all — not all, sare." 
 
 The cigars were lighted, and for some time the 
 conversation had reference to the crusted port, 
 upon which Job passed his opinion as pro- 
 foundly as if he were investigating the title to 
 some newly acquired estate.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP AND INTEREST. 
 
 It would have been curious to observe tbe amount 
 of silent cunning which was manifested by the 
 couple who were puffing and sipping in the 
 office of the money-spinning Jew. As an intro- 
 duction to the unwelcome intelligence which Job 
 had to communicate, he had felt it expedient 
 to preface it by the conversation recorded in 
 the previous chapter; but he had served 
 two purposes at the same time, for while he had 
 inspired Solomon with the idea of his governor's
 
 44 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 probable speedy dissolution, he had, to a propor- 
 tionate degree, flattered his hopes of a quick re- 
 turn of the large advances he had made, with all 
 their multiplied and multiplying interest. Yet, 
 with all his cunning, he hardly knew how to 
 commence his announcement of the fact that 
 Edgar Hindly was likely to forfeit all claim to 
 Eaymond Hall by a marriage with a penniless 
 girl. To him only were the limitations of 
 the estate really known, and his uneasiness will 
 the more clearly be explained when it is said that 
 by his instrumentality chiefly, the Jew had been 
 induced to advance his money upon the reversion- 
 ary interest. To tell the truth, he had himself 
 received one-third of the loan, although Solomon 
 was totally ignorant of the circumstance. Un- 
 willing, however, to lose the confidence of his 
 Jewish friend, he thought it prudent to assume 
 the character of a legal adviser at the same time 
 that he put him on his guard with reference 
 to Hindly's movements. Up to the present 
 moment each was satisfied with the success of the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 45 
 
 evening. Solomon exulted in the prospect of 
 the mortgage of the Renfrew estates, and Job 
 was gratified with the success of his scheme of 
 raising at a single stroke sufficient means to meet 
 his pressing liabilities. Whatever might here- 
 after arise from his extravagant conduct, the dis- 
 closure must, at every sacrifice, be postponed 
 until the governor's decease. That event, he 
 knew, would extricate him from his difficulties, 
 and leave a sufficient surplus to commence a 
 new career. 
 
 " By-the-bye," said he, carefully scrutinising 
 the countenance of his companion, " I'm afraid 
 Hindly is determined to act the fool." 
 
 " In what vay, sir? — in what vay?" 
 
 " He is over head and ears in love with that 
 what-is-it's daughter !" 
 
 " De devil !" exclaimed Solomon. " Why I 
 tought he was to be married shortly to Mish 
 Valtersh." 
 
 " I thought so," aswered Job ; " indeed, I 
 hoped so, but I'm afraid— in fact, he swears he 
 will not have her."
 
 46 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 The old man drew a long breath, and a pallid 
 hue overspread his cadaverous features. 
 
 " He'sh a fool, but — ^but — I'll have Raymond'sh 
 or te monish — FIl have te monish." 
 
 " That, my dear sir, will be impossible." 
 
 " Imposhible I I have it in mortgage — in 
 mortgage, sir — and I vill sell — I vill sell — " 
 
 *'But ifs tied up," said Job; "that is, it's 
 limited over on condition of his marrying anyone 
 except Miss Walters." 
 
 *' 'Pon my soul he ish a villain den ; he told 
 me it wash hish. You told me it wash hish." 
 
 *'But I had not the remotest idea of his 
 marrying a girl like that ; and, indeed, it was only 
 the other night I ascertained that such was his 
 intention." 
 
 A bitter oath burst from the lips of the Jew as 
 he saw the thin tissue of security on which he 
 rested for the sum of several thousand pounds. 
 
 ** On my sowl he ish a villain — a fool — a — " 
 
 " I have told him he is ridiculous/' answered 
 Job; ** but what is to be done with a love-stricken 
 fellow?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 47 
 
 '^ Blow his shilly brainsh out. By heaven he 
 sheat me out of twenty shousand pound, I would 
 hang for him — a villainous rashm/. Why did he 
 come and borrow monish when he mean to sheat 
 me?" 
 
 " I do not think he meant to cheat you," said Job. 
 
 " Sheat ! then by the holy Abraham what ish 
 it to be called but sheat ? A shwindle, a bare- 
 face robbery — the curses of Gomorrah fall on 
 him ; but I'll have him, I'll have hish very blood 
 —I shwear it. Do you see thish, Master Job, do 
 you see thish, eh, sir ?'* 
 
 As the infuriated Jew spoke he drew from 
 the drawer of a table near him the formidable 
 pistol. The manner of his handling it was far from 
 agreeable to one in Job's position, for, supposing 
 it to be loaded, which there was every reason to ap- 
 prehend, there was a very great probability of its 
 contents being discharged in the face of the 
 lawyer. To the question which the Jew put 
 with reference to the visual capabilities of his 
 companion, Job replied in the affirmative, but.
 
 48 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 coolly parrying the threat of violence which 
 seemed to be couched in the interrogation, 
 he requested permission to examine it, observing 
 at the same time upon the apparent antiquity of 
 the article. 
 
 *' By Abraham, and by Isaac, and by Jacob, I 
 shwear to have my revensh, or my monish," said 
 Solomon ; " a dog villain to rob a poor old man 
 like me ! — a poor old honesht man I '* 
 
 "My dear sir," said Job, "let us look the 
 matter in the face, and perhaps it is not so ugly 
 shaped as the shadow it casts. We don't know that 
 Hindly will marry her, and we are not sure that 
 he will not marry Miss Walters — for my own 
 part I am inclined to think he'll have both." 
 
 " Bote !" exclaimed the Jew, " how can he have 
 bote ?■ — how can he ?" 
 
 " You see he's in a great fix ; if he do not have 
 the heiress he will lose her money and his own 
 too." 
 
 "And mine, too," shrieked Solomon— "and 
 
 mine, mine,^''
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 49 
 
 ^' How much does he owe you?" asked Job. 
 
 " Owe! many shousand pound wish interesht" 
 
 " Look," said Job, " I suppose you wouldn't 
 feel disposed to advance . another thousand or 
 two." 
 
 " To that villain thief? I would shooner put 
 thish pishtol into my mout." 
 
 "You had better put it into the drawer," 
 said Job, "and let us have just another of 
 your old crusted, and then we'll talk this 
 matter over coolly. You know T always managed 
 matters for you with pretty good success, and I 
 don't know but what we may overcome this diffi- 
 culty if we try — the fact is I like difficulties, for 
 there's—" 
 
 " I don't,'' said Solomon, angrily, " I don't, 
 dam if I do." 
 
 "There's always a pleasure," continued Job, 
 " in fighting one's way through them. Now, you 
 are aware, perhaps — or perhaps you are not 
 aware — that Hindly has a very fair estate in 
 shire." 
 
 VOL. L D
 
 50 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 
 
 The Jew's eyes brightened. 
 
 ^< His own !" 
 
 ** His own, I believe," answered Job ; " left 
 him by his maternal grandfather." 
 
 " Why, then, did he not mortgage that inshtead 
 of Raymond ?" 
 
 " Well, I believe it is mortgaged to a slight 
 extent," said Job. 
 
 " Sure it ish, a vagabond. Why do you tell me 
 ofthish. Master Job — you say it ish mortgaged— 
 what use ish it then to me ?" 
 
 " I believe there is only a sum of two thou- 
 sand borrowed on it up to the present time." 
 
 ** And how moosh ish it wort?" 
 
 " Well, you see it's a sort of manor, if not an 
 honor. It's a devil of a great place, I should 
 almost think it's worth fifty thousand pounds I" 
 
 " Fifty shousand pounds 1" 
 
 ** At least," replied Job. ** Now, what I was 
 thinking was this — suppose you advance a trifle 
 upon it, say ten thousand as second mortgagee- 
 it would be very simple for you to redeem the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 51 
 
 first — and then yoa have the whole estate at your 
 command.*'' 
 
 The Jew poured out the rosy fluid at this 
 welcome announcement ; but he was hardly 
 satisfied with that portion of the proposition 
 which had reference to the ten thousand pounds. 
 
 *^ You see," continued Job, following up his 
 success, " this little stroke of policy on your 
 part will enable you to bring yourself home to a 
 very great extent." 
 
 « But—" 
 
 " But," interrupted the lawyer, ** you must- 
 it is either that, or take your chance of Hindiy's 
 discarding the heiress." 
 
 " I will lend no more," said the Jew. " He 
 shall give me the manorsh for my shecurity." 
 
 ** You have no law to make him," said Job. 
 
 " Cursh your laws ! they are not made for 
 hoaesht men. But he will be afraid to refuse me ; 
 if I tell the world of him, sare, he'sh a ruin man 
 — a bankrupt — and a shwindler." 
 
 D 2 
 
 IIBRARV 
 
 ttHiVERSmr OF IIUNOIS
 
 52 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 "But then you lose every farthing of your 
 money." 
 
 "I will advance one shousand on de manorsh," 
 said the Jew, " not one fardings more, upon my 
 shoul ; but I will have de titles investigate. Who 
 hash de mortgage ?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Job. 
 
 '^Sure?" 
 
 " Sure !" answered the lawyer. " Of course I 
 am sure ; last of all on earth, Solomon, would I 
 deceive you. I should as soon think of deceiving 
 my own father." 
 
 " I tink I can trush you, Mashter Job ; but I 
 know not who elshe." 
 
 " Then, I can give you every assurance of the 
 validity of the title to Heathmoor; for 
 instance, if you look to the peerage you will find 
 that the ancestors of Hindly have inherited them 
 for no end of a time : and now to be brief with 
 you — I should advise you to send a competent 
 surveyor down to Heathmoor to see the pro- 
 perty."
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 63 
 
 " The expensh ?" said Solomon. 
 
 " Yon will know how to settle that ; but let me 
 tell you ten thousand will have to be the advance 
 — remember that ; and think yourself lucky to 
 have escaped with such booty as that will ensure 
 you, but for me you would not have had the op- 
 portunity of securing yourself, for Gregory has 
 a client who would advance him three times the 
 amount to-morrow morning. I suggested, how- 
 ever, the propriety and the honesty of accepting 
 a smaller sum from you on the ground that he 
 was, in all probability, about to defeat your 
 security of Raymond by a marriage with Lizzy 
 Wilmington." 
 
 ** Hold him to dat,'* said Solomon, with a 
 manifestation of avaricious eagerness. 
 
 " As long as I can ; but there are three bills 
 which fall due next week, and must be met — no 
 time, you know, to scruple upon nice points of 
 honor." 
 
 " How moush are de bills ?" enquired Solo- 
 mon.
 
 ^ MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 "A large amount — don't know exactly; say 
 eight thousand." 
 
 " 1 will do 'em for ten, if de title ish good ; 
 but I will see — I will see. Can you get de 
 deeds?" 
 
 " I believe the mortgagee has them ; by the 
 bye, I am not certain — perhaps Hindly himself 
 has them. The amount is so small that I daresay 
 the mortgagee would notpress for them, especially 
 if he is a friend of Hindly's ; but I will get some 
 of them, say to-morrow night." 
 
 ** Dat vill do ; to-morrow night — to-morrow 
 night. ! dear, dis marriage !" 
 
 As Job took his departure, the old man chuckled 
 at the thought of the influence he was exercising 
 over his inexperienced friend; attributing no little 
 of the conquest of that evening to his angry de- 
 termination and the pistol. 
 
 But the thought of Hindly's duplicity rankled 
 in his mind, and a dark, deep, and diabolical 
 plot slowly revolved itself within him as he sat 
 in the gloomy chamber alone by his midnight
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 55 
 
 taper ; such a plot as only a fiend could con- 
 ceive or execute. A bitter oath, sworn by his 
 remotest ancestor, trembled from his lips as he 
 resolved that Lizzy should not be the wife of 
 Hindly. To remove the possibility of such an 
 event was to secure the sums he had advanced 
 upon Kaymond Park, with all their enormous 
 interest ; while, if he could only fix his grasp upon 
 the Manor of Heathmoor, he felt that a handsome 
 fortune might be squeezed from it. 
 
 Curiously enough, with all his cunning he had 
 not a suspicion of the deeper craft of his friend 
 and instrument. Never was deception more com- 
 plete than that which the young lawyer was prac- 
 tising. The present scheme was a masterpiece 
 of duplicity, which can only be thoroughly un- 
 folded as the narrative progresses.
 
 56 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK» 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 HIS MAN FKIDAY. 
 
 "Any letters?" enquired Job, as his man Friday 
 opened the door to him, and stood with his teeth 
 chattering with cold. 
 
 "Ye-e-s, sir," answered Friday; " there's a 
 p-p-p-p-ar-cel, sir, and — a le-etter." 
 
 The name " Friday " may strike the reader as 
 borrowed, and I confess it was. Job was 
 a man who borrowed almost everything he 
 used, and he had christened his eccentric 
 servant from sheer analogy, as he termed
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 57 
 
 it, between his own circumstances and those of 
 the master of Friday the First. Robinson Crusoe 
 was an adventurer, and so was Job ; Robinson 
 was always in difficulties, so was Job; Rob- 
 inson was inventive, so was Job ; Robinson 
 was almost creative, Job was quite so. The only 
 dissimilarity that existed between them, the 
 lavvyer maintained was, that, whereas Crusoe 
 was cut off from all his friends, Job was clinging 
 to his with the tenacity of the ivy to the trunk. 
 
 It was not every man who would have 
 suited so extraordinary a master; it was not 
 the mere boot polisher, and knife cleaner, and 
 clothes brusher that Job required. Anyone could 
 have taken in his parcels and letters, but every- 
 one could not have taken in his clients. We 
 have heard of a celebrated marquis who, when 
 engaging a valet, deemed it expedient to put the 
 question to him, " Can you fight ? '* and on being 
 answered with flunkey modesty, " A little, my 
 lord," immediately requested him to put his fists 
 into a pair of boxing gloves, and give his lordship 
 
 D 5
 
 58 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 a specimen of his ability. This, however, was not 
 exactly the qualification which Job required in 
 his valet. First of all, he did not want a person 
 endowed by nature with any extraordinary amount 
 of sagacity ; nor one over scrupulous with regard 
 to the difference between yes and no, for Job 
 always maintained that he couldn't depend upon 
 a fellow who couldn't lie.- At the same time, he 
 preferred one somewhat honest, that is, as the 
 world employs the term ; he didn't want him to 
 be over religious, but he required him at times 
 to accompany him to charitable and philanthropic 
 meetings; more important still was it that 
 his servant should be able to write his 
 name without being able to read. Happy are 
 they who are blessed with suitable servants, and 
 Job was pre-eminently fortunate in securing the 
 services of one who was endowed with all the 
 qualifications enumerated, and a great many 
 more equally necessary to the well being of 
 master and servant. 
 
 Friday had been in the service of two elderly
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 59 
 
 maiden ladies, who were mucli given to outdoor 
 praying and indoor fasting : who had a great 
 preference, in their numerous visits to the poor, 
 for distributing tracts rather than money ; they 
 were a very sighing, praying, and scold- 
 ing couple, and there is no doubt that for the 
 formation of Friday's character these devout 
 creatures were responsible. The young man had 
 been in their service from the time he completed 
 his education at the evening school in the street. 
 Had Cobbett been acquainted with this domestic, 
 he would have spared the magistracy the epithet 
 of '* the great unpaid," and applied it to Friday ; 
 for the said Friday was certainly of much greater 
 dimensions than the frugal quantity of provisions 
 with which he was supplied could account for. 
 However, he continued to grow bigger, and worse, 
 while the maiden ladies were never for two 
 moments of the same opinion respecting him. 
 Sometimes, as he rose from his knees after family 
 prayer, with a face as straight as a gridiron, and 
 his eyes scarcely open, they thought he might
 
 (50 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 be made into a Methodist minister ; at other 
 times their fond hopes were frustrated, and 
 they were unanimously of opinion that he would 
 come to the gallows. There was a wide range 
 for Friday's footsteps between these two extremes, 
 and up to the present moment he had steered 
 without any danger of reaching either. 
 
 The first incident that led these charitable ladies 
 to the conclusion that Friday would end his days on 
 the scaffold, happened one evening, when as. Miss 
 Martha was in the midst of a very long prayer, 
 which was fast lengthening itself into a sermon, 
 and in which she was denouncing herself as par- 
 ticularly vile, certainly the vilest creature on 
 earth with the exception of Friday, the devout 
 Friday gave a very long and startling snore, 
 more like the roar of a wild animal than anything 
 else. After prayers, on being accused of sleep- 
 ing, Friday, with great boldness of spirit, declared 
 that he wasn't. 
 
 There was every reason to believe that the ex- 
 cellent counsel of Martha had not been without
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 61 
 
 its effects upon the refractory Friday, and he was 
 again rapidly rising in the barometer of her 
 opinion ; he was considerably past " changeable" 
 — was almost up to " fair." At length quite up 
 to fair, approaching " set fair," and was again on 
 the point of attaining to the dignity of metho- 
 dist minister, when one evening he entered the 
 presence chamber, to join in the family devotions, 
 so unmistakably drunk, that the barometer fell 
 with wonderful velocity to '' very wet." 
 
 Now these ladies had become acquainted with 
 the heir of the Hawkins estates at one of their 
 tea-meetings ; and esteeming him, on account of 
 his extremely religious professions — a very pious 
 and charitable gentleman — they promised Friday 
 that they would use their influence in order to 
 get him a new situation. Their promise 
 was faithfully kept, and Job, knowing that 
 a youth brought up in such a school 
 would be a thorough tremendous hypocrite and a 
 liar, determined to engage him. Friday certainly 
 couldn't engross a deed ; but he could be a good
 
 62 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 witness to one, so they struck a bargain, and he 
 found himself at home once more. 
 
 We found Friday, at the commencement of 
 this chapter, replying to a question concerning 
 a parcel and a letter. After Job had received 
 the information respecting them, he informed his 
 trusty servant that he might go to bed ; but be- 
 fore Friday had said his- prayers, he remembered 
 that a gentleman had called to see his master, so 
 he hastened down stairs and imparted that in- 
 formation. 
 
 " Who was it ?" enquired Job. 
 
 ** Wouldn't tell me his name, sir." 
 
 "Did you ask it?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 ** Then you mean he didn't leave his name ?" 
 
 '' Yes, sir." 
 
 "What was he like?" 
 
 Friday thought for a moment ; then described 
 the gentleman as being " tall, light-haired, long- 
 wiskered, and thin." 
 
 " Any message ?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 63 
 
 " Said he would call to-morrow, at eleven." 
 " Did you say I should be out or in ?" 
 "I said you might be at home, sir, or you 
 mightn't." 
 '' Very well." 
 
 And the shrewd boy withdrew. 
 Job retired to his little cozy parlour, more 
 thoughtful than usual; but free from any 
 painful anxiety. Of his real feelings the 
 indications were never to be discovered in his 
 countenance or manner, for up to the present 
 time Job had never felt the torture of conscience 
 which crime alone can produce. He had hitherto 
 contemplated the difficulties, if they may be so 
 termed, of his committing it ; but the last stroke 
 to the forged deed had not been given. He was 
 not yet a forger. Deception and fraud he had 
 practised to a wonderful extent ; but he was clear 
 of the criminal bar. The mine upon which he had 
 built the fabric of Hs schemes was not yet 
 charged with destruction ; and, therefore, at pre- 
 sent, he was comparatively safe.
 
 64 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A BAD BARGAIN. 
 
 The worst employment of a man is that of plot- 
 ting the destruction of another. In the heat of 
 passion, expressions may escape the lips, from the 
 contemplation of which, the mind, in its soberer 
 moments, recoils with instinctive horror. The 
 heart, in the fury of its passions, may feel 
 the most fiendish hatred, and the tongue may 
 utter the direst threats ; but such hatred 
 usually vanishes, and the threats are generally 
 but the idle utterances of foolish rage. Like the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 65 
 
 waters in the abyss below the cataract, the passions 
 may rage and foam ; but a little while suffices 
 to calm their turbulence ; a little way along the 
 stream, you see the tide flowing almost noise- 
 lessly along the flowery bank, or rippling in the 
 sunshine. But the wretch, who, in moments of 
 sober thought, deliberately plots the scheme of 
 diabolical villainy, which is to be accomplished 
 by the murder of another, is a fiend the most 
 terrible on earth. 
 
 Solomon was alone in his den — alone with his 
 dreadful self, plotting and contriving the death 
 of Lizzy Wilmington. Two nights had elapsed 
 since we last saw him, and in those two nights 
 his direful resolve had been taken. 
 
 ^* She musht be got rid of," said he, ^' she 
 musht be got rid of" And his dark Jewish 
 countenance looked the fell determination which 
 his lips mechanically uttered. " But how ? by 
 what contrivance? And who was to accom- 
 plish his purpose ? Not Job — for Job, reckless 
 as he was, had not yet reached so low a state
 
 66 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 of degradation as to contemplate murder. 
 Not Job," lie thought. " Yet, Job is in debt, 
 deeply in debt. I can shell him out, exposhe 
 him to the world as a shcoundrell" Yes, 
 old man, you may perhaps denounce him as a 
 scoundrel, and may drive him from the country ; 
 but Job never yet regarded money in the light 
 that you do. Job wants money to dissipate it ; 
 you want it to hoard ; his means of obtaining it are 
 equally detestable ; but yours are employed for a 
 worse purpose. Job's money may be his god, for 
 with him it is all powerful, it procures him respect 
 and position; your money is your devil, and 
 it makes your soul itself a place of torment. Bad, 
 therefore, as Job may be, you are worse. There 
 is yet a hedge between you. Murder never yet 
 entered his heart, from yours it springs spontane- 
 ously. 
 
 Solomon thought long as to the mode of put- 
 ting away the object which came between him and 
 the prospect of his success. If he could entrap 
 Job into his scheme, he could bend him more
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 67 
 
 easily to his future plans ; but he knew it would 
 be useless to attempt it. 
 
 Solomon knew many villains of burglarious 
 stamp, for his little oflSce had been the depository 
 of something more than mere parchment ; ad- 
 joining it was a dark chamber, into which admis- 
 sion was gained by a secret door, so ingeniously 
 contrived that the police might well be excused 
 if in the minutest search they should fail to dis- 
 cover it. This chamber was of small dimensions 
 and utterly devoid of furniture, if we except 
 the necessary appliances of a crucible, which 
 the old man used to call the refining pot of 
 precious metals ; he asserted, that by it he tried 
 whether the metals had been honestly come by or 
 not ; but if the test was applied for the sake of 
 deliverino; those parties over to the hands of jus- 
 tice who should prove malefactors, all that can be 
 said is that they were strictly honest, or the crucible 
 was an arrant liar, for none ever went from Solo- 
 mon to policeman. However, the crucible, 
 was a most useful fixture, both to burglar and
 
 68 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 bullion dealer, for the latter species of trading was 
 combined with the more extensive business of 
 money lending, bill discounting, and heir trapping. 
 Solomon's occupations, therefore, brought 
 him into connection with all classes of 
 society, and with persons of all gradations in 
 crime, from the budding pickpocket to the full 
 blown burglar. But the Jew had always os- 
 tensibly discountenanced the idea of purchasing 
 anything which had not been honestly come by, 
 and in the many transactions which he had 
 had with persons of questionable character, his first 
 business had always been to inquire whether the 
 articles submitted to his notice had been properly 
 obtained, a question which, however it might 
 have reflected on the honour of his clients, was 
 nevertheless supposed to protect his own. 
 
 There was one among these gentry who, 
 he had every reason to believe, was not the 
 personification of truth and honesty ; he was a 
 man of big, bold dimensions, though somewhat 
 short of stature ; his exterior was anything but
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAJ^K. 69 
 
 pleasing, and his interior perhaps as completely 
 bad as human nature could well be. A more 
 subtle rogue and a more confirmed villain it was 
 scarcely possible to find than Dick Sharp : for his 
 company, more than for that of any other 
 person, Solomon kept the huge horse pistol 
 properly loaded, primed, and at hand. Admit 
 him when he would the money-lender always had 
 a very uncomfortable dread of his presence, and 
 yet his presence was hardly to be avoided under 
 the circumstances which had linked them in their 
 devilish partnership. 
 
 On the night when the present chapter com- 
 mences Sharp was to have presented himself at 
 the office on important business, the nature of 
 which the reader may easily infer. 
 
 It was the plan of Solomon to draw the burglar 
 into a plot which would not only rid him of 
 Lizzy "Wilmington; but, by making him the in- 
 strument of so diabolical a design, place his life 
 in his own keeping. To accomplish this stra- 
 tagem needed as much cunning as wickedn^s.
 
 70 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 It was a difficult matter to handle without im- 
 plicating himself; however, gold and fiendcraft 
 can accomplish much among the class of Solo- 
 mon's associates. 
 
 The old man examined his pistol ; it was all 
 right ; but instead of trusting to a single bullet 
 on such an occasion he thought it better to load 
 with slugs, a plentiful charge of small pieces of 
 lead, for if matters came to the worst Sharp must 
 not gain the victory. The treasures of the old 
 man's house were far from inconsiderable, and, 
 knowing the characters of his visitors, he was 
 under the perpetual dread of being deprived of 
 them. 
 
 A few minutes before twelve the low signal 
 was given by means of a piece of concealed 
 wire, which communicated with a small bell 
 fitted close to the old man's chair. Into this 
 secret Job had not been admitted, for he was a 
 lawyer and a gentleman, and whatever his 
 real character was, he took as great care to con- 
 ceA it from Solomon as from the world itself.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 71 
 
 " It'sh him," said Solomon, as he rose with 
 some alacrity, but not with the pistol, to answer 
 the summons. 
 
 "Whoshdere?" 
 
 ** Not the devil yet, Sol,'* said the gruff voice 
 of Sharp. 
 
 Solomon cautiously opened the door, and as 
 carefully fastened it again. 
 
 " What's in the wind ?" enquired Sharp, as 
 the old man shuffled towards the room. 
 
 " Koting dat I knowsh of — noting particulars," 
 replied Solomon. 
 
 " Then you might have done your business 
 yourself, without taking a fellow from his warm 
 bed on such a night ; but come, let's have that 
 old Tom of yours." 
 
 " In good time ; but first let me tell you, I'm 
 in a strong fever about dat last packet of yours." 
 
 " The last devil," said Dick. " What do you 
 mean, — the plate?" 
 
 " Ay, de plate, to be shure."
 
 72 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Pooh I" said Dick ; " what, do you think a 
 fellow stole it?" 
 
 Solomon smiled ; it was a strange smile, such 
 as never yet was seen on an honest man's face. 
 
 "Do you think I stole it, Sol?" repeated 
 Dick. 
 
 *' Ash if you could do sush a ting," said Solo- 
 mon. 
 
 " I told you it belonged to my grandmother ; 
 it was our family plate — did you notice the 
 crest?" 
 
 " Not I," said Solomon ; " I took your vord, 
 and gave a fair prish in monish. " 
 
 '^ Then what have you got to fear ?" 
 
 " I tink I shall leave off buying silversh." 
 
 " As you like," said Dick. " I ain't got no 
 more at present, but I bleeve in two or three days 
 I shall have some more things of grandmother's, 
 and if you don't care to buy, I suppose I must 
 pawn." 
 
 " Hem !" said Solomon ; ** is there moush ?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 73 
 
 *^ Well, for that I hardly know. Grandmother 
 was pretty rich, as I told you once afore." 
 
 " And had a fair quantity of platesh at all 
 eventsh," said SolomoD. 
 
 " Well, if you won't buy, the sooner we parts 
 the better peraps for both, Vm bound for 
 Amerikee." 
 
 Solomon looked as though he thought his 
 friend was bound for a more distant quarter of 
 the universe ; but he said nothing. 
 
 " Now of all chaps," said Dick, " I hates hy- 
 percrites, so let*s have the honest truth ; are you 
 serious ?" 
 
