L I B R.A R.Y OF THE UN IVERSITY or ILLINOIS S23 Sa24 word she addressed to her husband -when she had heard the story. "Where do you think it is ?" " That is exactly what we have to find out." '' Fool ! the receiver is the thief. The brooch is safe in the possession of gentle Keziah Dove. She who hoards everything has hoarded this too. We must call in Gimlet into the business. Send Snodge- pole express for him. Trapper will doctor a para- graph for the papers^ mentioning Dove^s name as often as possible, his wife^s, and his daughter's. I have my reasons : Proscenium Villa is an odd appel- lation, and it will strike. SpelFs name can be dragged in. What we first have to do is to show up the robbery — the robbery — the robbery, mind you. I will have no shirking the matter. Get that con- founded old fool of a beadle, Tollard, to work with his bell and ^ Oh, yes V He will blow the matter far enough. We must spread this into a good stroke of business for the firm." " Remember, my dear, Mrs. Dover's tale may be true. We do not know the full particulars, and must proceed with infinite caution.^'' " Infinite fiddlesticks. We must put on the screw. What lawyer does anything without the screw ? Oh ! I know how to squeeze the truth out of born liars, and the money from actual beggars. Press and bleed, press and bleed — there's your way to right. Meek Keziah Dove must go to ' Little Ease' and enjoy the pleasures of the lancet. To business ; Cubborn, for once I confide this matter to you, and see you do it well. Leave me; I have 76 OBERON SPELL. that affair of Blogg^s to look into. It comes on before tlie Yice-Chancellor on the 13th/^ Mr. Cubborn left the room, prepared to carry out his wife^s instructions. After arranging every- thing for the loudest possible explosion_, Trapper and he proceeded to the railway-station to inter- rogate Hilary Dove, in order to recover the lost property by voluntary concession if at all practi- cable. The commission-agent, as usual, was bid- ding good-bye to a nest of friends left behind in the carriage, when he encountered the unwelcome presence of Cubborn and Trapper. Visions of writs or arrest immediately presented themselves to him ; but he bore himself bravely. However, on being made acquainted with the object of the inter- view, he appeared much more confused and guilty than was compatible with perfect innocence. Was he sure of all at home ? Guiltless himself, could he say in his heart that his household was pure ? He was guarded in his admissions, and rather pooh- poohed the suspicions than scouted them. He took care to warn Cubborn that he would make Sir Roger Wheatley pay heavy damages, if through that gentleman his character, or that of his family, should be aspersed or injured. And saying this, he turned from the lawyers and proceeded home. He immediately addressed his wife — " Keziah, I wish to speak to you alone. Iris, love, leave the room. And now, my dear, I expect you to be thoroughly candid with me in this very serious business of the brooch. You must tell me all — conceal nothing, otherwise I shall not know THE BROOCH. 77 how to deal. Do you understand the true force of what I say?^^ " Well !" " Have you anything to add to what you said to Mrs. [Martin this morning T' '' Nothing.^' " You would not be a thief, Keziah T^ " No.^' " If my wife — the mother of my child — became a robber_, I would shoot her dead on the spot." Hilary Dove was very pale and nervous as he spoke. His wife was as tranquil and collected as usual. " Well, I believe you_, Keziah. I would, in fact, swear to your innocence." He kissed her, and the affair dropped. The commission agent took his tea from his wife^s thrifty hands. His dinner he had enjoyed in company with some choice spirits in regular course in the citj^ He talked some light agreeable nonsense with his daughter, he petted his dogs, stroked his cat as she sat on his knee ; he had quite a conversation with his parrot ; he chirped to his canaries and fed them from his mouth ; after a stroll in his garden he adjourned for the evening to the Merry Thought, as easy and unconcerned as if three writs and two summonses were not then in his pocket and a charge of robbery hanging over his house. T\Tio will deny after this that happiness is the pleasant fruit of natural disposition, which can charm circumstance, however untoward or burdened with evil and misfortune this may be ? Notorious malefactors have been merry in going to their final doom. CHAPTER IX. A DISCOVERY WHICH WAS NOT THE DISCOVERY. HE next morning all Edelstone was full of the lost brooch. To proclaim the intelli- gence there were the newspapers^, there were the placards^ there were the handbills^ and there was old Tollard, the beadle, with his clamorous bell and quaint " Oh, yes !" Every name but the Wheatieys was given in full, and every par- ticular included. The mysterious Jane Anderson had her portrait worked out of the most shadowy materials. Town and country were alike advised of her visit to the house of Hilary Dove ; but around the description there was cast a cunning kind of veil, which left a doubt whether that clever impostor depicted by Mrs. Dove was not altogether a creature of the imagination. Messrs. Gimlet and Picker, detective officers, now aj)peared on the scene. Although they regarded this and all similar duties as a matter of money and private interest, they had, nevertheless, their pro- fessional rules to go by. These they found to be sadly at fault on their visit to Edelstone. The whole matter, according to their mind, should have been kept in abeyance and concealed until they them- selves had arranged their plans. As it was, every- thing was spoilt. A DISCOVERY. 79 " You see/^ said Gimlet,, on learning the full par- ticulars at the Cubborns^ office, " there "is no probable case against the Doves. The man hnds it and pro- claims it, and the woman gives it up to a likely- messenger/'' " That is exactly my opinion/^ said the lawyer. " Hold your tongue ! That is not my opinion/^ said Mrs. Cubborn, magisterially. " Why was the brooch taken to Dove^s house at all? There is nothing in the story we have just heard, gentlemen, but the statement of the railway officials that a woman similar to the person described as Jane Anderson, went to London by the eight o^clock train ; there is nothing but this, which does not, to my mind, prove the guilt of Mrs. Dove, and doubt- less also of her husband and daughter. Mr. Cubborn, unfortunately, has his feelings concerned in this matter. Keziah Dove, they say, is a very pretty woman,''^ — (here the lady attempted a laugh) — '^ he, he ! But for my part, I never allow feeling to enter into the profession. I do not see what it has to do with the law.^^ " Certainly not, ma'am. That is a principle I always inculcate myself. We officers of the law have no business whatever with feeling."'^ '^ Well now, gentlemen, we have talked long enough, I think, in all conscience. I wish the search to be begun forthwith. I have already procured the search-warrant. I do not allow the grass to grow under my feet in such matters.^"* "^ Of course, ma^am, of course, since 'tis your so OBERON SPELL. desire ; but is it not straining a point to go at tlie Doves ?" " The magistrate's -^-arrant is your authority, Mr. Gimlet; we must execute that. You and your friend were not summoned from London for no- thing. We have our own constables ; but we thought you would do the work better.^'' " Thank you, ma'am ; but we must proceed in the regular way of business. I see nothing of a reward mentioned, which is not in the usual course. We officers are accustomed to do our duty, but we like to understand the ground we are going upon.'' " I have been considering, Gimlet. I compre- hend you. I see no objection to proposing a fifty- pound reward." " Fifty pounds, Mrs. Cubborn ! — fifty pounds !" said the astonished husband. " 'Tis all very well for these gentlemen, but will Sir Roger Wheatley pay it?" " We are his solicitors, and he must." " But will Luxmore and Square allow it ?" '^ Luxmore and Square, mere attorneys ! Really, gentlemen, I am ashamed of Mr. Cubborn, tho- roughly ashamed of him. A respectable practitioner like him to put himself on a par with mere petti- foggers. It is plain Sir Roger Wheatley, who employs them about his estates, has no confidence in them, or he would have placed this matter in their hands. Thirty, however, will do, as fifty might tempt the Doves to be honest. I see, gentlemen, you must have some motive to work." A DISCOVERY. 81 " Exactly so^ ma^am. Thino^s now begin to look like business/^ " Do you only convict Hilary Dove and his wife,, and if possible^ his daughter,, and you shall both be well paid. They are a bad lot, a shocking bad lot. I want to get rid of them cut of the neighbourhood. They encourage that scoundrel, Oberon Spell. You have heard of that sad affair of my boy^s nose. Of course you saw it in the papers ?" " ~So, indeed, ma'am ; we never read nothing in the papers but the police, the assizes^ the sessions, and the Old Bailey. You see, they concern us, ma'am.'"' " To business now, gentlemen ; that does concern you. Call at the police-office, and they will lend you a woman to assist you. I want to be alone with i\Ir. Cubborn ; I have a case of importance to settle with him." Messrs. Gimlet and Picker for once did indulge in a feeling, — " Poor Cubborn !" but they quitted the room without adding another word. On the door of Proscenium Villa being opened to the ordinary knock, Messrs. Gimlet and Picker, accompanied by a female, Mrs. Grub, wife of a local policeman, slipped at once into the hall, and thence into the reception-room, without stay or invitation. " Take a seat, ma'am. My name is Gimlet ; perhaps you have heard of me. This is 'Mr. Picker, my friend. ^Ve have come about that brooch. You will be perfectly candid with us, — you can be quite confidential ; nothing passes from us. What do you know about it ?" VOL. I. 6 82 OBEROX SPELL. '' Nothing/' '' But you had it T' '' I had/' " Just tell us what you did with it/' '^ I gave it to the messenger/' " Well, go on ?" "I had rather answer you/' By this time the officers had begun to entertain, doubts of Mrs. Dove's honesty. She was too guarded, they thought, for innocence. Unable to di-aw her into the usual voluble woman's conversa- tion, they proceeded to question her most minutely as to every particular of time, place, and circum- stance connected with her account of the brooch. The answers were invariably dry and curt, trim and bare, not a superfluous breath or syllable. The witness was cool and unmoved. Mrs. Dove was a puzzle to the two experienced police-officers. " And you got no receipt ?" " No/' ' '' That is odd." No reply. " ATell, ma'am, you j^erhaps have no objection to our searching the house ? We have a warrant for the purpose. Of course, it would save you much trouble, and exposure too, if you were to be candid with us. All that is required is the property — the brooch — we must have that. We have sure in- formation that it is here. Have you nothing to say before we begin?" '^1 protest against the search. I am alone in the house." A DISCOVERY. 8S '' Oli^ as to that^ we are quite delicate;, I assure vou^ ma'am, and have brouglit one of the feminine sex with us. If you will step with !Mrs. Grub into the next room, she will examine you in the regular way of business.''^ "When the officers were left alone, Picker said to Gimlet — " If she did it, she knows how to fence it. I never knew a woman say so little and give so small a handle. ^^ '' It may be her natm^al manner. She is wonder- fully cool.^'^ " As a stone at the bottom of a river. A barish place this, Gimlet."^ '^ It has seen many ups and downs, like a tavern waiter. Here they come.''^ " Well, did it turn up ?' " Not about the lady^s person. So far, all is just as it was before.^' " Very well ; now, Mrs. Dove, please show us over the house. Mrs. Grub will examine where you object to our search.^-" " Under protest,^^ said the accused, in the same quiet manner, and the work of rummaging and pry- ing began. It was indeed looking for a needle in a bundle of straw. The article was but small, and the house and grounds were ample and crammed with hiding-places. There were many things in that house which a sensitive mind would sujffer keenly to see revealed. Several pawnbrokers' dupli- cates among the rest, and writs, summonses, and other disagreeable and degrading legal documents beyond number. But Mrs. Dove was quite passive^ 6—2 84 OBERON SPELL. and seemed to regard the whole matter ^?