■«*#m ■ SmZi 'wqSB 5 ^SSSJ§tf*®^* v ^ tijujiifii #■$» Pm : J*m iV w V^ ..*■■>' vw^^'yy yvvwG^vwww' iMF'ysjiV LIBRAHY OF THE U N I VERS ITY Of 1LLI NOIS 82.3 HG4r 1W? Milton. /('///'// r ///'////'//' Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. University of Illinois Library ilpP — 1 !< Sb MAR 2 6 \* * T 1*1 Ull A P \ €T>\^ ^^e^^ry^ wt^^fevZs RIVALRY. HENKY MILTON. Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us, — Oh, and is all forgot? All schoolday friendship, childhood innocence ? MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: JOHN OLLIVIER, 59, PALL MALL 1840. */. RIVALRY. CHAPTER I Of all the twelve letters which the postman delivered "at the village of East Leighton, at the hour of nine o'clock on the morning of - Wednesday, the 23d day of April, in the year of our Lord 1810, the most important — and by far the most important — was the one addressed to Farmer Thomas Humphries at the Manor- house, and written by Charles Hardinge, Esq., IM.A., barrister at law by profession, and ba- chelor by condition. The letter, viewed abstractedly, had nothing v very momentous in it ; but great was the sen- sation which it caused in the village, and great were the events which resulted from it. It J briefly stated that the writer had determined to quit London, and to reside constantly at East VOL. I. B 2 RIVALRY. Leigh ton ; that a certain oak parlour must be given up by the farmer to be converted into a library ; that one or two other rooms, specified and described, would also be required by him in addition to those which he had always used ; but that he wished no alterations to be made until he came down. He utterly forbade all painting, and fixed the time of his arrival for that day month. News in a country village does not fly as quickly as sound, electricity, or light ; never- theless its rate of travelling is marvellously rapid. By ten o'clock every shopkeeper in East Leighton had heard of the event, with the exception of one sulky baker, whom nobody spoke to. The village apothecary — for what country village is without its apothecary ? — knew it before half-past nine. He did at once, what, as a prudent, sensible man, he was bound to do under the circumstances; he got upon his horse, and stopping only for a few minutes on his route to dispose of one dropsical old woman, and two children in the measles, he rode straight to the Manor-house ; saw Farmer RIVALRY. .3 Humphries ; talked to him ; read the letter with his own eyes, and returned up ( the street 1 fully master of the whole affair. Great as is the pleasure of hearing news, the delight of telling it is still greater ; and Mr. Wilkinson could not resist the temptation of turning his poney's head aside, and stopping a few moments at the romantic cottage of the fair Miss Chamberlayne. It was a very pretty cottage, although for- merly the residence of a butcher retired from the toils of life ; and although, in honour of him, its next tenant the curate of the parish, no whit ashamed to follow so worthy a prede- cessor, had given it the name of u Cleaver Lodge.'' But when its present fair inmate in her turn succeeded to the curate, that name, of course, was not to be endured ; and some con- siderable outlay having been made in verandahs and rustic paling, it now bore upon its entrance gate the more appropriate name of "Eglan- tine Bower." England can boast its thousands of beautiful villages; but there are few that dwell upon the 4 RIVALRY. eye, or the memory, with more delight than those which skirt the Mendip Hills in Somer- setshire. The lofty summits of this almost mountain range, and the more elevated portion of its sides, are open downs covered with the finest turf, and dotted over with innumerable sheep. By a gentle curve the hills descend into plains of the richest pasture, as level as the sea, and extending field beyond field, as far as the eye can reach. In some points, accord- ing to the accidents of the soil, the enclosed grounds creep higher up the sides of the moun- tain ; and at others, the sheep-walks almost reach the plain. Luxuriant trees mark this waving boundary line, and two very different kinds of scenery are brought at once before the eye, in immediate and beautiful contrast. Our ancestors never failed to select the best possible situations for their dwellings. In this region they had placed their villages among the upper woodlands, equally removed from the noxious humidity of the plain and the bleakness of the hill. Each cluster of houses is marked by the lofty and graceful tower of its RIVALRY. O church, the characteristic distinction of this part of England ; and which, while it is almost as beautiful a feature in the distant landscape as the slender spires of Wiltshire and the mid- land counties, is, when viewed nearer at hand, greatly superior to them in grandeur and in architectural beauty. Of these lovely villages, one of the most important, and yet one of the most beautiful and romantic, was East Leighton. Its stately church ; the old Manor-house placed close to its hallowed precincts ; the modest vicarage, with its secluded garden stretching up the hill ; the group of cottages which formed the "street" interspersed with a few formal houses of greater pretension, and skirted by two or three cottages, whose gay verandahs and painted railings indicated the gentility of their inhabit- ants, formed altogether a perfect specimen of an English village. At a little distance stood the splendid lodges of Ryland Castle, the residence of the Earls of Kennis, and one of the most princely mansions in the west of England ; the lofty and ornamented roofs of RIVALRY. which were seen at the distance of nearly two miles, surrounded by all the beauties of English scenery. Although every English village may have its apothecary to collect news, every village has not so delightful a personage as Miss Cham- berlayne to whom it can be repeated. This fair spinster was a woman of genteel family, and had resided many years at East Leighton. She was tall and stately, and some years before had ranked among the county beauties ; but alas I those years were not few. However a very beautiful and fair complexion, light blue eyes, and hair so auburn and so redundant as not to escape suspicion, rendered her still a very handsome and agreeable looking woman. Her age ranged between thirty-five and fifty, according to the calculations of herself and her friends. She was a weak, good-tem- pered, friendly sort of person, of most sensitive modesty, as befitted her single state, imper- fectly educated, not abundant in ideas, vastly romantic, a great dabbler in verses, a great reader, a great talker, and ardently attached RIVALRY. to sesquipedalic words, which it must be con- fessed were not always placed exactly in their proper situations ; and which, employed only by fits and starts, contrasted somewhat oddly with the homespun tone of her usual language. We repeat that she was a gentlewoman by birth, and, when she pleased, she was so in manner also ; although she had somewhat tar- nished the ladylike gloss of her good-breeding by innumerable tea-drinkings with Mrs. Wil- kinson, and by not unfrequent snug supper- parties, much more enjoyed than talked of, in the comfortable best parlours of two or three of the neighbouring farm-houses. It was very probably from these indulgences that some peculiarities of manner had erep' unawares upon our fair friend, one of which would have been less alarming in these days of freedom than it was at the period of which we write. Thirty years ago, the drawing-room attitude of every refined lady, and more espe- cially of every refined maiden lady, resembled, in the exact parallelism of the nether limbs, the sitting figures of Egyptian sculpture ; but 8 RIVALRY. Miss Chamberlayne reserved this constrained arrangement for state occasions, and generally — proh pudor ! — sat cross-knee'd. When seat- ing herself and assuming this attitude, she was accustomed to bend her person forward, and assist the favoured limb to take its easy position across the other by the aid of her two hands, applied one on each side. It was this mode of lifting and depositing, more than the actual result, which thrilled with horror many a female circle. She was also sadly given to fits of abstrac- tion ; and on these occasions the names of every person whom she knew, even her own, ap- peared to depart from her memory, and she was wont to indicate the present, as well as the absent, by the terms of Mr. Thingamee, Miss Thingumbob, or Mrs. What-d'ye-call'em; of which she rang the changes in a manner not to be believed by those who had not heard her. But, as a compensation for all these grave sins, she was an useful and considerate friend to her poorer neighbours, and without any ostentation taxed her narrow means to do many RIVALRY. y an act of quiet charity. In short, her absur- dities and her good qualities were pretty nearly balanced ; and, as might be expected, she was a good deal laughed at, and a good deal liked. We have kept Mr. Wilkinson a longtime at the gate of Eglantine Bower. Not so its fair mistress. The moment she heard " Miss Cham- berlayne ! Miss Chamberlayne !" in the well- known voice of the doctor, she came to the door, and, as usual, book in hand. " Good morning, Ma'am ; I have news to tell you." u Oh ! I hate all news now a-davs. There is j never any news but about that Bonaparte monster, and his fightings and killings." " Mine isn't fighting news. Charles Haf- dinge's coining to live at the Manor-house." " Charles Hardinge coming to live at the Manor-house ! Nonsense !" "Sense, and fact too, Miss Chamberlayne. I have seen his letter to Humphries. I had occasion to go out that way, and the farmer would make me go in, and read the letter. — Yes, he is coming to reside here constantly.'