 "Sherious?'' said Solomon. " I am sherious, 
 for I have lost all my monish, and if dat won't 
 make a man sherious, what will ?" 
 
 **Lost all your money !" exclaimed Dick.) 
 
 " Yesh ; I 'ave lent it upon a large estate, 
 which I was not avare was left in de way it 
 ish." 
 
 "I should as soon ave thought o'deceivin the 
 devil as you; how d'ye make it out?" 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 74 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 ^^ You know Hindly?" 
 
 " I does." 
 
 " I lent him twenty toushand pound on Eay- 
 mond Hall." 
 
 " And a good lend too, fifty per cent." 
 
 " It would have been vare goot ; but you see it 
 will go from him if he don't marry a certain 
 young lady, a Mish Waltersh." 
 
 '* And he won't?" 
 
 " I tink he won't, because I hears dere ish a 
 wench he ash been dallying wid dat — " 
 
 "Ha! but what then?" 
 
 ^* I'm ruined ; dat ish all 'bout it." 
 
 <« Who's the wench?" 
 
 " A fisherman's daughter." 
 
 ** Everybody knows her ; the ansomest gal in 
 England." 
 
 " I wish she was de uglish," said Solomon, ac- 
 companying his expression with an oath that 
 would have frightened Nero himself. 
 
 ^'What's to be done?" said Dick, ^'get her 
 over the sea, eh ?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 75 
 
 " No," said Solomon, " I would rather lose all 
 my monish dan have a hand in injuring her." 
 
 *' I didn't say injure her," answered Sharp. 
 " I said put her over the sea till — " 
 
 ** Couldn't do dat," said the Jew, "it ishn't de 
 poor girl's fault." 
 
 " Well, then it ain't mine," said Dick, " so if 
 I can't help yer, it's no use talkin — pour out 
 the stuff." 
 
 Solomon felt that his business was already half 
 done, and his companion knew too well the 
 character of the crafty money lender not to be 
 aware that his suggestion would lead to a bar- 
 gain. They drank, and for sometime neither 
 resumed that topic of their discourse, although 
 each was waiting for the other to return to it. 
 However, as they imbibed more of the liquid, 
 it inspired the usual degree of boldness, 
 and a more unrestrained tone gradually 
 marked their conversation. The little that had 
 been related by Solomon was sufficient for a man 
 accustomed to deal in hints and dark allusions, 
 
 E 2
 
 76 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 and therefore it was unnecessary to give Dick any 
 further explanation of the circumstances involved 
 in the hasty allusion to twenty thousand pounds 
 and a girl who stood in the way of it. 
 
 Solomon hated Sharp, and the reason is 
 obvious ; the latter knew his character and in- 
 variably acted accordingly; nor did he in his 
 hilarity, which frequently resulted from the 
 liberal supplies of the old man's wine, to which 
 he helped himself, take any pains to conceal his 
 knowledge. It was then that he spoke out freely 
 not of his own, but of his host's character, and it 
 was then that he indulged in many epithets and 
 nicknames which left no doubt of his opinion re- 
 specting Solomon, however much he affected to 
 trust to him in his soberer moments. 
 
 "Now then, old eavenly- minded," said he, 
 ** what's to be done ? fact is you want to get rid 
 of this little wench, eh? Out with it, come? " 
 
 '*Not I," said Solomon, *^but I want de 
 monish, dat ish all." 
 
 " And can't get it while the gal stands in your
 
 MAIFAIB TO MILLBANK. 77 
 
 way. Now spose — only spose — we ain't a goin to 
 do it; but only spose she could be got away so as 
 this — what's his name ?" 
 
 "Hindly." 
 
 " Hindly couldn't ave her." 
 
 " Shuppose," said the Jew, "but shupposing 
 ish not doing ; and I don't see how it ish to be 
 done." 
 
 " And don't care, I spects ; eh, old — old flay- 
 em-alive, now how much ?" 
 
 The question was direct, and an answer would 
 be dangerous, Solomon thought. So he con- 
 sidered a moment, and then replied — 
 
 " You see, I know her father." 
 
 " 'Taint nothing to me if you knows her whole 
 tribe !" 
 
 " But I shouldn't like harm done to her." 
 
 *' Now, Solomon, the devil's inyer, and if you're 
 a goin to preach, let's have the text, or I wouldn't 
 give two damns for your sermon— business is 
 business, and we alays could manage together ; 
 if you don't want me give me your blessin, and
 
 78; MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 another glass of that old stuff, and let me be off. 
 What d'ye say, do yer want it done ?" 
 
 A slight shudder passed through the old mau'S 
 limbs, for he felt that probably the life of Lizzy 
 depended upon his answer. 
 
 " I won't have her harmed, mind ; if you can 
 prevent the marriage, there's a shousand pound 
 for you, but no violence, mind. Do you under- 
 shtand?" 
 
 " How much down ?" 
 
 '* Ten," said Solomon. 
 
 ** Then give ten to him as will do it. Dick 
 Sharp never wanted ten so bad as that. Down 
 with a hunderd and I'm your man." 
 
 *' I haven't got so much, by heaven !" 
 
 '' Then let's have fifty ?" 
 
 The old man had provided himself with that 
 amount before his guest's arrival, for he took 
 care to conceal from him the secret depository of 
 his treasure. Counting down, therefore, the 
 stipulated sum, he resumed his former position. 
 
 " Mind," said Sharp, as he pocketed the gold.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 79' 
 
 " I shall have two thousand if it turns out 
 right?" 
 
 **Not one farden more dan I have said," 
 answered Solomon. 
 
 " Then do it yourself, and peach, if you like," 
 answered Dick. 
 
 *^ Peach!" said Solomon. 
 
 *^ Ha, peach ! It's as well to understand each 
 other, Sol, afore we begin, and then there cant 
 be no mistake arter ; it wants a strong nerve you 
 know — a werry strong nerve. The gal's devilish 
 andsome, I'm told, and as good and gentle as a 
 lamb; now a feller might unt a wolf with 
 pleasure, but a lamb's a hard job to run down." 
 
 " We shan't fall out," said Solomon. 
 
 " Then you'll shell out more handsomely than 
 a single thousand ? You say you gets twenty ?" 
 
 " It's a mishtake, it ish only half mine." 
 
 " Ten, eh ? well that's eight clear, while I runs 
 the risk and does the work. Is it agreed ?" 
 
 "You shall have it," said the Jew, '^but 
 mind, not till the marriage, for until den I gets 
 noting."
 
 80 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " ril ave it as soon as earnt, or I won't move 
 a single step." 
 
 It was agreed, the dark business was settled, 
 and after a short time, the burglar rose to de- 
 part. As he went, his eye met that of the 
 wretched Jew ; each seemed to read the other's^ 
 intention, and Solomon, eager to guard himself 
 from the consequences of a deed of which he was 
 the instigator, again urged his villainous in- 
 strument to adopt some crafty means, but on no 
 account to use violence. 
 
 " Leave it to me," said Sharp. '* You 
 remember old Russel. Why, I used him so 
 gently that the old chap didn't know when he 
 was gone." 
 
 Thus saying, he quitted the room, the door 
 slammed to with a heavy sound, and the bolt and 
 chains were replaced. The old man slunk to his 
 chamber, but there was a ghastly recollection 
 flitting through his mind even during his sleep- 
 ing hours, of the old helpless miser to whom the 
 last words of Sharp referred.
 
 MAYTAIB TO MILLBANK. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 INCREASED INTEREST. 
 
 Whatever effect the communication of Job had 
 upon the unscrupulous Jew, it is but justice to 
 say that the destruction of the beautiful Lizzy 
 never entered the mind of the forger : bad as his 
 life had been, murder he had never contemplated ; 
 but he felt the absolute necessity of preventing a 
 marriage which would have an effect so detri- 
 mental to bis interest. After his trusty Friday 
 had left him he lit bis cigar, and before opening 
 
 E 5
 
 88 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 the parcel or the letter, his mind wandered into 
 the subject of his conversation with the money 
 lender. He was fully resolved as to the course he 
 should pursue with regard to him, but with the im- 
 portant matter of Lizzy he was not so decided. 
 To break off the attachment might be ac- 
 complished by means of a couple of letters, 
 the one to Edgar from -Lizzy, and the other by 
 way of answer. But there was still a difficulty, 
 the handwriting of his friend he had, but the 
 autograph of Lizzy he had never seen ; it might, 
 however, be possible to do without it. Job was 
 a skilful penman, practised in the imitation of 
 handwritings., For several evenings he had occu- 
 pied himself in copying the up and down strokes, 
 the curves and the crosses of his father's pen, a 
 work of no little difficulty in consequence of the 
 unscholarly appearance which it presented. Job 
 had not yet succeeded to his satisfaction, for on 
 holding it to the looking glass, he discovered many 
 points of dissimilarity; here and there appeared a 
 stroke which betrayed unmistakeable signs of
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 83 
 
 penmanship, and therefore it was necessary to re- 
 peat the performance again and again. 
 
 There was a letter from Hindly in his desk. 
 He took it, spread it before him, and commenced 
 his task. The first efforts were unsuccessful ; the 
 *' E " and the *' g " were traitors ; but another, 
 and then another attempt were more faithful, till 
 at last the signature was sufficiently accurate to 
 deceive an unpractised eye ; but yet it was not all 
 that Job required. There must be no bungling 
 in matters of that kind, and a bungling forger is 
 certainly a dangerous penman. The work, 
 thought Job, must be so perfect, that even those 
 shrewd dogs of '^ experts " shall be deceived. If 
 the worst comes to the worst, the very oath of 
 Hindly must be disbelieved in presence of the 
 writing ; and again and again he commenced the 
 wearying task. He examined it through a mag- 
 nifying lens, and at length, after many efforts, he 
 succeeded ; the letter was written, and Job was 
 satisfied with his success.
 
 84 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANE. 
 
 The next business was to open the letter which 
 was lying before him; the briefest glance 
 convinced him that it was of no importance. 
 The handwriting on the envelope was that of a 
 lady, and Job always protested that women^s 
 writing was never important. It may appear 
 strange, nevertheless, that he did not tear open 
 the envelope before he commenced his work, but 
 in truth the more surprising part of the matter 
 is, that he did not tear it up altogether, and glance 
 at the contents as they discovered themselves 
 on the fragments ; for letters of the kind which 
 lay before him were far from unfrequent, the 
 well-known stamp of a religious society, with its 
 raised letters, being a conspicuous object on the 
 dirty yellow envelope. There was, however, at 
 last a sharp application to this business ; the outer 
 covering was torn off and flung into the fire. The 
 next moment, the rustling paper was unfolded to 
 the lawyer's eye. An impious expression with 
 respect to the Christian association, from which the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 85 
 
 letter came, escaped the young man's lips, and 
 a few incoherent but perfectly intelligible words 
 followed. 
 
 "Take the chair — hem — and a sovereign — I 
 suppose. Hang their associations — that's what 
 ruins a fellow. But it must be done. Well, 
 well — its character, position helps me, and doss 
 them no harm, I dare say. So long as I am the 
 head of Christian associations, and the principal 
 spouter at tea-meetings, I can't be so very bad. 
 And why should I be bad? I haven't injured the 
 governor, I haven't injured Solomon, for he's a 
 deuced sight too bad to be made worse, and I am 
 sure I have no intention to injure myself. 
 After all, these Christian associations are blessed 
 things, and so are tea-meetings, especially when 
 a fellow gives well — and — and — well, no matter 
 whose it is. Job. Martha and Mary's stock is 
 invested in — let me see — I think they said the 
 Three-and-a-half per Cent. Consols ; but what's 
 the packet ?" 
 
 The covering was torn off, and a pair of
 
 86| MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 beautifully worked slippers revealed themselves 
 to Job's admiring eyes, the mutual gift of Martha 
 and Mary, but which was Martha's and which 
 was Mary's it was impossible to say. They were 
 " straights," not rights and lefts ; but it was no 
 matter. Job pulled off his boots and put on the 
 slippers, and then the inscriptions (two texts of 
 Scripture, one on each foot) stared him in the 
 face. 
 
 " Let me see, Three-and-a-half per Cent. Con- 
 sols. I think I can make more than that for 
 them. And I'm sure I would do so with the 
 greatest pleasure. They are good old girls, and 
 I'm indebted to them for Friday." 
 
 From Job's thoughts it may be gathered that 
 a conversation respecting the funded property of 
 Friday's late mistress had been the subject of 
 previous discussion, and the matter is little to be 
 wondered at when it is considered that Job's posi- 
 tion with respect to them might have been 
 envied by any one who was not entirely indiffer- 
 ent to the flatteries of the fair. He was a young
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 87 
 
 gentleman of known talent and reputed wealth. 
 His charity was unbounded, and his speeches 
 were proportionately admired. His philan- 
 thropy was the theme of every tea-table, 
 and his presence the delight of every party. 
 He was a bachelor, and as such had no occasion 
 to make display in his establishment Parties 
 he seldom gave, and those, of course, only to 
 bachelor friends. The consequence of all this 
 greatness, and wealth, and talent was that 
 slippers and hair-marked handkerchiefs poured in 
 almost weekly. Every speech made an addition 
 to his wardrobe, and the bread that he cast upon 
 the waters was thrown with the full assurance of 
 its return after a few days. Not that Martha or 
 Mary had any sinister or matrimonial views in 
 presenting Job with the articles with which his feet 
 were ornamented. Those ladies had a higher 
 object, and the manifestation of their regard 
 and appreciation was the utmost that the 
 most envious could ascribe to them. They 
 were not women of this world, and their
 
 88 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 motives were pure as their demeanour was 
 proper ; but they did think it would be a good 
 thing if they could get a little more for their 
 money than the "Three-and-a-halfa " produced, 
 and if Mr. Hawkins would secure it for them free 
 of charge, his professional services were surely 
 worth the consideration of a pair of slippers. 
 
 To persons in the enjoyment of plenty, who 
 never know the curse of poverty and of living 
 respectably on a small income, it is almost im- 
 possible to convey an idea of the anxiety which 
 the weekly apprehension of being unable to meet 
 one's payments produces. An honest man suffers 
 most. To avoid "calling his creditors to- 
 gether " is his great struggle. The rogue, on 
 the other hand, generally disperses them with- 
 out the slightest feeling of remorse for the injury 
 he may occasion ; and so far from blaming him- 
 self, whatever extravagance or recklessness has 
 produced his bankruptcy, he invariably exonerates 
 himself, and censures the world at large — his 
 worst enemies being those who have the daring
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 89 
 
 impudence to ask for their money. The law of 
 bankruptcy is the mighty engine with which he 
 drives through society, to the destruction of many 
 and the severe maiming of all with whom he 
 comes in contact. Credit is the motive power, 
 and when once the steam is fairly up, it is impos- 
 sible to say either how fast or how far it will go. 
 There are many ways of getting on in the world, 
 but the most rapid and efficacious of all is un- 
 doubtedly that of presenting a fair exterior, and 
 inspiring people with a belief of one's honest 
 principle, by punctual payments, regular attend- 
 ance at church, liberal almsgivings, and careful 
 attention to the minutiae of social life, such as 
 patronising mechanics' institutes, speaking at 
 anniversaries, and subscribing to the multifarious 
 societies whose delegates may honour you with a 
 call. 
 
 Job had studied human nature, and he knew 
 that all this was absolutely necessary to his becom- 
 ing great in society. But to accomplish all this 
 with two pounds a week was preposterous to think
 
 90 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 of. Therefore, if he subscribed, he must borrow of 
 Peter to pay Paul. There would be a time un- 
 doubtedly, when he should inherit his father's 
 blessing ; that is to say, there would, no doubt 
 come a time when the old gentleman would die, 
 and come whenever it might, Job would then be 
 able to pay off everything, and reserve a large 
 surplus into the bargain. Till that event should 
 happen, he must borrow, not only as much as he 
 could, but how, when, and where he could. He 
 had done so; but the more he borrowed, the 
 more necessary ha found it to borrow still. As 
 he sat thus meditating, his thoughts naturally 
 reverted to Martha and Mary, whose funded pro- 
 perty was a source of so much anxiety to them ; 
 and he began turning over in his mind the 
 position in which they stood, and that which he 
 also occupied with regard to them. They had 
 neither chick nor child ; they had no relatives that 
 he ever heard of, none, at all events, that they 
 owned. Their mother had been a sort of old- 
 fashioned time-piece, that had worn itself out;
 
 MAYFAIIi TO MILLBANK. 91 
 
 their brother had died in the Indies, just before 
 he was made field-marshal, and their sister had 
 gone, Heaven knew where, eloped it was believed, 
 with a naval officer. And so Martha and Mary 
 were left to buffet with the wide, wide world — 
 their wide, wide world being their chimney corner 
 and the poor peoples' cottages of the neighbourhood, 
 at which latter places they learned all the gosaip, 
 and most of the scandal of the district. They had 
 asked Job once or twice to make their will — the 
 reluctant lawyer, however, after learning that 
 their intention was directed rather towards public 
 charities than himself, had postponed, from time 
 to time, this little piece of professional service. 
 
 In his present position, however, he thought 
 it wise to turn his attention to the subject, 
 more especially as he had been requested to 
 transfer the funded property into more produc- 
 tive securities. But " security" was a word which 
 rather baffled even this sagacious lawyer to define. 
 
 " Security,'* said he, *' security means simply 
 the making secure ; that is, secure of their in-
 
 92 MAYFAIH TO MILLBANK. 
 
 teres t, and while the interest is safe, what mat- 
 ters about the principal ? I will secure that. No 
 harm in that plan; it won't injure them, because 
 they will have the yearly or half-yearly income, and 
 it will do me a vast deal of good to have the prin- 
 cipal. If they leave it to me at last so much the 
 better, I shall have immediate possession without 
 the unnecessary anxiety of waiting for their death ; 
 while, if they are determined to bequeath it to 
 charities, I dare say I shall be able to make it 
 good by the time the will is found. Now, let 
 me see — colonial bonds — I wonder how they would 
 like colonial bonds ? Good thing ; indeed, the 
 very thing. Suggest colonial bonds, deposit them 
 at the bankers, trifling mistake — my name in- 
 stead of Martha and Mary's— and then borrow 
 from the bank on the security. Capital ! Pay 
 up the dividends like a brick — ' wast always a 
 good boy. Job.' " 
 
 Thus the lawyer devised his scheme of 
 disposing of Martha and Mary's capital, and, 
 thus argued himself into the belief that there
 
 MAYTAIR TO MILLBAKK. 93 
 
 was no particle of fraud in the transaction. He 
 was renowned for honesty and integrity, and the 
 implicit reliance which the confiding ladies reposed 
 in him was all that was necessary to the success 
 of his plan. That he intended to use the prin- 
 cipal, and pay punctually the interest accruing, 
 is the truth. It might even be possible to prove that 
 his design was to repay, to extricate himself ulti- 
 mately from all his embarrassments, and to stand 
 out before the world in reality the character which 
 he had so long assumed ; but the false step had 
 been taken ; he had lent his talents, wliich were 
 by no means contemptible, to the accomplish- 
 ment of objects which, in point of fraud and de- 
 ception, had never been surpassed in the annals 
 of crime. 
 
 Whether Martha or Mary that night dreamt of 
 Job or colonial bonds, it is impossible to say ; 
 but the lawyer revolved his plans in his mind as he 
 lay upon his pillow ; and as scheme iifter scheme 
 unfolded, the characters of all concerned in them 
 passed before his vision like actors in a drama.
 
 94 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 First, his father, with his immense property, the 
 whole of which Job intended to manage ; next Gre- 
 gory whom he certainly intended to deceive with a 
 pretended conveyance, to the detriment of some 
 eager client; next Edgar Hindly ; then the un- 
 suspecting Lizzy ; then came the Shark, as he 
 termed Solomon, whom he meant to ease of his 
 ill-gotten wealth ; and lastly (for the present), 
 the pious ladies, whose little all was to be invested 
 in colonial bonds. 
 
 To some men with half the perplexities 
 which these projects should have occasioned, 
 sleep would have come with troublesome dreams; 
 but Job made it all a matter of business ; his 
 only trouble was to maintain a fictitious appear- 
 ance of respectability before the world; to keep 
 himself buoyant upon the troubled waters of 
 financial enterprise, to be the centre of each re- 
 spectable circle he joined, the patron of religious 
 societies, the chairman of tea-meetings, and ulti- 
 mately the director or manager of some company 
 whose capital should be advertised at several
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAKK. 95 
 
 millions. To-morrow evening he was to take 
 ^^ the chair," and from the contemplation of his 
 less iimocent intentions, his mind wandered into 
 the subject of his opening speech. Martha and 
 Mary would be there, the clergyman would be 
 there, a great many of the slipper- working ladies 
 would be there, tradesmen with whom he had long 
 bills would be there; Snippand Buckram might 
 be there, and to all these he must wear the same 
 uniform appearance of devotion to the cause 
 in which his heart and soul were enlisted ; 
 but he must act as well as speak ; give as well 
 as advocate the cause ; and he remembered that 
 he had no money. This, certainly to any other 
 person would have been rather an awkward 
 matter; but he remembered the rent of the 
 Renfrew Farm estate was a week over due. He 
 must wait upon the tenants in the morning, 
 and afterwards borrow the money he should be 
 sure to collect, trusting to Providence for what- 
 ever else might turn up.
 
 96 MATFAIE TO MILLBANK, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE HINDLTS. 
 
 Edgar Hindly was a pitiable yet noble ruin. 
 His previous career^ therefore, may not be unin- 
 teresting, or without instruction. He carried 
 about with him the gratifying reflection that he 
 had broken a mother's heart, and almost brought 
 down a " father's grey hairs with sorrow to the 
 grave." He was born of a wealthy and re- 
 spectable family. The escutcheons and armour 
 that decorated the hall of his fathers were a testi- 
 mony of their ancient distinction, while the
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 97 
 
 portraits that looked upon him from the splendid 
 gallery of Raymonds were those of a long line, 
 each one of which bore the lineaments of the re- 
 mote founder of their house. 
 
 Edgar was an only son, a misfortune to him- 
 self and his parents ; for, having been nurtured 
 with the indulgence only bestowed upon one 
 in whom the pride and hope of a family are 
 centered, he grew up an uncontrollable and reck- 
 less youth, conscious of the important position 
 he occupied in the family, and regardless of 
 the means by which he should fulfil its hopes, 
 or realise its wishes. Yet he was a youth of 
 admirable parts, and of a noble disposition. 
 Unhappily, however, the weeds which grew with 
 such rapidity in so fertile a soil, soon concealed, 
 if they did not choke, the many fair flowers 
 which nature had scattered with a prodigal and 
 careless hand. His very virtues, uncultured, 
 were hardly distinguishable from vices. 
 
 Edgar's was the disposition which is always so 
 dangerously captivating in early life— which sets 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 fqstraint at defiance, and shocks the sober world 
 y?ith a daring disregard of conventional rules. 
 
 It was not strange if a mind so prone to frivolity 
 should form neither a fixed purpose, nor possess 
 an inclination to encounter the serious business 
 pf life. 
 
 It was with great uneasiness that his parents 
 saw this uncontrollable levity. The desire that 
 he should prepare himself for the high post for 
 which his father had destined him was utterly 
 disregarded, although there was nothing absolutely 
 bad or rebellious in his disposition. 
 
 College was left, and Edgar commenced life by 
 foiling in love with a girl of humble rank. There 
 is no doubt that his first intentions were nothing 
 more serious than a simple flirtation, but love ig 
 another of those matters in the concerns of life 
 that cannot be trifled with or controlled. 
 
 It was the desire of Edgar's parents to unite 
 him in marriage to tJie daughter of a very 
 pld and very dear friend ; the Walters had b^en 
 associated with the Hindlys from time imme-
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 99 
 
 morial ; the ancestors of the respective families 
 had fought together at the field of Cressy and 
 the battle of Sedgemore ; they had stood together 
 to resist the encroachment of Charles the First 
 on the people's privileges, and they had lent their 
 loyal shouts to the loud huzzas that had wel- 
 comed the Prince at the Restoration. But, 
 although Edgar felt that neither Cressy nor Sedge- 
 more, the decapitation of one Charles nor the 
 idolatrous worship of another, had anything 
 to do with the little drama of his life or the 
 affections of his heart, he yet allowed himself to 
 drift into an acquaintance with the proud and 
 wealthy heiress of the Walters. It was only an 
 acquaintance, for real courtship was by far too 
 serious a matter for Edgar to enter into ; and to 
 him it did not appear that anything inconvenient 
 could arise from the most intimate friendship 
 that could exist between him and Lucy ; he felt 
 that he had no intention to marry Lizzy, and 
 therefore there was no harm whatever in his 
 flirting with Lucy; the former was refinement 
 
 F 2
 
 100 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 without education, beauty without culture ; 
 the latter was education without attraction, 
 and culture without personal charms; he 
 loved the one for her simplicity, he admired 
 the other for her artificiality ; the society of each 
 was pleasing; the one reflected the borrowed 
 charms of literature and education, the other daz- 
 zled with her native brilliancy of wit and beauty. 
 So he was very well pleased with the happy 
 lot that had befallen him, and strange to say, the 
 influence that was exercised upon him from these 
 two opposite quarters was more powerful than 
 had ever been that of parents or tutors, peda- 
 gogues or proctors. A new world opened upon 
 his heart ; and as he contemplated himself from 
 the mirror of female beauty, an idea, at last of 
 life's importance beamed upon his mind ; his per- 
 plexity increased, and his erratic mind became 
 more and more unsettled. Life presented new 
 features, but surrounded him with more diffi- 
 culties ; if there was more light on the one side, 
 there was more shade on the other. In an hour
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 101 
 
 when he thought not he had told Lizzy that he 
 loved, sworn that he loved, sworn never to cease 
 loving ! In another moment, forgetful of his 
 plighted vows and his bosom's idol he had promised 
 his father to marry Lucy ; and the consequence was 
 that a marriage settlement had been drawn and 
 Eaymond conveyed to trustees for the joint lives 
 of Edgar and Lucy Walters, and the survivor, and 
 the first and other sons after the usual manner of 
 a " strict settlement," as the legal phraseology 
 hath it. 
 
 But after this business had been transacted, the 
 mind of Edgar wavered, although his heart semed 
 irrevocably fixed. Pride combatted Love and the 
 struggle was long, painful and fierce. Rank, 
 family distinction, friends, patronage on the one 
 hand; beauty, love and poverty on the other. 
 Which should he choose ? Who that has ever 
 endured such a conflict but has experienced the 
 bewildering difficulty of standing without wavering 
 between two such tremendous champions? It is one 
 thing to boast of duty, of love, of the dictates of
 
 102 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 one's own heart, of conscience, and the hundred 
 other names that will suggest themselves to a 
 ^passionate spectator; it is quite a different 
 thing to experience the hurricane of the passions 
 raging against the bulwarks of Prudence and 
 Policy. The smooth ocean, which the little nautilus 
 dares with its tiny sails, is very different from the 
 boisterous waters that lash the skies and toss the 
 proudest ship as though it were the toy-boat of a 
 school-boy. When Expediency and Love oppose 
 each other the conflict must be fierce ; com- 
 promise is impossible, negotiation vain, for it must 
 be fought out ! 
 
 But what was to be done ? Edgar did not know ; 
 it is scarcely too much to say he did not care ; 
 but there were moments in which sorious thoughts 
 disturbed him. In the case of both he felt he 
 had gone too far to recede with honour and safety. 
 To marry Lizzy would be to forfeit his father's 
 favour, — to ruin his prospects; to wed Lucy 
 would be to rend from his heart all that he 
 had ever felt of happiness ; to trample upon
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 103 
 
 a love as pure as it was imprudent ; to cast from 
 him a pearl of inestimable value, and to inffict 
 upon himself incurable misery. His only re^ 
 solve, if such it could be termed, was to pursue 
 the same path which he had so long trodden, and 
 to continue to please both ; this brought him to 
 the contemplation of perpetual celibacy. But one 
 thing he had not reflected upon, and that was, the 
 probability of a discovery by his parents, an event 
 which was not long postponed. 
 