> pro forma. She was not even moved by the disclosure of her own special stores. There was quite a profusion of worn-out goods. Old scraps^ waifs and strays of all kinds^ which should have gone in due housewife course long ago to the rag and boneman^ were here stowed away and in trim order; repaired, where capable,, at double their value, and packed with as much precision as if they were the property and gems of the wardrobe. The number of pins, needles, and nails was incalculable ; and bits of linen,woollen, and cotton were arranged with the nicety and order of a draper^s shop where the female assistant has not too many customers. As these curiosities turned ujd, Messrs. Gimlet and Picker the more and more thought that they were in the track of the thief, if not of the brooch. There was so much hiding away and evidence of covetousness. Still they were not successful. Once they thought they had made a point. They turned out from a heap of shreds a silk glove curiously embroidered. Mrs. Dove, with a sudden start and exclamation, caught it up. "Ah! I thought I had lost that. Give it to " Not till we examine it, and all about it. Come, be a little plain ; tell us the mystery of this old- fashioned glove.^^ ^' It does not concern your search — proceed -" and Keziah Dove, taking the glove from their hand, smoothened it carefully out, placed it among a heaj) of neat scraps, and resumed her passive demeanour. A DISCOVERY. 85 The detectives Tvere now all but at the end of their search. Gimlet and the woman Grub had left the last room. Mrs. Dove lingered behind, and Picker had his hand on the knob of the lock, giving a final searching eye around before quitting the apartment. One part of the ^^ork of detectives is to vratch the countenance of the suspected person -where the opportunity ofters. Frequent were the examinations of Mrs. Dove's placid featui'es by- Gimlet and Picker. But nothing could be divined from a sui'face so tranquil and calm. The most ex- citing revelations continued to be made; the police- men themselves were more than once startled,, and the woman who accompanied them was made alive to the scene. Keziah Dove alone exhibited neither surprise nor emotion. Certainly she betrayed no blush or sign of shame. Picker, as we have observed, was about to leave the room^ when his glance in its circuit stnick upon the gaze of the suspected woman riveted on the very lock he held under his hand. Her eye was fastened there. Her feet appeared glued to the spot. She was fascinated ; and though she felt the officer's observation direct upon her, she could not for worlds alter her fixed stare. She stood spell- bound. The detective in a moment discovered this; he had the clue. " Gimlet, give me your driver. I should like to unscrew this lock.'' " Eh !" said the brother officer, and a look of meaning passed between the two. The gaze of Keziah Dove was like the sun's ravs in a 86 OBERON SPELL. dark room. It j^oiired a light on tlie hidden nook. ^' Have yon the key of this lock^ ma^am V " No/^ The respondent this time was deadly pale. It was the first change that had come over her coun- tenance that day^ if we except the slighx transition connected with the glove. Her tone was calm but altered, and she made an addition to her wonted monosyllable. '' The lock is not nsed.^^ " Here_, give me the di'iver, Gimlet. There can be no harm in taking ofi" an old lock, if only to dust ont the cobwebs. ^^ One by one the screws were drawn, and the whole lock turned down flat on the broad palm of Picker. " These look pretty, don''t they V said the detec- tive, advancing to a table, and displaying the lock with the wards entirely absent, and in their places rolls of uncovered gold piled closely together. " And pray whose are these V said Gimlet, drawing near with a chair. " Mine,''^ was ^Irs. Dove^s firm reply. " Does Mr. Dove know you have so much money ?" ^' Inquire.''^ '' How many guineas do they count V '' Not one.'' ^•' I see they are sovereigns, yes. How many ?■" " If you reckon, I will tell you.*" " Coimt them. Picker.'' " How many are there ?" said the detective, after reckoning up each heap. A DISCOVERY. 87 '^ Now that you know_, I will certify that I know too ; five rolls of fifty in a roll/^ " Exactly^ ma^am. We officers are honest men, and count straight. But this is not the brooch. ^^ " Every lock in the house must now come ofi", unless you will save us the trouble. We have the key to your hiding-place/'' said Gimlet. " Give me my money/^ said Mrs. Dove — ^' my money ; it is mine.''^ '^ Be calm, my good lady. If the gold is yours, why it is yours. Trouble or bother will not get it for you sooner. We are ministers of the law, and the money is now in the law^s custody.^'' At that moment a knock came to the door. "It is my husband.'''' " Stop, ma^am, I will let him in.^' " What is all this about ?" said Hilary Dove. " Only a search-warrant. We are getting through the business quite comfortably.^'' " Is, then, an Englishman''s house no longer his castle ? Is Proscenium Villa an open common ? A search for a brooch which I was the first to find and to publish my discovery to everybody. Wheatley shall sufier for this, and Cubborn and the rest of them. I am a long leaseholder here, an old and much respected inhabitant, president of the Planet Club, and I carried the last election for Wheatley. By-the-bye, whose is all this money ?^' " It is the law's,'' said Gimlet. " It is mine,"" said Mrs. Dove. " Yours \" said the astonished and alarmed hus- band. 88 OBERON SPELL. " Be calm, my dear sir/^ said Mr. Picker. " Two hundred and fifty golden sovereigns in safe legal keeping;''^ and he swept the whole into a bag he produced from his pocket. " But the search must go on, Picker/^ said Gimlet. " Off with the locks as fast as you can, and then for the grounds.^" The spirit of Hilary Dove for the moment was crushed. How could his wife have come by so much money? If honestly, her heart must be black and indurated. He had suffered, his child had suffered, and she herself had suffered bitterly for want of means. If the gold was stolen, or the produce of a theft, what a depth of misery yawned upon them all ! How if she w^ere really guilty of the theft of the brooch ! Shoidd they discover it, as most likely they would in one of those old locks, what would be her fate ? But the oflScers did not find it; though stimu- lated by their singular discovery in the lock, they pursued their inquiry with renewed sharpness and "vigour. Meantime, Dove had an opportunity of questioning his wife. Her cut and dried answer was, " The money is mine.''^ She did not further satisfy his curiosity. He had large faith in her, he loved her, she was his wife, and he believed her. The officers, with somewhat of an apologetic tone, bore off the bag of money. The whole matter next day was brought before the magistrates, and after a lengthened investigation the gold was re- stored to Hilary Dove. The case of the brooch was dismissed on the very probable supposition that A DISCOVERY. 89 it was delivered to the pretended messenger. Mr. Cubborn was severely reprimanded for having used many exaggerated statements, in order to induce one of the magistrates assembled to grant the search- warrant and summons. The whole ended in the triumph of Hilary Dove. He had his bag full of gold; his wife was discharged without a stain on her character; and a brilliant action for damages against Sir Roger Wheatley was rising now in gay prospective. The INIerry Thought and Proscenium Villa were jovial that night. Good had flowed in from a sea of troubles. CHAPTER X. A FOUNDATION IS LAID FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. BOUT a fortniglit after the incidents nar- rated in our last chapter^ Mrs. Cubborn sat in her office pondering^ as nsual_, ^ben alone^ and now and then jotting down a note or two in a character only intelligible to her- self. She seldom committed her more recondite thoughts to paper in the ordinary chirography^ for reasons she approved,, except when she allowed others to transcribe them and work them out in action. After about half an bourns deliberation^ she rang her husband^s bell^ and he obediently attended the imperial summons. ^' Well^ Cubborn^ I have been looking up matters a little^ and I think you are conducting this busi- ness very badly.'''' " What business^ my dear T' " What business '? Why, our business — the office business — the profession.^^ " I only do what you tell me. I have no voice of my own, as you well know. If things go wrong, I am not to blame.'''' " They do go Avrong, and you are to blame, and you shall be to blame, or what are you good for as a husband and the head of the family ? You ruined that affair of Dove^s.''^ " How, may I ask you ?^^ A FOUNDATION FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. 91 '' How ? — why will you stare like an idiot ? Listen to me, and I will tell you. That money, which you know in your heart was stolen, should never have left your hands /^ " It never was in them, my dear. The police held it fast, till ordered to deliver it up by the magistrates to the lawful owner.^"* " The lawful thieves, you mean. The rolls were in gold. You should have pleaded some pretext for delay. I had intended to find an owner.^^ " Then you should have said so. Besides, I do not approve of those crooked ways.^^ '' You shall approve of my ways, fellow, or quit the house, as I have often warned you. And so this is all the apology you have to offer me for losing the firm at least some two hundred pounds. I know one who would have been glad to claim it for the odd fifty.^^ " I dare say you do. And for your paios fall into the cunning clutches of Gimlet and Picker/^ " "Well, that is done with now, and cannot be mended. But what excuse have you to make for allowing that scamp Dove to swindle Sir Roger "Wheatley out of three hundred pounds as a com- promise for an action for damages ?^^ '^ If you will know, my dear, I had nothing to do with the matter. Sir Roger was thoroughly disgusted with our whole proceedings, and gave himself entirely over to his regular solicitors. Lux- more and Square. They were resolved not to let him off lightly for taking the original business out 92 OBERON SPELL. of their hands, and fell in easily Avith Dover's exorbi- tant demand/'' " That^s the "^-ay yon snffer every trumpery fellow to over-ride yon. Had yon not a tongne in your head ? Could you not expose their motive T' " I thought I had gone far enough in the matter, unless I wished to get kicked completely overboard. As it was, I was glad to have seventy pounds for the job and to cover all our expenses. Gimlet and Picker had a consideration/^ " Thanks to me for publishing the reward hot foot. Though they didn^t succeed, they deserved something. But seventy pounds from such a chance ! I believe you would be glad of sixpence. Don't you know there is the printer to pay, and a thou- sand other small expenses ?'"' " I should not like to be called on for the bill, my dear. I was delighted to receive the cheque, and to get rid of the matter without explanation.^^ " But don^t you know that Wheatley hates ns, and would have kicked us overboard long ago if he dared ? He can't do without us at the election. There yon knew you had him, and should have skinned him while in your power. A pretty firm this is likely to become under Andy Cubborn's management. But is it true that Dove has turned Radical Y' " Quite so. He says only the innate tyranny and absolute training of the Tory system could ever have made Wheatley persecute him on the baseless suspicion, that he or his wife had kept that brooch ; and so he ratted."" A FOUNDATION FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. 93 " A good job too ; liis absence will make our services of the more account. He stood in our way and claimed this election. He made you look only a poor sheep in his presence/^ '' I don^t know that. But he is an enthusiast, a capital talker, and a renegade now. He may help to fling Wheatley from his seat at the next contest. Nutmeg, the grocer, promises he will stand."*^ " That is likely to be a long way off. However, you must go to Wheatley, warn him of his danger, and tell him boldly we can stem it. I want to con- tinue that connexion for a time. It is necessary to my plans. But it was not for this, or anything about that fellow Dove, that I wanted to see you. Do you think, Andy Cubborn — as your old grand- mother used to call you — do you think that I can look upon you as a husband and a father, while you let my poor boy be outraged in this most scandalous manner without redress or damages 1:" " I did my best, and so did Trapper.-" " Never mind Trapper. You are always leaning on somebody, and every one is in fault but yourself. Don^t you know if you had not been entirely devoid of sense and spirit the bench of magistrates would never have made our charge against Spell appear malicious and groundless ?" " But I tell you the case broke down utterly at every step.