* b2 10 RIVALRY. " Coming to reside here constantly !" ex- claimed Miss Chamberlayne, her mind wan- dering back to former years. " What do you mean, Mr. Thingamee?" " Exactly what I say, Ma'am. — I wonder whether he brings his old housekeeper down with him : — she was dreadfully bad with the rheumatism when I called upon him in Lon- don, the year before last. — But I can't stop a minute. — Good morning." — He turned his poney round. — -"Ah, novel reading I see.— Oh dear! oh dear!" " Stop ! stop, Doctor ! Mr. Wilkinson, pray come back. — It is my Thomson, my favourite Thomson. If there are moments in human life— " " Good morning,Ma'am, — good morning" — cried the Doctor, escaping from her poetics. " Oh, good morning, Sir, — good morning. — Upon my word, that is very polite !" she exclaimed, as, turning back into her Bower, she watched his hasty retreat. — " Upon my word, the very mention of a literary volume emanci- pates Mr. Wilkinson's gentility." RIVALRY. 1 1 Short as this interview had been, it afforded ample subject of contemplation for the rest of the morning. The ' favourite Thomson' was thrown aside; nor was the seventh, and last volume, of ' The Beggar Girl,' in lieu of which the Poet had been paraded, again resorted to. Deep were her contemplations ; for being a great day-dreamer, and a great builder of cas- tles on very slight foundations ; the news of Mr. Hardinge's expected arrival had set her most busily at work on her aerial architecture. But that the reader may understand aright all the ' thick coming fancies,' which now filled our fair spinster's mind, who and what Mr. Hardinge was, must be explained. 12 RIVALRY. CHAPTER II. Charles Hardinge was descended from an ancient family, which had for many genera- tions, ceased to be opulent; but had retained undiminished the pride of being able to trace their line back, without a single questionable blank, to the time of the Norman Conquest. For centuries they had been settled at East Leighton ; and our hero was born in the old Manor-house, to which he was now about to return; and which, although its early dignity had gradually faded down to something not far removed from a farm-house, still showed by a half-defaced coat of arms over the stone porch, and by other warlike emblems, that its founders were of gentle blood and knightly estate. Mr. Hardinge had attained the ripe age of forty-eight years. But let not any one of the ten thousand young, fair, and gentle readers, on^whose support the fate of these pages must depend, start at this announcement. It must RIVALRY. 13 be admitted that lie is our hero : but, gentle patronesses, remember, that gentlemen of forty- eight are exactly the sort of persons the most likely to have lovely nieces, with eyes of the truest blue ; or nephews, all very warlike, and very tall ; and happily, such was the case with Mr. Hardinge. The leading incidents of his previous history may be very briefly given. His ancestors, al- though with a revenue gradually diminishing, had until the last two generations well main- tained their station in the country. But his grandfather, a strenuous adherent of the house of Stuart, had been out in the year 1715; and had again, in 1745, accompanied by his son, our hero's father, drawn his sword in the same cause. The friendship of the then Earl of Kennis, a nobleman high in the counsels of the reigning family, had saved his property from sequestra- tion, and had shortened the term of his own and his son's banishment. But, nevertheless, as was the case with almostall the gentlemen of the western counties, who had stood by the losing side, he returned to a dilapidated home, in 14 RIVALRY. difficulties and in debt. He had neither the prudence necessary to surmount these difficul- ties, nor the fortitude to endure them : and after a few years of disappointed hopes, and useless repining, he was gathered to his fathers. His son, who had married while abroad the daughter of a fellow sufferer in the good cause, died early in life, leaving his widow with two children, a son and a daughter. The son, christened as in duty bound by the still vene- rated name of Charles, was sent to West- minster school, and afterwards to Christ Church, and having determined to follow the profession of the law, he entered at Lincoln's Inn, and in due time was called to the bar. He was well calculated to obtain eminence in his profession. High honour and integrity, a quick and clear intellect, a powerful memory, perfect self-possession and good temper, a ready command of language, set off by a fine voice and a commanding person, and all these united with considerable classical attainments, and much reading, ought to have secured success ; and must have done so, had he not laboured under the one great disadvantage, of being indepen- RIVALRY. 15 dent of his profession. His mother, who had carefully nursed his property during his long minority, had died shortly after he came of age, and the young barrister found himself in pos- session of an unincumbered estate of about £500. a-year. This independence was in his case, as it has been in that of many other talented men, the death-blow to his legal suc- cess. Although fond of his profession, and applauded and encouraged by his superiors in it, many of whom from a very early period of his career had predicted that he would obtain its highest honours, yet Charles Hardinge wanted that constant spur to exertion which the feeling that a man is dependent on his own labour for his bread can alone give. His energy was an energy of fits and starts. He loved to grapple with difficulties, and he did grapple with them with industry and success. But the effort made, the desired result obtained, his industry and his zeal deserted him. His diligence had nothing in it of that patient and calculating nature, which looks forward, out of many small exertions to produce a permanent and important result. Charles Hardinge could, 16 RIVALRY. and did, labour willingly fifteen hours a-day, as long as a particular object of interest and importance required it ; but he could not sup- port the tedium of six hours a-day routine work. The event was precisely what might have been expected. His brilliant talents, and the successful issue of several important cases in which he had been employed, had obtained him many valuable clients among the principal solicitors of the day. But by degrees these important friends, on whose decision rests the fate of all aspirants to the bench and the wool • sack, became dissatisfied with him ; complained of his delays, of his absence from chambers, of his want of punctuality, and at length pru- dently quitted him, though not without regret, for surer and more steady men. In the law, perhaps more than in any other profession, there is no standing still, and the counsel who does not advance, will very soon recede. This was the case with our hero. He felt that it was so, and he felt it the more bit- terly, because he could not disguise from him- self that the fault was his own. Disgust at the law and every thing connected with it grew RIVALRY. 