 It was soon apparent to his haughty and aus- 
 tere father that there was an unaccountable re- 
 luctance to conform to his wishes with regard to 
 the projected marriage. The reason, however, 
 was not so clear, but Mrs. Hindly, with the usual 
 tact of her sex, suggested the possibility of 
 some other attachment. The suggestion was 
 acted upon by the stem father, who immediately 
 invited the romantic youth into the library. 
 
 Edgar little suspected the nature of the ordeal 
 he was to undergo. 
 
 Mr. Hindly commenced the business with the 
 ominous " Sir."
 
 104 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 " You are aware," said he, '^ that a certain 
 arraDgementhas been entered into with respect to 
 your future settlement ?" 
 "I am, sir," replied Edgar. 
 " Let me ask you then," continued the father, 
 " if it is your intention to treat the matter in- 
 differently?" 
 
 '* Your question," said Edgar, ^' is so unex- 
 pected that — " 
 
 '^ That you know not how to answer it, I sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 " Not exactly that," replied Edgar, "hut at pre- 
 sent I must he excused from carrying out your 
 projects." 
 
 The answer seemed decisive to the elder 
 Hindly, but he answered — 
 
 " I am not to be trifled with, sir. I have 
 made a settlement of certain family matters 
 which will redound to your advantage, if you ac- 
 cede to it, or involve your ruin if you oppose it." 
 ^' Ruin ! " said Edgar, with a tone which in- 
 dicated a spirit conscious of the first touch of the 
 fetters which he had till then thought it impos-
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 105 
 
 sible for anyone to impose, " If you mean ruin, 
 sir," he continued, " I must endeavour to avert 
 it, but rather by energy than submission. I 
 wouldn't be manacled in Heaven itself." 
 
 There was a tone of dignity and a look of 
 haughty defiance which told too plainly that Edgar 
 inherited the proud qualities of his family. 
 Such a spirit manifested on any other occasion 
 and to any other person would have made his father 
 exult in the manly independence of his offspring. 
 But now it was pride combatting pride, and the 
 old man felt himself contemned and insulted. 
 For awhile each looked at the other without a 
 motion of muscle or lip ; the father's countenance 
 was of a somewhat paler hue, while that of the 
 son was but slightly heightened in its richness. 
 
 "Such language," said Mr. Hindly, ^Meads 
 me to suppose that you have either forgotten 
 your relation to me or that you are resolved hence- 
 forth to disclaim it In the first case I would 
 recall you to remembrance, in the second I would 
 advise you to act immediately upon your inclin- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 ation. The tone usually adopted by you to your 
 companions, consisting as they do of an inferior 
 class of beings, is not respectful in the presence of 
 your father. If you cease to recognise my au^ 
 thority, cease also to claim my friendship. Your 
 answer, Edgar ?" 
 " I go, sir." 
 
 "Consider," said Mr. Hindly, "the sacrifice 
 you are making. I give you time to reflect." 
 
 " I go, sir," said Edgar, " and at once. I have 
 lost your respect and can no longer hope to retain 
 your affection." 
 
 " I summoned you," said Mr. Hindly, "to speak 
 of a matter of deep importance to us all, and I 
 ask you what objection you have to the fulfilment 
 of your engagement." 
 
 " And I reply," said Edgar, " that in a matter 
 of such personal importance I have a right to re- 
 fuse both an answer to your question and com- 
 pliance with your wishes," 
 
 The old man turned pale with anger — there 
 was no mistaking the fire that glowed with such
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 107 
 
 fierce indignation from his eyes ; the whole face 
 was characteristic of the man — he felt insulted, 
 and he looked the picture of one writhing under 
 the torture of defeat where he had intended ta 
 conquer by a frown ; but he had forgotten, in the 
 anticipation of easy triumph, that he was dealing 
 with one as haughty and high spirited as himself, 
 with one in whose veins the blood of the noblest 
 families of England was flowing, and whom it 
 would have been as impossible to intimidate with 
 a threat as to bribe with an offer of reward. 
 
 Edgar looked independent and proud, uncon- 
 quered and unconquerable, determined to enter 
 upon the battle of life with what forces he pos- 
 sessed, and to trust to the fortunes of war. At 
 that moment, as he stood waiting his father's 
 answer, he resolved upon his future path ; 
 parental restraint should bj entirely rejected, 
 and he would at once proceed to Loudon. He 
 had a small income independent of his father, 
 and it was the more necessary for him to strike 
 out into some course on his own account, as the
 
 108 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 principal portion of his father's estates had been 
 deeply mortgaged to the Walters family by his 
 grandfather without much hope or possibility of 
 redemption. This circumstance, doubtless, had 
 not been absent from Mr. Hindly's mind in draw- 
 ing the marriage settlement ; and will serve in 
 some measure to explain the eagerness with 
 which he desired a union of the two houses. 
 
 Edgar bowed with a haughty, yet respectful 
 air, and quitted the apartment, leaving his enraged 
 father to ponder over their interview.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 109 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PACKING UP. 
 
 Mrs. Hindlt was waiting with great anxiety tlie 
 termination of the conference between her hus- 
 band and son ; she was aware how much depended 
 upon its successful termination, and eagerly 
 hoped that the realisation of her life's wishes 
 would result from it. It is impossible to say 
 that the embarrassments of the family, if such 
 they might be termed, had no weight in her mind 
 with regard to the proposed alliance, so provi- 
 dentially arranged as she thought, and so abso-
 
 110 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 lutely expedient, for the well-being of the respec- 
 tive families. She was not of a mercenary dis- 
 position, and certainly deserved little to be sus- 
 pected of vulgar covetousness. But when money 
 becomes an absolute necessity of our well being, 
 of our social position, rank, dignity, and estate, 
 everyone must confess to some appreciation of its 
 inestimable worth. It is far less difficult to prove 
 that it is the means of acquisition, and not the 
 thing itself that calls forth the fastidiousness 
 of the refined. My lord duke would not relish 
 the glittering coin immediately from the counter, 
 but my lord duke would have no scruples about 
 heQoming the legatee of the wealthy shop keeper, 
 andJ receiving the proceeds of his industry and 
 economy : it would then be one remove from vul- 
 garity, and after the refining process which it 
 would undergo through the medium of the Court, 
 it would drop into his grace's bankers as. pure as 
 if it had been received direct from the mint. Nor 
 is iihis principle inconsistent with the dignity or 
 refinement of the most polished state of society ;
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. Ill 
 
 if money be not rank, it is absolutely necessary to 
 its snpport and maintenance. 
 
 Mrs. Hindly was not blind to its importance, 
 said no one ever estimated it more correctly ; nor 
 was it from a mere mercenary spirit that she so 
 anxiously waited to hear the result 
 
 Edgar entered alone ; his countenance augured 
 disappointment ; there was an unusual shade of 
 despondency on his features. 
 
 '« Edgar," said Mrs. Hindly, " what is this ?" 
 
 *' Nothing," replied the young man, '^ only that 
 I have resolved to leave." 
 
 '' Leave !" exclaimed his mother, ** for what ?" 
 
 "Because it is better that I should," said 
 Edgar ; " my father and I can no longer agree." 
 
 Mrs. Hindly comprehended it all, and the tears 
 started to her eyes. 
 
 " Why is this, Edgar ?" she asked. 
 
 " Simply because my father is determined upon 
 my following his plan, and I am resolved upon 
 following my own."
 
 112 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 *'You are rash, Edgar, rash, and incon- 
 siderate." 
 
 " Reproach me when I am gone," said Edgar ; 
 " let my last hour or two under your roof be free 
 from your censure, even if my father stigmatises 
 me as one unworthy his notice. My engage- 
 ment with Lucy Walters was none of my 
 making, and if I consented it was with that same 
 rashness and inconsiderateness with which you 
 now chide me ; had I not been rash I should have 
 as firmly refused submission when he first named 
 it as I have done to-day. I am not ignorant of his 
 relation to the Walters family ; and if his father 
 mortgaged the estates, it is no reason why his son 
 should redeem them at a cost greater to me than 
 the value of fifty Raymonds. I will not consent." 
 
 " Edgar," said Mrs. Hindly ; " you have caused 
 us many tears, many anxieties. I never believed 
 you undutiful, although your conduct has been 
 wild and erratic." 
 
 " Have I injured you or my father?" asked
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBAITK. 11^ 
 
 Edgar; "or is there a living soul who can 
 accuse me of anything more than the follies that 
 every man in his time has committed ? I have 
 not been, I know, a drawing-room pet, or a Sun- 
 day school teacher ; I am no hypocrite, and I 
 candidly confess that I hate sermons and solemn 
 faces, as I abominate the miserable restraints 
 which they impose ; I will not be forced to marry 
 either for expediency, or any other reason; I don't 
 care for your conventionalities and hypocritical 
 civilities." 
 
 *'I pray God you may learn better, Edgar ; 
 the solemn face may yet do you more good than 
 that of the profligate. 
 
 "Compare me if you will," said Edgar, " to 
 the wicked boy in the story book ; but I hope you 
 will have no more cause to reproach me hereafter 
 than you have now." 
 
 " I have only one object," returned his 
 mother, '' either in reproaching or advising you ; 
 my journey is (mt of life, yours is into it ; but 
 why should you leave us ?"
 
 114 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 The tears streamed down the mother's cheeks, 
 and bespoke the agony which she struggled to 
 conceal. 
 
 Edgar, in spite of his many faults, had been 
 her pride and hope ; aye, her comfort, for the 
 very wildness of his nature blended with such a 
 noble independence of character as half-redeemed 
 his most censurable follies. 
 
 "Mother," said he, after a brief pause, "it is 
 impossible for me to remain ; my father and I 
 will no longer agree. The only thing that could 
 reconcile us is that which I am justified in refus- 
 mg." 
 
 " You will ruin yourself," said Mrs. Hindly. 
 " I am ruined," replied Edgar, " so far as I 
 know, and I am now going to build a fortune for 
 myself. I shall read for the bar. Tt cannot be 
 added to the catalogue of my offences that I am 
 a dunce— but I despise my advisers — not you, 
 my dear mother, not my father, but those whose 
 hypocritical friendship is but another name for 
 sanctimonious impudence, I have had my follies,
 
 MATFAIR TO MILIBANK. 113 
 
 but they are past; and I will never contract 
 myself into a plodding country gentleman, to 
 walk over Lucy's lands with a paddle, and 
 exhibit my little greatness at the parish vestry, 
 or the petty sessions. I would as soon be a scare- 
 crow in a wheat-field as the terror of the hungry 
 poacher, or the persecutor of the starving wretch 
 like her whom my father sentenced to three 
 months' imprisonment for pulling a turnip." 
 
 " Be not your father's accuser or judge, 
 Edgar." 
 
 '' I leave the one office to his conscience, the 
 other to Heaven," answered Edgar, with little of 
 the tone of filial deference which should charac- 
 terise the language of a son. 
 
 *' Hush ! Edgar. You will repent your unkind- 
 ness. ^ Honour thy father and mother.' " 
 
 Edgar felt the admonition ; but he had almost 
 worked himself into a state of rage, and he en- 
 deavoured to say hard things. He felt even then 
 remorse for the words he had spoken ; but he was 
 in a state of mind to injure even himself, and
 
 116 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 seemed to feel an unaccountable gratification 
 in doing so ; it was that feeling of bravado and 
 defiance which so often impels us to say more 
 than we mean, and to do more than we intend. 
 
 " Then, why does he blame me ?" asked 
 Edgar; "I, who have injured no one, imprisoned 
 no one ; my chief fault has been harmless sport, 
 and my worst feeling a detestation of snivelling 
 hypocrisy. Did he not send the parson to talk 
 to me as though he would ascertain if I were a 
 heathen or a lunatic ? What do I care for par- 
 sons ? But enough, my folly is over, or, at all 
 events, will no longer disturb the quiet equanimity 
 of your charming circle. I will bid you good-bye, 
 my dear mother, as soon as I can pack up my 
 things." 
 
 '* Edgar I'* said his mother, with a heart almost 
 bursting with emotion, ^Hhink — think, my boy, 
 before you plunge into the world — before you 
 leave your best friends; your birth, rank, and 
 name, will pass for little in the world without 
 money, and that I cannot give you."
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK, 117 
 
 ** I have my grandfather's legacy," said Edgar, 
 ** I can work for the rest" 
 
 ** Work I" said Mrs. Hindly, " you know not 
 what work is ?" 
 
 '^ I will write — write," said Edgar. 
 
 "Precarious livelihood. Edgar, once more I 
 say, pause." 
 
 "Nay, mother; lay no injunction upon me; 
 let me not leave your house with regret for hav- 
 ing disobeyed you; give me your blessing, though 
 I carry with me my father's curse. I have done 
 nothing to deserve either, but yet — " 
 
 Edgar's feelings overcame him; his eyes 
 sparkled, his lips quivered, his voice faltered ; but 
 with a strong effort he repressed the tear that 
 would have betrayed his weakness. There was a 
 strange commotion of pride, love, and anger; 
 and, perhaps, in that painful moment above all 
 others of his life there was more of his true and 
 earnest character displayed. A chain of sympathy 
 seemed to unite every feeling of his passionate 
 nature, and encoiled itself about his heart till his
 
 118 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 whole being was a prisoner; he struggled to 
 emancipate himself, but every passion held him ; 
 it was hard to say which predominated, for he was 
 subdued by each. His emotion was not unper- 
 ceived by his mother, who covered her face with 
 her hands, and turned from him, sobbing like 
 one who was parting from her only child for 
 ever. Indeed, a dreadfiil presentiment darkened 
 her mind that this was indeed the last time she 
 would ever be permitted to gaze upon him who 
 had been for so many years the source of so much 
 hope and so many joys. That moment was the 
 concentration of her life's miseries ; her heart was 
 fuU, and nothing more of sorrow could be added 
 to her cup. She sank into a chair, overcome by 
 the painful emotions that overwhelmed her. 
 
 Edgar quitted the room, and hastened to his 
 chamber to complete the necessary preparations 
 for his rashly-determined journey. For the first 
 time in his life he, too, felt the bitterness of 
 parting from her who had been so dear to him—* 
 dearer than he had ever known or felt before. Her
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 119 
 
 grief unnerved him, but not so much as to shake 
 his determination. He tried to repress his feel- 
 ings, and to stifle his sorrows, but the tears would 
 gush out. He was alone, and yet he felt ashamed of 
 his weakness. A thousand recollections harassed 
 his mind, ten thousand remembrances of motherly 
 kindness and love ; such kindness, and such love 
 as are to be met with from no other upon earth, 
 disinterested, pure and holy. But he dared not 
 think. Speed, speed your work, rash boy! 
 wrench open that trunk, and bury at its lowest 
 depth that little golden locket — hide it at the 
 bottom beneath that heap of linen, lest the shin- 
 ing trinket that holds her grey hair unman 
 your resolve; there, fling in the clothes, and 
 slam down the lid ; lock it ; cord it tightly ! it 
 is there ! and may be, in some moment of reck- 
 lessness, when you are bent upon a madder pro- 
 ject, when the world and you are at variance, when 
 you have abandoned yourself to chance and are 
 heedless alike of the calls of conscience and the 
 warnings of your better genius ; when about to
 
 120 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 plunge into dissipation, or, it may be, crime, per- 
 chance, the little locket you have just buried may 
 start, as from its grave, like a flash of love from 
 your mother's heart, and remind you that the 
 world once had for you a charm, and life a pur- 
 pose : it may preach to you a sermon that you 
 could not be deaf to if you would, more eloquent 
 than the Bible itself, more mysterious than the 
 deep sympathies of human nature, for it will 
 beam to you with recollections of better days, and 
 recall to your mind the unutterable depth and 
 purity of a mother's love. It is there ! Defend 
 that treasure with your life, for it is kerss. part 
 of her who is weeping over your departure, too 
 stricken with grief even to utter a prayer, save 
 that earnest yearning that a mother's heart is for 
 ever making for the welfare of her child. 
 
 The lid goes down — ^it is locked ! hastily the 
 cord is thrown round — hastily, for there must be 
 no time for thought; the determination must not 
 be suffered an instant's respite. But another 
 trunk must be filled ; yes, another ; what is this ?
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 121 
 
 Shall he take it ? No. It is a prayer-book. He 
 will not want prayer-books. But as he turns it 
 aside the cover falls back, — a few words— only a 
 few— in a lady's hand. Yes, that must go too ; 
 and he throws the prayer-book into the box. In 
 another hour he was ready. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 122 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 PICTURES. 
 
 I SHALL copy a picture tliat hangs not in every 
 house. There are pictures sketched by imagina- 
 tion, that look so real that you almost believe 
 them to be so ; but as you gaze inconsistencies 
 appear — the details are false, and the charm is 
 destroyed. There are pictures, too, of ordinary 
 life, which every one paints, some in his im- 
 agination, some on canvas, and others in the 
 chapters of the novel. But there are some scenes — 
 the most interesting — ^which are never exhibited.
 
 MATFAIU TO MILLBANK. 123 
 
 The surface of life shows little of its iaaer depths ; 
 you see the tattered beggar in the street, and 
 his forlorn appearance and deplorable visage 
 excite commiseration ; you drop a penny into 
 his shrunken hand, and pass on, lamenting 
 perhaps the woes of humanity ; that beggar, pro- 
 bably, knows neither a want nor a care ; you meet 
 a woman in abject wretchedness, with a child at 
 her breast, she implores your charity, and has a tale 
 the very eloquence of which bespeaks its falsity ; 
 you pause, not to philosophise or enquire 
 whether there is truth in it or not, — your heart 
 is touched, you relieve her and pass on, enjoying 
 the gratification which your twice blessed gift 
 produces. A decently dressed, rosy-faced child 
 accosts you, her appearance indicating clearly 
 an effort at humble respectability ; she has a 
 little basket of flowers on her arm, and a small 
 bundle of violets neatly tied in her hand ; she 
 offers the bunch for a halfpenny. You don't 
 want flowers, and tell her so, not rudely, but not 
 quite kindly ; she is a trader, and, therefore, not 
 
 G 2
 
 124 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 an object of pity; there wanted the necessary 
 tatters to indicate poverty ; there was no squalid 
 face, no plaintive wail, no demand, in fact, 
 upon your sympathy, and, therefore, you felt that 
 it would be like throwing money into the 
 street to relieve her. Your imagination couldn't 
 follow her to her humble home at evening, and 
 see her empty her little bag of halfpence into the 
 lap of her widowed mother, whose girlhood was 
 passed amid brighter scenes, who scorns to beg, 
 and is striving to exist upon her own earnings and 
 the few halfpence which her children bring her. 
 It is the old tale of the unhappy marriage, the 
 widowed heart, the fireless hearth, and the 
 world's cruelty. 
 
 But neither of these scenes is my picture. 
 Did you ever feel your eye sparkle, and your 
 heart expand with emotion as you perused 
 some beautiful tale ? Have you felt that thrill, 
 as you dwelt with increasing pleasure (so exqui- 
 site that you almost feared to turn the leaf 
 lest it should break the spell) on the pages of
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 125 
 
 some clever, but obscure author, unknown as 
 yet to fame ? You bave ? That tale emanated, 
 probably, from ^a garret ; the price the author 
 obtained for it is gone, before you enjoy the luxury 
 of reading it, in paying the rent of that humble 
 apartment, or the baker's bill. Those words which 
 glow with such resplendent genius, spring from a 
 dark and sombre heart; there was a pale face 
 over a flickering candle where they were conceived, 
 but they show nothing of the pale face or the 
 candle; they glow with the brightness of 
 Heaven ; the very sun cheers you not as they 
 do. The mind that conceived those beautiful 
 visions descended from its sublime reverie the 
 moment after, to think of the means by which 
 the poor author should obtain to-morrow's bread ; 
 to speculate upon the probability of their being 
 accepted by this editor or that ; to think of the 
 arduous struggle of life, and to wonder as it 
 had wondered a thousand times before, why 
 those who administer the luxuries of the intellect 
 should sometimes be denied the smallest pittance
 
 126 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 of bodily comfort. Like flashes from ice, those 
 images started from a cheerless heart ; like light- 
 ning from the clouds of despair. 
 
 Of course some authors write in gown and 
 slippers, sitting in a cozy chair, in a well 
 carpetted library, before a cheerful fire, sipping 
 coffee or some still more cheering beverage ; that 
 is the other side of the picture. 
 
 " Precarious !" thought Edgar. " Yes, it was 
 his mother's word ; but what did it mean ?" 
 " The labourer is worthy of his hire ?" True, but 
 he does not always get it. 
 
 Edgar was in London. The world and he for 
 the first time were confronting each other ; he 
 had entered upon his studies, and was not 
 averse to them ; there was a mine of inexhaustible 
 knowledge to be exploied, and the rich veins of 
 legal lore were worthy the efforts he would put 
 forth ; but he was alone, a stranger, with a world 
 of strangers around him. His mother had sup- 
 plied him with all the cash at her command, 
 and, with anxiety for his welfare, had also
 
 MAYTAIR TO MILLBANK. 127 
 
 given him some of her jewellery, the few remain- 
 ing trinkets which she had preserved from the 
 wreck of her fortune; preserved because the 
 remembrances of better days clung to them, 
 glistened in them, and belonged to them. It 
 was a small, neat parcel, which her own 
 fingers had tied, carefully and securely; these 
 were never to be parted with unless that stern, 
 unfeeling ravisher of our treasures. Necessity, 
 demanded them. But, as yet, Necessity 
 had not cast its shadow upon the walls of 
 Edgar's drawing-room ; his money was not ex- 
 hausted, and the legacy of his grandfather seemed 
 for awhile like the widow's cruse of oil. 
 
 The career of recklessness which he had 
 led was suddenly checked, and the pause 
 may be attributed chiefly to the new and strange 
 scenes with which he was surrounded. 
 
 Edgar now looked at himself as he was 
 reflected from the great mirror of the world ; his 
 own person no longer filled the picture of life, 
 he was one of the smallest objects in it ; his
 
 128 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 self- opinion was gone, and for the first time he 
 measured himself by the standard which the world 
 uses. Among his circle of acquaintances he had 
 been the admired of all and the envy of many ; 
 his faults had brought him as much praise as 
 censure ; or, if censure it might be called, it was 
 the censure he could almost be proud of, for his 
 conduct had been ascribed to erratic genius; 
 strange, bewildering, intoxicating thought. 
 Were not all the great master- pieces of nature 
 prone to extravagances of one form or another ? 
 Whether this was a judicious mode of reasoning 
 on the errors of youth, need not be asked ; that 
 it was exceedingly dangerous, is certain. It con- 
 founded folly with wisdom, and attributed actions 
 of a responsible nature to talents of an exalted 
 order. But Edgar was now away from prejudice 
 and partiality ; henceforth, his balance pole must 
 be Prudence, and all his talents will not save 
 him from the world's censure if he make a 
 slip. Look down young man, 'tis an awful depth 
 at the left of you, and the bottomless pit of
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 129 
 
 crime itself is only concealed by that mist which 
 floats with a thousand blending hues between you 
 and it ! Look down once, and then upward for 
 ever ; that bright spot which glitters before you 
 is the point which, steadily watched, will enable 
 you to retain your balance ; call it ambition if you 
 will, call it a love of fame if you like it better, 
 but keep straight on in God's name. 
 
 One night after Edgar had dined, he walked 
 leisurely down the Strand; he was alone, and 
 very busy with himself about the different scenes 
 that passed before his eye ; he was somewhat of 
 a moralist, although he would have been ashamed 
 for anyone to think so. " Neither a humbug nor 
 a hypocrite" was his favorite motto, and in very 
 deed he was neither. He had come to town to 
 escape his father's dictatorship, and to push his 
 way in the world by his own exertions, although, as 
 yet, he had not begun to put forth his energies ; 
 he had shut himself up pretty much lately 
 without at all intending to be a recluse, and 
 now as he began to grow familiar with the 
 
 G 5
 
 ISO MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 streets of London, there was no reason why 'he 
 should not become acquainted also with some of 
 its scenes. There was no reason why he 
 and the world should fall out before they had 
 seen each other, and, perhaps, after all the world 
 wasn't half so unkind as he had conceived. He 
 turned into one of the places of resort in the 
 Strand, not with a hypocritical sigh as though 
 he was going there to moralise, and coming away 
 again to preach, but resolved to see whether there 
 was anything to amuse him. 
 
 Looking upon the scene with a half- vacant, 
 half-interested gaze, was a young man, with 
 the appearance and manners of a gentleman ; he 
 was elegantly attired in a suit that set off his 
 well-proportioned and handsome figure; a fine 
 broad forehead bespoke capacity of intellect, and 
 a delicate moustache indicated a more youthful 
 period of life than the thoughtful and somewhat 
 manly countenance. There was an air of 
 quiet ease and graceful dignity that shewed the 
 breeding of a gentleman, and an acquaintance
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 131 
 
 with good society. Edgar took his seat beside the 
 stranger, and although naturally averse to the idea 
 of what is called " scraping an acquaintance," 
 found himself, in a little time, in conversation 
 with his neighbour. There was much congeniality 
 of taste and sentiment between Edgar and his com- 
 panion, and no little pleasure was derived from the 
 interchange of thought which naturally flowed from 
 the variety of topics on which they conversed. Each 
 had a romantic turn of mind, the consequence of 
 which was a mutuality of opinion on the leading 
 incidents of life. But it was soon apparent to Edgar 
 that his companion, while entertaining many 
 notions in accordance with his own, viewed life 
 through a vastly different medium from that which 
 had reflected it to him. 
 
 ** There never was a truer sentence uttered," 
 said the stranger, *Hhan that of Shakespear, 
 that tiie world's a stage. These people who 
 appear for our amusement, are actors speak- 
 ing, what they don't mean, pleased with our ap- 
 plause, and believing themselves worthy of it.
 
 132 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 The whole face of hmnanity is a mask, all are 
 actors, not using the term figuratively, but liter- 
 ally ; but they are actors before actors — there's 
 no audience in the world, but every man plays his 
 part. Deception is everywhere, more perhaps in 
 the pulpit than on the stage; the tailor who 
 measures you for your suit mocks you with a 
 fictitious civility — he wants your money; the 
 landlady of your lodgings affects to seek your 
 comfort — she wants your money ; the platform 
 orator takes up the cause of some pious society 
 —he wants your money. So with all — money is 
 the paymaster of the world and its idol." 
 
 " But surely there are nobler spirits than 
 the tailor, or your landlady, or the hypocrite ?" 
 said Edgar. 
 
 ^* But all bow before that one divinity," an- 
 swered the stranger, "and since none can do 
 without its influence one can hardly blame them 
 for invoking its aid. The golden image that 
 Nebuchadnezzar the king set up is the very golden 
 im age which the men of this generation set up too ;
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAITK. 133 
 
 but there is this difference between ns and the 
 worshippers of old, that it needs not 'the sound of 
 the lute, sackbut, psaltry, dulcimer, and aU kinds 
 of music ' to summon them to devotion ; all are 
 ready whether there's a band or not ; as soon as 
 the sun rises the millions go forth to worship. 
 They worship all day long with untiring enthu- 
 siasm, sleep at night to dream of their idol's 
 power, and wake again to propitiate its favour." 
 " I fear then," said Edgar, '* that we are all 
 included in this sweeping assertion." 
 ** To a great extent," 
 
 "And those whom fortune favours?" said 
 Edgar. 
 
 " Are few enough, and it has always puzzled 
 me to resolve their success to its cause. I can 
 understand a man's husbanding small gains and 
 doubling them by compound interest ; but I can- 
 not imagine by what means sackfuUs of the 
 golden treasure are poured down at a single 
 shower." 
 
 **By no means corresponding to the receiver's
 
 134 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 deserts, or proportionate to his efforts," said 
 Edgar. 
 