^'' " And whose fault was that ? Arc you so gentle a sucking-dove that you could not have those present who would have propped it up, and sworn they saw the stone in SpelFs hand, or saw him pick up one. 94 OBERON SPELL. or tlu'ow one down^ or something else likely ? A precious attorney not to know how to back up his own cause ! I should like to know what we go into a court for but to win T' " But the very witnesses you subpoenaed were our ruin_, and proved the direct contrary to what you wished them to say. As to Atom craft with his hard substance^ Scriven gave him a rap on the knuckles he will not easily forget. And those seconds of Natty' s^ Wildbore and Blunt^ they turned tail and called him a savage cur/' '^''Did I not tell you how their e\ddence would turn out ? But was it not easy to get witnesses to contradict them and make them out young perjurers and liars_, as they ought to be ? I do not know what the law is to come to, if an attorney is to let his cause slip through for want of evidence when it is always to be had for a little liberality and ma- nagement. I wish from my heart you were dead, Andrew Cubborn; I might then find a suitable helpmate. As it is you are my utter curse and ruin/' " If I am, all I say is that you are my prompter in the work of destruction. And as to Jonathan, your pet, his character, as well as his nose, is damaged for life." ^'"'Tis a lie — 'tis a lie, fellow. The triumph is mine, in every way mine. I was listening to you, and trying if I could get any wit out of that thick skull of yours. I tell you the Doves are tarred for life. Everybody can point the finger at them hence- forth, and say they were charged with robbery ; and that brooch may yet turn up against them. Oh, I A FOUND ATIOX FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. V*J •would go all the way to Spiusterton Towers to see that cunning piece of silence and lier impudent daughter treading the wheel ! Then^ do you think people will believe that heap of sovereigns her own ? No^ no ; I say, black is my mark, and my mark is on the Doves. And for Master Oberon Spell, I have branded him as a young assassin. He is pitched — defiled — the charge will cling to him. Masters Blunt and Wildbore did not get clean off either. The impression must be that they prevari- cated. Atomcraft is a half-knave, a demi-perjurer, the worst witness a case was ever curst with ; he will never recover his character. Besides, he is poisoning my boy with his globules, and I know how to let the world know it. As to his baronet- ship of the Priory, I am delighted to know that he has been tortured and cheated. His haughty slut of a wife, and creature of a daughter who would not play with Natty long ago, but used to hug Oberon Spell and call him her husband, — well, she and they all have been pulled down a bit with their fine county airs and family exclusiveness. They have lost their brooch, Hilary Dove their trumpeter, and three hun- dred and seventy hard pounds in the bargain. T suppose you think I am like you, a fool, and con- duct this business without hedging. I have an eye to two issues ; the one may fail, but the other is sure to bring in a measure of favour. I will plant the venom in the wound, if the blow does not reach home." " Sarah Cubborn, you are a fearful woman.'"' " I am, and I am yom- wife to boot. You shall 96 OBERON SPELL. know more of me and this profession by-and-bye. We are both in our infancy — the principal and the business. Now_, look to that action against Trensham. See that it holds water.''^ " It is desperately leaky at present.^'' " I am glad yon perceive it. You must stop the gaps, and go into court -with a sound case. I have my eye on Spell. I shall not forget the Doves. Blunt and Wildbore, and the rest of them, are all my enemies.'''' " They are legion.^'' '^ So much the better. TVe are legion for them. Are we not feared, dreaded, abhorred ? And who is respected that is not so ? A hated lawyer is sure to have plenty of angry business. Ours is a giant power, and I will use it like a giant. I shall be on the Rolls yet — then you will see. What is Dove going to do with that money ? Five hundred and hfty pounds is no small sum to touch at one lump."'' " It will be soon swallowed. Hilary Dove is one of those persons who do not know the use of money. He is going to repair and improve. He is going to furnish. He is going to start a new company."'' " A company V " Yes ; Trensham''s Hygienic Food Company, with Scriven for the lawyer."" " Scriven again ! That fellow is ever in my path. Only for you, we should have had this picking. Our old clerk will be sure to make a good thing of it."" " A pity you drove him away, Mrs. Cubborn. He is taking up all our respectable business."" A FOUNDATION FOE FUTURE TROUBLES. 97 " And whose fault is that^ idiot ? If you Lad kept the whip hand over Treusham and Dove, as I planned, they dared not refuse you anything/^ " You forget, my dear, that the extreme measures ■were yours /^ '' I forget nothing. How dare you tell me that I forget ? It is because they were not kept to the extreme and reined in with a tight hand, that Scriven steps in to snivel where we should rule. However, they have had their brand hot, hot ; all but Scriven, and his shall come. He is in my books. AVhat is that French saying about excusing ?" " Qui s'excuse s'accuse, my dear.^^ " Well, 1^11 take care that all our foes through the whole of their lives will have to be excusing them- selves.^^ '' From false accusations T' Ay, from false accusations. All the morediffi- cult to disprove. There will be one incessant round of defence — a constant indictment against them. Think you I do not know the force of calumny ? It never wipes out — there is always a stain.^"" '' For this they call the great calumniator diabolus — devil.^^ " A capital name, though I don^t believe in him ; but I like his power. Call me the great slanderer — the devil, if you will — anything but a meek woman. I hate amiable people. Half your beggars and gaol- birds are amiable. Go now, get to work ; see that a ne exeat be taken out for Major Conyers, another of the county worthies.^^ " But he is in actual service, my dear. The proof VOL. I. 7 98 OBEROX SPELL. will be impossible : unless,, indeed, be is prepared to lose his commission/'' '^ I want no argument, sir. I have said take out a ne exeat. Let tbe proper affidavits be made — manufactured, if you like tbe term. If you wont do tbe business. Trapper shall. Take out a ca sa for Sir George Trebaston — a county magnate too. Put a detainer on that fellow Talbot without loss of time. That bothering widow^s goods must go. Serve writs on Lyddon, McGregor, and Trevelyan. There must be no compromise, every farthing, with costs, must be paid down, or off to Spinsterton Towers they go, the vagabonds.''^ The patient husband had nothing to do but to obey. A hundred times did he try remonstrance, at- tempt opposition; a hundred times did he signally fail. Mrs. Cubborn made light of a row. To maintain her supremacy she would have pulled the house to pieces and let the debris tumble upon all belonging to her ; resistance was hopeless. She would go from door to door and proclaim him the greatest swindler living, and give her pro and con for her charges. There was only the one escape — to cut and run, or be satisfied to mount with her to wealth and power — the easier alternative, though the ulti- mate conclusion might be total collapse, explosion, and bankruptcy. Immediately her husband left, Mrs. Cubborn rang Trapper^s bell. The managing clerk appeared. " Trapper, what about Trensham's new com- pany T' " It will be started.'' ^' But it must not succeed/' A FOUND ATIOX FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. 99 " No fear of that. The thing is too absui'd to last a twelvemonth.^'' " I do not know that. Trensham is a clever man_, though a poor surgeon_, and Dove could push anything into notoriety. You must be down on them from the beginnings in the way of paragraphs, quasi friendly^ but keeping the connexion between the promoters and recent unpleasant circumstances alive. I want to stab Scriven here if I can; he is eating into the practice wofully, drawing off our best clients and business.^'' "Everybody speaks well of him. He pays his clerks liberally.''^ ^•' Oh ! he does ?' " And you will excuse me^ ma^am, but there is that little matter of increase standing over.''"' " Trapper,, you are covetous. Be satisfied. I make your newspaper business for you. Succeed in ruining this company^ bringing in Scriven with a swinging loss^ and sweating Trensham with heavy damages for my boy's nose, and it will not be my fault if you are not remembered. You must apply for an injunction in Scoppin^s case, and I think we must boldly charge Edmon stone with fraud and forgery. You will see that it is well sustained. You may settle that afi'air of criminal assault against Sydney for a handsome consideration. I think we can^t do better." " Very good, ma^am, your instructions shall be attended to. Any further orders V " Not at present. You will duly report progress. Go." 7 2 100 OBERON SPELL. Mrs. Ciibborn next rang Cotcliing^s bell. The second clerk put in liishead and wriggled his body into the room. " Yes_, ma^ara '^" " Do yon patronise the Crowbar V " I do call in there now and then, ma^am.''^ " I find no fault with you for that. The house is respectable enough in its way^ and a man at yonr time of life must have his glass, though I can manage on water. Cotching, you might be useful to the firm. 3Ir. Trapper is really so much taken up with his newspaper hobby that he has no time for the serious matters of the profession.^" " Yes^ ma" am.''" '' I want you to get hold of the chairman of the Radical committee at the Crowbar and learn their moves. A sovereign a secret, if I consider it worth the money. We must not appear in the matter."" '^ It is a bargain, ma" am. I think I can manage Rumball. And as to secrecy, honour bright, ma" am, I am true to the backbone."" " T\liy, there"s the door for those who are not, and I clidu"t care if the whole town knew our se- crets here, only it would not be business. Keep your eye on Hilary Dove ; he attends the Crowbar meetings."" " So he does now, ma" am. What a loss to the cause ! Oh, he"s a splendid speaker, a wonderfully clever man. I do feel surprised we ever lost him."" " Your master lost him, not I. But you must not call him clever now. He is on the wrong side. ' Stupid," ' dolt," ' ranter," and ' fool " are the words."" A FOUNDATION FOR FUTURE TROUBLES. 101 '^ I understand yoii^ ma^am/' " You may go now ; remember^ a guinea a secret." Mr. Cotcking gathered himself together, and again thrusting his head forward, drew his limbs after him out of the room. Mrs. Cubhorn rang Snodgepole's, her waiting clerk^s, bell. That personage appeared. '' Snodgepole, I am not to be disturbed on any account for two hours. All clients and others are to be shown into ^Ir. Cubborn's room. Go. ' Once more ^Irs. Cubborn rang a bell. This time it was for her son. Jonathan, as obedient as the rest, speedily ap- peared. His face was still strapped up, and he looked altogether a deplorable object ; enough to arouse any mother's indignation. '^ Sit down, my love, sit down. I am avenging you, Natty. I am making them suffer. But your fool of a father with his conscience and caution and scruples and honour spoils all my plans. I want you now, child, to study a little. It will divert your attention. Here are the pens, and here are what you are to imitate. There is tracing- paper, there is sand, and there is a blotter. AVill you begin with the broad-nibbed quill pens, or the line springy ones ?" " It doesn^t matter to me. Suppose I take the steel ones first. This will require one like a hair.-*^ And Jonathan Cubborn began his studies under his mother's instructive care. ^Ye merely indicate their nature. Their full development will appear in the extension of the Cubborns' professional business. CHAPTER XI. PATRONAGE. E have seen with what trim preparation and earnest intention and hope Hugh Graff wended his way to the Priory^ in order to lay his portfolio of humble drawings before the county member and his family. He was but a rare visitor to the Park ; for admis- sion now was given only by special application to the steward; unless^ indeed, as was the case with the upper class of families,, among whom the Spells were included, the privilege was considered to be generally granted. The Graffs and Doves and per- sons of secondary grade, were not in this favoured list, but under the exclusive restriction. The young artist soon got to be interested in the noble scenery around him. It had every charm of richness, extent, variety, and beauty. But it cannot be said that he enjoyed either the sentiment or the poetry of the pictiu'e. He was rather occupied, so to speak, with the several objects and views as they rose before him. He was studying within himself how best to copy them, and for this purpose was fixing the images fast in his mind. Any enjoyment he felt was de- rived from the practical sense of storing up useful knowledge, rather than from a subtle association of idea or luxuriance of fancy. Perhaps Hugh Graff PATRONAGE . 