17 upon him by degrees ; and at the very time when his family and friends were firmly con- vinced that Hardinge was rapidly advanc- ing to high legal honours, he had determined to leave the bar, and bury himself in his old Manor-house at East Leighton. Hardinge's means were limited. When his practice had been the greatest, it had never produced him above a thousand a-year ; and it had diminished to much less than half that sum. His sister, to whom he was a most kind and generous brother, had been early left a widow. She had made a very imprudent love- match with the younger son of a family of consequence in a neighbouring county. It had not turned out happily ; and she had been for some years a penniless widow, with two amiable and accomplished daughters, and entirely dependant on the bounty of her bro- ther, which was frankly and liberally bestowed ; and on such additional assistance as pride, rather than affection, extracted from her late husband's nephew, Sir Edward Forrester. The annual present of two hundred pounds, which Hardinge made to his sister, had 18 RIVALRY. suffered no reduction in consequence of the gradual diminution of his income : and he was determined that it should not be affected by his retirement from his profession. All his plans were framed on the principle of con- tracting his own expences to the three hundred a year which would remain at his disposal from his farm-rents. He would greatly have liked that his sister, and her children should have taken up their abode with him at East Leighton : but Mrs. Forrester was constrained to reside at Bath, in consequence of the infirm health of her eldest daughter. The offer therefore which Hardinge had made, in the kindest terms, when he first communicated his intentions to her, she had been forced, al- though unwillingly, to decline. Our hero, and the amiable mistress of Eglantine Bower, were old acquaintances : and in former years, some degree of moderate flirtation had passed between them. Latterly Hardinge's intercourse with East Leighton had been confined to a short visit in the autumn : when he came down, with a friend, for a few weeks' shooting ; and mixed very RIVALRY. 19 little with the society of the place. Her hopes of captivating the handsome barrister, had by degrees waxed fainter, and fainter. — But now that he was coming actually to reside in the village, she felt, as she mentally expressed it, that it would be flying in the face of Provi- dence not to make the most of the golden opportunity. Then came the fearful recollec- tion, that she had herself, within the last few days, done the very thing most likely to render her new-born hopes abortive. Bitterly did she now regret the pressing invitations which she had given to her old school-fellow, and bosom-friend, the gay, the rich, the aspiring, Mrs. Dobson. That fair lady, the well-dowered widow of a wealthy Birmingham Manufacturer, had passed the three or four years, since the tomb had closed on all her heart held dear, in most as- siduous efforts at Bath, Cheltenham, and else- where, to supply the place which Mr. Dob- son^ very unkind departure had rendered vacant. In an evil hour, Miss Chamberlayne had invited this dangerous friend to pass the sum- 20 RIVALRY. mer at East Leighton : and greatly had she exerted herself in arranging, with the owner of Hill-side Cottage, all the preliminary details of rent, stables, fields, &c. The gay widow, on her part, was not unwilling to relax her usual avocations during a few months, several letters had been exchanged upon the subject, and the affair was all but fixed. Great had been the delight, which Miss Chamberlayne had anticipated in showing off her wealthy friend : and if so sublunary a motive may be attributed to our fair spinster, in sharing the luxuries of her expensive table. ' But oh ! the heavy change !' * her fondest hopes are now her greatest fears :' and, as we have said, deep were her contemplations, and sad were her forebodings. Miss Chamberlayne, although little fitted for the employment, was a great plotter ; and as, within one hour of Mr. Wilkinson's de- parture, she had quite determined that Charles Hardinge should be her own undivided pro- perty ; she felt that not a moment must be lost. She therefore deliberately addressed her- self to the investigation of all the means, pro- RIVALRY. 21 bable and improbable, by which she could ward off the visit of her bosom friend. Could her old acquaintance, Mr. Irvine, the rich grocer, and the owner of Hill-side Cottage, be led into the expectation of some other more permanent, and therefore more desirable, tenant ? — Could any well founded assurance be given to the widow that the scarlet fever was beginning to show itself in the village ? — Could any theory be established, to prove that the agues, so prevalent in the neighbouring marshes, would at this early season of the year extend their baneful influences to strangers, although residing in the uplands? — All these, and many other modes of procedure were in turn deliberated upon, and in turn rejected : and she resolved, as a first step, to pay a visit to Mrs. Wilkinson ; and try, in that centre of gossip and news, a country apothecary's par- lour, to learn some more detailed particulars of the great event. She found the bustling, talkative, and some- what vulgar Mrs. Wilkinson in a state of mind almost as agitated as her own. But that worthy lady had many separate and dis- 22 RIVALRY. tinct causes of anxiety, instead of the one single and all-engrossing care which occupied the mind of our fair heroine. To the prudent Mrs. Wilkinson the new establishment at the Manor-house was, doubt- less, an important event : but a still more im- portant event was, that visitors had arrived at the Castle ; of whom one was ascertained to be a lady of rank, so near her confinement, that her departure in her present very interesting situation was a moral impossibility. A third, of deeper interest still, was the rumour that a cottage, halfway between East Leighton and the next village, had been let to an unknown person, about whom, many suspicious circum- stances led to the fear that, under the vague title of a military gentleman, he might prove a rival Esculapius in disguise. But more engrossing, more afflicting than all these, was the certainty, increasing from hour to hour, that a cask of orange wine, larger than usual, and the unassisted produc- tion of her own genius, was most provokingly, and most audaciously, converting itself into vinegar. RIVALRY. 23 To the details of this heart-rending calamity Miss Chamberlayne listened with exemplary patience ; and said in a tone of soothing sym- pathy, " Well, my dear Mrs. Wilkinson, it is a pity indeed ! and so much trouble as you have taken ! but can't the Doctor give you something to stop it ; the carbine of soda, or magnesia ?" " Dear me, Miss Chamberlayne, do you think I would let him put any of his stuff into my wine ? Pretty wine it would be ! You'll never catch a medical man's wife at that. But only think of this arrival at the Castle ! — they can never intend to send to Wells : it is twenty miles,— all cross-road. Wilkinson will be employed, I'll bet a penny." " Yes ! of course he will ; and then the ar- rival that is to be at the Manor-house too ! — My dear friend, what have you heard ?" " Heard? — Oh that's quite certain. — Charles Hardinge's coming to live here; and is going to marry a lady from London with sixty thou- sand pounds." "A lady from London! dear me! — Sixty 24 RIVALRY. thousand pounds!— Mrs. Thingumbob, what is her name ?" (< Her name? why, her name may be Thingumbob for all that I know, though it certainly is'nt mine. But if you talk about names, I should like to know what is the name of that man who is coming to West Leighton. He has been in the army, that's certain ; for he always wears a stiff black stock. He's too old for a Lieutenant, and nobody calls him Captain. Besides, I know it for a certainty, that when he took the cottage he asked about nothing but the fevers." " Is he married ?" asked Miss Cbamber- layne, staggered a good deal by the sixty thousand pounds and the lady from London. et Lor ! how should I know ? I have things enough to think about of my own. Why, now, there's this wine! The pains I have taken. I have got up to attend to it in the middle of the night, ten times if I have once ; and yet I do believe it will work on till Doomsday, do what I will." " It is provoking, my dear friend. But as — " RIVALRY. 