 ** Certainly not ; but I must be going. Hope 
 I may have the pleasure of meeting you again." 
 
 " I shall be most happy," said Edgar. And 
 leaving the place they separated.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Edgar had never an intention of sailing down 
 the stream of London gaiety. His ideas on 
 reaching the capital were that he would be 
 able to preserve himself isolated amid all its 
 temptations and amusements ; he would see as 
 much as he could without becoming an actor in 
 its scenes. Not that he was intent upon becom- 
 ing the serious, staid individual, such as people 
 like Martha and Mary would have advised; he 
 was neither a misanthrope nor a methodist, but 
 he had set out with one object in view — that of 
 pushing his fortune — and he was thoroughly alive 
 to the fact of his limited means. With a firm re- 
 solution, therefore, he determined to see life with-
 
 136 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 out mixing in it. But he was hardly aware that 
 even his talents were treacherous. Like a bark 
 overcrowded with sails, he was impelled on and on 
 by breezes which would hardly have influenced 
 other voyagers on the same stream, and before he 
 was fully aware of the progress he had made, 
 was actually in the rapids. To drop the figura- 
 tive style of expression, Edgar, before he was 
 conscious of the fact, was in debt. Now, 
 how one gets into debt and difficulties is some- 
 times an inexplicable mystery ; and how to get 
 out of it is no less, so if we put aside the bank- 
 ruptcy manoeuvre. If moral principle were 
 sufficient to sustain a man, Edgar had a 
 sufficiency of that ; if resolution were of any 
 effect at all, he was not lacking in that ; he had 
 led a steady life, pursued his studies with assi- 
 duity, kept good hours, and spent little. But 
 yet he was pestered with applications for money, 
 and his landlady, he thought, was not so 
 respectful or obsequious as was her wont. 
 Now, then, was the time for Edgar to put his
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 137 
 
 talents to the test, and to venture upon that 
 "precarious" avocation which has disappointed 
 the hopes and expectations of so many thousands. 
 His mother, he knew, was not in a position to 
 render him all the aid that was needed, and his 
 proud spirit recoiled with indignation from the 
 thought of applying to his father; they had 
 parted in anger, and he would never sink into 
 a suppliant for his charity. He had yet the 
 jewels, those dear treasures which had belonged 
 to his family for so many generations; but 
 these were like the life blood of his heart, and 
 should be buried with him in his grave rather 
 than find their way into the hands of persons 
 who would only appreciate them at their pecuni- 
 ary value. But, Poverty, thou art a great 
 leveller, a hard master — an unyielding tyrant ! 
 Woe to the man that experiences the conflict of 
 lofty independence and iron poverty ! What 
 swelling of heart ! What distraction of mind I 
 What unutterable agony of soul as it staggers 
 under the heavy shocks of that terrible encounter !
 
 138 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 How he shrinks with the fear of wounded honour, 
 of a ruined reputation, of the world's scorn or 
 pity I His are not the feelings of a man that 
 heedlessly plunges into dissipation, and has no 
 care for men's opinion. He is a man of fine 
 sensibility, and feels the smallest puncture in- 
 flicted upon his reputation more keenly than others 
 do the lacerations of character by the mouths of 
 the enraged victims of their recklessness. 
 
 With Edgar, to be in debt was to be shorn of 
 his honour. 
 
 Yes, debt is a very bad thing if you can't pay ; 
 it makes no friends, and genei^ally causes you to 
 lose those you have. Few men care for those 
 who can't pay their way, and those of too sensi- 
 tive feelings are apt to magnify misfortunes into 
 crimes. Your debtors generally do so — and few 
 will believe in your high principle if they do 
 not perceive the substantial fruits of it when 
 they present you with '^ their little account," or 
 enquire if it is convenient for you to return the 
 little sum you borrowed.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 13^ 
 
 Edgar tried his hand at literary composition, 
 and with the pardonable vanity of a young author, 
 looked with some degree of satisfaction on his 
 first production. He compared it with the writ- 
 ings of others, and it seemed to present a favour- 
 able contrast. Alas ! for the fondness of literary 
 paternity. It was sent to a fashionable periodical, 
 and — returned with the Editor's compliments 
 and regrets, that ** it was not suitable." That 
 good old motto, " try again," was put in 
 practice, and again, and again Edgar tried, 
 till at last, ! joyful moment, his fame was 
 achieved, his fortune made — he was in print! 
 Dangerous delusion ! How many hours and 
 days had he toiled for the few guineas which his 
 writing brought him ! But it was an augur of 
 future success, and he wrote again ; a few 
 months however of arduous labour and severe 
 application recalled again his mother's expression, 
 " precarious" livelihood. Fame is not achieved, 
 nor a fortune won by a few papers in the periodical 
 press. Home thoughts sometimes returned, but
 
 140 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 pride and a feeling of independence kept them 
 down ; lie would never return to the father who 
 had disdained him — such humiliation would be 
 worse than poverty itself. 
 
 Edgar received remittances from his mother, 
 not of large amount, certainly ; but they would 
 have been sufficient with careful husbandiug to 
 preserve his credit, and stave off the pressure of 
 obligations, which, by some unaccountable means 
 or another, increased upon him. 
 
 One evening he had returned to his lodgings, 
 tired with what he deemed the hard and un- 
 friendly world. Another note upon his table, 
 another request for an early settlement ; he 
 cursed his debtors, and complained of the stern 
 severity of his fate. He tore open the envelope, 
 and glancing down the contents, dashed it from 
 him ; flung himself into his chair, and medita- 
 ting over his troubles, wondered why, among all 
 the world that he saw around him, busy and en- 
 joying life, he alone should be unhappy ; he alone 
 unable to earn sufficient for his support.
 
 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 141 
 
 Edgar had formed acquaintances ; some of 
 them were even friends, among the latter he 
 reckoned Job Hawkins ; bnt he had not squan- 
 dered much with them — they were not extrava- 
 gant. Of all the persons he knew, perhaps he 
 lived the least expensively. 
 
 As he thus ruminated, and grew more and 
 more disheartened, a knock aroused him from his 
 unhappy reverie, and into his presence was 
 ushered "Mr. Hawkins." 
 
 <f The blues !" said Job. " Yes, by Heaven ! 
 the blues !" 
 
 " Glad to see you, Hawkins — into the chair 
 with you and — " 
 <^ What*s the matter, Hindly ?" 
 " Nothing — nothing," said Edgar. 
 Job glanced at the open letter as he sat ; its 
 position ftdly indicated that the secret of his 
 friend's melancholy was there ; moreover, there 
 were certain figures with the dreadful £ s. d. and 
 the red lines. It was a delicate matter; but 
 Job was made for delicate matters, and generally
 
 142 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 was adroit enough to draw his friends into the 
 confession of a secret. It was not, perhaps, that 
 he expected to profit by a disclosure of Edgar's 
 circumstances, but rather a curiosity, or at most, 
 a mutuality of feeling with a companion in cir- 
 cumstances similar to his own. Job suspected 
 the cause of the sad countenance, the unsteady 
 burning of the bright eyes, the agitation of the 
 lips, which, in vain, attempted by words to dis* 
 guise it all. 
 
 ^* Well, how has the world behaved to you, old 
 fellow, since I last saw you ?" And Job puffed 
 away at his cigar as though expecting the usual 
 common-place answer to his inquiry. 
 
 "I don't know," said Edgar; "it's an awful 
 humbug." 
 
 "Just made the discovery ?" said Job, smiling, 
 " I thought I had given you enough of my little 
 experience to convince you of that. I look 
 on men in general, Hindly, as beasts of prey, 
 especially these trading folks." 
 
 As Job spoke, he pointed, as if accidentally, to
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 143 
 
 the letter on the table; but so unconcernedly, 
 that it might have been construed into an un- 
 meaning gesture, only that there was an expres- 
 sion of countenance, and a half-smile about his 
 lips, which could hardly have been mistaken by 
 any person having less confidence in him than 
 Edgar. 
 
 The latter lighted another cigar, and after a few 
 vigorous puffs, resumed his former position of 
 American ease. 
 
 " Will you go to the opera to-morrow?" asked 
 Job. 
 
 *^ Can't," replied Edgar ; " indeed I must live 
 more quietly.*' 
 
 " Quietly !" exclaimed Job, " the most quiet 
 feUow in London talkiog of more quietness. I 
 shall expect to find you next at some Quaker's 
 meeting. I thought I was the very personifica- 
 tion of dulness and sobriety, but I give in after 
 that." 
 
 " Look," said Edgar, seriously, " I shall be
 
 144 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 candid with you, Hawkins, and the truth is my 
 bills are coming in, and must be met. I have 
 overdone it lately, and must now shrivel up into 
 a hermit till these are got over. There's a fellow 
 there, my tailor, in a deuce of a hurry for twenty 
 pounds. I hate these brawling money-mongers." 
 
 ^' So do I, heartily," said Job ; " but your 
 liabilities, I should think, would hardly exhaust a 
 child's money-box. Excuse me, Hindly, perhaps 
 I presume too far on our friendship?" 
 
 <^ Not at all," said Edgar ; " but there's a vast 
 disproportion between your notions of money 
 matters and mine, which is easily accounted for. 
 You are on easy terms with a rich father, while 1 
 am at open warfare with one of moderate means." 
 
 '* Tut," said Job. " No one has known more 
 worry than T in these matters ; my governor is as 
 close with me as though I were the wildest colt 
 that was ever put in harness. As for your out- 
 goings, they are nothing — nothing, my dear 
 feUow."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 145 
 
 ^' I don't know how you manage," answered 
 Hindly, " but I know my circumstances, and I 
 must prepare to meet them. " 
 
 '' The way I manage is simply this," said Job ; 
 " nothing more easy in the world — bill iV 
 
 Edgar looked — not amazed exactly, but very 
 much perplexed to discover the exact meaning of 
 the phrase "bill it." 
 
 '* I see," said Job, " you don't understand me. 
 You know how to draw a bill, I suppose ?" 
 
 " I have never drawn one." 
 
 " But you have read * Byles on Bills, ' 
 surely ? " 
 
 " No," answered Edgar. 
 
 " It's a simple matter of writing one's name 
 on a piece of paper, and directing someone else to 
 pay the money." 
 
 " Suppose I direct it to you then," said Edgar, 
 laughing. 
 
 " But there must be effects in the party's 
 hands, whom you order to pay the amount," said 
 Job. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " That's the devil of it. I thought it wanted 
 something more than the mere writing." 
 
 " It must be accepted^ of course." 
 
 " And who the deuce is going to accept such a 
 thing ?" asked Edgar. 
 
 *' The same old gentleman that accepts mine," 
 said Job. 
 
 Edgar looked more astonished than ever. 
 
 '• You doubt," said Job, ** now look ; write on 
 a sheet of stamped paper a promissory note, leav- 
 ing the amount in blank, then draw a bill, 
 and come with me to a man whom I will 
 introduce you to, and I'll engage to say you shall 
 have no more trouble about money matters, from 
 the present moment to the time mentioned for 
 payment." 
 
 "But I presume," said Edgar, "his terms 
 will be by no means easy." 
 
 ** I speak from my own experience," said Job ; 
 " and all I can say is that he was never hard 
 with me. Of course he'll want security, but 
 he'll take your promissory note for any small
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 147 
 
 Stun sucli as that — I think you said it was 
 twenty." 
 
 "Twenty I" repeated Edgar, feeling greatly 
 relieved by the interesting piece of intelligence 
 which his friend communicated. 
 
 " I suppose you are of age ?'* said Job. 
 
 " Just turned twenty." 
 
 *' Owed five hundred pounds before I was six- 
 teen," said Job, with an air of satisfaction, 
 which would have comforted any man on the 
 verge of bankruptcy. "However," he con- 
 inued, " it's not for me to persuade you ; I 
 only suggest it for your good. You say you're 
 pressed for money ; I show you where to obtain 
 it." 
 
 " Here is a thing," said Edgar, taking up a 
 newspaper ; " let me see— where is it ? 0, here 
 it is — * money without security, from five to five 
 hundred pounds.' " 
 
 " Yes," answered Job, smiling, " I have an 
 intention of going to one of those places one day 
 for five hundred." 
 
 H 2
 
 148 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Think you'll get it?" asked Edgar. 
 
 " Why, I'm hardly so sanguine," replied Job ; 
 *^ but if there's a possibility of it, I think I'm 
 about as likely a fellow as any in the world — but 
 I shall go for the fun of the thing." 
 
 " I see. What's the name of this friend of 
 yours ?" 
 
 " Friend ! he's no friend of mine," said Job ; 
 " he's the fellow who lends to all fellows who 
 are short of cash, noblemen and gentry— every- 
 body knows him in fashionable society." 
 
 Edgar smiled ; there was such an aristocratic 
 air in the manner of his friend as he spoke, and 
 such a calm and careless style about him that one 
 would almost have imagined that to get into 
 debt was the finest thing in the world, especially 
 if it could bring you into the society of Job's 
 money-lending friend. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Edgar, " you know what I 
 mean ; but his name ?" 
 
 <* Solomon." 
 
 " A Jew !"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 149 
 
 '^ I suppose so ; but what matters whether 
 Jew or devil, so as you get jour turn served." 
 
 " Don't like borrowing," said Edgar. 
 
 " I don't want you to borrow, my dear fellow ; 
 but this much I can tell you, so far as 1 am con- 
 cerned, that rather than be under obligations to 
 friends, I would pay a money-lender double." 
 
 There seemed something like independence in 
 this view of the matter, and if Edgar had ever 
 entertained a notion of applying to any private 
 source, that notion vanished now. 
 
 ** A fellow goes down when he borrows of his 
 friends," said Job, " and it isn't business ; I'd 
 sooner pawn my backbone ; but I'm sorry I men- 
 tioned Solomon now." ' 
 
 " Because I am." 
 
 '^ But why ?" 
 
 '* I have no right to interfere in your private 
 matters; however, if I have done wrong in tell- 
 ing you the course which I and many more adopt.
 
 1.60 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 there is only one thing to add — you need not 
 adopt it; but I must be going.'* 
 
 '* Will you accompany me to this Solomon's ?" 
 
 " With all my heart." 
 
 ** To-morrow night ?" 
 
 " rU call for you. No, give me a look in ; 
 I shall be at home all the evening. Good night."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 15] 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MAKIKG MONEY. 
 
 Edgar found that notMng in the world was easier 
 than " billing it." Why, old Solomon seemed 
 to take him for granted — that is to saj, there 
 appeared not the shadow of a doubt upon the 
 money-lender's mind as to his respectability or 
 character, and it was a problem which Edgar 
 found more difficult of solution than many of 
 Euclid's, as to the means by which the shrewd 
 old man was enabled to form so sudden an esti- 
 mate of his position. Did he have dealings with
 
 152 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 the devil ? He had heard of an old woman about 
 " his parts" — that is, the country where he was 
 born — who had dealings with that mysterious 
 character! And perhaps Solomon had? If so, 
 he would be a rather dangerous person after all. 
 
 It is only just to acknowledge that these sur- 
 mises were rather the result of a jocular humour 
 than of serious thought. Edgar was not supersti- 
 tious, but he possessed that pleasurable sensation 
 of doubt about the matter of supernatural influ- 
 ences and beings, which usually pertains to per- 
 sons of strongly romantic natures. 
 
 It was a great relief to Edgar's mind to find 
 himself thus unexpectedly free from debt, that is 
 to say, BO far as his tradesmen were concerned. 
 There would be a time, certainly, when the bill 
 would fall due, but it could be renewed ad libitum^ 
 and almost, it appeared, ad infinitum. The money- 
 lender was a very chatty, pleasant sort of fellow 
 in his way, and if he charged a somewhat heavy 
 interest, it was no more than the money ad- 
 vanced was absolutely worth ; at all events, it
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 153 
 
 was far better to owe him than the many little 
 paltry fellows, who would injure his reputation 
 by speaking of him as a man whom it was 
 dangerous to trust ; besides, here was not only the 
 way to pay creditors, but also of obtaining cash for 
 other purposes. Bills were a capital invention, and 
 (by an inversion of the phrase) they were an in- 
 vention of capital. Job was a clever fellow, and 
 as Job had once said, if the crisis should at last 
 come (and who can provide against adverse Fate, 
 so as to be prepared for her at every corner ?), 
 the world will be much more disposed to sym- 
 pathise with a young fellow whose only fault is 
 being indebted to a money lender, than with one 
 who owes innumerable little accounts, which 
 start up on all sides like tantalizing spirits to 
 torment the poor insolvent. It is well known, 
 too, that juries have no sympathy with money 
 lenders ; but they have for small tradesmen. The 
 man's a downright rogue who doesn't pay the 
 latter, but he is merely an unfortunate victim 
 who writhes in the iron grasp of the former. 
 
 H 5
 
 154 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 Such was Job's line of argument, as the two 
 returned from the house of the Jew, after tran- 
 Bacting the little business on the stamped paper. 
 The little business was simply this — Job drew, 
 and Edgar wrote his name as acceptor, while 
 Solomon, who advanced the money, was what is 
 called payee, and the bill was to fall due in three 
 months time. It was a curious invention, thought 
 Edgar, as simple as A B C, so far as the ma- 
 chinery was concerned, but he was somewhat 
 puzzled, at first, to comprehend how in the 
 world Job had any business to ask him to 
 pay Solomon so much, and how Solomon had any 
 business to advance so much on the mere autho- 
 rity of that order ; he owed Job nothing, and the 
 money leader owed him nothing, and yet it was 
 his duty to advance, or, in spite of the paper it 
 seemed Edgar would owe him nothing. But in 
 time he got very learned, under Job's friendly 
 tuition, in the theory and practice of '^ billing 
 it," After a while, he found that it was posi- 
 tively possible to coin money — ay, almost as
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 155 
 
 much as he pleased ; for he learned that there 
 were " accommodation acceptances," and more- 
 over, that bills were negotiable, and as his 
 knowledge became still more expanded, he dis- 
 covered that he, and Job, and Friday, could make 
 almost as good paper money as the Bank of 
 England. It was a strange scheme that ; a 
 wonderful process ; even Friday could help make 
 money, and the great wonder to Edgar was that 
 everybody did not adopt the same plan. He had 
 often thought that money was merely the repre- 
 sentative of wealth, and not wealth itself; but 
 he had never dreamt of stumbling upon a down- 
 right practical illustration of it. Here it wan 
 beyond all doubt, and if all mankind would only 
 agree to take bills of one another, what a mar- 
 vellously advantageous thing it would be for 
 society ! 
 
 This thought seems to have been acted upon by 
 our friends on the other side of the Atlantic during 
 the civil war, and the great developer of the 
 scheme of " billing it," was an ingenious indi-
 
 156 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 vidual, whose omnipotent ** Greenbacks'* have 
 earned him more celebrity than he'll know what 
 to do with. 
 
 Yes, Friday couldhelp tomake bills ; and Friday 
 helped in all possible ways, for he was as active 
 in the business as a blacksmith's apprentice at 
 shoeing a horse during the first week of his term. 
 He did whatever ^^ master" told him ; and as it 
 matters little to the youthful blacksmith whether 
 he is told to hold up a horse's leg or hold 
 down a horse's head, so it was very unimportant 
 to Friday whether he drew, accepted, or was payee. 
 To write his name with single letters ; that is to 
 say, without any one joining another, was all the 
 penmanship that Friday could boast of; and, as 
 before intimated, it was all that was necessary for 
 his present situation, although he did feel 
 proud when he was waiting at table to hear him- 
 self spoken of as " my clerk." Job generally 
 preferred the character of accommodation acceptor, 
 but it appeared to make no difference whatever, 
 how the signatures stood ; for, on presenting them
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 157 
 
 to Solomon they were always cashed. They were 
 not always cashed for the amount they purported 
 to represent, though that- was of little consequence, 
 as, if the actual sum required was twenty pounds, 
 it was only to draw the bill for thirty, and Solo- 
 mon became, in legal phraseology, " a bond, fide 
 holder for valuable consideration " — a person to 
 whom the law pays very great respect indeed. 
 
 There came a time when these bills, one after 
 another, became due, and with that regard for 
 punctuality which these mercantile documents 
 always demand, they were regularly presented, 
 and renewed. Edgar made himself very com- 
 fortable about them, and seemed to think that 
 he was making money fast. Job was always his 
 best friend, and even occasionally took the liberty 
 of checking him when he thought he was launch- 
 ing out too far. 
 
 On one occasion especially, Job extended his 
 familiarity to a great length. It was at Edgar's 
 lodgings. Perhaps it was the wine that inspired 
 Job with so much boldness ; perhaps it was only
 
 158 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 friendship ; but whatever it was, he certainly was 
 bold enough to hint that it was extravagant of 
 Edgar to think of the lodgings he had looked at 
 
 in street. 
 
 «^ What's a fellow to do?" said Edgar. " Must 
 have a place, you know." 
 
 '^ It's true," said Job, *' but suppose Solomon 
 calls in his money ?" 
 **By Heaven I No fear of that, is there?" 
 " I don't say there is ; but he's the sort of fel- 
 low, you know, that doesn't like to see his friends 
 rushing into extravagance." 
 
 " What difference can it make to him. ?" 
 " Why, you see, the old man doesn't lend to 
 every one. Must be a gentleman.*' 
 "Well!" 
 
 " For instance, he wouldn't take Friday's bill," 
 "Why not? He does take Friday's bills." 
 "Well, yes, so far; but you see the law of 
 bills of exchange is somewhat curious. I think 
 you said you have not studied it." 
 '* I know what a bill is."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAJS'K. 169 
 
 " Exactly ; but their nature is peculiar. You 
 see, if Friday draws, and you accept, it makes 
 no difference to him, because he has nothing, 
 and the consequence is, Solomon would lose all 
 if you couldn't meet it." 
 
 '' I should renew it, of course." 
 
 " Of course, mj dear fellow. I am only put- 
 ting the case ; but now suppose you draw and 
 Friday accepts." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He being the party primarily liable, Solomon 
 looks to him." 
 
 "ExacJy." 
 
 " And ho having nothing wherewith to meet it, 
 Solomon naturally looks to you." 
 
 " And I should renew." 
 
 *' Just so ; but then suppose I draw and you 
 accept ?" asked Edgar, 
 
 **Then I, being an accommodation acceptor, 
 should not be primarily liable. You would still 
 be the party." 
 
 ** And why is not an accommodation acceptor 
 liable?"
 
 160 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 ** Because lie has no eflPects of the drawer, and 
 merely does it for his benefit." 
 
 "It's hard a fellow is to be dictated to by 
 Solomon/' said Edgar. 
 
 "He's the dictator of more than you or I 
 know of," said Job, sipping his wine, " a wily 
 old skinflint." 
 
 " But I don't owe him much." 
 
 "No," said Job, "but if he called it in?" 
 
 The " if" certainly looked bigger in the eyes 
 of Edgar than any other word of two letters ever 
 did before. He paused, drank, lit his cigar, and 
 crossed his legs. 
 
 '' Called it in," he thought, " Hem !" 
 
 " Is he afraid of me?" asked Edgar. 
 
 " My dear Hindly, you speak as if I were the 
 greatest friend the old money-lender has in the 
 world." 
 
 "And you yourself speak as if you were," 
 answered Edgar. 
 
 " You mistake me ; I speak as a friend to you. 
 I know the old fellow better than you, because I 
 have had, unfortunately, more dealings with
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 161 
 
 him, and I well know that he keeps a sharp eye 
 on his debtors." 
 
 '^Debtors!'' said Edgar. "I look upon him 
 as a banker." 
 
 Job laughed. 
 
 "I'm afraid our deposits," said he, "hardly 
 entitle us to call him by that title." 
 
 " You said just now," replied Edgar, " that he 
 would not lend to persons of Friday's stamp." 
 
 «* Certainly I did." 
 
 " And why not? — because he is worth nothing ?" 
 
 ^' Exactly !" said Job, exulting at the success 
 which he appeared to be achieving. 
 
 " But he knows that you and I are worth pro- 
 perty." 
 
 *' He knows we shall be ; but I have steered 
 clear of the fellow's interference by raising money 
 upon my reversionary interest." 
 
 " And I could do the same," said Edgar, *' and 
 pay him at once, and I will." 
 
 '* You are too hasty, Hindly. One hardly 
 dares offer you the least bit of advice before—"
 
 162 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Nay," said Edgar, " you wrong me. I am 
 not hasty; but what you have done I can do, 
 and it will be much better than reviving these 
 bills." 
 
 "I can't say it's so much better," replied 
 Hawkins. " I did it because I wanted a good 
 sum, and the old fellow wanted more tangible 
 security, as he called it, than a mere piece of 
 paper. He said it was time I gave him real 
 security, for I owed him, I think, about fifteen 
 thousand." 
 
 Edgar did not start at the sum, for figures 
 had so dwindled in his eyes that the amounts 
 they represented were nothing in appearance to 
 what they were in reality. " Bills" had worked 
 a wonderfal alteration in the value of money 
 during the last twelve months, and he could easily 
 have disposed of more money than Raymond was 
 worth without thinking himself extravagant, or 
 at all in danger of becoming a spendthrift. The 
 truth was, something was wanted to compare 
 money with, in order to restore it to its
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 163 
 
 proper value in Edgar's estimation. He had 
 been accustomed to write fifty and to receive 
 twenty, with various pieces of jewellery and other 
 trinkets, estimated at twenty more. Then he 
 lived at a dear rate, and everything costing about 
 twice its legitimate value, his ideas of money 
 became very much lower than what they had 
 been some years ago, when he would have thought 
 three or four guineas a very acceptable return for 
 a week's toil. 
 
 *• I shouldn't be rash, Hindley," resumed Job, 
 "and even if the worst comes to the worst, I cer- 
 tainly should not advise you to do as I did. I 
 mortgaged to this devil because he pressed me 
 for cash. But, in plain truth, it isn't cash he 
 really wants, but security. He would be very 
 glad, I dare say, to merge your present liabilities 
 in a mortgage, and advance you a good sum into 
 the bargain; but don't do it — don't do itJ*^ 
 
 Although Edgar spoke fluently enough of 
 mortgages and reversions, he hardly knew 
 whether, in point of fact, he had anything to
 
 164 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 mortgage, and his ideas of a reversionary inte- 
 rest were very far from correct. He knew 
 he had a legacy in the funds from which he 
 had derived a small income since he attained 
 his majority, and which might have been 
 sufficient for any student of moderate tastes 
 and inexpensive habits. As he had just turned 
 twenty-one, the whole sum was at his dis- 
 posal ; and although this circumstance was not 
 known to himself, it was within the know- 
 ledge of his friend Job, whose business it was 
 not only not to conceal what he knew of the 
 matter, but to make it perfectly clear to Edgar's 
 mind that it was so. It required, certainly, 
 a great amount of tact and subtlety to im- 
 part the information, — however it must be done. 
 It need hardly be added, that Solomon knew 
 also a great deal more of Edgar's position and 
 circumstances than he knew himself, although he 
 was not so well acquainted with them as Job; for 
 there were little legal points which must have 
 been overlooked by one unversed in the techni-
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK, 165 
 
 calities of that mysterious science, of which to 
 know a little is more dangerous than to know 
 nothing. But Job was a deep lawyer in every 
 sense ; he might have been a capital finger-post, 
 but the misfortune was that he pointed in two 
 directions at the same time, neither far from right, 
 but both absolutely wrong. His advice was 
 always as nearly sound as advice could be — to be 
 false at the same time; and he was so subtle 
 an argner that he could enforce it with the 
 authority of apparent reason not only against 
 the ignorance of others, but also in the face of 
 his own convictions. Frequently he referred his 
 schemes to Biblical test, and if they were Bible 
 proof they were perfectly correct: forgery, for 
 instance, was no where forbidden ; at all events, 
 there was no such commandment as thou shalt 
 not forge. 
 
 *• It will be time enough," said Edgar, " to 
 think of mortgaging when I am obliged to." 
 