103 had to be educated into the poetry of hisprofessiou, if ever he should attain to that intellectual pre- eminence. At present his pursuit was imitation, and could he have sketched as he went on^ he would doubtless have presented some marvels of exact delineation of scenes which could not be copied ever so rudely without embodying forms of much picturesqueness and beauty. He was learning, as he walked, the strokes and pothooks of descrij^tion. At the same time he was insensibly imbuing his mind with the spiritual life inherent in the artistic examination of the various shapes of nature. Perhaps the most satisfying landscape in the world is a well laid-out old English park. Not, indeed, the grandest or most beautiful, but the easiest of approach, and the most varied in scenery, and containing the gi-eatest variety of pleasing spots and associations. Hugh Graff enjoyed his walk to the full. The sky over his head was, in the language of his friend Spell, " One broad arch of i^ainted blue." There had been a gentle rain in the early morning, and the verdure and flowers were everywhere re- freshed. The wind blew lazily from the south, and lightly fanned his brow as he proceeded. There were some veiy fine elms in the park, and three long avenues of chestnuts full three hundred years old, some being of great amplitude and beauty. But it was the presence of a number of magnificent oaks which constituted the glory of the place, many of them growing in spots of much picturesqueness and 104 OBERON SPELL. poetic and romantic suggestion. There were vast expanses of fern from which at times the antlers of a noble stag appeared, while at a short distance, in quiet seclusion, a whole herd of deer might be found browsing on the short herbage. There was a large lake fed from a series of cas- cades, and pouring its redundant waters into a variety of brooklets which, here and there crossed by bridges, gave an infinite freshness and variety to hill and valley, and spoke their guttural language to the solitudes around. As the range was very exten- sive, a part of the lower ground was enclosed for rearing a few choice herds and flocks, and not far off from these was another large fenced space for the stud of horses attached to the Priory. Such a park would have been imperfect without a goodly stock of game ; this was there in profusion. The plan- tations were numerous, and you could not pass them without being made aware of the presence of pheasants, while hares and rabbits started for- ward and frequently crossed the path of the wan- derer. There were foxes, stoats, polecats, weasels, and badgers in the grounds, but only rarely visible. What pleased Hugh most were the gambols of the squiiTcls, which he watched running up the stems of tall trees and leaping among the branches. The keen eye of a keeper, too, now and then met his gaze. But he passed on, merely inclining his head and smiling. In fact, the young artist was lost in the study of the varied scenes which continually arose before him. In this way he got through the park, and was PATRONAGE. 105 now in tlie beantiful walks wliicli led directly to the mansion. The shrubs and flowers here arrested his attention. Being quite uninterrupted^ he had the opportunity of witnessing the effects of skilful horticultui'e in floral decoration, and he paused more than once in order to master thoroughly the absorbing volume of pictorial instruction set before him ; for in this light only did he regard the choicest production and disposition of the garden. The house was a comparatively modern structure^ built on the ruins of an ancient priory. A goodly for- tune had been laid out in its erection^ and both architect and builder did ample justice to the very liberal terms and margin allowed them in the original contract. The ecclesiastical character of the foundation was sought to be preserved where this could be done without injury to the con- venience^ beauty^ and grandeur of the edifice as a manorial dwelling. The attempt was highly sue- cessfulj and the building was admitted to be one of our best specimens of the fitness of the Gothic style^ judiciously used^ for purposes of state and residence. When the boy came directly in front of the pile, he was not struck with the mass so much as with the variety of parts and the difficulty of em- bodying so many ornaments, quaint figures, and proportions in a picture. As he continued to gaze, a sense of an indistinct whole and a certain solemn grandeur and feeling of the presence of antiquity grew upon his mind. The thought arose within him that he could best give an idea of tlie Priory 106 OBERON SPELL. by expressing iu pencil that vague picture without much attention to detail or the filigree and orna- mentation which at first had so much perplexed him. Pondering thus, and adding to his stock of know- ledge of practical art^ he approached the great door. " Well^ youngster/^ said the porter^ '^ what do you want T' "At the request of Sir Roger and Lady Wheat- ley, I am come to pay them a morning yisit_, and to show them my drawings. ^^ " Oh_, your drawings ; and your name V " Hugh Grafi" is my name/^ " Any relation to Grafi", the carpenter V " His son.^^ ^' Oh ! now I know you."*^ Poor Hugh came as an artist somewhat filled with his own importance, but was sadly taken down when he found he could only make himself known as his father's son, the child of a carpenter. " And you wish to see Sir Roger and her lady- ship ?' " If you please. I came early, not to disappoint them.'' " I fear they cannot see you to-day. They are too busy.'' " Perhaps, sir, you would like to have a peep. Have you a taste this way ?" " A taste — oh, a taste ? I should rather think I have. I give the cut for my own livery ; and Stultz says I am first-rate ; only I must keep within bounds for the style of the family. A purty one that." PATRONAGE . 10 " It is. Will YOU be pleased to select one for yourself V " Thank you. I should like that. It so resembles my niece.^^ " No, not that. It is not mine to give. It belongs to a young lady. Will you accept of this one?^^ " Well, I suppose I must f and the ai'tist placed a sketch of the room Avhere he was born before the janitor. '' I suppose/^ continued he, in his mildest and most winning tones, ^'^ if I waited a little, I should not have my journey for nothing?'*' ^* Well, I will see what I can do for you. If you were the tailor or di-essmaker or barber I might manage it ; but I don^t think they want pictui'es. The house is chock full on 'em. Ah ! perhaps this gentleman'^ — and he addressed another portly personage, not in liveiy, but solemn black — the steward or butler — '' will do something for you. This young lad, sii', says he came, incited by Sii^ Roger and my lady, to show his pictures.'"'' '• I have come by express imritation, otherwise I should not be here.^^ The major domo scanned him narrowly, and answered placidly — " We are all very busy this morning. But step in here, my lad, and I will inquii'C her ladyship's wishes. You wiU find some of the choicest gems of art there to entertain you.^' Hugh Graff was tired and quite subdued. He had come out with grand prospects, and thought his fortune v. as made. He even conceived he looked 108 OBEKOX SPELL. big and important to the tall trees and affrighted animals in the noble park through "which he had passed. He now began to realize his utter insignifi- cance. Had he been a tailor^ a mantua-maker^ or a hairdresser_, he would be something — a tradesman ; as a poor artist he was nothing. It was his first great lesson. He had been^ moreover^ hard at work mentally since his entrance into the park. At best he was not a strong boy, and the walk had exhausted him. He felt naturally disappointed at the cold character of his reception_, but more at its utter common-placeness^ where he had expected so much elevation, generosity, and kindness. The chamber into which he was ushered was entirely devoted to engravings, and contained the very prizes of the art both from the schools of our own country and those of the Continent. But charming as they were, and suited to the taste of the visitor, they had now few attractions to arrest bis weary attention. He took a turn or two about the room, glanced cursorily at the glorious scenes surrounding him, and then, dropping into a very easy chair, fell into a profound sleep. The young art student was weary in mind and frame. His slumber was at first deep and refresh- ing, he was wholly lost in unconsciousness ; but by degrees the active mind began to stir, the lobes of the brain ceased to press so heavily one against the other, the corpuscles of grey matter were in slow motion, the material ministers of the soul had com- menced work. The sleeper sighed, stretched out his arms, turned on his side, and began to dream PATRONAGE. 109 a dream. He thouglit Priory Park was enchanted ground,, and tliat he was flitting about it on angels' wings. After enjoying the ecstatic luxury of float- ing over all things in a balmy summer air^ he sud- denly came upon the mansion. Against this he saw a huge ladder^ and hundreds of people toiling up rung by rung with loads on their backs^ in order to get an entrance. But as for himself he had his wings^ and fled in at once through the window. He met the big porter, now translated into a golden-robed keeper of the gate, and by him he was ushered forthwith into the state chamber. There sat the genius of the place, Sir Koger ^Vheatley, his lady and daughter, all radiantly clad, and with piles of gold, diplomas of honour, ribbons of various orders, and admissions to high places all in heaps around them. Graff thought they wel- comed him most graciously, and smiled inefi'able things at his drawings, for they had the portfolio before them. The dream went on this way for some time, broken here and there by strange combinations and contradictions. Iris Dove was actively busy in his fate, and now it was the Levers, and now it was the beautiful young spirit Ernestine herself. 13ut he suddenly thought in reverie fashion that he was not himself, but Oberon Spell, and that all his vision concerned his friend. He might have been there a couple of hours when the steward pushed open the door, and found him in a perturbed slumber, his portfolio beside him. ^' What ! you still here, poor child ? They have 110 OBEROX SPELL. forgotten you^ my little man. Start u-p, it is get- ting late/^ " Yes^ yes^ sir. — Oh, sir^ yes. Oh_, clear ! oh, dear ! where am I. ? What a pity, — such a change ! I beg pardon, I don^t know how it occurred. I suppose I was tired. Am I to go, sir?^"* " Well, I thought they would have sent for you long ago. But stop, I will take up the portfolio myself and place it before her ladyship.^" '^ Sir Roger particularly requested to see it.^^ '^'^You must not always take those things for granted, my lad. He is rather too busy now to see you ; but wait here, and I will try what I can do for you.^^ Mr. Glover, that was the steward^s name, was not absent more than five minutes on his mission of kindness. He brought back the portfolio, from which some of the best and most promising draw- ings had been extracted, that of Iris Dove being formally left; and, with a cordial smile, presented the artist with a sovereign and a shilling. " There, my little boy, I have succeeded in get- ting a guinea for you. Her ladyship is engaged, and had forgotten you. You must want some re- freshment ; come with me.^^ " Pirst allow me to thank you, sir, and present my duty to Lady ^\Tieatley and say I am much, obliged. Will you, sir, accept this drawing from the few left ? I know there is not much in it, but one day, I hope, it will be of value. ^^ " I understand you, — I accept it with pleasure. Come now with me/' and taking the lad by the PATRONAGE. Ill hand he led him to a large room filled with cup- boards in the panels, and ordered him a luncheon of cold bread and meat and sweets, and a glass of very mild ale. ^' I have obtained a privilege for you from her ladyship. On mentioning your name, you have permission to enter any of the gates of the park, and make what sketches you please in the grounds. ^^ " Oh, thanks, thanks ; this is a favoiu'. Now I shall know where to spend my Wednesday and Saturday afternoons and my holidays.'"' " Good-bye, my little boy.'^ The steward rung a bell. '•' Harper, show this young gentleman the way to the western door."