25 ''Provoking! why think of the expence of it. Why the carriage of the oranges from Bristol cost four and sevenpence ; and what are we to do, I should like to know, if the business is divided ? Wilkinson is such a man ! He is no more able to make out a bill than a baby : and so I have told him a hundred and a hun- dred times. Why, there was my own, poor, dear father ; — there never was a man more re- spected than he was, Miss Chamberlayne ; though I say it who shouldn't say it : but he had no notion of curing people for nothing/' "It is very provoking, indeed. But then you should recollect that you will have a new family at the Manor-house ? When does he come ?" " When 1 — why directly." "What!" exclaimed the spinster, "before he is married ?" " Lor ! Miss Chamberlayne, how can I tell ( I suppose so. But at all events, he will never employ the new man. He is a steady friend, Charles Hardinge." " But, my dear friend," said Miss Chamber- vol. i. c 26 RIVALRY. layne, logically, " if you don't know whether he comes down before he is married ; how do you know that he is going to be married at all." iC Why, in the name of goodness, would he give up his profession if he wasn't? I only wish that I was but half as certain that, my abominable wine would leave off working, as I am that he will leave off being a bachelor. I never will make any more orange wine ! — and six and twenty gallons this year, if it's a drop !" " Come, come, my dear Mrs. Wilkinson, confess that these matrimonial anticipations about our friend Mr. Hardinge, are only your own visionary reflections, — only the Pleasures of your Imagination, as Akenside calls it." " No, they arn't — Wilkinson told me." " Well, but how did he know it, my dear friend? Is it in the letter'?" " Lord bless me, Miss Chamberlayne, how curious you are grown all at once ! No, it isn't in the letter : but Wilkinson said he was sure that was what it all meant. But, dear me ! dear me ! so many cares as one has in this world ; why should one go about fidgetting RIVALRY. 27 oneself after other people's matters? What can it signify to you, or me, who the man is going to marry ?" "Signify!" cried Miss Chamberlayne, " it may not signify much to you. But I — " " Oh ! I see," cried Mrs.Wilkinson ; " Well, more wonderful things have come to pass." u Mrs. Thingumbob," cried the excited spin- ster, *' for heaven's sake do not misapply the purposes of my investigations. — Mr. Charles Hardinge and I are old friends : and friend- ship, as Thomson beautifully exemplifies it, is as remote from love, as the two polar hemi- spheres." " Well, that's all very true ; but what Wil- kinson said about it this morning was just what I told you : that he was sure Charles Hardinge would not give up his business if he was not going to marry some rich woman or other ; or, if he was not, that you would be bringing your rich widow down here, just in time for her to snap him up." Here were her worst fears at once con- firmed ; for the Doctor's matrimonial predic- tions were held throughout the parish, to be 28 RIVALRY. nearly as infallible as his medical decrees. She was lost in contemplation ; and before she could summon up sufficient fortitude to resume the conversation, their tete-a-tete was inter- rupted by the entrance of the Doctor himself; whose arrival had been preluded by the clatter of his poney's hoofs down the street. Mr. Wilkinson was a good-humoured man, with a fair share of skill in his profession, and not much more refined than his wife ; although his three dinners a week at Kyland Castle should have polished his manners, could man- ners ever be polished after they have been in use more than forty years. He was a tall, spare man, with a red face and weather-beaten features ; half of whose life was spent on horse- back, and was easily recognised, at any dis- tance, by his yellow leathers, and his legs, stretching out straight and wide from his poney's sides ; for he rode, as only apotheca- ries ride, with his arms flapping up and down, as if he considered them wings intended to as- sist his progress ; and his nether limbs in cease- less and violent oscillation. The scientific labour would be well em- RIVALRY. 29 ployed, which should ascertain the organic difference between a butcher's boy and an apothecary. Both are eternally on horseback ; and yet the one rides as well as the other rides vilely. It has been suggested, that the tray and meat bring down the centre of gravity in the one case ; whilst the heaviest portion of an apothecary is generally the head ; but the ex- planation is not sufficient. " Well, Sally ! it's all right at the Castle," cried Mr. Wilkinson, as he bounced into the room, " that's a dead certainty. How do you do, again, Miss Chamberlayne ? Beautiful weather, isn't it. I have seen her," he conti- nued, with a nod of medical import to his wife : " Quite impossible — A charming woman. The Earl introduced me to her in regular form. He told her 1 was the modern Esculapius of the Mendip Mountains — his very words. The thing's as good as settled. And how do you do by this time, Miss Chamberlayne ? Come to chat a little with my old lady here ? You haven't mentioned Mr. Hardinge's name once, I dare say V U Why, Wilkinson," said his wife, with a 30 RIVALRY. slight glance at the spinster, " we want to know what he comes down for, and whether he's going to be married." "Time enough for that; time enough for that," quoth the Doctor, grinning broadly in the same direction. " Let us get him down safe amongst us first. Eh, Miss Chamberlayne? that's the plan, isn't it?" Miss Chamberlayne drew herself up, and remarked ; " that a gentleman of elevated re- finement, like Mr. Hardinge, would be an in- valuable acquisition to the intellectual society of East Leighton ;" and she added, with a slight tremor in her voice, " if my friend and school -fellow, Mrs. Dobson, does determine to visit our peaceful vales, and augment our soli- tudes, why then, I do say, my dear Mrs. Wilkinson, that we may look forward to a summer distinguished by the revivifying in- fluence of rational enjoyment." " Dear me, yes, Miss Chamberlayne, East Leighton will be something like what it used to be. But I say, Wilkinson, I should like to know why Mr. Hardinge left the Bar. I never will believe, and that's the fact, that there isn't RIVALRY. 31 something wrong somewhere. Why, if he was so clever, and such a rising man, a3 people said, what should he retire for? Take my word for it, Miss Chamberlayne, he has got into some scrape with his independent principles, or the French government, or something." " Stuff and nonsense," cried her husband, " you know nothing about the matter; lawyers arn't the sort of men to get themselves into scrapes." " I say, Wilkinson," quoth his wife, revert- ing to her own cares; " what have you heard about the man at West Leighton?" u Oh, fiddle de dee, the man at West Leigh- ton ; I'm not afraid of him." " Afraid ! no, to be sure you arn't ; but it is an anxious time for all of us, Miss Cham- berlayne." The spinster hemmed; and turning the con- versation said ; " What an electrifying hurry you were in this morning, Doctor ; you va- nished away with instantaneous rapidity. Are you so preterusually busy just now?" " Lots of work, Ma'am ! Lots of work." " Oh dear me," eagerly inquired the spins- 32 RIVALRY. ter, " is it so unhealthy a season in this neigh- bourhood ? What epidemical contagion have they got? The scarlet fever? — the bad sort, I dare say." " Scarlet fever, Ma'am ! Lord bless you, there is no scarlet fever, that I know of. What silly nonsense ha& my wife been frightening you about?" " Why, my dear Doctor," said Miss Cham- berlayne, " think how miserable I should be if I were to bring my dear friend, Mrs. Dobson, into any danger ! I would rather a thousand times that she should stay away." With that rapid acuteness which the female mind alone possesses, Mrs. Wilkinson saw at once through all the plotting of her anxious friend ; and with a titter, which she did not much labour to repress, exclaimed ; " Lor. Wilkinson ! how could Miss Chamberlayne ever forgive herself, if Mrs. Dobson was to catch the infection?" The explanatory wink, which accompanied this speech, told the Doctor all that was going on, and he laughed long and loud. " No, Ma'am, they haven't got the scarlet RIVALRY. 33 fever, or the yellow fever either. You won't be able to get up one for love or money ; more's the pity. But keep up your spirits, Miss Cham- berlayne, it will end well yet for all that." Miss Chamberlayne drew up her stately form, and although she longed to ask whether any of the ( lots of work,' to which he had alluded, were of an infectious nature, she checked herself, alarmed by the mischievous look of the Doctor's eye, and remained in dig- nified silence. Mrs. Wilkinson was about to take advantage of the pause in the conversation to bring for- ward again her ground of complaint against the rebellious wine; but her husband, knowing that the dinner hour had arrived, cut short the discussion ; and, turning to their visitor, said, '•' I hope, Miss Chamberlayne, that you are not going away. We make no stranger of you ; and the girl can come in and lay the cloth, without disturbing you." The refined Miss Chamberlayne took the hint, which was somewhat of the broadest ; wished them good morning, and departed , her mind suspended between hope and fear, and in c 2 a state of romantic misery, sufficient to over- whelm any maiden lady in the three kingdoms. She had a strong inclination to go and look at the Manor-house ; the venerable walls of which had suddenly become objects of great interest to her. However, she conquered her fond desire, and bent her steps towards Hill-side Cottage. She stood immovable, opposite to its gate, for a quarter of an hour, communing with herself how best she could attack the grocer. But, alas ! the board, the fatal board, was down, and she felt totally unable to devise any reasonable ground for directing him to replace it, At length, with many deep drawn sighs, she returned to her Bower. Once more safe within its walls, she soothed her agitated feel- ings by a few gentle little quarrellings with her factotum, Phoebe ; and, by this most effi- cacious process, so nearly brought herself into a state of composure, as to be enabled to do full honour to her solitary dinner. RIVALRY. 