 '' Any time will do for me, my dear fellow," 
 said Job. " I have no wish to give you advice —
 
 166 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 far from it — far from it — wouldn't insult you, 
 Hindly. Merely say mortgaging is rather ex- 
 pensive, especially where fellows are fastidiously 
 scrupulous about title. The fact is, funded pro- 
 perty after all is preferable to land : you can do 
 what you like with that — draw, add to — sell out 
 — anything — no mortgage — no deed — no any- 
 thing. Hem I This is devilish good wine, 
 Hindly— deal at the old place ?" 
 
 '* The old place. I suppose a fellow can sell 
 out at twenty-one — but there, it's killing the 
 goose for the sake of the eggs.'* 
 
 " Depends upon whether a fellow wants all the 
 eggs at once, or whether he can wait to have 
 them eked out to him one at a time." 
 
 " But could I sell out if I wanted to ?" 
 
 ^' If you have anything to sell, and the terms 
 of the gift enable you to do so." 
 
 «^Then I can't," said Hindly. "It's left to 
 me, I think, on condition that I do not sell it." 
 
 "Then you can sell," said Job, laughing. 
 " And if it were left to me like that, 1 would sell
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 167 
 
 for the sake of showing my contempt of the con- 
 dition." 
 
 '" But how is it?" asked Edgar. 
 
 " The condition is simply void, that's all. But 
 I must leave you, Hindly — it's late." 
 
 Job rose to depart, but the thought suddenly 
 crossed his mind that one of the bills fell due on 
 the morrow, of which fact he thought it prudent 
 to remind his friend. 
 
 " Which is that?" asked Edgar. 
 
 Job drew out his pocket-book, and, after 
 turning over the leaves in a businesslike manner, 
 said it was the " two thousand ;" hastily closing 
 it again, and fastening the clasp, he thrust it into 
 his pocket, shook his friend warmly by the hand, 
 pronounced a blessing which would better have 
 become the lips of Isaac as he parted from his 
 hairy son Esau, and wished him good-night. 
 
 Edgar didn't utter a blessing on the bill, but 
 said something indicating a very unchristian 
 sentiment, and for the first time, perhaps, felt 
 uneasy about his circumstances. Job was a good
 
 168 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 friend he knew, and probably the conversation 
 had more meaning than his friendship allowed 
 him to impart. He knew that Job stood 
 "with him in his difficulties, was involved with 
 him, and perhaps he had received some in 
 timation from Solomon that he did not like 
 to communicate; however, what should he care 
 for ? he had his stock which Job said he could 
 sell ; and if he could by that means get rid of 
 Solomon, he would take good care to have no 
 more dealings with him. But what was to be 
 done after that ? Throw himself upon his father's 
 charity he would not; he would rather shoulder a 
 bricklayer's hod, or sweep a crossing. And his 
 mother must not know of his distress, if dis- 
 tressed he should be, for she had been flattered 
 with the hope that he was doing well — her 
 jewellery must go. America — yes, there was 
 America. He could sell out and leave Solomon 
 in possession of dishonoured bills — necessity 
 would be his apology, it is a stronger law than 
 honesty after all. But yet he should disgrace
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 169 
 
 the name of Hindly — he should disgrace his 
 mother — he should be unworthy of Lizzy, and she 
 was the strongest link that bound him to his fate ; 
 her love pleaded stronger than his high principle. 
 It was with the firm resolution of pursuing 
 an honest path that he retired to his chamber, 
 sick of life's dissipation, and disgusted with the 
 phantoms of its hollow pleasures that flitted 
 around his couch. His mind certainly was ex- 
 cited, but the mist which enveloped it magnified 
 rather than obscured the vivid realities which 
 started up before him. His visions were 
 various and multiform. At one time he saw 
 pleasure in the shape of a butterfly with beautiful 
 transparent wings, tinted with every hue ; 
 suddenly it changed into a huge hornet with a 
 largej^sting, horrible to look at; now he was 
 in a garden where clothes were hanging out 
 to dry, and as he gazed at them they be- 
 came metamorphosed into bills. Then he 
 thought he saw the devil in the shape of a big £ ; 
 and then he was at his mother's bedside — her face 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 was pale, her cheeks hollow; her eyes glared 
 at him, but without a glance of recognition 
 •'—no kindness, no love there now. Why did 
 she look so? Why did she not stretch out 
 her hand to welcome her son — was it those 
 accursed bills ? Had she learnt that he was 
 leading a dissipated life ? that he was unworthy 
 the name he bore ? that he even contemplated 
 crime itself? Why were those lips not parted 
 with that endearing smile that had ever greeted 
 him in his early days ? why were they so 
 rigidly shut, as if sealed together in anger ? He 
 tried to call her, but he was dumb. Was he un- 
 worthy again to utter that beautiful word? 
 Were they for ever severed ? He gazed madly — 
 horror crept through his frame — no greeting ! 
 Will she not raise her hand once more to wel- 
 come him ? He reaches towards it — 'tis cold — 
 no welcome there — no motherly grasp, no more 
 embracing — 'tis cold and stiff, and the arm 
 is heavy. A thrill of horror runs through his 
 veins, he drops the hand. Almighty Heaven I
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 171 
 
 she is dead! The tears gush forth, and he 
 awakes, his mind confused with the terrible 
 vision, but he is relieved from its awful agony by 
 the consciousness that it was but the phantom of 
 a diseased imagination. 
 
 It was a strange dream, and Edgar could 
 almost have persuaded himself that he had not 
 slept — yet such horrible visions never in the 
 hours of perfect sanity disturb the mind unless 
 in sleep. 
 
 iZ
 
 172 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN A NEW CHARACTER. 
 
 A CAREER of early extravagance generally casts 
 its shadow through the long vista of our future 
 life, and he who, in the outset, spends the energies 
 of youth in heaping obstacles in his path ex- 
 periences a sad vexation of spirit when his 
 waning manhood is tasked to remove them. 
 But of all the schools where wisdom is taught, 
 in which, save that of experience, is it 
 really learned? Vice is photographed by
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 173 
 
 novelists in all its attractive shapes, denounced 
 from the pulpit, and punished by the legislature ; 
 still, vice reigns triumphant on her gorgeous 
 throne, defying laws and preachers, novelists 
 and moralists. Her sceptre gives pleasure, and 
 her robe, despite the miseries it hides, is beautiful 
 in the extreme; it never waxes old, and its 
 glowing hues never fade. She has a thousand 
 pleasures at her command, and while she can 
 bribe her idolaters, she will never lack idolaters 
 to bribe. She never frowns upon her votaries, 
 and preserves even a placid countenance for her 
 enemies. The very preacher who has just divested 
 himself of his gown dares not indulge a glance 
 at her beauteous form, for fear her bewitching 
 smiles should fascinate him. How, then, is 
 wisdom to be learned ? 
 
 There was nothing peculiar in the will of 
 Edgar's grandfather ; the money was to accumu- 
 late till Edgar was twenty-one, and then he was 
 to enjoy the interest. But he had contracted 
 debts before and after he was of age, and double
 
 174 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 the amount of the legacy would not have cleared 
 him. 
 
 By some means or other Solomon had become 
 aware of the fact that the greater portion of the 
 bills had been drawn during his client's minority, 
 although that was a circumstance which Job had 
 taken care to conceal from him till the last moment. 
 But even such friends as Job and Solomon some- 
 times fall out, and the matter of dispute between 
 them was simply a refusal on the part of the old 
 man to make any more advances until he had 
 better security. Job was reluctant to give it, for 
 he could not well conceal the circumstance without 
 a considerable change in his father's property ; he 
 had none of his own, and therefore must bor- 
 row his father's deeds if he yielded. 
 
 The money-lender was firm, and threatened 
 proceedings and exposure. Job was equally de- 
 termined, and communicated to him the startling 
 fact that Edgar was not of age when the principal 
 part of the money was lent. The old man saw 
 his dilemma with rage, and threatened that all
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 175 
 
 the vengeance which his horse pistol contained 
 should be discharged at the pair of them. But a 
 compromise was effected. Job was to save his 
 friend Edgar's honour and his friend Solomon's 
 money at the same time, and by the same means, 
 namely, by inducing the former to settle up, or 
 to draw a fresh bill for the whole amount due. 
 Solomon preferred the former mode of proceed- 
 ing, and promised an advance of half if success- 
 fully accomplished, at the same time without any 
 intention of keeping his word if he could avoid it. 
 Job, on the other hand, intended to employ some 
 portion of the legacy in taking a mortgage on a 
 small estate in which Edgar had a reversionary 
 interest, then to induce Solomon to take another, 
 and then by the legal system of tacking a third 
 to the first to squeeze the cunning money-lender 
 out of the second. There were legal quicksands 
 to avoid, but Job's patience was equal to his 
 dexterity. 
 
 Meanwhile Edgar was tortured with apprehen- 
 sion lest the evil day which Job had warned him
 
 176 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 against should come. It was true he had several 
 expedients to resort to ; but one would leave him 
 without honour^ another without money, and a 
 third without friends. Which should he adopt ? 
 The plea of infancy would ruin his character, pay- 
 ment would demolish his grandfather's legacy, 
 and emigration would destroy his prospects. 
 In the midst of his perplexity a letter arrived 
 from Solomon. It was couched in very respect- 
 ful language, but in a very business-like 
 style, concise, and to the point. Edgar read 
 it, and flung it on the floor, where it was taken 
 up by a kitten, to which it afforded more 
 amusement than it did to Edgar. 
 
 *^An old wretch!" exclaimed Hind ly. "He 
 knows I can't pay him ; he must wait." 
 
 It was a great trial of moral courage, that letter 
 of Solomon's. Edgar, with all his integrity and 
 high principle, never in his life felt so great an 
 inclination to turn rogue as he did at that moment. 
 " Infancy " would save him, and if Solomon could 
 not wait it should. But what would Job think ?
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 177 
 
 Job, he remembered had introduced him to Solo- 
 mon, and had certainly been a friend to him ; lie 
 would not like to compromise Job's honour if 
 he had no regard for his own. 
 
 It was early in the evening when the letter ar- 
 rived ; he suddenly resolved to seek his confiden- 
 tial adviser^ with a view of ascertaining the best 
 course to pursue. So, giving the kitten a buffet- 
 ting with his handkerchief for the part she had 
 played with the document, he snatched up the 
 tattered letter, and thrusting it into his pocket, 
 hurried off to his friend. Friday opened the door. 
 
 " Mr. Hawkins at home?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Friday, " but he told me to say 
 if you called that he was at the meetin' for the 
 propergation of the eathern in furrine parts." 
 
 " At what ?" demanded Edgar. 
 
 " At the meetin', sir." 
 
 " Meeting ! Does Mr, Hawkins attend meet- 
 ings ?" 
 
 " Lor bless yer, sir, him and Miss Marther, and 
 MissMayery is the werry 'eads on 'em all." 
 
 I5
 
 178 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Miss who ?" 
 
 ** Miss Marther and Miss Mayery, where I used 
 to be." 
 
 " But what's their other name ?" 
 
 '^ Their t'other name ? One on 'em's Grundy 
 — that's Miss Marther ; dunnow t'other, for we 
 alius called her by her Chrischine name." 
 
 " Then they're not sisters ?" 
 
 " One on 'em is," said Friday ; " but tother one 
 had two farthers." 
 
 " And what did you leave for ?" 
 
 ** To come to Mr. Hawkinses." 
 
 «^ And a valuable acquisition you are," said 
 Edgar. 
 
 *' What did yer say, sir ?" 
 
 " You're a devilish clever fellow." 
 
 Friday grinned with exultation, for it was a 
 new triumph to relate at the " Green Dragon " 
 Tap. 
 
 " And how old are these Grundys ? " aaked 
 Edgar. 
 
 "Old, air? Fsh think one's about two or
 
 MAYFAJR TO MILLBANK. 179 
 
 three-and -forty, and the t'other about, I'sh 
 
 think, about forty-two or three." 
 *^ PiouS) I suppose ?" 
 
 "Owdacioas pierse— prays like anythink." 
 ^' I wonder their good example didn't make 
 
 you better." 
 
 «^ Didn't what, sir?" 
 
 " Didn't make you better." 
 
 " It couldn't make me no better nor I be ; 
 it's a mussy I's so good siderin' I never had no 
 mother and no father." 
 
 " No mother or father ? " 
 
 " Well, Ib'lieve how Miss Marther got hold of 
 me was as I comed in a parcel, and she's often 
 said it was a werry good job as I did, an' she 
 often said as how I was some gentleman's son, 
 as sure as eggs." 
 
 " You are extremely like one, certainly. So 
 she kept you as a speculation?" 
 
 " As a wot, sir ?^' 
 
 " To see if she could make anything of you."
 
 180 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " She said she'd make a man o' me.'' 
 *^ And kept her promise, I see." 
 
 " I should ha bin a clergymin, I Vlieve, if she 
 could ha had her way, for she trained me hard for 
 it" 
 
 •' You say Mr. Hawkins is at the meeting. 
 Where is it?" 
 
 *' You goes down there; you see where them 
 two lamps hangs ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then, down there, and then to yer left, the 
 fust to yer right and there y'ar' — it's a 'all, sir." 
 
 Edgar took the way indicated, and arrived at 
 the building in which the meeting was held just 
 as Mr. Hawkins was in the midst of a very elo- 
 quent appeal to his audience. 
 
 There was a deep silence which was only 
 broken by an occasional sniff from Martha, or a 
 prolonged sigh from Mary, whom it was easy to 
 distinguish by the prim, upright manner in which 
 they sat in front of the speaker ; their eyes in-
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 181 
 
 tently fixed upon him and their large bonnets 
 forming a kind of canopy, or half-tester, of no 
 contemptible dimensions. 
 
 Edgar had never heard his friend address an 
 audience before, and his astonishment at the 
 devoted manner in which he espoused the holy 
 cause may be conceived. Indeed, Job was a 
 speaker of no mean order ; there was correctness 
 in his periods and melody in his voice ; his gesture 
 was easy and his language choice ; nothing of 
 pomposity — nothing of declamation, but all 
 was simple, easy and unaffected ; he was a na- 
 tural and not an artificial speaker, and the manner 
 in which he dilated upon the ignorance of the 
 benighted heathen was worthy of a better heart 
 and a less designing mind. The effect, however, 
 was the same ; the tears rolled down the rivulets 
 of Martha's cheeks, and the soft breezes of Mary's 
 sighing fully justified the expression which Job 
 applied to them after it was all over, that there 
 had been much wind and rain. 
 The plates went jound, and the dropping of
 
 182 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 the silver made a very agreeable sound to the 
 ears of the champions of the cause ; Martha 
 and Mary deposited their mites as they called 
 them, though neither of the fair givers was a 
 widow ; and it is only just to add that, in spite of 
 a great deal of fanatical zeal, with which they con- 
 soled themselves by terming religion, and a great 
 deal of over painstaking righteousness which al- 
 most approached hypocrisy, they certainly invested 
 their little savings with a spirit which was almost 
 worthy of being called charitable. 
 
 A vote of thanks to the chairman, Mr. Hawkins, 
 followed with a well-earned eulogy on his address, 
 and the meeting separated ; Job, after introducing 
 his friend Edgar to the Grundys, acccompanying 
 them home. 
 
 One would have imagined as the party sat 
 down to tea that they had been to a funeral — the 
 ladies sighed so frequently. Job wore a calm, 
 and even solemn aspect, in keeping with 
 the company and the occasion, and Edgar looked 
 demure as he cursed in his heart the infernal bills.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 183 
 
 The night air was chilly and Job and his friend 
 had some distance to go. The conversation, 
 chiefly on religious topics, had been prolonged to 
 a late hour, and Martha persuaded the young 
 champion of the heathen that a glass of brandy 
 would not hurt him. Job was afraid, so un- 
 accustomed was he to touch anything but toast 
 and water, and very frequently the toast made 
 the water too strong for him ; but as Martha 
 was so pressing he would just try a little diluted 
 with some hot water and a small lump of sugar ; 
 Mr. Hindly would do the same. Perhaps he 
 would mix it himself, yes he would — there, just 
 the veriest drop — so— ho— that would do ; Martha 
 didn't see how much. Edgar tried about the same 
 dose. Where did Martha buy her brandy? Who 
 was her wine merchant? She had none; she 
 merely kept it in the house in case of illness.
 
 184 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 '* Well, Hindly," said Job, taking the arm of 
 his disconsolate friend, "how did you find me 
 out?" 
 
 " That youth — what do you call him ?" 
 " Friday. 0, to be sure, I left word. I sup- 
 pose you were surprised to find me on the plat- 
 form ?" 
 
 "And more surprised to hear your speech," 
 said Edgar.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 185 
 
 Job smiled, ^^ Yon see I go in for anything, 
 Hindlj. What do yon think of the Grundys ?" 
 
 ** They seem very good persons," answered 
 Edgar. 
 
 " They are the strangest compound of piety 
 and humbug I ever knew," said Job. 
 
 " Hypocrites ^" 
 
 " Not exactly hypocrites ; I believe they are 
 sincere enough with regard to religious matters, 
 but, like too many, are fond of an ostentatious 
 display of their piety. They give of their means, 
 but take good care that the plate rings of the metal 
 they fling into it If a society or an individual 
 wants their charity it has only to be intimated to 
 the Grundys that the list will be published. As 
 annual subscribers they appear in the reports of 
 several of the best institutions." 
 
 " They do good at all events," said Edgar. 
 
 "They do good it is true, but it's humbug 
 after all ; vanity and not charity, is at the 
 bottom of it." 
 
 "Nay," said Edgar, "there may be both."
 
 186 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 ^* Well, it may be. It may spring from the 
 purest motives, but I have seen so much'^of this 
 charitable display that I mistrust the sincerity of 
 the advertising giver." 
 
 *' But it does as much good, proceed from 
 whatever cause it may/' said Edgar. " However, 
 you seem on pretty friendly terms with them." 
 
 " I have my part to play," said Job. '^I got 
 acquainted with them through Friday, which 
 led to a little professional business, that's 
 all. They are perpetually inviting me to these 
 meetings, and I go sometimes, really for the 
 sake of obliging them; but it's expensive 
 work'* 
 
 ^' Do you give ?" 
 
 " Of course. Whether I have the money or have 
 to borrow it, I must give." 
 
 '^ I should cut it," said Edgar. 
 
 " Hem ! It would be better ; but perhaps it's 
 as well as it is — may eventually do good. By 
 the way, I suppose you have heard from Solo- 
 mon?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 187 
 
 " Yes," said Hindly, *' that is what I wanted to 
 see you about." 
 
 " I thought you had from your manner ; wants 
 the cash, of course ?" 
 
 *' He intimates as much, but I can^t do it ; he 
 must renew." 
 
 ** He's a crafty devil," said Job. 
 
 " Crafty as he is," replied Edgar, ^^ I have the 
 means of evading him." 
 
 " Well, so far as that goes," said Job, '* I sup- 
 pose you have, but I should hardly think it 
 worth your while to stake your character by 
 pleading infancy. In fact, I have gone so far as 
 to pledge my word with him that if you do that 
 I will be responsible. That is, I will give him 
 the deeds of an estate which my father has pro- 
 mised to convey to me. Not, mind, my dear 
 Hindly, that ever I entertained such a thought 
 for a moment ; I knew you better than that, but 
 he had a suspicion that you were not of age, and 
 questioned me rather closely upon it." 
 
 *^ Thanks," said Edgar, feeling at the same
 
 188 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 time very keenly the sting which was concealed 
 in his friend*s language, but perceiving nothing 
 of that subtlety which had so opportunely 
 prompted it ; for the first time perhaps in his 
 life he felt shame. Shame that he should 
 have betrayed the slightest intention of playing 
 the rogue, and especially to one who, he had 
 every reason to believe, had based his friend- 
 ship upon his high principle and integrity. So 
 deceptive, and so blind, is human nature. 
 
 It takes a long acquaintance with the world to 
 discover its many windings. The reader, who has 
 been made somewhat acquainted with the character 
 of Job, can hardly conceive of the living im- 
 position that he really was ; even Solomon, 
 whose acute eye would generally discern the 
 least trace of dishonesty in an instant, was 
 equally blind as Edgar to the deception 
 of that consummate master of imposture. He 
 could discover no trace of dishonesty, because 
 Job was too careful to exhibit any. In all his 
 dealings with the men with whom he came in
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 189 
 
 contact^ he was respected as a pattern of honour 
 and uprightness ; if he was a hypocrite, he was 
 one of such perfection that no one perceived it; he 
 was never heard to ridicule religion secretly while 
 in public he professed it ; his private and his 
 public character were consistent, and no one ever 
 heard him utter a sentiment privately which he 
 would have been ashamed openly to avow. It 
 was not for him, therefore, to approve, or even 
 countenance a scheme such as Edgar's words 
 intimated ; and, if the shrewdest observer 
 had studied his physiognomy at the moment 
 when he was uttering one of the greatest 
 falsehoods that ever passed his lips, he would 
 have pronounced him what he seemed, a man of 
 honour, whose keen sensibilities were wounded 
 by the suggestion of a dishonest course. 
 And to speak the truth, even Job himself, in the 
 position of his friend, would have scorned to 
 avail himself of the clumsy subterfuge which the 
 plea of infancy would have afforded, for the 
 evasion of his liabilities ; not only his honest
 
 190 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 character, but his interests would have been 
 compiomised : in point of fact, it would, 
 have been more advantageous to him to 
 pay the bills twice over than, at the outset of 
 life, to declare openly that he was a rogue 
 and a villain. No, his part must be played with 
 the most perfect skill, so that if the world should 
 ever have to pity his misfortunes, it might never 
 censure him for clumsily perpetrated crimes. 
 His skill must be such as would reduce even 
 forgery to a feat of art rather than expose him to 
 the world as a blockhead who mistook his part, 
 and for awhile deceived his audience with a 
 character which even they were shrewd enough 
 to discover. No, Job must be shrewder than 
 his shrewdest spectators ; more cunning than the 
 most critical observers of his actions. There may, 
 then, have been something of real disdain in the 
 manner with which he listened to Hindly, but 
 his disdain was hidden beneath the language of 
 disinterested friendship. 
 
 " What do you propose to do then ?" asked Job.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 191 
 
 ** I cannot tell, unless I sell out ; he seems 
 disinclined to renew." 
 
 '^ Looking at it from a business point of view, 
 we can hardly blame Solomon," said Job ; " be- 
 tween ourselves, we may look at the facts 
 for a moment with Solomon's eyes. The old 
 man, lends for a certain purpose, that of profit ; 
 he has lent to you upon the faith of my intro- 
 duction ; he renews your bills as they become 
 due. There is no offer of payment ; he naturally 
 turns to me, and the thought strikes him that 
 you are not of age; if not, there is the bare 
 chance of your doing what hundreds have done 
 before, and leaving him without pajrment 
 or remedy. It is but natural then, that he 
 should take the course he has adopted." 
 
 ^* But I have no intention to evade payment ; 
 I only want him to renew until a more conveni- 
 ent season.'' 
 
 " Solomon has no faith in more convenient 
 seasons, unless he has the very equivalent 
 of payment in his possession. I am taking
 
 192 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 this view, my dear fellow, in order to dis- 
 possess your mind of any lingering doubt you 
 may have with respect to the consistency of the 
 thing. To me it's a matter of perfect indifference 
 whether you pay, renew, or evade ; that, I be- 
 lieve, you thoroughly understand." 
 
 ^' Then I must sell all I have ; but I do 
 think he has charged me an excessive amount 
 of interest for so short a time. I certainly 
 oomforted myself with the idea that he would 
 not press me." 
 
 *'Make the best bargain with him that you 
 can," said Job ; " you may probably frighten 
 him (if I may use the term) into a compliance 
 with your wishes. That is to say, you may get 
 half the interest cut down." 
 
 " Will you accompany me ?" 
 
 " I think it were better not, for I have in some 
 measure prepared him for the proposal. When 
 he told me that he intended to call in his money 
 through some apprehension, I at once confirmed his 
 suspicion by telling him that if he were to attempt
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 193 
 
 to drive too hard a "bargain lie would in all pro- 
 bability defeat his own purpose. All you have to 
 do ia to be firm, tell hira your position, and the 
 impossibility of your paying so much, and 
 80 on." 
 
 The advice sounded well, and Edgar resolved 
 to proceed at once to the house of the Jew. 
 ^'Whatever you do," added Job, " don't tell him 
 too much ; he is shrewd and cunning, and if he 
 has a suspicion that you have any reversionary 
 interest to lay hold of, he may deceive you 
 with a prodigality of friendship, which, like 
 every other extravagance, is to be avoided. I 
 always suspect the man of immoderate kindness. 
 Let me know how you get on.'* 
 
 There was a commotion in Edgar's mind as he 
 wished his friend good night J and, as he threaded 
 his way through the dingy streets towards White- 
 chapel, the world never seemed so much against 
 him as then ; such a feeling of utter desolation of 
 heart, such a sense of isolation he had never be- 
 fore experienced, and he felt that he was about to 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 cut the only cable that saved him from ship- 
 wreck. The last year of his life passed in rapid 
 review before his mind, and for the first time, 
 perhaps, he knew remorse. He had dissipated all 
 that belonged to him, and wasted what he had 
 once depended upon to secure him from poverty. 
 There was a sickness of heart, and a feeling of 
 inexpressible anguish, without that one only solace 
 which can comfort the unfortunate, namely, that 
 the evils they endure are not the result of their 
 own culpability. Edgar was too well aware that 
 all he now lamented, and all the consequences 
 which he might endure, were traceable to his own 
 folly, and chiefly to his want of firmness and re^ 
 solution. It was in no amiable mood that he 
 lifted the knocker of Solomon's door. His heart 
 heaved as its loud knock resounded through the 
 dismal chambers. He heard a scuffling within, 
 as of the sound of some one hastily retreating, or 
 of something being hurriedly done. And then 
 the old man, hobbling down the passage, with his 
 asthmatical cough, sent a thrill through his veins-
 
 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 195 
 
 Had he been a prisoner, summoned to receive 
 judgment for Lis crimes he could not have 
 experienced a more nervous excitement; and yet 
 Edgar was brave, haughty, and of an inde- 
 pendent spirit Strange that he who would 
 not brook the dictation of a father, proud of 
 ancestral honours, and almost aristocratic dignity, 
 should cower before the approach of a being 
 hardly worthy the name of man, and too ignoble 
 in mien, manners, and person, to be worth the 
 expenditure of a single breath of contempt Yet 
 to him Edgar was come almost as a suppliant 
 for charity — to solicit, at all events, the old man's 
 sympathy, and if possible to win his kindness. 
 
 The Jew no sooner heard who it was than 
 the chuckling and hackering as he unbarred the 
 door betrayed his gratification, 
 
 '^ I did not expect you so shoon, share," said he ; 
 ** indeed I only wrote to you to let you know that 
 I should like to shee you. You shee, I am but a 
 poor man — a vare poor man, and I musht shome- 
 
 K 2
 
 196 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 times have monisli to pay my own vay vith. It's 
 only the — . Come in, share." 
 
 Edgar seemed to hesitate. The place was far 
 from inviting in appearance, and a strange feeling 
 of dread came over him. The atmosphere seemed 
 tainted with an earthy smell, and the whole 
 scene, as it glimmered upon his vision, down the 
 dingy passage seemed pervaded with horror. The 
 old man repeated his invitation — 
 
 '* Come in, share, come in ; you are velcome." 
 " Thank you," said Edgar, " I am sure of it ; 
 but, perhaps we can settle here what little busi- 
 ness I have to transact." 
 
 " Not here," said the Jew, " not here." 
 " You have some one with you," said Edgar. 
 " Not a shoul — not a shoul, by Abraham," re- 
 plied the money-lender ; " but if you like not to 
 come in," he added, with a whisper, " I can fesh 
 de billsh, and you can give me de monish here ; 
 but vhy did you trouble to-night ? I wash in no 
 sush hurry as I told Mr. Hawkinsh. But I musht 
 not shtand here, share ; my cough — "
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 197 
 
 The cougli put an end to this loquacity, 
 and prevented the explanation which Edgar 
 intended to make, for Solomon drew back into 
 the passage, and as he did so the draught, which 
 the movement occasioned, with a sudden gust 
 from without, blew out the light, and left the 
 passage in total darkness. 
 