*^ Bowing very low to the great man of a greater man, the youthful protege left his patron^s house with a guinea in his pocket and his portfolio lightened of the best of his drawings. Still he had gold, and those were but pictures. He had sold his wares and was satisfied, although the visit was not what his youthful aspirations had anticipated. He called in on his friend Oberon as he passed, and somewhat amused him and Mrs. Spell by his naive account of his journey, his reception, his sleep, and his dream, with the final result of a great man's patronage. " Ah, Hugh,^^ said Oberon, smiling, " we must both stand on our legs, and not depend on walking- sticks. Your gold-headed canes never yet supported anything better than footmen and foplings. It was as well after all, mamma, that my illness pre- 112 OBERON SPELL. vented my visit to tlie Priory. I should not have pocketed the affront so complacently/^ "My dear^ I do not think any slight was in- tended; great people are not always at leisure,, and if Tve look on things rightly ;, there is always some compensation. You are satisfied^ and our friend Hugh is satisfied/^ '' Ohj thoroughly so. It is my first guinea^ and fairly earned." " A good beginning for a tradesman^ not for an artist^ Hugh/^ said Oberon. " Well^ I don^t know^ but I suppose you are right. I said I would call;, and I have called. But I must get home now ;" and after an affectionate adieu, the friends parted. CHAPTER XII. THE DAWNINGS OF LOVE AND HATE. ilFTER mucli and serious deliberation on Oberon SpelFs future career of life^ it was finally resolved by his mother, with his own hearty consent, that for a couple of years or so he should dedicate his time to his clas- sical, mathematical, and general studies, under the occasional direction and guidance of Mr. O^Kane, who was really a very superior scholar; that, in fact, he should digest and assimilate his already- acquired knowledge, read extensively and discur- sively, preparing for a successful college course, and in a remote degree for the bar, his ultimate desti- nation, should no intervening circumstance inter- rupt and alter this programme. But there was a deeper and more absorbing intention in Oberon^s mind. He had long meditated the production of a poem which should illustrate the several departments of art, by a series of beautiful tales and allegories, in themselves classical models of the special themes they explained. To this his reading and the studies of his leisure were all, one way or other, directed. Artist-like, he drew out a regular plan, set diligently to work, and daily added to his choice stock of manuscripts. Priory Park opened its scenes for his rambles and VOL. I. 8 114 OBERON SPELL. contemplations. Here were delightful walks,, soul- entrancing \dstas, and arbours delicious for medita- tion or repose. Oberon was not always alone in liis excursions. He frequently met the AVheatleys — father^ mother^ and daughter^ and had brief con- versations with them. He sometimes came upon Ernestine, accompanied solely by Martin, her maid, and without any familiar communication on either side, there was much to arrest the attention and in- terest both, and for after-reflection and remembrance, in the scenes and observations which presented themselves on these occasions; the one generally springing out of the other, and the inquirer, for the most part, being the young lady, who was fond of seeking information on every conceivable subject, and found in the student an inexhaustible mine of intelligence and knowledge. But the poet had also at times other companions. Hugh Graff was frequently by his side, and more than once Iris Dove ventured to accompany him. She, like the Graffs, had never been included in the regular aristocratic admissions to the park, and might now be regarded as formally shut out by reason of the violent political opposition of her father to Sir Roger T\'heatley. But quiet Hugh Graff in his inner nature was encroaching and presuming, and conceived there could be no harm in extending his own carte -blanche to his almost inseparable lady companion. As to Iris, she never gave a momenta's thought to the matter, and Oberon somehow took it for granted that two were comprised in the permission accorded to the young artist. It THE DAWNINGS OF LOVE AXD HATE. 115 Tvas tlius that the three young friends were often in the park together. ^lany were the bright^ sunny afternoons and glowing evenings they passed in each other's society among these delightful solitudes. As the range was very extensive,, and included a circuit of some twelve miles, they were most times to themselves, as they desired, each pursuing the task he liked best. Hugh sketched, Iris worked, and Oberon strung verses together, or was lost in con- templation ; at times even indulging in that sweeter employment than doing nothing — thinking nothing. One evening the three were together in a bower which commanded the most magnificent landscape the park exhibited. Hugh Graff was pausing in his sketch of one of the glorious old oaks which thronged the scene, and presented a hundi'cd quaint images to the spectator. As usual, he submitted his work to the judgment and criticism of his friend Oberon, and listened to his observations with pro- found attention and reverence : although Oberon was, in truth, but a poor draughtsman himself, the pic- torial force of his mind and his descriptive powers in words were wonderful. He saw objects not as matters of hard, diy outline, but through the ima- gination, embodying always some grand or beautiful sentiment. Hugh Graff found his best and most genial instructor in the poet. He could fill in all the rest himself, but he felt his capacity as an artist expand under Oberon. After thanking Spell for his instructions, he fell back, as a break in their studies, on his old love of hearing Iris recite some of his fi-iend's poems. There 8—2 116 OBEUOX SPELL. may have been a certain seeret or insensible policy in this, but the -wish sprang truly from the heart, and Hugh could scarcely feel a greater pleasure than in listening to the composition of Oberon re- cited by the lips he thought most capable of doing it justice, and which he knew gave most satisfaction to the author. ^^ Iris, dear, have you completed your study of ^Life?^^^ '' I did my best for it ; but I don't like it. 'Tis in blank verse, without that spring which makes rhyme so glib to declaim.'''' "^ ''Tis very grand, young lady, I tell you ; and you must recite it for both of us now.''' " Not, surely, if Iris dislikes it,'''' said Oberon. " No, I don't dislike it ; but I cannot feel it."" " Oh, no matter for that ; you must try and feel it. Your father is quite in love with it.''"' '^ Oh, I believe if Oberon only wrote nursery rhymes or doggrel, pa would be in raptures with them. But since you wish it, dear Hugh, and Oberon is serious, I will recite one of his poems which somehow is a favoui'ite of mine. You know the story ; it is about that Italian singer and her handsome lover. But I will begin. " Light of my soul, when I was horn The Sun-God ruled my destiny, And filled me with a love of morn. To make my life a dream of thee. There is no night when thou art near, But summer day for evermore, THE DAWXINGS OF LOVE AXD HATE. 117 Such singing of gay birds I hear, Such darling flowers their fragrance pour : Apollo's brow I'll kiss, and kiss, Dissolv'd and lost in love's abyss. Thou heard'st me sing, my love, last night, Thou saw'st me move, a dream inspir'd, "Whilst bravos pour'd and bouquets bright. And thousand rapturous hearts admir'd. ! pulse of mine, I saw but thee ; I heard alone thy precious breath ; There's only one dear world for me — Within thy breast — without it, death. My bower of love ! my lame's fond strife, IMy inspiration and my life ! III. 'Twere strange to tell th' eclipse of tone That dimm'd. my feelings from a child ; How love-warm genius brooded lone. And grief-clouds marr'd affections mild ; Till glorious darkness wrapt my soul, And lurk'd soft lightnings in the gloom, And heaven's great echoes o'er me stole, Like Chaos wailing Kature's doom — But Phoebus shone with am'rous dart, And summer-noontide charm'd my heart. No marvel I should love him well, For who can view that godlike brow, "Where might and light and beauty dwell, Kor feel entranc'd as I do now ? And once I gazed with eyes elate, But sudden paled with eyelid quiver, And felt the flash of woman's fate. The fire within her heart for ever ; And from that consecrated hour, I share my glorious Smintheus' power. 118 QBE RON SPELL. V. " Why art thou heautiful, my love ? Why young and chivah-ous and kind ? Ah ! who can deep aiFection prove, Where bright perfections charm the mind ? Would it were otherwise, if so Thou slept'st more calmly on my breast, And felt in age, or pain, or woe, A vigil couch for thy unrest. I reck not form, or grace, or art, But love the love born in my heart. VI. " Play to me, dearest, I will sing With thine own soul of thrilling fire : The ravish'd earth and skies shall ring. The very stones will join in choir. ! beauteous tone ! ! pulse of heaven ! Th' electric trembling of the stars ! To that soft, dulcet touch is given More than the conq'ring power of [Mars. Leonora sings ! Apollo plays ! They've come again ! — th' Elysian days. I've had a dream — a summer dream, Of bosom fancies and sweet loves ; The cold North world did dimly gleam. The South sent forth her rosy doves ; Eich bloom and fruitage warm'd the ground, And forms of beauty graced the sun ; Whilst mirth and music bubbled round, And genius golden guerdon won. We dwelt apart in vine- clad bower, And laughing Cupids whiled the hour. VIII. And, as we slept in dewy trance, The dreaming of my dream reveal'd THE DAWXIXGS OF LOVE AND HATE. 119 Thy searching spirit's arrowy glance, Which life's prophetic book unseal'd. I saw the truth, like burnish'd gold, The present, past, and future — one ! Man's sum of being briefly told — The daylight of a winter's sun, A sun though wrapt in twilight cloud, A sun when cold in midnight shroud. IX. " The vision of ray vision changed ! — We were together through long years, Grown young in love ; for time estranged All selfish, unconfiding fears : There w^as no age upon thy brow, Nor shriv'ling care to cramp my will; Thou wert as beautiful as now. And I thy fond reflection still. The constancy of wedded truth Embalm'd our hearts in roseate youth. X. " A life-long love ! — oh ! kind self-death, Sweet suicide ! — thus wholly thine ! Thine to the last, devoted breath ! Thine absolute each pulse of mine ! To be all this even in a dream, Or a dream's echo, is such bliss As seraphs rapturously stream Through heaven in their communion-kiss. Then, dove-like, wake, and, nestling, sigh — ' ! 'tis no dream !' — feel this and die ! XI, " Come wnth me, sweetheart, leave this shore, Where darling love was never young ; Where life is labour evermore. And faith and genius are earth-sprung. Oh, come ! and breathe my sunny land ! By Como's waters shall w^e dwell. 120 OBERON SPELL. Embower'd by Nature's fost'ring hand, And charm'd by Art's divinest spell — Joy ! joy ! oh, heart I — dear Italy ! With mme own love I welcome thee !" "Thanks^ dear Oberon/'' Hugh exclaimed; ^^ thanks^ dearest Iris. It was charming. Oh ! you never looked so beautiful as when you described that ' Godlike brow.'' I do not wonder at your choice of the subject. I will never rest till I paint that picture^ with you as the singer and Oberon as her lover .■'^ " And who is this bold lady who declaims so loudly in Edelstone Park ?' said an excited voice, breaking in on the astonished trio. '•' Oh, Miss Wheatley/^ said Oberon, rising, and at the same time deeply blushing while he took the hand outstretched to him alone, not with the usual friendliness, but with somewhat of ofiended dignity. ' ' Yes ; my maid and I were on our strolls, and we heard voices. At first, not knowing from whence they came, we approached, but unwilling to interrupt so enthusiastic a declamation. I now perceive who yom- choice is. I have seen this young person before ; I think, Hilary Dover's daughter.^" " I am Hilary Dove^s daughter,^^ said Iris, step- ping forward into the walk with the sweep of a tragedienne. " Come, jNIartin, we are intruders here. I was not aware that Priory Park had become a common ;" and inclining her head slightly to Oberon, the daughter and heiress of Sir Roger Wheatley passed on with her maid. THE DAWNINGS OF LOVE AND HATE. 121 " There is some mistake/" said Oberon. '^ 1 must run forward and explain/" " Miss Wheatley, I beg pardon. I trust you will not think me an intruder here."" Ernestine TMieatley was very pale and somewhat confused and annoyed; she, however, replied with tolerable composure : " No, Mr. Spell ; with you it is altogether different. I hare seen you in this park as long as I can remember ; your young artist friend has had, I understand, permission ; but there the privilege ought to stop — must stop ; that young person shall henceforth be excluded. Her father, Hilary Dove, is one of Sir Roger AYheatley's most active political enemies. He is a renegade, if not something worse."" " Hilary Dove is my friend. Miss ^Yheatley, and his daughter Iris my chosen companion. We shall however be sure not to obtrude again ;'" and raising his hat to the young lady, Oberon Spell hastily returned to his friends. Miss Wheatley stood a moment, puzzled, and then walked on in haughty silence beside her maid. Her feelings had been deeply wounded, but never- theless she perceived that her conduct was un- ladylike and wrong. " Come, Hugh,"" said Oberon, giving his arm to Iris. " AVhat can you be about ?"" " About ? why, finishing my sketch, to be sure. I do not see why we should take up the quarrels of Iris or her father. We are not politicians. Besides, it would be A'ery awkward ; this is such a capital 122 OBERON SPELL. place for sketching. I will try and see Sir Roger myself and get you permission^ Iris/'' " Never for me. I know myself better. That young lady hates me, and I think I know the cause. ""^ " Come, dear, we must go. If Hugh chooses to remain we cannot help that ; we must leave.'''' '^'^Well, walk slowly/^ said the artist, steadily going on with his work. " I shall be sure to catch you up in Blackberry-lane.