35 CHAPTER IIT. It had cost Mr. Hardinge many a pang, and many a painful hour of self-reproach, before he could decide on so important a step as that of retiring from active life ; and, by so doing, closing upon himself, at once and for ever, all those hopes of affluence, celebrity, and honour, which had for so many years been the objects of his ambition. However, the resolution once taken, his mind assumed its habitual serenity, and his buoyant and cheerful disposition soon led him to believe that he was doing a very wise and judicious thing. To his sister, Mrs. Forrester, he had felt it his duty at once, fully and explicitly, to com- municate his future plans; and there were two other individuals, and two only, to whom he considered that he was bound, not indeed to submit his determination for their approval, but formally to announce it, and to explain his 36 RIVALRY. motives. These two persons were very remote from each other in station and importance ; and the selection of one of them will cause many of our readers to smile. One of these honoured confidants was Mr. Edward Drummond, his school-fellow, his college chum, and his fellow-labourer at the bar; who, through life, had been his most intimate friend. The other was his old house- keeper ; a personage of much consequence in the establishment of all old bachelors ; but, in this case, of paramount importance. To both his present intentions were to be disclosed ; and, by both of them, he had no doubt they would be resisted. He, as we all do, sought first the conference, which he least dreaded. After a tete-a-tete dinner with Mr. Drummond at his handsome establishment in Lincoln's Inn, he opened his plans to him ; explained his motives, his disappointments ; and frankly took to himself all the blame, which he felt he deserved ; accused himself of idleness, want of energy, want of stedfastness of purpose and ended by calling on his friend to admit, RIVALRY. 37 that, situated as he was, he was acting wisely. Mr. Drummond was both surprised and dis- tressed at the announcement. " Hardinge," said he, " have you well thought of this? You ask me if, situated as you are, your proposed abandonment of your profession is not wise : but you do not ask a much more important question." " And what, my good friend, may that ques- tion be V "This," replied Mr. Drummond:—" Need your situation continue what it is ? — Is it not all your own fault? You admit it is. Why not them manfully, and at once, turn over a new leaf: forswear John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons ; go rather later to the Grecian, and come away considerably earlier? Why not give yourself a fair chance in Westminster Hall ? Do but this, and I will pledge my ex- istence that you will get back all your old clients ; aye, and double their number." Hardinge shook his head as he replied, " You are wrong, Drummond, you are quite wrong. Why, there is not,' , he added, 38 RIVALRY. laughing, " a single instance on record of any lawyer having reaped a second crop of attor- neys. Trust me, that Chancery practice, like beauty, ' knows no second spring.'" " I deny it," cried Drummond, i( I deny it altogether. Had 1 one half your talents and advantages, I should be on the bench before five years were over. Come, come, there will be more ' Fortescues versus Howards,' " al- luding to a cause in which Hardinge had gained great credit, 6 * and more immortality to be obtained." " Yes," replied Hardinge, " and to be ar- rived at through some scores of half-guinea motions, and the endless monotony of no- meaning briefs. Call it pride, Drummond, or narrow-mindedness, or what you will, but I cannot continue to endure that dominion of attorneys and solicitors, which we are all of us under. I know that you will say that there are many honourable men, and many gentle- manly men among them, whom I, or anyone, might be proud to call our friends ; and I admit it willingly ; but, if you wish for a wide practice, you must cringe, or something very RIVALRY, 39 like it, to the entire herd; nay, you must cringe most to the worst part of them. This I will not, can not do." '• Sophistry! utter sophistry!" replied his friend. " As high-minded men as ever lived have felt it no degradation to conciliate the good opinion of the inferior branch of their profession. But, at the very moment that you admit what are the real motives of this most unwise step, you shew that you are yourself dissatisfied with those motives, by endeavour- ing to prop them up by imaginary annoyances. However," he added, after a pause, " 1 know you, Hardinge, and I see and feel that your resolution is fixed." " It is fixed, my dear Drummond, and fixed after more deliberation than you, perhaps, will give me credit for." " But," interrupted his friend, " have you considered how this arrangement will affect your sister? I know how generous a brother you have always been to her. Can you ever bring yourself to lessen your bounty to her, and to her daughters'? And to continue it without the aid of your profession,— forgive me 40 RIVALRY. for the freedom with which I interfere in your affairs, — to continue to give her what you do at present, I know will be impossible." " My dear Drummond, all this has been well weighed, I can assure you. Not one guinea shall be taken away from the allowance, which it is my chief happiness to make to my sister. My East Leighton estate brings me in five hundred a year ; a few of my fees have found their way into the funds, and have, for- tunately, remained there. I can continue my sister's two hundred a year, and have ample means left to meet all the expenses of a country life." Drummond shrugged up his shoulders and groaned his dissent. " Hardinge, at your time of life, luxuries have become necessaries, and you will never be comfortable and contented without them. Do you really suppose that all your habits and your style of living can be changed at once, and that you will not feel yourself absolutely miserable?" " Yes, indeed, I can, and do suppose it. 1 admit that, were I to remain in London with a reduced income, I should feel and regret my RIVALRY. 41 privations ; but the entire nature of a country life is so different, that the change will bring little or no annoyance with it ; or, at the worst, it will be outweighed by the tranquillity and peace of mind which I shall enjoy. You shall be my visitor in the long vacation, and then see whether I will not give you such dinners, such barn-door fowls, and, above all, such real country breakfasts, as shall make you a con- vert to my theory." " And pray let me ask you, Mr. Charles Hardinge, have you apprised your thrice potent housekeeper, Judge Hannah, of all these revo- lutions ?" " No," replied Hardinge, laughing, " I have not. I deemed it best to fight the battle first which I the least feared. Do you not commend my prudence ?" " Yes, although the compliment to me be somewhat doubtful. But, if you do go to these Somersetshire marshes of yours, I trust the old lady will go with you. Your only chance of comfort is in her care of you." " Why, as the good lady is sometimes a little whimsical, and has a slight partiality for her 42 RIVALRY. own way, it were bold to assert what her deter- mination will be ; but I am pretty sure she will not abandon me to my fate. She is not the sort of person to give up her old master in his falling fortunes." " No, she is not," said Drummond, " not even if those falling fortunes result wholly and solely from her master's own will and pleasure. But," he continued, " mark my words, Hardinge, if you do bury yourself in those fens, which you call meadows, I can predict the result. You will either return within six months, and find your place supplied, or you will marry some farmer's daughter, or you will hang yourself." " Many thanks, most kind, most encourag- ing Sir, for your augury ; it is more favour- able, however, than I expected. I am glad that you have not united my fate to both of the two last events." '• Who shall say," replied Mr. Drummond, " that the third will not be the natural result of the second? With your active mind you must do something ; and if you will not re- main in your proper position, and do good, RIVALRY. 