 " You musht come in now, share. I can't leave 
 the room a moment in thish plashe." 
 
 Edgar entered, and the old man barred and 
 chained the door before he attempted to obtain 
 another light. There was no fear in the breast of 
 Edgar, but some feeling akin to presentiment. 
 What it was he could not divine. There was 
 something of shame, certainly, for he felt as if 
 he were linked to ruin. He had a vague appre- 
 hension that Solomon was a villain ; and the scuf- 
 fling that he had overheard convinced him that 
 he was not alone. Edgar had no weapon of de- 
 fence, even if he should be attacked in that 
 strange den. However, he followed, assuming as 
 much indifference, and determining to manifest 
 as little suspicion, as possible.
 
 108 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 The old man lit a match at the embers of his 
 grate, and once more the gloom of that horrible 
 dungeon was rendered visible. How much more 
 sombre it looked than when he was last there I 
 and how fiendish the cadaverous jaws of that Jew 
 seemed. 
 
 '^ Well, share, you want the billsh ?" 
 
 " You must give me a little longer time," said 
 Edgar. '* I am not prepared yet with the 
 amount due." 
 
 The old man's face assumed an air of savage 
 disappointment. His little blood-shot eyes 
 peered like those of a ferret ready to dart upon 
 its prey. He paused, and seemed to look into, 
 rather than at his victim. 
 
 "What do you proposhe to do, share?" he 
 asked, evidentlv not satisfied with the conclusion 
 to which his survey had led him. 
 
 " You must throw off something of the interest/* 
 said Edgar ; "it is too much." 
 
 ** Too moush I" exclaimed the old man, with a 
 tone of sudden and vehement anger. " Do you 
 mean to sheat me, share ?"
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 199 
 
 " By no means," said Edgar. 
 
 *' Then vhy do you ask me to take lessh than ish 
 due to me? I vill take not one farthings lessh 
 than the shum ; and — there ish the interesht for 
 the bill thish day, which ish the last of grashe, and 
 I shall expect you wiU pay me for the dishonoured 
 bill. I mean the lossh of the monish from thish 
 day to the time vhen you pay me." 
 
 " I wish you good night," said Edgar. ** Yon 
 shall have your money." 
 
 "You must give me your note for it," said 
 Solomon. 
 
 " I shall give you no more note than you have," 
 answered Edgar. '* If my word of honour is not 
 worth taking — " 
 
 " That ish not my businesh way," said the Jew. 
 ** You musht give me your handwriting now. Here 
 ish the paper and ink." 
 
 ** I shall pay you as soon as I have sold out 
 my stock," said Edgar. " If you don't accept 
 my offer, take what the law will give you." 
 
 The old man was exasperated with anger and
 
 200 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 disappointment, for his avarice led him to sus- 
 pect that Edgar intended to avail himself of the 
 plea of infancy. He had not the slightest sus- 
 picion that Edgar was a minor until he learnt it 
 from Job. Edgar's refusal, therefore, -to give 
 him further security confirmed him in the belief 
 that he had been duped, and to such a man 
 nothing save the loss of the money itself could 
 be more maddening. 
 
 Edgar, however, was not to be intimidated, for 
 the more the character of the man unfolded 
 itself before him, the more determined he grew to 
 resist all endeavours to compel him to submission. 
 
 " You will not give me your note," said he. 
 
 " You have already my bills and notes too,'* 
 answered Edgar. " Too many of them." 
 
 " They are not enough," said the Jew. '^ If 
 they vas written on slishes of your very flesh, 
 you know that they would not be enough in 
 law. I should not have lent one penny if I had 
 known you vas not of age. By Abraham 1 1 would 
 shooner blow out my brain sh than do it."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 201 
 
 " You are putting yourself to a great deal of 
 unnecessary trouble," said Edgar. " There is no 
 occasion for any alarm on my account." 
 
 " Then vhy not shign thish paper, and give me 
 shecurity for my monish ? By heaven I you don't 
 leave thish house till you do." 
 
 " Very well," said Edgar. " I advise you, 
 however, to think what you are about to do be- 
 fore you — " 
 
 ^*I don't care for law," said the Jew. "The 
 law vill not give me my rights, but you shall." 
 
 " Every farthing," said Edgar, " but do not 
 think to intimidate me. To-morrow I will 
 sign the paper for the whole amount I owe you. 
 I believe Mr. Hawkins has already pledged you 
 his word for my honesty." 
 
 The old man was read in human nature, and 
 half his knowledge of character would have suf- 
 ficed to convince him that he was listening to the 
 words of a man of honour ; moreover, another 
 consideration actuated him — Edgar was the heir 
 of a wealthy family. He was in debt, and at 
 
 E 5
 
 202 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 variance with his father; his ijaeans, therefore, 
 of support were constrained; he was also pro- 
 fligate, and consequently by far too good a client 
 to lose altogether. With tbe cunning, therefore, 
 and tact of his class, he instantly smothered his 
 disappointment and suspicions. 
 
 " It ish enough," said he. '* Mr. Hindly, I take 
 your vord. I believe in you. Forgive my hashte ; 
 but I have shuffered such losses that a case like 
 thish, vhich would bring ruin if you deceived me, 
 ish enough to make me mad ; but your vords and 
 manner tell me you are a true man. I vill not 
 pressh you." 
 
 ** Yoa shall have your money," said Edgar, 
 *' every penny. It is a bad time to sell, for the 
 funds are low. But the money is yours, not 
 mine. I wish you good night." 
 
 The old ipan conducted him to the door, and in 
 a few moments Edgar was once mare in the 
 street, pursuing his way towards his lodg- 
 ings; cursing bitterly the evil destiny that 
 awaited him, and maddened with the thought
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 203 
 
 that there was no possibility of retracing his 
 steps. He had spent his years in frivolity, and 
 his money in waste ; his education and talents 
 had won him only the applanse of his inferiors ; 
 and all the latent energies of a well constituted 
 mind had been suffered to die out in a life of in- 
 activity and shame. And what was the world to 
 him now ? It had contained objects worth living 
 for; there had been visions of transcendant bril- 
 liancy before him in his earlier years, even amid 
 the follies in which he had indulged, and which he 
 had fully resolved to redeem by his later life. 
 Ambition seemed now like a dead infant in its 
 cradle^ and he felt like the shipwrecked mariner on 
 a rock; whose struggles and whose fate the world 
 would never know.
 
 204 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN DEEP WATEE. 
 
 Another disappointment awaited Edgar. He 
 had hoped his mother would never hear of his 
 misfortunes. No one, perhaps, ever possessed 
 more filial love than he. No mother ever 
 deserved a son's affection more. What was his 
 dismay, then, when he learned that the stock could 
 not be dealt with without her signature? Not 
 for the world would he let her know it. But 
 what could be done ? Grief, shame, and remose 
 sent their pangs like arrows through his soul.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAKK. 205 
 
 If he had ever sought to undeceive his parents 
 with regard to his character, no means could 
 have been adopted more certain of the effect. 
 Mature in years, and ripe in judgment, if 
 judgment could ever belong to such as he, 
 there was no longer the excuse of youth or 
 inexperience to be pleaded for his dissipation. 
 The man who would strip himself of his means 
 of support, and fling himself naked upon the 
 thorns of life, to endure the world's contempt, 
 was no longer to be regarded as a man 
 of parts or ambition. Even his mother must 
 change her admiration into contempt, and her 
 love into anger. His father would have a thorough 
 vindication for the act of discarding him. His 
 name would be handed about as the appendage of 
 a vagabond, and his whole character, from its 
 earliest traits to its latest development, would be 
 the completest picture of a profligate that was 
 ever drawn. It would exhibit the worst features 
 of the prodigal son without the repentant spirit 
 which almost beautifies his guilt, and changes
 
 206 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 condemnation into love. Edgar, if he had played 
 80 well the first scene of the sacred drama, and 
 even if he should be reduced to the hard ne- 
 cessity of enduring the hunger of the second, was 
 yet too proud, to perform the third. He would 
 never return to his father, and admit that ho 
 had offended him. He had wronged himselfy 
 but no one else, and from his own breast he 
 must suffer the pangs of accusation. But his 
 mother must never, never hear of his folly. As 
 God was his maker, that should not be. 
 
 Thus his difficulties thickened around him and 
 he was again and again tempted to fly from the 
 troubles he could not avert, or to use the machinery 
 of the law itself to effect a dishonest purpose. It 
 was something to abandon the prospects of life, 
 clouded even as they were, just as he was about 
 to enter upon a new and better career in a new 
 and better character. In a few more terms he 
 would be called to the bar, and probably then a 
 brighter star would dawn upon his path ; old 
 associations would be broken up, and life in
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 207 
 
 its more serious phase would open upon 
 the more experienced period of manhood. 
 Who knew but he might retrieve the past, 
 and redeem all that he had lost ? then, again, the 
 diflSculty seemed insurmountable, and amid the 
 convulsions of a distracted mind, he reckoned 
 first the value of that little casket of jewellery, 
 then the possibility of another loan from some 
 other money-lender, and last of all the practic- 
 ability of an expedient which nothing but the 
 desperation of his circumstances could have 
 suggested. His debts must be enormous com- 
 pared with the amount which the jewellery 
 could supply, and another loan would but still 
 further involve him, tiU at last, the expedient 
 that seemed the easier to carry out, must be 
 resorted to. But temporary relief twinkled in 
 the dark project with a bewildering beam. 
 Yes, it was by far the easier and better plan ; it 
 was a bold project but it would extricate him from 
 difficulties, and even if it were wrong, there was 
 an excuse for it in his circumstances, and once
 
 208 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK.. 
 
 accomplished he would lay his hand upon his 
 heart and swear to his Maker to lead a life that 
 would redeem the past. Everything should be 
 changed ; old scenes forsaken and his profligate 
 acquaintances abandoned. He would change his 
 lodgings. 
 
 He passed his hand over his throbbing brow 
 and for awhile seemed lost in thought. In the 
 name of Heaven, think ! Think, till the brain 
 returns to its balance ! till Reason once more, if 
 only for a little moment, asserts her supremacy. 
 Think, pause, tremble ere you cross the thres- 
 hold of Guilt. How the brain throbs ! How the 
 temples burn ! Would to Heaven now the bright 
 visions of thy early years could flit before thy 
 remembrance; that the fair pictures of thy 
 youthful dreams could restore thee once more to 
 consciousness ; that the proud and noble spirit 
 could return to thee ; that thou wast indeed 
 that Edgar whom those who censured thee ad- 
 mired ! But all is gone ! One accursed cloud 
 hangs over him, the fear of shame and the dread
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBA.NK. 209 
 
 of exposure. He snatclies a paper from his 
 pocket ; it contains the extract from his grand- 
 father's will. He read and re-read it ; the words 
 were plain ; the funded property was left to 
 Elizabeth Amelia Hindly in trust to apply the 
 interest for the maintenance of Edgar Herbert 
 Hindly till he was twenty-one, and from and after 
 that time in trust to pay the interest to him until 
 she should exercise a power of appointment to 
 the said Edgar Herbert Hindly, absolutely. 
 
 *^ It is true," thought Edgar, " I could sell my 
 interest, but notice would even then have to be 
 given to the trustee, and the amount I should ob- 
 tain would not pay half my liabilities. No ; it 
 must be done ! No lawyer in the world, it was 
 true, with the exception of Job could have got 
 him over this legal difficulty. There must be 
 the transfer, and to that it was necessary to ob- 
 tain his mother's signature. But how should 
 he draw the instrument ? He, so unaccustomed 
 to business, so utterly ignorant of Banking and 
 the affairs of the Stock Exchange ; this only he
 
 210 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 knew, that before he could sell stock it must be 
 standing in his name and not in his mother's. 
 But where was the friend to whom he dared con- 
 fide such a scheme ? There was no villainy in it, 
 it was true ; the gravest charge that could be 
 brought against him was that he had sold his 
 own property without his mother's sanction ; 
 crime there was none, however much of impru- 
 dence there was in the course he contemplated. 
 He turned to his small library and studied that 
 night harder than he had ever studied before ; 
 and then he drew an instrument such as he con- 
 ceived would effect his purpose. A slight glance, 
 however, afterwards sufficed to convince him 
 of his folly. It was hardly likely that his mother 
 would write the whole of the formal document, 
 so he postponed that portion of his difficult task 
 for another hand. 
 
 The following morning found him at his friend'Sc 
 Job was taking his morning cigar. 
 
 Edgar's haggard face and gloomy brow suffici- 
 ently indicated a harassed mind.
 
 MAYFATR TO MILLBANK, 211 
 
 "Why what's the matter, Hindly, you look 
 like a bewildered ghost?" 
 
 '^ I have been to old Solomon's/' said Edgar. 
 
 "Yes, of course, and he wants the money. 
 Exactly as I thought" 
 
 " And he shall have it." 
 
 " Try a cigar," said Job, "and in Heaven's 
 name don't look so careworn over a few infernal 
 pounds. What will you take, sherry ?" 
 
 " Thanks ; but let's to business. I want a 
 lawyer.^' 
 
 " Here you are," said Job, " the very devil at 
 your service. But let's have a little of that 
 horrible gloom off your brow, first," and Job 
 poked the fire with a vehemence that would al- 
 most have verified his assertion, but that 
 his really good natured face forbade the idea of 
 anything but genuine good feeling prompt- 
 ing any of his motives. " Now, my dear fellow, 
 what is it?" 
 
 " 1 find I cannot sell my stock without my 
 mother's signature ; she is trustee."
 
 2\Z MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 Job drew in his cheeks and opened his eyes 
 in a dreadfully frightened manner as though 
 something else very awful was coming. '^ Trans- 
 fer," said he, after he had finished a whistle in 
 imitation of a solemn gust of wind. 
 
 *^ She has also a power of appointment to me," 
 said Edgar. 
 
 '^ The devil she has ;'and how many more bad 
 things are there attending this blessed legacy? 
 A gift over, I suppose, in case she dosen't see fit 
 to exercise it, and you are a very naughty boy?" 
 
 " No gift over," said Edgar. 
 
 " That's a little better law," said Job, '' what 
 else is there then ? How is it worded ; in trust 
 to pay you the proceeds, or to — apply the same — 
 for your maintenance, &c., &c. ?" 
 
 *^ In trust to apply the interest for maintenance 
 till twenty- one and then — " 
 
 '^ I see," said Job, ^' and she is of course 
 willing to appoint thinking you a very likely 
 young fellow to take care of it ? Of course you 
 haven't introduced her to Master Solomon ?
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 213 
 
 Come, cheer up old fellow, you look as though 
 you'd got the cholera. Are you going to send this 
 thing down, then, to your mamma, as a feeler, to 
 see if it comes hack after many days with her 
 signature attached? It will he a very gentle 
 hint, certainly ; she must have every confidence 
 in you and must think you have a vast deal of 
 faith in her ; " and Joh laughed in spite of the 
 serious aspect of his friend. 
 
 " Don't laugh at a fellow's dilemma. I know 
 she'll sign it, of course ; will you draw the thing ?" 
 
 "' Instrument, you mean," said Joh. "What 
 a limh of the law you are. But is it to he by 
 deed?" 
 
 '' A simple writing under her hand" 
 
 " Gregory will do it for you," said Job. " I 
 would rather not, Hindlj." 
 
 There seemed something strange in Job's 
 manner of refusal, hut something still stranger 
 in the fact of it. Could he suspect that Edgar 
 contemplated forging his mother's signature? 
 He made too light of it for such supposition ;
 
 214 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 why then refuse ? He was a friend ; had always 
 been kind him ; why should he refuse to serve 
 him in difficulty? 
 
 ** Nay," added Job, assuming an air of more 
 gravity ; "I will tell you the reason why I de- 
 cline doing it. I have introduced you to that old 
 money-monger, and you are disposing of your 
 grandfather's legacy in order to repay him what yon 
 have borrowed ; if I should appear in the transac- 
 tion, it will not redound to my honour. T will serve 
 you with my last penny ; but I will not aid you 
 in disposing of your birthright. Gregory will do 
 it for you, and it will be ten thousand times better 
 for a stranger than a friend." And Job pushed 
 the decanter towards him, and flung his leg over 
 the arm of his easy-chair, 
 
 " Then I'll tell you what it is, Hawkins. I'll 
 shelter myself under the plea of infancy, and let 
 the old wretch go to Halifax." 
 
 *' Don't be rash, Hindly ; the fact is you could 
 sell under the will—" 
 
 ^' But that would be worse than all, because I
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 215 
 
 should then dispose of all I have, and be obliged 
 to cheat Solomon into the bargain." 
 
 ^' Or out of it," said Job. 
 
 " You must help me, Hawkins ; you can get it 
 done for me — " 
 
 *' Provided you never mention my connection 
 with the transaction," said Job, " on your 
 honour." 
 
 ** On my Eible oath," said Edgar. 
 
 It was arranged; and under Mr. Hawkins' 
 superintendence, there was not a doubt of its 
 being speedily and legally effected ; that is, bo 
 far as the document was concerned. And with a 
 strange feeling of relief, Edgar parted from his 
 companion, too blind to see the madness of his 
 project, or the awful danger he was rushing into. 
 Job, on the other hand, was too much a man of 
 the world, and too well versed in the profoundest 
 of sciences not to perceive the whole plot. But 
 it was not for him to hint a suspicion, far less to 
 prophecy its failure. Not naturally of a bad 
 disposition, it was the more strange that he
 
 216 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 should see Ms friend upon the brink of a precipice 
 and not warn him of his danger. Job knew too 
 well that the consequences of this fatal step 
 might be more awful than Edgar contemplated. 
 The one thought that it was a mere breach of 
 confidence between him and his mother ; the 
 other must have been aware that it would be 
 nothing less than a forgery upon the Bank of 
 England. This never entered into the consider- 
 ation of Edgar, for he had studied little of law 
 since the commencement of his wild and profli- 
 gate career. As he supposed the world to have 
 gone wrong with him, he took the foolish course 
 of going wrong with the world ; and at last his 
 follies seemed developing into crime.
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XVI]. 
 
 SELLING THE FUTURE. 
 
 Edgar was in his chamber alone, seated at his 
 table ; his head rested upon his hand ; a letter 
 was before him, written in a neat, ladylike hand. 
 There was a choking sorrow at his heart, and 
 occasionally a tear fell from his eyes. Surely his 
 tears were all spent when he took his last fare- 
 well of his best, and almost his only friend. !N"o, 
 he was weeoing. He felt ashamed of his weak- 
 ness ; ^^ he had never thought to shed a tear in 
 all his misery ;'' he had thought that a curse or 
 two would have done — a curse upon his evil fate, 
 his perverse fortunes, his perverser self; but it 
 was scarcely his misfortunes or his unhappy 
 course that had forced those tears from his eyes 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 — it was the words of s\veetest kindness that 
 spoke from a mother^s heart in that letter ; the 
 characters seemed to writhe, move up and down 
 on the page, and grow misty. It was the thought 
 that he was using that loving letter to effect a 
 bad and criminal object that weighed down his 
 heart. He had been studying the signature, 
 imitating it — twenty, a hundred imitations were 
 around him ; but close beside the sheet which 
 contained the autograph, was the fatal document 
 with its fac simile. He had been comparing 
 them, and the similarity was almost complete. 
 It was done ; he has only to pass the document 
 from his possession into that of the agent, and 
 his crime is accomplished — the last step will 
 have been taken, and the plunge into that dread- 
 ful abyss, from which God alone can rescue him, 
 will have been made. 
 
 There were many thoughts passing through 
 Edgar's mind as he lay on his bed ; consider- 
 ations of awful moment pressed themselves upon 
 his sleepless brain ; but, strange to say, no appro-
 
 MAYFAIi; TO MILLBAisK, 219 
 
 tensions of the consequences darkened his pros- 
 pect. The fatal fascination of crime was upon 
 him; and what troubled him chiefly, was the 
 folly of his previous course, the deception he was 
 practising upon the best of mothers, and the 
 consciousness that all his talents were at last 
 sacrificed to self-indulgence and dissipation. He 
 recalled the period when the spotless canvas of 
 life was spread before him, ready to take the 
 brilliant picture which nature had gifted him to 
 impart to it. His youthful imagination had 
 often depicted scenes of glorious achievements, 
 such as required only perseverance and energy 
 to accomplish. By nature he was endowed with 
 each ; but now what a blotch, what a daub was 
 that once fair canvas ! The very idealities had 
 vanished ; how could it ever recover its pristine 
 brightness ? It could not. Despair whispered 
 again and again, '^ Never I" Those who had 
 envied him would be glad to find themselves mis- 
 taken in their estimate of his talents ; those who 
 loved him would bestow upon him that worst of 
 
 L 2
 
 220 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 kindness — pity. But reflection brought curses — 
 bitter and heavy curses — curses upon himself, 
 upon his fate, upon the evil genius that had 
 attended his footsteps from his earliest years; 
 and like too many who make shipwreck of their 
 prospects, Edgar reproached fortune instead of 
 himself, forgetting thai the breezes would have 
 urged him as powerfully in the right direction as 
 they had in the wrong, if a better pilot had been 
 at the helm. 
 
 The morning came, and the business of trans- 
 ferring the stock was in hand. Job had recom- 
 mended the broker ; the funds were low, as they 
 mostly are when you want to sell, as though some 
 great political event had been ordered by provi- 
 dence because you want your money. Job bad 
 managed all the legal business with a master's 
 hand, and before night Edgar was in possession 
 of the intelligence that his grandfather's legacy 
 had been disposed of — ^at least so he and so any- 
 one unlearned in legal matters would have 
 believed ; but the facts were simply these : —
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 221 
 
 The stock left by his grandfather stood in the 
 name of Elizabeth Amelia Hindly. Edgar had 
 forged her signature and sold out ; conse- 
 quently as the Bank, and not his mother was 
 responsible, Edgar was liable at any moment to 
 be apprehended on one of the gravest charges. 
 But detection was baffled, the unhappy young 
 man was in possession of his dangerously acquired 
 gold, and with marvellous apathy, believed him- 
 self safe, never dreaming that he had committed 
 a terrible crime. But his difficulties were not 
 over ; the money was less than he had anticipated. 
 Solomon^s interest upon interest had swollen to 
 an enormous bulk, and a debt of great mag- 
 nitude was owing. It was now that the evil 
 day appeared in all its horrors. He went with 
 his friend Job to Solomon's, and a strange 
 scene ensued at that little dark office. The 
 money lender greeted his clients with a chuckle, 
 rubbing his long hands, and toying with his 
 asthmatical cough. Job was in his usual frame 
 of mind ; but Edgar was in a state bordering on
 
 222 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 distraction — he had promised payment without 
 calculating upon the amount of his debts, or the 
 value of the stock. 
 
 Solomon spread the bills before him, and tak- 
 ing a sheet of paper, began to put down the 
 amounts. The first item was more than Edgar 
 possessed ; his heart sunk, and a half-suppressed 
 curse seemed to stiffe him. But the money 
 lender proceeded to dot down the hundreds and 
 hundreds, looking carefully over the different 
 papers, again and again ; now altering a ^ve 
 into an eight, now adding a nought, till at last 
 the sum total was made up — eleven thousand, 
 seven hundred and sixty-five pounds, four shil- 
 lings, and elevenpence. 
 
 *' That ish the amount," said he ; " correct, I 
 bleeve, to a penny." 
 
 ** If we can believe these infernal figures," said 
 Edgar. 
 
 '' Bleeve them," replied Solomon, *^ they are 
 there, sare ; and I would shware by the Prophetsh 
 there ish not one penny too mush; indeed, I
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 223 
 
 Dever dealt with a client on sush easy termsh be- 
 fore. Yon have had a good bargain, share, and 
 there ish no other man in London who would 
 advansh such sums on sush a trifling interest ; it 
 ought to be more, sir, upon my shoul. Mr. 
 Hawkinsh, you know there ish not so eashy a man 
 in the world as I am ; not sho eashy a man with 
 monish. " 
 
 Job smiled ; but it was difficult to understand 
 a smile of Job's. Sometimes it meant acquies- 
 cence, sometimes dissent, sometimes doubt. 
 
 " Ish that right, Mr. Hawkinsh ? Ish that cor- 
 rect?" 
 
 " I am not here to determine differences," said 
 Job ; " and I imagine, at this stage of your 
 transactions, it is too late to enquire as to the 
 advantages of going to one money lender or an- 
 other. You must make your own bargain.'* 
 
 " Thank you, sare," said Solomon, in a tone 
 which indicated his approval of the answer. ** I 
 tink you will find that right, sare." 
 
 Edgar had looked over the figures, but they
 
 224 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 seemed to dance upon the paper. Nines and 
 sixes were confounded; and lie felt helpless, 
 notwithstanding the awful sacrifice he had made. 
 
 " I believe that ish right, sare," repeated 
 Solomon; still no answer was returned. And 
 the Jew glanced over the column again, as if 
 surmising the possibility of a mistake, or that 
 some figure was illegible. 
 
 " That ish a five, sare ; jest let me mark it a 
 leetle plainer, if you please, sare." 
 
 "It's quite plain enough," said Edgar. "I 
 see what it is ; but this is a great deal more than 
 I imagined. I have not received so much." 
 
 " So mush !" exclaimed the Jew, " but you 
 had the wort, and more in de jewellery." 
 
 " You must cut it down,'^ said Edgar. 
 
 " By my sowl, I will not cut down," said Solo- 
 mon; "it is sheap, dirt sheap monish." 
 
 " I say you must throw off a great deal," said 
 Edgar, " or I leave you this alternative — I will 
 never pay a farthing." 
 
 Solomon glared at him with a fiendish expres-
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 225 
 
 sion of countenance ; Ms thin, pale lips quivered, 
 and his bony frame seemed convulsed. 
 
 " Not pay me — not pay me —then by — " 
 
 " Stay," said Job, " anger never settles dis- 
 putes.'* 
 
 " I will not be sheated," said Solomon, foam- 
 ing with rage ; "I will not be sheated of my 
 monish." 
 
 " Nor does my friend wish to cheat ; but you 
 must understand that legally you have no claim 
 upon him for a great deal of it ; let that have 
 some weight in the settlement of this difficulty.'' 
 
 " You have charged me five hundred per cent.," 
 said Edgar, " and I cannot pay it." 
 
 " It ish falsh, sare ; I have sharged five per 
 shent, and the rest is for my trouble and the use 
 of the monish, and leetle enough, too, sare, — 
 leetle enough." 
 
 *^You can afford to throw off something for 
 immediate payment," said Job. 
 
 ** I will throw off de 'levenpence; not one far- 
 
 L 5
 
 226 MAYFAIS TO MILLBANK. 
 
 things more. I will burn the papersh first and 
 hang up on the gallowsh for it." 
 
 " You can have no more than I possess," said 
 Edgar ; " there are five thousand pounds — take 
 it, and — " 
 
 " I vill take it," said Solomon, clutching at 
 the money; " but I vill have more. I vill have 
 all my monish ; 0, yesh, all my monish." 
 
 ** I will be answerable for my friend's honour," 
 said Job. 
 
 " But vill you be answerable for de monish ? 
 — de monish ?" asked Solomon. 
 
 "Let me have some conversation with you, 
 Hindly. Solomon, we will see you again, pre- 
 sently." 
 
 Thus saying, the two friends left the office, 
 after taking an acknowledgment for the amount, 
 and retired to a private room at a neighbouring 
 inn. 
 
 Edgar was extremely depressed, and presented 
 a striking coiitrast to what he had been but two
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 227 
 
 years ago. Job ordered brandy and water and 
 cigars. 
 
 " Come, Hindly, it's no use desponding ; let 
 us think what is to be done. Your legacy, you 
 see, has turned out a failure after all." 
 