^^ Oberon Spell and Iris Dove were speedily on their way, arm in arm, to the next gate, which opened directly into the road mentioned. As they passed, Ernestine Wheatley saw them from the distance, and felt her heart, young as she was, throb with conflicting emotions. However, she quickly mastered herself, and appeared only annoyed at the presence of the daughter of her father's j^olitical enemy to the simple, earnest woman who attended her. '^ Hugh is of a peaceful disposition, as mamma says,''"' said Iris, casting a regretful look behind. " I wish he were here.''^ " For his own sake I wish he were ; but I am not sorry that we are alone. Iris, there are many things I wish to say to you which we cannot well mention before others.'''' Iris was silent and blushed a little, very little. " I was thinking,^^ said Oberon, " you ought to commence a course of studies. I shall be most happy '' " To be my teacher. Oh, that was what you had to say. Pray don''t think of it, if you would not THE DAWNINGS OF LOVE AND HATE. 123 be my torturer; and not a word of this to papa/^ " But should you not like to improve yourself ?^' " No, not in book-learning ; I can^t see its use, nor can mamma. There^s the Skelmers ; the eldest brother is a scholar — a very learned man, they say, and a poor scrub of a writer. The other, I believe, never read a book in his life, not even a novel ; he can^t spell, and his writing is a scrawl ; but he was thrust into a warehouse when a boy by his elder brother. He picked up the trade of slops ; he knows this, and he is one piece of pushingness and cunning, so mamma says. Well, he gets seven hundred a year, and an interest in the business as manager of a department, in the great city firm of Higginbotham & Co. He is cautiously and slowly undermining his employers in the house, and making a party for himself among the chiefs and men. His design is to succeed as principal one day. He lives in a villa, and keeps his wife, who knows nothing, in luxury ; while his brother, with all his conduct and knowledge, has to shift from lodg- ing to lodging, constantly struggling to maintain that poor, proud lady his wife and three ailing children.^^ " With all those drawbacks he may be happier than his elder brother. He is not a pretender, like him.^^ ^'^A pretender, indeed. I should like to know what the reality is good for, if the base coin passes better ? I tell you, mamma says that in this world appearance is everything. I shall stick to that. 124 OBERON SPELL. I shall do very well with a little scraping of know- ledge here and there. I can talk as well as you now^ and perhaps think better. Oberon Spell says — " There is a soul of wisdom in tlie world, Beyond our written know^ledge ; broad and clear, Germane to ev'ry mind, which shines on all, And makes men's genius equal." Ha ! ha ! "What do you think of that, ]Mr. Preacher 1" " And what do you think of all my labours to be a scholar ?^^ ^' Why, that you are a fool for your pains ; a make-believe, like me, will do much better. We know when it is wise to show off. I never bore people, as pedants do. Kow, if you could paint like Hugh, you would have value for your labour, and could turn it to profit; so mamma says." '' Indeed." " Indeed ! Why, I heard yourself say that the wisest of men — I do not mean Solomon, but So- crates — you see I know that — with all his know- ledge only knew enough to know he knew nothing." " True; human intelligence is very circumscribed." ^^ Oh ! give me the man who knows slops well, or chimney-sweeping, or anything that will bring grist to the mill ; he is my master of arts — and hearts too," added she, laughing. ^^ Iris, I fear you are incorrigible." " If I were I should not know so much of your poetry. But where is Hugh — my Hugh — little Hugh Graff ? I must run back to meet him." THE DAWNING S OF LOVE AND HATE. 125 " Noj Iris, you must not condescend to that. He did wrong in lingering behind/^ " I don^t tliink so. ComC;, come along V' And saying this, the arch, tantalizing girl caught Oberon by the hand and tried to drag him back. Just at the moment a rustle was heard in the hedge, and Jonathan Cubborn passed rapidly along the field it enclosed, coughing significantly as he hurried forward. " An eavesdropper here,^'' said Iris, checking her exuberant action. " To warn you. Iris, that, as your mamma says, you should never forget appearances. But I see Hugh coming.^^ '' Oh, I am glad you joined us,^^ said Iris, quitting Oberon^s side for the approaching artist. " We were getting prosy and should soon have quarrelled. Well, dear, have you finished your sketch ?^^ "" All but a few touches which I can give it at home. You look dull, Oberon. I hope you are not offended with me.^^ " We must act in unison, Hugh, if we are to be friends.^"* And saying this the student walked on by himself in silence. After a time Iris once more drew to his side. " Oberon dear, I hope you are not meditating another battle.^^ '' No, Iris ; to contemplate is my mood.^^ " Oh, I had forgot — a bookworm. Save us from stale thoughts and musty tomes ! I must rejoin Hugh. He is economizing time; not losing it on me, but finishing his sketch on the road. Come, 126 OBEROX SPELL. cheer up. I know I am naughty at times ; but take the light with the shadow, the good with the evil.^^ '^ But why should there be evil T' Pondering this question in other than its metaphysical and moral bearing, Oberon Spell did not reply, but took the turning which led to his home, leaving Iris to finish her walk with Hugh Graff, whom she had rejoined. She soon missed Oberon from the road, and said, while a tear started to her eye, — " Dear Oberon ! I am a sad gii4, and annoy him often when I do not intend. It was all your fault for staying behind, sneak as you are ! But who have we here V' '' Oh, Mr. Cubborn,^^ said Hugh, blandly. '' I did not know you were behind us.^^ *' Hard for you while Oberon Spell was here,^' said Iris. "^ It was fortunate for you, miss, that I was here when that fellow forgot himself.^" " It is you, I think, who forget yourself now and forgot yourself then. But it was well to have a hedge to run behind for shelter; it prevented another ugly accident.'*^ " Come, come ; let there be no bitterness. We are all friends and neighbours here,^^ said Hugh, interposing. " I hope ]Mr. Cubborn is too well bred to play the spy or annoy a lady ; and, by-the- bye, as you are here, perhaps you would charge yourself with this sketch of a Royal Oak for your mamma. It will save me a journey. Do you like it ? You know you were always clever at drawing, Mr. Jonathan.'' THE DAWXIXGS OF LOVE AND HATE. l'2i " Wellj I used to be ; but I attend to another department now. I wonder^ Graff, a hearty good fellow like you, can chum with that cur, Spell. ^^ '' He is my friend.^" '^ And mine/^ said Iris, in her most emphatic manner. '^ Oh, two to one — one too many. Good night, Graff — good night, miss.'''' Hugh and Iris were alone together, but the sole conversation of Iris was about Oberon Spell and his noble bearing and conduct. In all these eulogies Hugh cordially joined ; though he somewhat re- gretted the tiresome monotony of the conversation, for in the bottom of his heart Hugh Graff was most covetous of admiration. " We are at home, Hugh. Good night. Poor Oberon ! I did not say good night to him ! God bless you V " And you, dearest Iris. Good night. ^'' And so they parted. The very next day Oberon called to take a hasty adieu of his young friends. Iris and Hugh. The previous night he had had a very long and serious conversation with his mother, and the result was that both resolved to accept immediately the invita- tion of Mrs. Lever to join the family in London. An attempt was made by mother and son, each in a peculiar way, to sever the ties of early com- panionship and maturing affection. CHAPTEH XIII. OBERON IN LONDON. NCE fairly lauuctied on tlie great ocean of metropolitan life^, Oberon Spell^ ever sen- sitive to new impressions, stood in some danger of forgetting his boyisli love. But that was inrooted in his being, and however con- cealed for a time by circumstances^ it was sure to peer forth again at the genial season. Nor was his cousin Caroline exactly the person to wean him from an early and deep affection. She had not the recommendation of beauty essential to his notion of feminine excellence. In fact, the young lady was rather plain. She was not a bad diminutive of her gigantic father. ^liddle-sized, fair and burly, with large blue eyes, a ponderous forehead, a heavy cast of countenance ; she resembled him, too, in the strength and breadth of her intellect. She evidently had been taught to place her forte in her mental attainments and accomplishments. But then she was so chiselled and finished in all her ways, so concise and weighty in her language and argument, so much the creature of a very superior education ! She spoke well, and always with sound sense. She wrote well, and with the neatest angle of that peculiar penmanship of English ladies. She played well, drcAV and painted well, and even danced well, considering her embonpoint. She knew the OBEROX IN LONDON. 129 leading foreign languages^ with a certain proficiency in their conversation and literature. She had passed some years on different parts of the Continent, and could discourse freely on their manners, usages, places, and scenery. She had a smattering of Greek and Latin, and in mathematics she could work and demonstrate ihe problems and theorems in the first three books of Euclid's Elements, and an equation of the second degree came easy to her clear perception of the relations of numbers. Then, she was fairly read in history and in other topics in- dispensable to a well-cultivated and full mind. With all this, it could not be said that Caroline Lever was a bluestocking. She certainly was not devoted to books. Her disposition was rather play- ful than otherwise. But she was just fresh from tutors, travels abroad, and a round of professors and learning, and her mind was filled with nothing else. She still breathed of the desk and the governess and the pedagogue. So that persons could not say what she would turn out by and by. For the present she had just those qualities and attainments of which Oberon himself had had his fill. There is a freshness even in ignorance, many are pleased to call it simplicity, and unquestionably of this wild natural plant Caroline Lever had little share. Then she was Oberon^s senior by nearly a couple of years. To him she appeared, and was, in fact, a matured woman. In the damsel of nineteen he forcibly missed the untaught hoydenish girl who commanded his love. The young pair visited the great sights of London VOL. I. 9 130 OBERON SPELL. in company Tvith their mothers. Caroline was not a little gratified at being chaperoned from place to place by such a handsome bean^ for though but a mere youth, Oberon was tall and commanding in his appearance. In their rambles they left nothing unexplored^ and^ like most visitors, the student saw more of the metropolis than thousands born and reared in the city itself. But although their tastes and judgments generally agreed, their sentiments and feelings were many times apart. Caroline often thought her companion too much of the teacher. She had been schooled to regard such beings as learned machines — persons to be listened to attentively and respected, but never anything more. To admire them would be positive crime. We could, therefore, easily understand the relations of these two young people, if the handsome features and elegance and the real superiority throughout of Oberon had not awakened something like love in the bosom of the lady. This was not lessened by the frequent dependence of this well-educated damsel on her youthful companion for accurate in- formation. What she had merely learnt, he had digested, and she had continually to appeal to him to confirm or correct her knowledge. It may be, too, that she had been taught by her mother to re- gard Oberon as her future husband, and began thus early to discipline her mind to a certain feminine submission and obedience ; or was it that she was secretly and unconsciously smitten ? However it be- fell, there existed an essential difference in the kind of regard each bore the other. But certain it is, that OBERON IN LONDON. 