43 you will go into the country, and do mis- chief." " Well, but I do intend to do a great many things. I will be a sportsman, a gardener, a farmer; and, for my lighter amusement, I will put myself into the commission, and shew the country bumpkins what the law is. Nay, if you irritate me, I will turn author, and write all the histories of all the Stuarts !" " No, you will not. You know a great deal too much about those said Stuarts to think it advisable to do that." " You are a traitor, Drummond, to the good old cause, and ever have been. I should like to know how often the ghost of your great uncle appears to you, with those three sabre cuts which he got at Preston, and which your aunts, bless their loyal hearts ! firmly believe were only not mortal, because, taken collec- tively, as, poor fellow, he was obliged to do. they formed the sacred letter, S." ' : Well, Hardinge, if I be a traitor to a parcel of ill-founded, and too long retained partiali- ties, you are a worse traitor, a traitor to your- self. But I know you far too well to hope that 44 RIVALRY. any arguments of mine will shake your resolu- tion. Write to me when you are completely miserable ; and I will come down and abuse you." Here the conversation ended, and Drum- mond took his departure, leaving our hero heartily glad that one of his two trials was over, and somewhat anxious for the result of his conference with ' Judge Hannah.' That important event, however, he determined to postpone until the next day ; and, in the mean time, we must introduce Mrs. Hannah to our reader's acquaintance. Hannah Wheatley had now seen sixty-eight years ; fifty- six of which had been passed in the service of Mr. Hardinge, and his parents. She was the daughter of a small farmer in Sussex ; who, finding himself unable to sup- port his large family on a bleak sheep farm among the chalky hills of that county, had migrated to the richer plains of Somerset- shire, and had taken a grazing-farm under Hardinge's father. In spite of an indulgent landlord, and a productive soil, his life was but one long struggle between industry and RIVALRY. 45 want. His children, of whom he numbered not less than twelve, had borne heavily upon him during their youth. All his sons, with the exception of the eldest who looked to the succession of the farm, had preferred a soldier's life to remaining dependent on their father ; and the daughters had been placed out, in various directions, and with various success. Our Mrs. Hannah had the good luck to be pro- moted into the establishment of the Manor- house, when only twelve years of age, and had thenceforward never known any other home. Her merits had gradually advanced her through all the gradations of the Squire's household ; and for the last twenty-three years, during which Mr. Hardinge had resided in London, she had been his housekeeper and factotum. Bodily, as well as mentally, she was a person very much out of the common. Very tall, very broad-shouldered, and large-limbed, she looked like a man above six feet high in petti- coats ; coal-black hair, among which not a single grey lock yet appeared ; black eyes, quick, sparkling, and intelligent, and teeth 46 RIVALRY. as white and perfect as when she was a girl of eighteen. The hard work of early years had, however, wrought its effect ; and Hannah stooped more and more, as age and rheuma- tism pressed upon her. In this somewhat harsh, and certainly un- feminine exterior, was enshrined as kind a heart, as tender a nature, as ever the most delicate-looking woman possessed ; and, withal, an intellect shrewd, piercing, and deep. Her affection for her master was unbounded. She had been his nurse ; his resource in all the difficulties of childhood ; and, through life, all her ideas of happiness had been wrapped up in him. Her merits, and they were many, were mixed up with some faults. She was hasty in temper, could ill brook contradiction, thought her own way always the best, and clung to it most valiantly. But these faults, which she only shared with all other old and indulged servants, were a hundred fold compensated for by her sterling worth, and her ceaseless anxiety for her master's interest. Her domestic duties, scrupulously as they RIVALRY. 47 were performed, still left a long portion of the day at her own disposal ; and with too active a mind to remain unemployed, her great re- source had been in her master's ample library. It was rich in out-of-the-way law books, and old chronicles. These were her favourite studies ; and in process of time she had stored up in her mind, from which nothing ever escaped, a most strange and heterogeneous mass of law and history. In matters of dates, she was infallible, and appeals were often made to her to settle some knotty point of history. It will easily be believed that Mrs. Hannah was an important personage in the bachelor establishment of Mr. Hardinge. Great de- ference was shown her by all his friends ; and she was least feared, and most liked, by those who knew her best. Although all admitted that she was admirably qualified for the station which she filled, yet it was asserted by some that nature had carved her out for a Captain of Grenadiers ; and by others, that she would have made a most admirable Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench ; and hence the title which 48 RIVALRY. she had acquired, of l Judge Hannah.' And yet, had these critics seen Judge Hannah some fifty years before, they would, perhaps, have formed a different estimate of her attractions. Certain it is, at least, that her upright and active figure, her sparkling eyes, white teeth, and rosy cheeks, made so desperate a wound in the heart of a rustic baronet, that, not having the fear of his reputation, nor of Mrs. Hannah's prowess, before his eyes, he ventured to address her with most vehement love. The courtship was short, but not successful. The good dam- sel's stalwart arm, at one blow, felled the aspiring lover to the earth ; and it was both necessary and expedient that he should restrict himself to his own abode for several days after the encounter. The knock-down blow is county history ; the exact instrument, whether a broom handle fortunately within reach, or the by no means to be despised fist of the indignant Amazon, remains among the * Historic Doubts.' Mrs. Hannah did not like this achievement of her early days to be adverted to ; but, if pressed upon the subject, she would say that the man was a fool, and that there RIVALRY. 49 would be fewer such, if they were all treated in the same way. Our housekeeper was, in every sense of the word, an independent person. Careful habits, and an uninterrupted service of fifty- six years, had, under the able stewardship of Mr. Hardinge, enabled her to realize above a thou- sand pounds ; although her presents to her re- lations had been considerable, and frequent ; and although, also, she indulged in the ex- pense, but it was her only one, of very neat and very handsome attire. Her rule over her master, as we have hinted, was very absolute ; but he knew its value, and he delighted to frame from her peculiarities, and his own subjection, many a droll anecdote for his familiar friends. Among these friends Mr. Drummond was her especial favourite, and the person for whom, next to her master, she showed the most deference. All the circle, young and old, were delighted to study such an original ; and frequent were the requests made to Hardinge to call in ' his paragon of a house- keeper,' ' his Judge in petticoats,' as they termed her, in order that they might lead her VOL. i. d 50 RIVALRY. into a discussion. Mr. Hardinge was nothing loath to do this : he delighted to witness these conflicts ; and he was pretty sure that the old lady liked them also ; and that she generally would come off triumphant. There was one rule from which she never departed ; and in which she might he copied with great advan- tage by many persons of much higher station than her own. She never affected to know any thing, which she did not clearly and fully understand. Hence it was that her victories were so frequent, and her defeats so rare. But the occasions on which Judge Hannah came forward most prominently, and of her own accord, to assert her power, were on those evenings on which the party in her master's chambers extended their conviviality deeper into the night than she considered ex- pedient, or likely to suit with his next morn- ing's engagements. On these occasions she would, at what she considered the proper hour, walk slowly and deliberately into the room ; and, without appearing to be aware that any one else was present, would go up close to her master ; and stooping down would, in the RIVALRY. 