 " I don't care a curse what is done," said 
 Edgar. " I have already paid him more than I 
 owed ; let him be content." 
 
 *' Very well," said Job, " I shall not offer any 
 further advice unless you wish; what do you in- 
 tend to do ? You are in want of cash, I suppose ?" 
 
 " I will write home for it," said Edgar, inad- 
 vertently. 
 
 Job smiled. 0, how much there was in that 
 smile ; it seemed like forked lightning in Edgar's 
 eyes — dazzling, bewildering. Was he suspected ? 
 Yes, he must be I He even fancied Solomon 
 himself had suspected him. Fool ! fool ! 0, un- 
 utterable fool that he was I And now he had 
 betrayed himself. No, Job doesn't suspect him ; 
 if he may believe the tone of his answer. 
 
 '^ Write home !" said Hawkins. ^' Your
 
 228 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 parents will think you have made good use of 
 your legacy, certainly." 
 
 '^ I am mad !'* said Edgar. 
 
 " You will be to write home." 
 
 " Lend me what you can," said Edgar, " in 
 Heaven's name, and let me transport myself out 
 of this accursed place ; I cannot endure it longer. 
 As for Solomon, I cannot pay him any more ; I 
 haven't a single shilling in the world.^' 
 
 There was something truly pitiable in Edgar's 
 tone and manner; such dejection never mani- 
 fested itself on the human face ; and anyone who 
 had known him a few months before would 
 scarcely have recognised the features of that 
 emaciated countenance. 
 
 " If you don't pay, I must, that is all," said 
 Job. " I have pledged my word, and my honour 
 is staked upon its fulfilment." • 
 
 " I have sold my all," said Edgar, " and were 
 my life instead of my honour at stake, I could do 
 no more than I have done. God knows I am 
 mined I"
 
 MAYFAIS TO MILLBAls-K. 229 
 
 " Let ns see if we can effect a compromise ; let 
 the old man have an offer of half the amount 
 remaining due." 
 
 " How can I pay it ?" asked Edgar. 
 
 " You can give him a mortgage on your rever- 
 sionary interest in Raymond^s— it must come to 
 you." 
 
 *' Let him have what he can get/' said Edgar, 
 *' I have no more to give him." 
 
 " But you must get money, do what you will ; 
 if you leave London you cannot live on the air." 
 
 " Nor will giving away my future subsistence 
 tend to my present support. I can do no more, 
 Hawkins ; to-morrow I leave this damnable scene, 
 and bitter will be my regret I ever — " 
 
 '* You succumb to difficulties," interrupted 
 Job. 
 
 *' I succumb to rmn^^ answered Edgar, *^ and 
 I wish I had never paid him a farthing." 
 
 " Then I wish I had never seen you, Hindly. 
 I must pay if you don't.'*
 
 230 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " You shall not lose by our friendship, if it 
 should ever be in my power to repay you." 
 
 "Let us send for Solomon," continued Job, 
 " and make the best bargain with him we can. 
 I will mortgage an estate, if he will take a 
 reasonable sum, and make me a further advance ; 
 then if you like to give me what security you 
 can, I will accept it, not by way of recompense, 
 but as an indemnity. I, you know, was of age 
 when you entered into the contracts, when I 
 pledged my honour for their fulfilment; it is 
 therefore just that I . should clear up the matter 
 by some means or other.^* 
 
 Edgar felt the honesty of his friend^s argi ment, 
 and saw the necessity of complying — the stern 
 necessity of poverty. Anything which offered 
 him the means of subsistence, and of escaping 
 from his present dilemma, seemed worth embrac- 
 ing, and a sense of impending danger at last 
 alarmed him ; the deed undone frequently con- 
 ceals its danger behind the necessity or ex-
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 231 
 
 pediency of its performance; but once accom- 
 plished, it is stripped of its false colouring, and 
 stands confessed a naked, and a terrible fact. 
 To Edgar it mattered little now at what sacrifice 
 he escaped the toils that were around him. He 
 was a lion in the net, and the services of a mouse 
 would have been grateful to him at such a 
 moment. He consented ; Solomon was sent for, 
 and once more the two were engaged in an 
 attempt to settle the matters between them. 
 
 Job had cunningly worked round the bastion 
 of his friend's resolution, or, as he termed it, his 
 obstinacy; and having got him to consent 
 to mortgage his interest in Raymond's, it was 
 comparatively easy to obtain for Solomon the 
 advantage of his own position and to drive Edgar 
 at last to the very point against which he had 
 made so resolute a stand. 
 
 " Veil," said Solomon, " you have de monish." 
 
 ** The monish, you old — " 
 
 " Stay, ' said Job, in a half whisper, ** let us 
 take up our position before we begin to attack.
 
 232 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 Mr. Solomon, you see our dilemma ; my friend 
 has no intention to cheat you of a farthing", and 
 the clearest proof of his honesty may be seen in 
 the fact of his having sold, at an immense sacri- 
 fice, his funded property, in order to pay you 
 that which you had really no legal title to 
 demand." 
 
 " Holy Father ! " said Solomon, ^' ish that 
 your Christian dealingsh, to sheat a poor old man 
 like me out of his living ; who lent you monish, 
 and had not one single profits. I tought your 
 lawsh wash for keeping men honesht, and now I 
 shee dey are to make you roguesh." 
 
 " Hold your peace I" exclaimed Edgar, " you 
 infernal Judas ! " 
 
 " Vat you call me, sare P" 
 
 ^' Will you listen to plain reasoning ?'' asked 
 Job ; "if not, go to the devil ! If you are 
 determined to have the law played against you, I 
 can't prevent it. I sent for you, not to quarrel, 
 but to compromise. Will you take two thousand 
 pounds in full of all demands ?'*
 
 MAYTAIR TO MILLBAlvK. 233 
 
 " Two shousliand for five shonshand sheven 
 hundred — by my showl ! — ^by my showl !" 
 
 " Wm you take it ?" asked Job ; '' if not, I do 
 no more." 
 
 '* Paid down into my hand — into my hand de 
 monish ?" 
 
 " I will secure it by mortgaging an estate of 
 mine," said Job. 
 
 " It'sh misherable pay — misherable pays for 
 my — 
 
 '* It's for you to judge whether it's better than 
 none,^^ interrupted Job. 
 
 '' I'll take it," said Solomon, " trushting to 
 the gentleman's honour to pay vhen he comesh to 
 hish property." 
 
 *' ^ow, look," said Job, " Mr. Hindly requires 
 money ; you know his character, and his position ; 
 he is now of age to act for himself ; advance 
 him what he requires on his reversionary interests, 
 and I will prepare a deed to effect the matter 
 between you. Now I want no argument from 
 either side ; if the proposition pleases you, adopt
 
 234 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 it; if not, I leave you to make what bargain 
 you can, for, by Heaven, I will wash my hands of 
 the transaction." 
 
 There was no room for further argument, for 
 Job would listen to none. The old man accepted 
 the proposal, and Edgar thus commenced the 
 process of undermining his future interest in his 
 father's estates. With' what persevering energy 
 he prosecuted the work, under the superintendence 
 of Job, whose engineering talents were equal to 
 every difficulty, need not be told. Edgar found 
 it a source of ready cash ; and his first qualms of 
 conscience having passed away, he sailed away 
 again on the treacherous flood of debt, uncon- 
 scious of his danger, and regardless of his former 
 resolutions.
 
 MAYFAIB TO MILLBANK. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 How uncertaiD is the tide of human affairs ! The 
 great events of life are usually unexpected. The 
 shadows of doubt are dispelled by the first beam 
 of hope that irradiates the horizon. When for- 
 tune shines before us, we seldom look back, and 
 it is only those who have no prospect who turn, 
 their faces from the future and gaze in sombre 
 sadness on the past Then flit the ghosts of our 
 deeds, passing in review upon the shadowy stage 
 of memory, and acting over again the drama of 
 our life ; if happiness and pleasure have been 
 ours, they are reproduced upon the heart ; if vice 
 and iniquity have darkened our early years, they
 
 236 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 hover like clouds upon the conscience, and shade 
 even the brightness of better days. 
 
 A month had scarcely elapsed since the events 
 recorded in the last chapter, when Edgar re- 
 ceived a letter, informing him that his mother was 
 dangerously ill, and requesting his immediate 
 presence at Raymonds. It was the first commu- 
 nication he had received from his father since he 
 left home ; and, written as it was under the most 
 melancholy circumstances, it yet exhibited traces 
 of that cold and haughty dignity which the old 
 man still preserved, and sufficiently manifested 
 the unabated anger which he made no effort to 
 conceal. But Edgar's grief was too deep to ad- 
 mit of any reflection upon his father's harshness. 
 Tears burst from his eyes, and his brain seemed 
 dizzy with excitement. In his thoughtless career, 
 the loss of her, who had ever been his best, and 
 was now his only friend, had never entered his 
 mind, save in that terrible moment when a dream 
 represented her pale corpse to his tortured im- 
 agination. There was no time to lose, and wings
 
 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 237 
 
 themselves would have been too slow to bear him 
 to the bed side of her who desired to see him. 
 
 Who could describe the agony of that journey? 
 the mental anguish he endured as he thought of 
 the last three years of his life ? He had left home 
 an honest youth, worthy the good opinion which 
 every one entertained of him, and determined to 
 realise the brilliant prospects which all were too 
 happy to predict. His letters to his mother had 
 always inspired her with hope, for vanity no less 
 than love, demanded that neither she nor her 
 friends should have a suspicion of his misfor- 
 tunes. 
 
 What an awful sense of desolation came over 
 him as he approached the house. The old woman 
 at the lodge gate blessed him as she took his 
 hand, but her tears too plainly indicated a heart 
 stricken with grief. 
 
 *^ Master Edgar ! 0, Master Edgar !" 
 
 " What is it, Mowbray ? Is my mother 
 worse ?" 
 
 " She have had a little better night,"said Mow-
 
 238 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 
 
 bray ; ^' but I fear the worst. 0, Master Edgar, 
 why did you leave us? There ain't been no hap- 
 piness since you went away." 
 
 ** No happiness, Mowbray ?" 
 
 " It ha' been tears and mourning ever since ; 
 your poor mamma's never held up her head 
 since. 0, Master Edgar, what we shall lose if 
 she goes, Heaven only knows ; but, may be the 
 sight of you will do her good." 
 
 " Has she worried herself on my account ?" 
 
 Mowbray shook her head and lifted her apron 
 to her eyes. 
 
 " She have told me more than she could tell to 
 any other living soul ; a'most every day she 
 would come and sit in my cottage and tell me 
 her troubles, for you know, sir, I have loved you 
 from a child, and was the first that took you 
 when you came into the world." 
 
 *' I wish you had strangled me, Mowbray !" 
 
 " God bless you," said the old woman, " it's 
 your good feeling ; but you need not wish that, 
 neither, Master Edgar, for there were one comfort
 
 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 239 
 
 which my ladj had in all her trouble, and that 
 were that you be doing so well ; for we hear sic 
 smart news of you, that the village rings with it, 
 and every one talk o' your cleverness. But, O, 
 my poor lady, I'm afraid she'll never live to hear 
 much more of you, poor dear lady !" 
 
 " I shall see you again, Mowbray; good-bye." 
 
 " God bless you, my dear master ; hurry on, 
 for I believe your very face will save her life." 
 
 Edgar proceeded along the avenue which led 
 up to the mansion ; but in spite of the hurried 
 pace at which he walked, several interruptions 
 occurred from the greetings of gardeners and 
 labourers, whose well known faces beamed with 
 kind recognition. 
 
 Poor Edgar I how much he wished he could 
 deserve all the respect that was paid him ! Ac- 
 cursed extravagance and folly that had rendered 
 even kindness unwelcome to him I Worst of all 
 were the words of Mowbray ; better would it have 
 been had she told him that he was censured in- 
 stead of praised ; reproached for folly rather than
 
 240 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 commended for virtues he had never possessed. 
 He would sooner have heard of his mother's dis- 
 pleasure than have listened to a tale of wasted 
 love. Yes, he would rather have been blotted 
 out of existence than have lived for such a mo- 
 ment as that. But the curses that he heaped upon 
 himself were neither an atonement nor a solace, 
 and were little calculated to prepare him for the 
 melancholy scene to which he was hastening. 
 
 His approach was perceived from the windows 
 of the hall) and the door was silently opened* 
 Scarcely a whisper disturbed the deep and awful 
 stillness of the old mansion; solemn counten- 
 ances met him on every side. The old servants 
 who loved him so well would have pressed for- 
 ward to greet him, but they were obliged to be 
 silent and content themselves with speechless 
 welcomes. 
 
 " The doctor is coming down, sir," whispered 
 the housekeeper ; " it will be better, perhaps, to 
 break it out to her that you are here before go- 
 ing up to the room."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 241 
 
 It was not the family physician, but he re- 
 cognised Edgar at once as the son of his patient. 
 
 " Mr. Hindly, I presume ?" 
 
 Edgar bowed. 
 
 " How is my mother ?" 
 
 " I don't like to hold out any hope," said the 
 physician. *^ There will be a change by mid- 
 night; if she survives the turn, she will re- 
 cover." 
 
 " My God !" exclaimed Edgar, grasping the 
 hand of the physician ; '* can you do nothing for 
 her?" 
 
 " All is with Heaven now." 
 
 The words sounded ominously. 
 
 "Can I see her?" asked Edgar. "Nay, I 
 must." 
 
 '^Let me prepare her for it first. She has 
 longed so for your arrival that I fear the excite- 
 ment may be too much. |You need some refresh- 
 ment — calm yourself— and meanwhile I will 
 return to her." 
 
 Edgar did indeed require refreshment; his 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 countenance betokened the extreme agitation of 
 mind which had elicited the doctor's well-timed 
 advice. But as Edgar flung himself into one of 
 the oaken chairs and covered his face with his 
 handkerchief, he felt that the world had no re- 
 freshment for him. Grief and remorse were 
 heavy at his heart. Around him were the scenes 
 of his childhood. The dreams of his youth came 
 fresh upon his memory. Before him seemed the 
 mirror of his life, reflecting everything but him- 
 self — self alone was changed — changed to another 
 being — his independence of mind was gone — the 
 generous sentiments of his youth belonged to him 
 no more — and the meanest servant of the house- 
 hold was better than he. How familiar were the 
 old library bookshelves ; every volume seemed in 
 the place where he had left it, as though it had 
 never been touched. But a heavy gloom pervaded 
 that little room — a shadow rested upon all. 
 
 In a few minutes he was beckoned by the 
 doctor, who led the way to his mother's chamber. 
 Silently, with a light step but with a heavy heart,
 
 MAYFAHi TO MILLBAiTK:. 243 
 
 he followed. As he entered the room his whole 
 frame was convulsed with a^ony. His mother's 
 eyes seemed to start from their sockets as they 
 caught the features of her son, scarcely less pallid 
 than herself. With a heavy sob Edgar dropped 
 on his knees by her bedside, and cried bitterly as 
 he kissed her pale and sunken cheek. Such a 
 change he had not expected; but the maternal 
 love that had ever beamed in her eyes was still 
 there ; sickness threw no shadow over that. 
 
 " My boy, my Edgar!" she exclaimed; and a 
 ray of joy lit up her countenance — her wasted 
 hand clung to his, although its grasp was feeble 
 and almost Hfeless. 
 
 Edgar felt a touch on his shoulder — ^it was the 
 physician. 
 
 "No, no," said Mrs. Hindly, "he must not 
 leave me — Edgar, Edgar!" and she made an 
 effort to detain him, but the unhappy man 
 suffered himself to be led away into an adjoining 
 chamber ; his grief had so overpowered him that 
 he was unable to speak or resist. 
 
 M 2
 
 244 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A LONG FAREWELL. 
 
 When Edgar returned to his mother's bedside 
 he was more composed. His presence had also 
 produced an effect on her system, that for awhile 
 even surprised the physician, if it did not flatter 
 him with hope. 
 
 " You are better, mother !" said Edgar, as he 
 looked fondly into her countenance, which was 
 lit up with a holy and affectionate smile. *' I 
 have been watching you while you slept" 
 
 <<Did I sleep, Edgar? I should not sleep
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 245 
 
 while my eyes can look on you, for they must 
 soon close. Nay, my boy, you must not hope- 
 there is no hope for me." 
 
 "Yes, mother, there is hope. Heaven will not 
 take you from me." 
 
 " My only fear was, darling, that I should not 
 see you. How are you getting on ?" 
 
 Terrible question ! Edgar felt that he dared 
 not lie to her who was on the brink of a world 
 where every secret is known ; but how should he 
 reply ? He could not wound her feelings with a 
 confession that he was not progressing as favorably 
 as her fondness caused her to hope ; he could not 
 betray her love by letting his last words to her 
 contain a falsehood. 
 
 " I have had many struggles," said he, ^' but 
 with God's help I shall succeed." 
 
 "Bear up, my boy; never mind a struggle. 
 Have you seen your father ?" 
 
 " Not yet," said Edgar. 
 
 "You must try and please him for my sake, 
 Edgar. I must see you reconciled before I go."
 
 246 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 *'Do not ask me to do what is impossible, 
 mother/' said Edgar, " I would tear out my heart 
 for you if you wished it, but root out its affections 
 I cannot." 
 
 ** But be reconciled to your father and I shall 
 die happy — 1 must take no sadness to the angels," 
 
 " I would forfeit my soul rather than make you 
 unhappy," said he. 
 
 " Hush! Edgar; not so lightly of your soul — 
 when you are as near the end as I am you will 
 know its value ; learn it before — learn it now from 
 my lips ; no others will ever speak to you with 
 more earnestness or half the love. Have you 
 been steady ?" 
 
 Edgar stood motionless ; his eyes swam, and he 
 knew not how to reply. 
 
 '^ Why do you ask me ? do you suspect that I 
 have not been ?" 
 
 " No, Edgar ; but I have heard that you are in 
 debt? if so, let me advise you if you cannot com- 
 ply with your father's wishes, to set apart the 
 interest of your grandfather's legacy until you
 
 MAYFAIE TO MILLBANK. 247 
 
 are clear ; do not part with the principal, for that 
 will serve you if ever misfortune should cast you 
 down; but, Oh, my boy, do not intercept my 
 prayers by a reckless life. I shall soon cease to 
 pray for yon unless I may plead for you at the 
 mercy seat in Heaven." 
 
 " Oh, my mother, I am unworthy your prayers ; 
 unworthy your love." 
 
 " The Lord help you, my boy ; then it shall be 
 happiness to you to think that your goodness will 
 give another joy to Heaven. Oh, Edgar, I have 
 prayed for you, till my soul seemed to knock at 
 Heaven's gate, and language lost itself in desire ; 
 but I know you will think of me — " 
 
 " God help me !" said Edgar, " and bless you, 
 my mother ; you shall yet live to see your prayers 
 answered." 
 
 "No, Edgar, no; I am going from you. 
 Where is your father ? I must see you reconciled." 
 
 Mrs. Hindly's wishes were conveyed to her 
 husband, who had purposely absented himself 
 during the interview between the mother and son.
 
 % 
 
 248 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Edgar," said Mrs. Hindly, " we are alone — 
 close the door — here is a ring — take it as my 
 dying gift — and keep it for my sake ; keep it as 
 though it possessed a charm ; and if you do so it 
 will have a charm; some day you will know. 
 Pemember my words ; when you look at it re- 
 member the giver. Think of this moment — 
 promise me." 
 
 " I swear," said Edgar, looking now at the 
 brilliant diamond, and now at the still brighter 
 lustre of his mother's eyes. There seemed a 
 strange religious mystery in her tone, and he felt 
 as if he were in the presence of a superior power 
 —as though an angel were addressing him. 
 
 '^ This key," she continued, after a solemn 
 pause, " is yours ; it is the key of my cabinet, 
 "When I am gone, open the cabinet, and in a 
 secret drawer under the left shelf you will find a 
 packet sealed with your grandfather's seal — take 
 the packet and preserve it, but refrain from 
 opening it until your marriage. Do I make 
 myself clear ?"
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 249 
 
 " Every word." 
 
 "You promise? Let no temptation induce 
 you to break it." 
 
 " But if I never marry," said Edgar. 
 
 " Give it to her whom you have vowed to make 
 your wife." 
 
 " Mother I" exclaimed Edgar. 
 
 " Speak, my boy, while you may to me, time 
 closes fast — my hour — my hour— 'tis not far off. 
 I see it, the brightest feather on the wing of time. 
 Edgar, be true — true to God and man — and — 
 true — to— woman — " 
 
 ^' Have you learned the reason of my disobeying 
 my father's wishes ?" 
 
 '* It is not for me, Edgar, to reproach you with 
 the past ; thank God for sparing me to advise 
 you for the future. If you have wronged anyone 
 make reparation." 
 
 ** I have wronged only — " 
 
 ** Edgar !" said Mrs. Hindly, solemnly— 
 
 The look and tone checked the rash declaration 
 which he was going to make ; but what anguish 
 
 M 5
 
 250 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 wrung his heart as he saw the poor sufferer sink 
 
 back upon the pillow, gasping for the breath that 
 
 was passing from her for ever. 
 
 " My mother ! Oh, my mother !" exclaimed 
 
 Edgar as, almost choked with grief, he put his 
 
 arm gently under her head and supported her, 
 
 while the tears gushed from his eyes. 
 '^Doctor! doctor!" he shouted, '^for God's 
 
 sake, come ! Almighty Father, spare her 1" 
 
 At this moment the physician entered accom- 
 panied by Mr. Hindly, who went to the other 
 side of the bed, too much overcome to speak. 
 It was a scene too solemn and too sorrowful to 
 describe ; for upon those moments of anguish when 
 we seem to accompany the soul to the portals of 
 eternity ; when the world is hidden from our view, 
 and we know only grief, and despair— despair 
 without a gleam of hope, and sorrow without a 
 single solace ; when all that we care for in the 
 world is unconscious of affection and regard- 
 less of our tears; upon those sacred moments 
 we dare not intrude; it were sacrilege to the
 
 MAY FAIR TO MILLBANK. 251 
 
 heart, the living temple in which our life's idol is 
 enshrined, and desecration to the dying, whose spirit 
 seems to carry us for awhile upon its mysterious 
 journey, far away from all things worldly. Cut 
 from the moorings of mortality, the soul seems to 
 bear us away into the regions of the interminable 
 future, till the world looks but a little speck, and 
 the infinitude of eternity bursts upon our bound- 
 less vision I 
 
 The power which had been vouchsafed to Mrs. 
 Hindly was but that fluttering effort which fre- 
 quently precedes dissolution ; that very effort had 
 exhausted her remaining strength ; she tried to 
 raise her hand to take that of her husband, but it 
 fell powerless upon her breast ; she turned her 
 eyes, with what unutterable anxiety, with what 
 fondness of expression, first to her husband and 
 then to her son ; both were speechless, as they 
 looked upon her changing features. And must 
 pride prevail even here? Is it stronger than 
 death ? Will not the imploring look of a wife 
 and mother melt those proud hearts to humility ?
 
 252 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 Edgar, canst thou not read her loving glance, not 
 remember that '^ she must take no sorrow to the 
 angels ?" Make haste, extend the hand as her 
 imploring glances ask you; make haste, be 
 reconciled before she dies ! 
 
 The nurse was standing near — Edgar's old 
 nurse, Mowbray, who had come down to see the 
 last of her beloved mis'tress. 
 
 "Master Edgar!" she exclaimed, "look; in 
 Heaven's name — it's her last wish." 
 "What, Mowbray?" 
 
 *' Your father, your father, my poor dear lad, 
 she wants you to shake hands. Oh, sir — do it, do it 
 -^see how her poor soul weeps — its all her grief, 
 poor thing — its all her grief, she told me so." 
 
 Edgar looked towards his father, who, with 
 stern countenance, blanched with sorrow, stood op- 
 posite, gazing upon the face of her who had been 
 his companion for so many years. One more 
 appeal from the mother's eyes ; it was the last ! 
 Edgar stretched out his hand to receive his 
 father's. Heaven ! could it be ! yes ! he is as
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 253 
 
 firm and proud as ever; one glance of almost 
 inhuman contempt darts from his eye, and he 
 turns from the scene — whether overcome with his 
 unrelenting temper, or ashamed of his obstinate 
 pride, he alone could tell. 
 
 Edgar took his mother's hand ; pale, thin, flesh- 
 less, almost cold, and tried to look into her loving 
 eyes, but the tears drowned his vision, his brain 
 grew dizzy, and he fell upon the bedside. When 
 he looked upon her face again, it was fixed, and 
 even the loving eyes at last were closed.
 
 254 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK, 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 HEATHMOOR. 
 
 On the death of his mother, Edward became en- 
 titled to an estate which descended to him from 
 his grandfather. It consisted of an old fashioned 
 country residence, which partook of the double 
 nature of mansion and farm-house ; its earlier 
 proprietors having combined the not unusual 
 qualities of the agriculturist and the country 
 gentleman. Its earliest owner had received it 
 by grant from Henry VIII., on the demolition
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 255 
 
 of the monasteries, and from that time it had re- 
 mained in the Walter family. 
 
 It had been let for a long term, and the lease hav- 
 ing expired some few years since, it had remained 
 untenanted, except by the small staff of servants 
 which it was necessary to maintain in order to 
 preserve it from that state of desolation and decay 
 into which uninhabited houses and unused fur- 
 niture are prone to fall. It was situated in 
 a wild and romantic part of the county, re- 
 mote from town or village, and surrounded with 
 scenery of wild and rugged grandeur. The fact 
 of its being untenanted for so long a period had 
 rendered it a burden rather than a profit to Mrs. 
 Hindly. In such a locality, for an old mansion 
 to be empty was to be haunted, it being the 
 custom for immortals to inhabit when mortals 
 quit, and every cottage that dotted the wild scenery 
 of that remote district had its legend of Heath- 
 moor Abbey. The ringing of bells was always 
 heard at the hour when ghosts delight in that 
 pastime. This, and a hundred others of the 

 
 256 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 ordinary kind of spiritual manifestations, it was 
 natural for the ignorant rustics to talk about 
 and believe ; but it was reserved for a half-witted 
 gamekeeper, whose sweetheart had disappeared 
 in a mysterious manner, to invent the peculiar 
 species of ghostly apparition which had obtained 
 for Heathmoor so much notoriety, and which was 
 nothing less wonderful than the appearance of a 
 gigantic bull perched upon the summit of the huge 
 stack of chimneys which rose in the centre of the 
 building; it was said to suddenly vanish, or descend 
 into the "main shaft," which was supposed to lead 
 to a very different furnace from that of the hall of 
 Heathmoor, where the huge fire-place had in bye- 
 gone days consumed the timber tree and the crack- 
 ling faggot. Whether this peculiar vision was 
 seen more than once by the same person is not 
 known, but it was said that after its first announce- 
 ment there were many who were favoured with 
 a sight of the remarkable phenomenon. The 
 bull was always of the most gigantic dimensions, 
 but not always of the same shape, and the im- 
 
 .j^
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 257 
 
 aginations of the seers had already added to the 
 bovine ghost the head of a very different creature 
 from that of a bull. In close proximity to the 
 garden of the mansion was the ruin of an 
 ancient church, in the vaults of which were said 
 to repose the bones of several personages not 
 unknown in historic annals. 
 
 This place, as it was more sacred, was at the 
 same time more awful to the superstitious rustics 
 than any other portion of the demesne. Few 
 would venture into its uncultivated grounds after 
 dusk ; and he who would dare to tread its roof- 
 less aisles would have been set down either as 
 an unbeliever or a saint. Such was the estate 
 to which Edgar became entitled on his mother's 
 death ; but, strange to say, the family deeds were 
 missing. There was nothing to show his title to 
 the property, with the exception of his great- 
 grandfather's will, and even that was a matter 
 of tradition only, for Edgar had made no search 
 for the important document which was to give 
 him the ownership of the estate. The date, and
 
 258 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 even the place of his death, were unknown,, so 
 that the probability of making out his title was 
 extremely remote. It was true Edgar had always 
 been the reputed heir, and his claim to the 
 successsion had no more been impeached than 
 that of his mother ; still that was a long way off 
 from establishing his legal right. 
 