131 their feelings were not those of brother and sister, rather of unassimilating acquaintances brought into close relation. Their mothers failed to perceive the heart-dis- tinction prevailing between them. Mrs. Spell was only too vrell pleased at the contrast of her niece to the forward girl they had left behind at Edelstone. She conceived it impossible that her son Oberon, so chaste and classical in all his ideas, should not regard his cousin as the purest reflex of his own mind, and therefore come to esteem and love her in time. The want of personal attractions did not forcibly strike her. They never do a woman as strongly as a man. Besides, Caroline, though rather stout and heavy looking, was on the whole a most accomplished and agreeable young lady. As to the affection of her niece for her perfection cf a son, she conceived it to be impossible that any woman could behold and know him without owning within herself the sentiment of love. Mrs. Lever was not a very deep or calculating woman ; she desired the union of her daughter with her nephew ; and, making sure of the event, she left circumstances, which must at present be im- mature, to the ripening issue of time. In this way a very pleasant season passed off in London. But it did not close without a visit from Hugh Graff to the great metropolis. He came at the express invitation of Mr. Lever himself, who had taken a solid liking to him, and was desirous of thus testifying his regard in the most prominent and substantial manner. 9—3 132 OBEKOX SPELL. The yoiiug artist was mucli improved in appear- ance. He had grown taller and was less rotund. He was still the same subdued, quiet^ smiling youth as ever^ with a soft^ bland manner, a gentle voice, and an eye full of observation. He had been win- ning his way all around his native village. Every- body teemed with praise of the clever painter; and as his prices for sketches and portraits were very reduced, his pictures were to be found id houses of various degrees in Edelstone and the surrounding neighbourhood, one of them dangling as an attrac- tive sign to the Merry Thought. His earnings Avere carefully stored up for him by his father, who began to have a fixed hope at last that the lad might make a comfortable livelihood in time by his work as an artist. This was a great step in faith for a man who had associated in his mind painters, poets, and all of that tribe, with the starvelings of society. The master to whom Hugh had been apprenticed, and who took a great interest in the boy when he saw the real direction of his mind, of which he was a rather competent judge, had no hesitation in giving up the indentures and cancelling them, with the following proud endorsement : — '' This document was given to insure that Hugh Graff of Edelstone should serve seven years of his life to learn the trade of a grainer from me. He has by talent and industry acquired all I can teach him in half as many months, and is now competent to teach me or my foreman. I, therefore, release him from his engagement, and send him forth to win a high reputation as an artist.^'' OBERON IX LONDON. 133 It Tvas with no slight pleasure the young painter showed this honourable testimonial to the apprecia- tive engineer, who read it aloud^ and was not sparing in commenting on its real force and significance. '' W'ell^ sir^ you have succeeded, as I predicted. I understand that your late master is a man of crotchety disposition^ very hard to deal with. You must have had many rebufi's and diflSculties to please him ; but to triumph as you have done, is a greater tribute to your temper and management than even to your genius. T\'e must see what we can do for you. Should you like to become a pupil of the Royal Academy ':"" '^ By all means, sir ; that woidd be the height of my ambition.'^ " You shall draw upon my funds until able to sustain your own position.'^ "■ I thank you, I thank you, indeed, very sin- cerely ; but I have sufiScient money saved in my father's hands, or rather in the bank, where he placed it for me, to support me till I shall get a connexion here. I hope soon to add to my stock by adequate exertion. I only regret that my friend Oberon is not about to join me, we have been so very long together ; but our careers are now to be different.'' " So it appears ; nothing will prevent my nephew from pursuing the flowery paths of poesie.'' " Doubtless,'' said Oberon, with that cool, inde- pendent manner so characteristic of him, " I shall be as happy following the bent of my genius, as you in vours, uncle, or Graff in his." 134 OBERON SPELL. " True^ sir; only rhymes do not jingle so sweet as money /^ " Literary pursuits^, I presume^ are not incompa- tible with the study^ attainment^ and practice of a paying profession." " Assuredly not j but I have not heard to what profession or callings if any^ you wish to attach yourself/"* " I believe we are to confer with Sir Roger ^Yheatley on that subject/^ said Mrs. Spell^ with her usual quiet dignity. '^ I think Oberon^s destiny is in safe hands.'''' Here the conversation dropped^ and while it was going forward the artist was busily occupied in showing the collection of sketches in his portfolio to Caroline^ who expressed herself delighted,, as she really waS; with her examination. Mrs. Lever joined them. " I suppose^ Mr. Graff, you will take up your residence permanently in London^ when you enter the Royal Academy T' " I presume it will be necessary, madam. ^^ ^^ If you do we shall be glad to see you occa- sionally. Mr. Lever I am sure will be pleased to learn of your continued success." ^^ It will be a hard struggle for me to quit Edel- stone, where I have so many dear objects of affec- tion — my parents, my relations, and I think I may say^ numerous friends. Moreover, there are many houses in the \allage, and romid about, where I shall leave some memorial of my hand. I feel, as it were^ bound to the spoi. But in this world, madam, we OBERON IN LONDON. 135 must progress and grow rich. I shall_, however, feel myself amply recompensed by an occasional visit here, madam, if permitted, whenever I can snatch an hour from the course of arduous and severe study I am about to enter on/'' Mr. Lever now moved his portentous body to the group, leaving Oberon and his mother seated at a side table. '* I have just been telling your young friend, my dear, that we shall feel pleased to see him now and then when he comes to settle in London.^^ " Certainly we shall. And so this is your port- folio now ? How well stocked, and richly too. When you advance a little further, you shall try your hand on a portrait of Miss Lever .^^ — (Caroline smiled, and the artist bowed very low.) — ^' ^lean- while, you will allow me to make a few selections from these ; they will be a valuable addition to your portfolio, Caroline.^^ '^ They will indeed, papa.^^ Mr. Lever and his daughter, assisted by the artist, made a very careful choice. There was some little difficulty about payment, but the engineer, in his rough and ready way, soon got over Hughes scruples, and insisted on his receiving a ten-pound note, which, to say the truth, was not too large a sum for the drawings. At an aftertime they might fetch eight-fold that amount. All this time Oberon and his mother remained where the engineer had left them seated. They spoke together in a low voice. '' I find no fault with your friend Graff, my 136 OBEROX SPELL. dear/^ said Mrs. Spell^ " but I cannot conceal from myself and you^ that somehow he very materially interferes with yoiu' popularity. Even at Edelstone you have ceased to be the prodigy of the tillage. It is all Hugh Graff^ nothing but Hugh Graff, that clever youth, that astonishing genius.^'' "AYell, dear mother, I rejoice at my friend's success. He can never be to me but a friend and a brother; his progress and praise are alike mine.'' " God grant they were ; but in him I perceive a marvellous alacrity in seizing occasions and circum- stances, and in you their scornful neglect." " Because I truh^ despise them, mother. I am full of one great idea ; only wait, do wait, dear mother, till my poem is finished and published, and then judge of the wisdom of my present mode of action and conduct." " It is so long to wait, dear child. I do not wish to dishearten you, but I fear years will intervene before the completion of that poem." ^^ Time must not be considered on such an exalted theme." " But you have to go to college, and then there will be your foreign travel. Surely it will be time to look carefully to a profession after so much preparation." " But, dear mamma, all this while at intervals I shall be pursuing my poem. But if I could ever feel offended with Hugh, I should take umbrage at the marked ^predilection of Iris for him ; and yet I do not know that I do not like both all the better OBERON IN LONDON. 137 for tlieir mutual attacliment. It binds them more el(f>sely to me as friends/^ " I wish from my heart they were old enough to be bound far otherwise ; they sadly block the way. But pray, my dear, put Iris Dove and all such nonsense out of your head/^ " And substitute for her such a lump of putty as I see before me. You do not know me, my mother. But come, let us join them. Why, Hugh, how wonderfully you have improved ! — Oil-colours, too ! You know I always said you would be an artist." '^ Yes ; and I answered I wished to be one, and you encouraged mc even against hope. I verily beHeve that had I not known you, I should never have taken pencil or brush in hand, except as a carpenter or house-painter. You taught me, as j^ou say, to look up and beyond.'"' '^ Tut, tut, man !" said ISIy. Lever, rising ; " you had it in you, just as I the engineer in me. The artist would come out under any disadvantage.''^ " But I owe so very much to Oberon. Like you now, dear sir, he was my encourager, my inspirer, and my guide. ^^ " Well, it is all right to be grateful. But come below with me to the library ; I will give you a letter of introduction to my friend, Sir Strutter Lomax Looney, the great picture and engraving dealer, late lord-mayor of London. If he takes to you, gad ! sir, your fortune is made." Patting Hugh on the back, as was his manner, they both descended to the library together. Caroline and Oberon prepared to take a walk in the park. 138 OBERON SPELL. and Mrs. Spell and her sister-in-law were left alone together. Mrs. Spell^ who had heard the proposed introduction to the great Sir Strutter Lomax Looney, was inly pained and grieved. There was just an inkling of soreness and envy in her heart at Hugh Graff^s marvellous good fortune. Had she consulted her son^ who, from his various readings and habit of observation had a correct notion of many things, he would have enlightened her as to Hughes chance of making honour or fortune by any connexion with the printseller and late lord-mayor. Sir Strutter Lomax Looney, who was noted for using young artists. CHAPTER XIV. THE TWO MOTHERS. HEN the young people had departed for their ramble, IMrs. Lever, addressing her sister-in-law, took occasion to observe that she was afraid that Oberon was but a careless lover. " He is so very young, dear, it is almost a sin, and certainly somewhat of an absurdity, to talk of such matters in regard to two mere children.^' '' Chikben ! Well, it is the foible of parents always to regard their offspring as boys and girls, never as men and women : but I tell you what, Caroline will be nineteen next January, and she is just of the same age I was when I married Lever. Then she is such a truly superior girl, she has been so well trained, that she would be an ornament to any establishment/^ " But Oberon, dear ; I am referring to him prin- cipally. He is only a mere youth ; seventeen the first of August last. I fear he is not of years to fix his affections.''^ '^ You see, my dear, it is really a matter of indiffe- rence to us. Caroline is a girl who has been sought, and is now sought, by a whole swarm of admirers. Independently of the lai'ge fortune she will receive. 140 OBERON SPELL, her accomplisliments are amply sufficient to recom- mend her. It was only for dear Oberon^s sake, whom we all love, that Ajax and I were desh'ous of establish- ing him well in life, at the same time duly caring for the interests and happiness of our child. We all know Oberon is a handsome youth and the promise of a very fine man. But I have to tell you one thing, dear,^^ "What is that?'' " I believe ]Mr. Lever is seriously offended with Oberon." " I should indeed regret that, if his resentment were founded on any just cause.'" " Oh, there is no resentment — there can be none ; only that pecidiar, independent way which Oberon has, I often think, somewhat displeases him/' " Independence is a fine quality in a man, Fre- derica." " To contemplate, dear, to contemplate ; in prac- tice it is very bad— almost the road to ruin. But what on earth does the boy mean to do with himself ? His poor father did not leave him a large fortune to idle and revel in ; and although your management has been wonderful, it cannot be supposed he will have much to start with. He ought not to expect that we can give him Caroline without an adequate prospect of his being able to maintain an establish- ment." " I do not believe he expects anything of the kind ; I rather infer that he thinks nothing about it, or if he glances at it, his feelings at present — he -are not much interested." THE TWO MOTHERS. 