51 most respectful and quiet manner, remind him of the next morning's consultation at eight o'clock. — There she would remain, perfectly unmoved by all the questions and gay remarks which were addressed to her; until she per- ceived that her master had made up his mind to obey ; and then, without adding another word, she would silently and submissively re- tire. At these visitations it was not Hardinge alone who gave way before her rule : and even had his friends not known her value and good qualities, they felt her power too strongly on themselves to smile at seeing its effect on him. Such was the person whom Hardinge sum- moned to attend him on the morning that succeeded his conversation with Mr. Drum- mond. She entered the room with her com- posed look and quiet step, and stopped near the door, expecting to receive the usual do- mestic orders for the day : but when she looked at her master's countenance, every variation in the expression of which she knew and understood, one glance told her, that something out of the common course was now to be attended to : and, at once, her manner 52 RIVALRY. and deportment changed. Nothing, indeed, could be more different than the ordinary ex- pression of Hannah's face, and that which it assumed when her mind was roused to ex- ertion. Her eyes exchanged their usual quiet and gentle expression, and sparkled with in- telligence and decision. She would lean for- ward more than at other times, supporting herself with her left hand upon her side, and her face turned somewhat to the right ; and the person who then looked at her, and ex- pected that a victory over her in reasoning or in argument could be easily obtained, must have rated his own powers very highly indeed. Hardinge hemmed more than once ; and more than once changed his attitude before he addressed her. At length he said, "Hannah, I am going; to give up the law and go into the country." — The old woman showed not the least surprise at the announcement, nor made any reply to it. Hardinge was forced to pro- ceed. — " Yes, Hannah, I have had enough of the law ; and I am grown sick of it. — I long for a quiet country life : and I have made up my mind to go and live at the old Manor- RIVALRY, 53 house. — I thought you would not be surprised at hearing this, and I am very glad to see that you are not." " No, Sir, I am not at all surprised, but I am very, very sorry :" — and the tears filled her eyes; — " 1 am very sorry indeed!" " But, my dear Hannah, why should you be sorry ? — Do you think that there is no hap- piness in this world but for those who are rich ? — I am sure that you are too wise to think so." " No, no, Sir : but it is not riches and money that you are thinking about now. I know what it is that vexes you, and it vexes me more than it does you. But I cannot help it, and you can. 1 know all that is going on, and you are now going to do what I have long ex- pected. — You are going to give up every thing, because five or six men, whom you can twist round your fingers when you please, are too wise to throw away the good gifts which God has given them, as you do. You don't want quiet and a country life and all that, and it is not the law that you are tired of, though you try to think so ; but it is because you are 54 RIVALRY. vexed that your business leaves you, and that men, who are nothing compared to you, should get before you. Oh, Sir! the fault is all your own. One minute's resolution would cure it." The old woman trembled with agitation as she proceeded ; and the tears poured from her eyes. " Strike," she cried, " but your hand upon the table ; say but the words, that you will be a new man ; and the thing is done. You never have, and you never will, break your word : and indeed, indeed, Sir, you would soon be a happier man. All these plans have bit- terness in them. I am sure they have. You know that you are wasting the gifts God has given you." " I am grieved to see you so moved, my good Hannah ; but I can assure you, very truly, that I care nothing about the applause of the pub- lic ; which is as easily lost, as it is gained : and I have long, very long, been convinced that riches and happiness have nothing to do with each other/' " I know that too, Sir. But is it nothing," — and her eyes brightened, and she brushed the tears from them ; — " is it nothing, to do good RIVALRY. 55 to those around you? Is it nothing, to know that you have been a good, and a just, and an honest judge ; that thousands have cause to bless you ? Is it nothing, when you shall lie on your death-bed, to think in your heart that you have done honour to your name ; and to your fathers, who have gone before you ? Is not this worth more than to go to plays, and to concerts, and to ladies' parties ; and to sit up with a pack of stupid gentry ; who if they were half what you are, would every one of them be too wise to do as you are doing." M But, my dear Hannah, you mistake the matter. I have no prospect of being a Judge ; not if I were to spend all my life in court and in my chambers." " I know better, Sir ; and you ought to know better too. I hear and know, one way or another, a good deal of what is said and done. Let them only know that you are always in chambers at the times that other lawyers are ; and that you are not running about to dinners, and parties ; and they will all come back to you, and as many more ; and glad too." 56 RIVALRY. Hardinge shook his head good-humouredly, and said, "Ah! my good Hannah, clients are not so easily managed as you seem to think. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for your good opinion ; and I am proud of it. But you must give me credit for having very fully, and very seriously, considered the step which I am about to take ; and my mind is quite made up on the subject.'' " Well, Sir, I have said my say. I could never have borne to hold my tongue : but you will not be troubled with any more advice, or words, from me." " I hope, Hannah, you will like to return to your old village." " I was not thinking of myself, Sir- I love East Leighton better than the place I was born in, or any other place ; and I shall be glad to know, that when I die my old bones will lie there. But I am very, very, sorry for you." "There is one thing, Hannah," said Hardinge ; ,c that I am certain you will be glad to hear. I have told my sister, that I shall take Bath in my way to East Leighton, and that I shall bring you with me to see her and the young lasses. RIVALRY. 57 To that part of my plan, at least, you will have no objection." u Objection, Sir ! It will do my heart good to see them, t think I ought to love Mrs. Forrester, when I was her nurse for seven years. And the dear young ladies ; it is five years last Christmas, since they were in town. It will do my old eyes good to see Miss Clara's beau- tiful face." " Well, Hannah, you shall see Bath, and you shall see Miss Clara too. It will be," he added with a good-humoured smile, " a famous opportunity for you to exercise your talent of lecturing : for she is a sad giddy girl ; and wants to have her rattling tongue, and her love of mischief sobered down a little." With this promise the discussion ended ; and ' the Orders of the Day were then disposed of-' d'2 58 RIVALRY. CHAPTER IV. The arrangements for Hardinge's departure from London were not very complicated ; and proceeded, in due course, under the careful management of Mrs. Hannah. His books, with the exception of the more technical part of his law library, were sent down to East Lei^hton, and also such of his furniture a3 he thought the old Manor-house would require. Every thing else was sold. Mr. Hardinge, or as he was always called Charles Hardinge, was a great favourite with every one ; and the announcement of his re- tirement from the profession produced a more than ordinary sensation. Judges, Barristers, and Solicitors, all united in their expression of sur- prise and regret : and even the old fruit-woman at the door of the court, partly moved thereto by the recollection of a long and liberal suc- cession of Christmas boxes, was lost in affliction and astonishment. " I never could have be- RIVALRY. 59 lieved," she said, " that he was a-going. Such a fine, tall, portly man ; and looks so hand- some in his wig. Well, it is a pity he wont stop, and be a Judge ! I'm sure he always looks as if he was born for it.