 It was shortly after his mother's funeral that 
 Edgar entered the cottage where Mowbray lived. 
 He was taking his farewell of all. His stern 
 and haughty father had not actually expelled 
 him, but his behaviour had plainly indicated that 
 the chasm between them could never again be 
 bridged by paternal affection ; however far Edgar's 
 might extend, there was nothing to meet it from 
 the other side, and therefore he resolved to 
 separate himself as widely as possible from him. 
 
 Mowbray's tears came as she saw him equipped 
 for his journey. 
 
 " Master Edgar I" she exclaimed ; ^' oh I Master 
 Edgar !" 
 
 " What, good Mowbray. Come, come, you
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 250 
 
 must not fret. She's gone, poor soul, to a much 
 better place !'' 
 
 " Ay, God bless her precious soul,'* said Mow- 
 bray, *' this world never knowed a better, nor never 
 will. Poor dear lady ; what shall we do now you 
 are gone ? I can't get her out of my mind. Master 
 Edgar ; my eyes sees her now, as she used to sit 
 in that chair and talk to me about you. It was 
 all her thoughts, for fear you shouldn't do well. 
 And now you are going to run away again. Oh ! 
 Master Edgar, don't leave us." 
 
 " I must go, Mowbray ; there is nothing at the 
 hall to make me like it now, except the remem- 
 brance of old days." 
 
 " Such days as I shall never see again," said 
 Mowbray, " never." 
 
 " Live in hopes, Mowbray." 
 
 The old woman shook her head and sobbed. 
 
 ** Where is Lizzy?" asked Edgar. 
 
 '* Lizzy ! Ain't you forgot that foolish freak, 
 then ?" 
 
 *' Foolish freak, Mowbray?"
 
 260 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " It was all through that," said Mowbray ; 
 ** it was all through that you went away, and it 
 'most broke the poor wench's heart ; and they told 
 a lot of wicked lies about her after you went." 
 
 " Slander I" exclaimed Edgar. " Who was 
 coward enough to do that ?" 
 
 " I shan't say anything about it," said Mow- 
 bray ; " it's best to keep peace and quietness." 
 
 " Did you hear it?" asked Edgar. 
 
 " Sure enough did I, and all the village far and 
 away ; it 'ud be funny if I didn't hear what every- 
 body heard." 
 
 " Then you know who said it ?" 
 
 " I won't have nothing to say in it," said Mow- 
 bray ; *' but I do know where it came from. It 
 wasn't from the poorer sort, and it wasn't from 
 anybody who knowed much about her." 
 
 « Who was the villain ?" 
 
 '^ I daresay you can guess near about," said 
 Mowbray. 
 
 "But I won't guess," answered Edgar, with all 
 his former spirit, which, till that moment, had
 
 MAYFALR TO MILLBANK. 261 
 
 never returned to him. " I will not guess, I will 
 hear his name." 
 
 ^' No, sir ; it won't do for a poor old woman 
 like me, earning my bread of 'em to say any- 
 thing." 
 
 '^Wafi it Walters?" demanded Edgar; "tell 
 me. No harm shall come to you through me." 
 
 " No, sir ; I know you wouldn't hurt me." 
 
 " Enough," said Edgar, *' it was he." 
 
 ** / didn't say so," replied Mowbray. 
 
 " And where is Lizzy ?" 
 
 " She was turned away from the cottage soon 
 after you left ; for th' old gentleman, you know, 
 is very hasty, and he couldn't a' bear the thought 
 that the poor young woman should be in the way 
 of Miss Lucy ; and so fine a lady, sir, is a great 
 thing for a father's heart to be set on." 
 
 *' And was that the reason of her being turned 
 away ?" 
 
 " It worn't nothing else," said Mowbray, '* al- 
 though it wur said that he wanted to pull down 
 the cottage, as it wur a eye- sore to the great
 
 262 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 house ; but I b'leeve it was my lady that was 
 a great deal of it all, for you know she would a* 
 give her right hand a'most to have brought 
 about a wedding between you and her ; but Tm 
 saying too much, a good deal, for who knows but 
 what you may have her yet. It's a ill wind, 
 after all, that blows nobody no good.'' 
 
 " And you have known nothing of them since 
 they left?" 
 
 " Why, yes, to be sure ; they took shelter here 
 a bit, for I couldn't let 'em wander about the 
 fields." 
 
 ^* And what then, Mowbray ?" 
 
 " They stayed with me till your father found it 
 out, and then he threatened to send me off toa 
 Your poor mother knowed all about it ; and it 
 was a good deal that that made the sturbance." 
 
 " What disturbance was it ?" 
 
 " Let bygones be bygones, sir. I hope you've 
 made it up with the Squire ?" 
 
 *' What di&turbance was it, Mowbray ?" 
 
 "Nay, sir; I'll say no more about it, 'cept
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAKK. 263 
 
 that a good many unhappy and lonely days your 
 poor mother spent over it ; don't ask me any 
 more about it, please don't." 
 
 "And when they left you, didn't they say 
 whither they were going ?" 
 
 '^ They asked me where they should go," said 
 Mowbray. ^' I did my best for the poor old soul ; 
 I guv her my few savings what I'd ha put by 
 to bury me with, for I thought the living needed 
 it more'n the dead. But I don't know where 
 they are." 
 
 " Take this, Mowbray, and God bless you." 
 
 So saying, Edgar pressed a note into her hand 
 and closed it firmly and affectionately, — he felt 
 that his business at Raymonds was done. < 
 
 " Shan't I see you again ?" said Mowbray. 
 
 ** I hope so, but heaven only knows when and 
 where ; before then, however, I shall find Lizzy 
 and her mother. How long is it since she left ?" 
 
 " It must be two year." 
 
 " Has she no relatives, do you think, to whom 
 she would go ?"
 
 264 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " None as I ever eeard her name, for she wur 
 a close sort of woman, you know ; and wery few 
 could get a word from her about anything. She 
 had a sperit, though, not unlike many a one in 
 better clothes ; and when my lady used to look at 
 her as Tveha' seen her sometimes, she wur every 
 bit as proud as she wur herself, and never bent so 
 much as her head when she went by, so much 
 so that her ladyship would say it was all owing 
 to the fancy you had took for her daughter, and 
 80 you may be sure such like wouldn't suit a 
 lady like my Lady Walters, and I didn't wonder 
 when I beard of her warning to leave. But to 
 tell you her pride, sir, what do you think she 
 made bold to tell her ladyship soon after the 
 steward had warned her away ?" 
 
 *< I have no idea," said Edgar. 
 
 " Well, sir, you must know her ladyship met 
 her and told her, I dare say proud enough, 
 that she must be off the premises by the next 
 day, for she had eeard so much of her daughter 
 that she wur not going to have the place
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBA-NK. 265 
 
 talked about as a place of bad fame, and this 
 80 roused tbe poor woman's temper that she up 
 an' told her ladyship it wur no more a bad house 
 than my lady's, and then she propesied evil upon 
 my lady just as if she'd been a witch." 
 
 " And what did she say ?" 
 
 " I b'leeve she told my lady she'd live to see 
 her pride come down, that she would be hus- 
 bandless wirout bein' a widder, a stranger in her 
 own home, I think she said, and homeless under 
 her own roof ; that is, that she'd be parted 
 from her husband by law. What do they call it ? 
 — voiced, I think." 
 
 " That was foolish," said Edgar. 
 
 " I fancy, sir, how my lady would look, but she 
 wur a high sperited woman, that wouldn't bear 
 the foot of another upon her, although it wore a 
 golden slipper. But I used to think as the old 
 woman's mind wur a little shaky like, for she 
 would talk to me in such a awful manner that I 
 could hardly make out what she meant ; and poor 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 266 MAY FAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 Lizzy thought the same, but she wur too sad to 
 notice much." 
 
 *' Did she ever speak of me, Mowbray ?" 
 
 '* Not a great deal, poor thing ; but her art 
 wur nearly broke. I could see that it wur a 
 pity as it ever happened." 
 
 ** A pity ! " said Edgar. 
 
 '^ Ha, sir; there's no good of these ere runaway 
 matches, 1 calls 'em, though it aint for me to 
 say it to one like you." 
 
 Edgar smiled, for there was a gleam of woman's 
 jealousy in Mowbray's eyes, and he felt that 
 Rumour's tongue had been busy with Lizzy's 
 name on account of his attachment to her ; a fact 
 of itself natural enough to those people, who look 
 with a suspicious eye on such engagements ; but 
 to Edgar, who knew the girl's character, it 
 was marvellous that a breath of evil should 
 damp the lustre of her character, which seemed 
 to reflect all that was heavenly and pure; 
 to him she was perfection, and he little thought
 
 ilAYFAIB TO ATILLBANK. 267 
 
 that the admiration with which he regarded 
 her would be sufficient to awaken the sus- 
 picions of those who envied her. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mowbray," said Edgar, taking 
 her hand. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, sir ; heaven bless you, and 
 thank you — thank you for this." 
 
 Edgar turned away and was soon in the high 
 road leading to the village inn. 
 
 K 2
 
 268 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 AMONGST THE GIPSIES. 
 
 The nearest stage to Heatlimoor Abbey was 
 several miles distant from Raymonds; and 
 after enquiring the way, Edgar set out 
 with his knapsack slung over his shoulder. An 
 hour's brisk walking brought him on to a wild 
 and desolate common, which was many miles in 
 oxtent ; the ground was picturesque and romantic 
 in the extreme ; heavy masses of furze and brush- 
 wood coated the undulating ground on the left, 
 while in front and extending far away to the right,
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 269 
 
 was a somewhat hilly tract of country, thickly 
 studded with beech copses and plantations of fir, 
 broken only here and there by a few acres that 
 seemed either to have been cleared at a remote 
 date for the purposes of cultivation, or to have 
 been neglected by nature in her capricious mode 
 of scattering her seed ; the stony and black earth, 
 varied only by stunted herbage, presented a 
 singularly sombre contrast to the rich luxuriance 
 of the neighbouring scenery. 
 
 The clouds had gathered thickly around as if 
 from every quarter, and lent their gloom to the 
 evening shadows which were fast closing upon 
 this desolate region. There were several miles 
 yet to be traversed, and the way was devious and 
 uncertain. Edgar was little subject to appre- 
 hensions of danger, and, certainly was free from 
 nervousness on this occasion ; for, to that place, 
 least of all, would it be likely that those who live 
 by despoiling others, would resort for the practice 
 of their unlawful deeds. The days of Turpin and 
 King were past ; and the followers of their pro-
 
 270 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 fession were not now to be found on the highways 
 and byways of desolate regions like that. Edgar, 
 therefore, fearlessly, and with amended speed, 
 pushed on. The occasional glimpses of the 
 moon afforded some relief to the dismal solemnity 
 of the scene by which he was surrounded, and 
 faintly lighted a breadth of the dreary land- 
 scape, which seemed of almost interminable 
 extent. 
 
 The recent scenes of Edgar's life flitted before 
 his mind, and in such a situation it wanted little 
 imagination to conjure up a thousand images, 
 which, like the dreams of night, took the shape, 
 distorted though it was, of preceding events. But 
 images w ere confused ; the past was a series of 
 wonderful visions that seemed rather the creations 
 of fancy than realities. What line of conduct to 
 pursue it was impossible to conceive; he was 
 already in debt, and had contracted a heavy 
 mortgage upon his reversionary interest in Kay- 
 mondSj while the estate to which he was now 
 proceeding, was more likely to involve him in
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 271 
 
 difficulties than to relieve him from them. It 
 had kept his mother poor, and it had now found 
 an owner still poorer, whom it was very unlikely 
 to enrich. 
 
 It is not extraordinary that the great events of 
 life are often deducible from the most trivial 
 causes, for it is in keeping with the operations of 
 nature herself, whose grandest rivers owe their 
 source to some fissure in the mountain rock, and 
 whose smallest insects are her artificers to build 
 up the fabric of mighty continents. 
 
 It is possible that Edgar might have travelled 
 on unseen and umolested, but for the fact of his 
 kindling the temporary blaze of a lucifer for the 
 purpose of lighting a cigar. His way was along 
 a greensward tract which very seldom bore the 
 pressure of a wheel, for even the farmer's waggon 
 was a stranger there, and the most frequent 
 visitor was the rough and rugged vehicle of the 
 gipsy, who found there a safe retreat and abun- 
 dant game. 
 
 Edgar had proceeded but a few steps further
 
 272 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 when a low, almost indistinct moan, reached his 
 ear, and sent a thrill through his frame ; it ap- 
 parently proceeded from a child not far from the 
 spot where he stood ; as he paused to listen the 
 moon glanced between the swiftly coursing clouds, 
 and he discovered at a few yards distance on his 
 right a deep pit which appeared to have been dug 
 many years ago, but for what purpose it is 
 impossible to say. It was studded here and there 
 with dwarf trees that had sprung up since its 
 excavation. Proceeding cautiously, Edgar fol- 
 lowed its rugged and zigzag edge until a sloping 
 descent enabled him to reach the bottom. There 
 was a pool of water under the precipitous bank, 
 and he knew at once that the object of his search 
 was someone who had fallen from the dangerous 
 ledge, and was struggling probably for life, for 
 he heard frequent splashes, and a low gurgling 
 sound, which every moment, became more and 
 more faint. Quickly, but cautiously, he advanced, 
 and the dim light which the pale water reflected, 
 enabled him to discover what at first appeared ta
 
 MAYFAtR TO MILLBANK, 273 
 
 be a bundle of rags ; but which, on drawing from 
 the pool, he found to be the body of a child of 
 some five or six years of age. There was a faint 
 gasp as he drew it from the water, and then it 
 lay to all appearance dead. Edgar did his utmost 
 to restore animation, and, by dint of rubbing and 
 chafing the hands, at length succeeded. Divesting 
 it of its wet clothes, he wrapped it in his overcoat, 
 and once more sought the road from which he 
 had deviated on his errand of mercy. Voices, 
 rough and deep, accosted him as he reached the 
 open common with his precious burden. 
 
 "Who's here?" demanded one. 
 
 " By the Lord it's the bairn, the bairn," ex- 
 claimed another; and as he spoke, a young 
 woman, evidently the mother of the little one, 
 rushed forward, and with a wild shriek of joy, 
 snatched the living bundle from Edgar's grasp. 
 " My bairn ! my bairn ! my blessed, blessed 
 bairn !" she cried ; and the tears gushed from her 
 eyes as she folded it to her bosom, and lavished 
 upon it a hundred kisses, fervently, as if the child 
 
 N 5
 
 274 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 had beea separated from her as many weeks as it 
 had been hours. The group of men and women 
 gathered closely round, anxiously stooping to 
 assure themselves that the object of their solici- 
 tude was really alive. 
 
 *' Naked !" said one, " naked !" 
 
 " Where wur un ?" asked another. 
 
 " Who found un ?" demanded a third ; and thus 
 for some time questions thick and fast followed 
 upon each other, especially from the fresh comers, 
 all of whom asked the same, without knowing 
 from what quarter an answer was to come ; for 
 Edgar had not attempted to interrupt the out- 
 burst of their wild joy by offering any explana- 
 tion. 
 
 Such a din of tongues was scarcely ever heard 
 / since the confusion of Babel — exclamations of 
 
 ( i^Jf ejaculations of sympathy, and doleful ex- 
 
 pressions of tenderness resounded on all sides; 
 and it is probable that Edgar would have left the 
 CO mpany in ignorance of the facts of the case, but 
 that he was not certain of the exact route he 
 
 f-.'^r
 
 MAYFAIK TO MILLBANK. 275 
 
 should pursue, since the night had deepened into 
 a thick gloom, and it was inipossible to tell either 
 the direction of Heathmoor, or the distance, 
 without obtaining information from those to 
 whom he had thus fortunately rendered so much 
 service. 
 
 ^^ You're a traveller, yer honor?" said the 
 foremost of the group, whose visage was almost 
 of the same complexion as the night, and whose 
 stalwart form stood well nigh a foot above the 
 rest of the company. 
 
 ^' T am," said Edgar. 
 
 ** An it be a wild journey you're on/' said 
 another. 
 
 " And a long 'un," added a third, '^ if yer honor 
 stops at the next house." 
 
 " How far may that be?" said Edgar. 
 
 " How fur ?" repeated the second speaker, 
 " why a good ten mile an more." 
 
 " Can you do it in ten, Toby ?" said the third. 
 
 " Thereabouts," answered Toby. 
 
 %
 
 276 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 " Why it's nine mile to the white stone on the 
 ill at the turnpike." 
 
 *' But that ain't the nearest cut, Sim," answered 
 Toby, " if yer goes by the marsh — " 
 
 *' How the d— I's a stranger to go by the marsh 
 at this ere time o' night ?" asked Sim. 
 
 ^'Ifou're a precious long way," said the tall 
 gipsey, "and erout soineun to show yer you'll 
 'ave to doss on the 'eath ; howsever, I'm your 
 man, to do you a good turn, for you've done me 
 one that's worth my life — I'm your man, your 
 honor.'^ 
 
 Edgar looked, as well as the darkness of the 
 night permitted, into the swarthy countenance of 
 the man whose friendly offers, under other cir- 
 cumstances, he might have listened to with very 
 different feelings; but he could scarcely think 
 that, rough as he was, he would attempt 
 violence to one who had preserved the life of his 
 child. 
 
 ** Thank you," said he, '^ but it will be taking
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 277 
 
 you too far. If you could direct me into a road, 
 I think I should find my way." 
 
 *^ But it ain't that, sir; it ain't that ; I wouldn't 
 like yer to come to no harm like. Bill, we'll go 
 wi'em." 
 
 *' Ay," said Bill, knocking out the ashes of a 
 short pipe into the palm of his hand, and pre- 
 paring to re-fill it. 
 
 " Your way, sir, is handy our camp," said the 
 woman, who was closely pressing her child to her 
 bosom, still wrapped in the overcoat which Edgar 
 had thrown around it. " If your honor will not 
 mind I'll take the bairn in the coat till we get 
 there ; and then Heaven bless yer honor for 
 yer goodness. It's a blessed mercy, sir, saving 
 my poor bairn I" 
 
 Edgar assented, and the party moved on in a 
 careless, straggling manner, by twos and threes, 
 talking, or rather gabbling in an incomprehensi- 
 ble jargon ; some exclaiming still upon ^^ the 
 blessed mercy," others interspersing their dis- 
 logne with tremendous oaths, which were about
 
 278 MAYFAIK TO MILLS ANK. 
 
 the most intelligible words of their dialect ; others 
 smoked in silence, with their hands thrust into 
 the capacious pockets of their corduroy breeches 
 or fustian jackets; while others, of the more 
 juvenile part of the assembly, practised the useful 
 art of whip popping, so as to be in good form for 
 the next horse fair. 
 
 The whole of this group had found its way to 
 the spot in consequence of the lucifer which Edgar 
 had struck ; a lighted match having been the 
 signal agreed upon by the party in case either 
 met with the missing child ; the gipsy tribe not 
 being in the habit of bawling about commons and 
 parks, however urgent the necessity of commu- 
 nicating with each other during their nocturnal 
 expeditions. 
 
 The encampment, for such it might properly 
 be called, was situated, so far as the night 
 enabled one to see, in a deep valley, almost wor- 
 thy the name of a ravine. And, however pic- 
 turesque it might appear to a romantic mind 
 j5:om a distance, or however fascinating might be
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBA^K. 279 
 
 its effect when brightened with the lustre of a 
 novelist's fancy, if any reveller in gipsy romance 
 had approached the actual scene which broke 
 upon Edgar's gaze, he would have contemplated 
 the reality with very different feelings from 
 those with which he perused the description of 
 such a scene by his favourite novelist. 
 
 The tents were disposed in such a manner as 
 to ward off the north wind, and prevent, as far 
 as was practicable, the gleam of their night-fires 
 from betraying their locality. They formed a 
 sort of irregular semicircle, the spaces between 
 the arched canvass being occupied by the clumsily 
 constructed carts and rude vans. The grim figures 
 of three or four wretched horses, whose demure 
 and skeleton- like appearance induced the belief 
 that they had been ransomed from the knacker's 
 yard, were standing with hanging heads at no great 
 distance from the tabernacles of their owners ; 
 while here and there a donkey in better spirits 
 and apparently contented with its lot, was busily 
 occupied in cropping the scanty herbage which
 
 280 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 the common afforded. In preparation for a fall 
 of snow, which had indeed already commenced, 
 the inhabitants of these flimsy dwellings had 
 spread some tattered blankets from several tents 
 so as to form a kind of slanting wall, which 
 offered the smallest resistance to the wind, and 
 at the same time screened the inmates from the 
 rain and snow with which it was occasionally 
 accompanied. 
 
 Men and women, in promiscuous groups, were 
 huddled round the blaze of the several fires, which 
 crackled and roared beneath the pots that were 
 suspended from the tripods. The countenance of 
 every individual of that assembly was stamped 
 with the unmistakable lineaments of villany. If 
 degrees of comparison could be used with refer- 
 ence to them, the females were far more de- 
 moniacal and weird in appearance than the men. 
 The sable hair hung dishevelled and tangled 
 about their necks, and clustered upon their fore- 
 heads in heaps, as though it had been littered 
 down with a pitchfork ; in some cases it was
 
 MATFAIR TO MILLBANK. 281 
 
 matted, as if it had previously done duty in a 
 mattress. There was, it is true, the dark, lus- 
 trous eye, which has elicited so much admiration 
 from the poet, but its lustre was like that of cold 
 steel, and induced the apprehension that a look 
 of tenderness had never beamed from it. Some 
 of the younger persons of the group were 
 squatting between the knees of the men, or 
 .involved in the tattered garments of the 
 women. The more advanced youth were yet 
 absent on matters of purveyance, or, in plain 
 language, hunting up the neighbouring preserves 
 in search of to-morrow's supper. This suspicion 
 was soon verified, for first one and then another 
 might be seen skulking behind the different vans, 
 cognizant that a stranger's presence rendered ne- 
 cessary the exercise of that craftiness in which 
 they were so well practised. 
 
 There was little disturbance occasioned in the 
 camp by the arrival of the woman who bore the 
 child — a rough salutation or two, with an inquiry, 
 " Where wur ur ?" being almost the only de-
 
 282 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 monstrations of welcome which the mother re- 
 ceived. There was, however, much more mani- 
 festation of surprise as the swarthy groups caught 
 sight of Edgar, who stood at some little distance 
 contemplating the scene with something of 
 curiosity, but little of that appreciation of the 
 romantic which others might have felt under 
 the circumstances. 
 
 "Who ha' yer got? who ha' yer got?'' de- 
 manded the oldest and ugliest woman of the com- 
 pany, in a tone that sounded like authority. 
 
 No one offering any answer, the interrogation 
 was repeated more sternly. 
 
 " It's the genleman wot found the bairn," 
 said the tall gipsy. 
 
 "It's a strange country for a lone traveller 
 without a saddle," said the woman. "Ye're 
 welcome," she added, turning her dark eyes upon 
 Edgar. 
 
 " Thank you," said he, " I must go on my 
 journey, for these good men tell me that it's a 
 long way I have before me."
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 283 
 
 " It's a long way to the Talbot, if that's your 
 beat," answered the woman, "and unless ye've a 
 pretty smart ken o' the country, I wouldn't gie 
 ye a whistle for yer journey." 
 
 '^ Me and Bill's going wi the genleman till 
 we makes the turnpike : but we'll ha' a sup fust 
 and then on the way. It's poor tramping wi' a 
 bad stomach." 
 
 " Yer know it's a rough style o' cookery that 
 we has here ; but if a long journey can make np 
 for a rough meal, ye're welcome as the day The 
 grub, I'll warrant ye, is none o' the worst flavour 
 for its rough getting, neither." 
 
 Edgar felt little inclined to partake of the 
 rough hospitalities offered to him, but at the same 
 time he felt that it would not become his situa- 
 tion to discover any appearance of disgust. 
 Moreover, the odour which ascended from the 
 cauldron was far less displeasing than the man- 
 ner of cooking might have led him to anticipate. 
 His long journey had sharpened his appetite, and
 
 284 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 he knew that those who dine in the wilderness 
 must not be particularly fastidious. 
 
 "Thank you," said he, "I should be loth to 
 refuse your good offer, even were I not as hungry 
 as a fifteen miles' walk could make me." 
 
 "There's a place to set, sir," said Bill, pro- 
 ducing a three-legged stool, and placing it in 
 front of the party. " It ain't got no easy back to 
 it, like yer're used to, I dissay ; but we lives by 
 natur like — is bleeged to set hard, an' live hard, 
 and I was going to say die hard ; but that ain't 
 allays the case, for rough livin' makes smooth 
 dyin' — so they says, howsomever. This ore's the 
 genleman's world ; the next one's the poor man's, 
 they says — " 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said the old woman, 
 "yer always prating in that fashion about the 
 gentels; hold up the platter, and serve the 
 genleman fust, cordin' to good manners." 
 
 " Shall 1 hold your ba^," asked an urchin of 
 about ten years old, seeing it somewhat in 
 Edgar's way, as he reached forward to receive
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBAXK. 285 
 
 the smoking dish of pheasant and partridge, 
 which, together with some potatoes and other 
 vegetables, formed by no means an unpleasant 
 stew. 
 
 The question was answered by a sharp, back- 
 handed cuff from the tall gipsy, which sent 
 him reeling over the outstretched limbs of 
 two or three of the half naked boys and girls, 
 who set up a boisterous laugh at the manner in 
 which their kinsman's politeness had been re- 
 rewarded. 
 
 " Now what's I done ?" said the latter, skulk- 
 ing away, and lowering, with a saucy look at the 
 gipsy who had inflicted the chastisement. 
 
 Edgar had a fair opportunity of observing the 
 various countenances by which he was surrounded, 
 for every one was turned full upon him, as though 
 he was some extraordinary being, whom they had 
 heard of, but never seen before ; and if he had ever 
 fostered any feeling of pity for the outcast tribe 
 who make their bed in the desert, all sympathy 
 for them was now dispelled. There were faces as
 
 286 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 
 
 joyous among the younger groups as ever beamed 
 among the highest circles, and though their 
 pleasures were rough, they were none the less 
 enjoyable. This one lesson he learned from the 
 dirty tribe — that happiness, content, pleasure, or 
 whatever you may call it, depends not so much 
 upon what the world makes us, as it does upon 
 what we make the world. The most polished sur- 
 face is tarnished with a breath, while the roughly 
 used steel gets brighter as it wears. The exces- 
 sive refinements of life may have pleasures more 
 exquisite to the finer taste, but the ruder enjoy- 
 ments are probably the more durable, and the 
 less likely to be affected by external infiuences. 
 
 Among a class of persons such as those by 
 whom Edgar was surrounded, whose habits had 
 taught them reserve and secrecy, and whose 
 habitual defiance of law had rendered them justly 
 apprehensive that mankind were by no means dis- 
 posed to befriend them, it was hardly likely that 
 the conversation would be of a character worthy 
 of detail. It chiefly related to the food they were 
 
 t
 
 MAYFAIR TO MILLBANK. 287 
 
 discussing, and the journey upon which they 
 were about to start. Edgar thanked them, and 
 dropping a sovereign into the hand of the woman 
 alluded to, took his leave, in company with his 
 unprepossessing guides. In spite of their ap- 
 parent gratitude and hospitality, he felt that a 
 well-dressed stranger, with a respectable travelling 
 bag, upon a lonely common of several miles 
 extent, might be too great a temptation to the 
 bold men, whose notions of honesty were of a 
 very vague kind, and whose ideas of the rights of 
 man were only limited by their means of acquisi- 
 tion. 
 
 BND OF VOL. L 
 
 T. C. Newbt, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Sqaare, London.