** In a few days, however, Charles Hardinge, and all he had been, and all he might have been, ceased to be thought of; and his place was supplied by more active and more ambi- tious men. On the day appointed, he took his departure for Bath, by the coach ; himself on the coach^ box, and Judge Hannah, whose old rheumatic limbs he was unwilling to expose to the cold morning-air, safely deposited in the inside ; her bulky form, and her somewhat numerous packages, annoying not a little some very sen- sitive young ladies, who were her fellow-passen- gers ; but whom the old lady soon brought into a proper state of subjection, Mrs. Forrester resided, with her two daughters, in very unpretending apartments on the South Parade. Never did there live a mother more devoted to her children. Her eldest daughter had, from her infancy, been an 60 RIVALRY. invalid in consequence of an accident occasioned by the carelessness of her nurse, and which had united deformity of figure to a face of great beauty, and a mind filled with every gentle virtue. The younger was as fair a creature as health, youth, and beauty ever combined to form into a perfect model of all that was lovely and attractive. Above the common height, and with a figure slight, but beautifully rounded, her finely proportioned features, her dark blue eyes, her teeth like rows of pearls, and the rich clustering of her bright brown hair, were all that a painter could have de- sired, whose task had been to show how high the scale of female beauty could ascend. Gaiety, good temper, and vivacity of intellect were all blended in her countenance ; her very soid flashed from her eyes. But the master, and crowning charm of Clara's face was the smile which lighted up her lovely features, and which changed with every feeling of her vivid and active mind. Smiles are paradoxical things. Let any one call to his recollection half a dozen of the most stupid people whom he knows, and he will find RIVALRY. 61 that it is a constant smile which completes the insipid vacancy of their faces. Let him num- ber up the most intellectual and powerful- minded among his acquaintance, and he will admit, that, in almost every one of them, it is the smile that indicates the finer faculties of the soul. Must a shade of censure, a single shade, be cast over so fair a creature ? Clara Forrester was satirical ; was too fond of bringing out into full day the follies and the weak points of character in those around her. Yet was this solely the result of gaiety and light-heartedness ; for her nature was free from a single particle of malice. This lovely girl, now just entering into her eighteenth year, was the idol and pride of her uncle, and scarcely less so of his old house- keeper, in whose eyes 'our Miss Clara,' as she termed her, ranked next in importance, and merit, to her master. When the travellers reached the South Parade, only Mrs. Forrester and Caroline were at home. Kind greetings passed on all sides; while Hannah, the silent tears stream- 62 RIVALRY. ing down her hard features, gazed with anxious scrutiny on the pale, thin, but beautiful coun- tenance of the poor invalid. In a few minutes Clara rushed into the room, her face glowing with health and exercise. She flung off her bonnet, and, shaking aside the rich clusters of her hair, flew into her uncle's arms, exclaim- ing, " My dear, dear Uncle !" He again and again kissed her fair cheek ; and then, holding her from him at arm's length, scanned her animated countenance, while pride and affection were marked upon his own, as he turned his glance towards Hannah ; whose eager black eyes were now sparkling with pleasure, although the tears fell as rapidly as ever. *• Oh, my dear old Judge Hannah," cried Clara, for the title had extended far and wide, 4 ' welcome to Bath ! How glad I am to see you !" and she affectionately kissed the old lady. " Lord, ma'am !'' said Hannah, addressing Mrs. Forrester in a tone which marked the pride and pleasure which she felt ; " Lord, ma'am ! it is no wonder that my master is so fond of Miss Clara. Why, they are as like RIVALRY. 63 each other as two peas; and Miss Clara is grown so tall, too." " My dear Uncle, do you feel flattered by Hannah's opinion ? I can assure you I do." " You ought to do so," said Hardinge, laughingly, "for I believe she holds it a matter of duty to consider her old master the climax of perfection in every thing, youth and beauty included. Well, Hannah," he con- tinued, w you will be in very good quarters here. But take care that these two lasses do not spoil you ; and take care that you do not spoil them." The old woman, with a respectful curtsey, left the room, having been commended to the especial care of Mrs. Forrester's trusty Abi- gail. Family events and prospects were then dis- cussed, and many arguments urged to induce Hardinge to extend his visit beyond the nar- row limit of three days; but he was immove- able. " Why need you run away from us," said Clara, " in so un-uncle-like a manner? You have now no provoking causes, coming on 64 RIVALRY. exactly at the wrong time. Stay one fortnight ? one week 1 You must, you shall, stay over the Master of the Ceremonies' ball. It is the grand event of the season, and the first that I have ever been at. Pray, pray, my dear Uncle, stay, and go to that one ball ." He shook his head. " You are very, very wrong," urged Clara ; " we have so many oddities here, so many delicious quizzes, that one fortnight, well employed, as it would be under my guidance, would furnish you with food for contemplation for six months at the Manor-house." " My dear Charles," said Mrs. Forrester, " pay no attention to this giddy girl, or you will think her everything that is satirical and ill- natured." "No, my dear Mama !" cried Clara, " my uncle will think no such thing. He loves philosophical enquiry too well. Tell me, my dear Uncle, only tell me how many days you will stay, and I will go at once and prepare a map of all the most celebrated absurdities and follies which surround us, properly laid down in daily routes, like the guidebooks ; and then, RIVALRY. 65 with comfort, and no loss of time, you can be- come perfectly acquainted with the genius of the place." " Clara," said Caroline good-humouredly, " you are too bad. If you begin in this way, you will be the very essence of malice and envy in your old age." "Sooner, sooner!" cried Hardinge. « You will be an epitome of slander by the time you come to years of discretion." * Absolutely, Uncle Hardinge," said Clara, 11 you shall not go away until you have seen Mrs. Hungerford, my first and greatest of all favourites ; a perfect treasure of an old woman." " And who," enquired Hardinge, "is this Mrs. Hungerford, this first favourite, this per- fect treasure ?" " Oh ! Caroline ! oh ! my dear Mama, don't stop me ! Let me tell my uncle all about it. She is an old lady, a banker's widow, and very, very, very rich. She does nothing but play quadrille, and she always wins ; and she is almost always paid in gold. She does not 66 RIVALRY. dare to let it remain on the table, but takes her purse from her pocket, puts in the gold, and returns her purse to its place. All this is very agreeable to see. But the glory, the delight of the whole, is afterwards : for her mind is still unassured, and nothing can put it at ease but sliding her hand quietly down, and clutch- ing her dear purse, through all the folds of her ample drapery." " Uncle Hardinge," said Caroline, implor- ingly, " pray understand that Clara is not one half so ill-tempered, and so wicked, as she appears to be." " No, no, not one half," cried Clara ; " but for all that, oh! do let me finish my story. Well, at the very last ball I saw her do it twice. I was dancing with a sublime Captain of Dragoons ; and I would make him go and sit with me in the card-room, that I might watch her. And I saw all the delightful pro- cess. I saw it twice ! twice /" cried the ani- mated girl, clapping her hands as she pro- ceeded. a She did win, she was paid in gold, she did put it in her purse, she did put her RIVALRY. 67 purse into her pocket ; and, oh ! joy of joys ! she did slide her hand down, and clutch it, long and tight." Hardinge was much amused at the energy of this recital, and said, " I presume, Clara, that you explained to your partner the impor- tant nature of your studies." " Oh, no, I did not; nor did he find them out ; although, on the second occasion, the gentleman from whom the gold had departed said to the old lady, with a rueful smile, * Quite safe, I hope, Ma'am ;' and she an- swered, with beautiful calmness, ' Quite, Sir.' " " You are a sad, sad girl, I fear," said Hardinge, laughing, " and I will not sympa- thise with you in your ardour against the old lady ; but I should like to have seen the mysti- fied and deserted look of your sublime Captain while you were keeping watch." " Oh, no !" said Clara, " he did not feel deserted, nor was he unemployed; for there was a noble mirror exactly facing him. Stay but for this one ball, and you shall see him too, and all the fashion and splendour of the county." 68 RIVALRY. " And do you partake of these gay doings, my dear girl," said Hardinge, addressing Caro- line. " Yes, Uncle ; I go sometimes to the rooms of an evening. There are many persons here," she added, with a suppressed sigh,