141 "That is, iu other words, ^lartha, he does not really care for Caroline/^ " Do not be hasty, dear. The lad is barely in his teens — a mere schoolboy ; he has to go to college and on his foreign travels, and to select and make a certain way in a profession, before he can even think of marriage. I find we are all rather too precipitate.^'' " Mercy, Martha, what a career yon have chalked ont for my nephew ! I know that Lever^s idea was to take him at once into his own office, and to make him an engineer ; and, I need not tell you, the pro- bable successor to a gigantic business." '^ Well, my dear, do not suppose I am insensible to the advantages of the offer.''' " But hear me out ; — and then, when he became of age — that time will now come quickly round — to give him our daughter. Can we do more V " Trust me, Frederica ; I, his mother,, must feel the confidence and love this selection implies ; but, as I said, he is but young yet.''' " Surely not too young for the engineering.'' " He has decided against that, and I cannot, indeed I will not, contravene his choice." *^ So that he not only rejects the profession de- signed him, that he might be able to marry our daughter, but he is foolish enough to manifest a marked indifference to her attractions." " It is very difficult, in truth I find it impossible, to control the affections of children, Frederica." ^' Oh, then he has affections ! the boy, the imma- ture youth entertains his own juvenile passion. We 142 OBERON SPELL. all know how headstrong he is. Be candid with me, dear. Since I must infer from your ad- mission that,, young as he is, he is already in love, pray, dear, who is the fair lady ? Is it any one I know?^^ " jNIy general reply, Frederica, is in strict accord ■with my observations all along; that Oberon is at present of too youthful an age to hold him engaged to any one, or to regard his sentiments as fixed and decided. We must give him time. Let him come of age.''^ " And Caroline in the meantime is to reject a score of eligible matches, in the end perhaps to be thrown aside on the shelf by Mr. Oberon Spell. No, Martha ; this will never do. The matter had better be ended this very day. I shall speak to Mr. Lever on the subject.^^ " Do not be rash, Frederica ! Perhaps you do not consult Caroline's feelings sufficiently.'"' " Oh. as to that, I had not thought in that di- rection. I do believe the poor girl likes him ; but she has been well disciplined, and, if needs be, she must learn to forget him. Better now than at a later period. It shall never be said that Caroline Lever, the sole child of the great engineer, was the rejected of Oberon Spell.'' " Again I say, Frederica, do not be so prompt to decide ; let the affair remain open, as it ought to be — neither party engaged, as they really are not. Should you find a more eligible match for Caroline, by all means let her accept it. She is quite maiTJageable. It is different with my boy. I presume, should he THE TWO MOTHERS. 143 not be so lucky as to obtain Caroline^ he might even be fortunate enough to find some other heiress not indiiferent to his j^oor perfections/^ ^' 0\\, indeed ! — another mystery ! And pray^ dear^, who is this fair charmer for whom my child is to be rejected V " I am not at liberty to tell. All I can say^ in the utmost candour and sisterly affection^ to you, Frederica, is, repeating my former expression, the lad is too young yet for us to determine anything in regard to his future marriage. But one thing I have made up my mind to, and that is never to interfere between him and the true object of his matured affection.'''' '' AVhich, of course, you know will not be Caro- line. ^Yell, dear, I suppose he will turn out like his father, marry the woman of his choice against the express wishes of his sur\d^ing jjarent. I trust his selection will be as fortunate.^^ " You stir painful memories, dear. Pray let us change the subject.''^ '' Then I am to let that question of Caroline's marriage with Oberon continue in abeyance at pre- sent. Is not that it. Mistress Precision V " I think, my dear, that will be the better course.^' ^' Well, I will consult Ajax on the subject. '"' Here the conversation dropped. There was to be a dancing party that evening, and each lady re- tired to perform some necessary act of duty in a large household, where one aided the other in the domestic administration. But the faithful wife did not fail to communicate to her husband the substance 144 OBERON SPELL. of her colloquy witli ^lartha Spell^, deferring, as she was always wont to do, to his opinion. " Well, my dear, I have no objection to regard it as you ladies have wisely left it — an open question. But mind you, if we really meet a more eligible offer, Oberon Spell shall never have my daughter. He is impracticable, Frederica ; like his father, headstrong and self-willed. ^Tis to be hoped the final result may be more fortunate. I loved that lad ; I was proud of him ; but I have doue with him.^^ The evening came, and Mrs. Lever, as usual, was equal to the task of receiving numerous guests and making them perfectly at their ease and happy, so far as she was concerned. Her husband was at his post in the vicinity of the Houses of Parliament, attending to private and public business, giving in- formation here, directions there, but in all cases ex- tending his own connexion, practice, and fortunes. His ponderous proportions, little adapted to the drawing-room or ball-room, were not in much re- quest by the company. He was thoroughly well represented at home. Caroline had dressed her best, but it was un- deniable that a ball costume did not become her. It only brought out her embonpoint more promi- nently, and made her look unwieldy and even awkward in the midst of a bevy of English beauties. The young lady, too, had evidently had her lesson from her mother. She was not to be too marked in her attentions to Oberon. Her papa might ultimately not approve of the alliance. Most pro- THE TWO MOTHERS. 145 bably it would never take plaee^ and so on. What- ever Tvas hinted or said_, Caroline was unusually sad and gloomy. Scarcely a smile escaped her the whole eveninj^; and her chagrin was sensibly in- creased by seeing Oberon quite unconcerned at her melancholy^ and dancing away light-hearted and gay with the acknowledged beauty of the party^ who seemed quite charmed with the handsome stripling^s society. As a matter of politeness^ he with his accustomed careless familiarity asked his cousin to dance, but, as she declined, he did not press the suit, but made another and more attractive selec- tion The ultimate consequence of an evident slight was that Caroline Lever had to withdraw from the ball-room ill. " I feel rather unwell, dear mamma ; allow me to retire. ^^ ^' By all means, my dear child ; go to your room and ring immediately for Watkins ; she will attend to you. I will join you soon.^^ Nothing was said that night about Oberon^s open neglect of his cousin ; but the next morning the whole matter again formed the suliject of another long conversation between the two mothers. This time there was more animation, more point, more satire, and some bitterness. The two sisters- in-law almost quarrelled. The result was to hasten Oberon's departure for college ; and in a week from that day he started for Oxford. VOL. I. 10 CHAPTER XV. COLLEGE. T is not our intention here to enter on a narrative of Oberon SpelFs university career. There was in it nothing remark- able ; and the same course has been so often described before^ that unless accompanied by some special features, little new can be said on the subject. We prefer giving an extract from one of his numerous letters to his mother_, as embodying his views of a university education, and because it shows the state of his mind at the time. " It w^as well for me_, dear mother, that the plan of my education included a regular university course. Without this, I should have gone forth a literary upstart to the world — a mere sciolist, with half- formed notions and much empty vanity. Nature had, I believe, endowed me with a certain appetency for knowledge, and I have had the best instruction that Cramton Hall and O'Kane^s zeal and learning could impart. But for all that I was not educated. I was almost in a worse state than an unsuccessful student ; for my repeated scholastic triumphs had led me to believe that I was at the top of the tree — that the horizon of knowledge was clear before me, and that, as I had no compeers, my researches and labours could not go much further. COLLEGE. 147 " How Tras I imdeceived wlien I found myself a mere dwarf in the presence of the intellectual giants now around me. No single subject do I know accurately, completely^ and well. I have, therefore,, resolved to begin at the foot of the ladder^ prepared to climb it step by step, sustained by the ablest instructors. Is it not much, very much, in life to know that I am drinking from the highest sources of human intelligence ; that what- ever in science or letters has been communicated, received, or discovered is understood and taught here ; that here is the latest and final depository of existing but progressive intelligence and knowledge ? AVhat an amazing advantage to have for instructors and guides — often as companions — the very fore- most scholars, thinkers, and geniuses of the age — the intellectual Titans of the modern world ! Rightly appreciated, dear mother, a college life is the heaven of mortal existence — the empyrean of the mind, and one of the great spiritual contribu- tories to the exhaustless fountains of the soul. To me it is an elysium — a sublime poem in itself — the realm of truth approximate and real — a scene of serene and lofty enjoyment, which I would not forego for all earth''s pleasures beyond ! " I strive, my dear mother, for excellence in everything — not alone in the field of intellect, but in sports of various kinds ; balancing carefully one against the other — the brain's exhaustion with the body's exercise and refection.''^ Such were the thoughts of Oberon Spell com- municated to his mother, not as mere first impres- 10—2, J 48 OBERON SPELL. sions, but as liis real appreciation of a college-life. We will not say tliey were not afterwards in some degree modified ; but tliey must be admitted to be in the main elevated and just. It cannot be said of the chiefs and leading men of our universities^ that they are very active in the selection^ encouragement_, or recommendation of merit. So many clever youths appear, so many prodigies, that it requires their experienced eye to discriminate between ephemeral, self-exhausting pre- cocity, and true and endiu'ing mental power. But whenever this rare endowment is disclosed, and the possessor happens also to be gifted with an attrac- tive person and manners, he is almost sure to be- come a m.arked favourite in the university. It was Oberon SpelFs good fortune not only to be on the best terms with the master and tutors of his college, but to have conciliated the attention and regard of the Bishop of Boroughcliffe, one of the most eminent scholars of the age, and formerly Regius Professor of Divinity in the University. The distinguished prelate one day took the trouble to inquire into the successful student^s prospects in life, and on receiv- ing a candid explanation, he strongly advised Oberon to enter the Church, promising him his protection and patronage. This implied a condition of exis- tence which our hero deemed humiliating and slavish, and to which he could not bring his mind to submit. He therefore very politely declined the proffered suggestion and kindness, and thus per- manently displeased my Lord Bishop, who, it must be conceded, had put himself considerably out of COLLEGE. 149 the way to liold out a helping hand to the young scholar in his future career. The- truth is^ Oberou had notions of authorship ever floating across his mind ; and if he at all thought seriously of a pro- fession^ it was to the Bar and not to the Church his attention was turned^ the former career being most congenial to his public views and independence of character ; though it must be stated that even this loomed only in the very far distance — his grand^ his absorbing ambition was to be the poet of his epoch. In this way some two years of the student^s life had passed at Oxford^ broken by the usual vaca- tions, and also enlivened by occasional visits from his friends^, among whom the Levers and Hugh Graff were the most prominent. It was just barely noticeable that the young painter appeared to have obtained a rather permanent footing at the engi- neer's mansion. He accompanied the mother and daughter once or twice to the college, and was on those occasions on terms of marked intimacy with both. The great man himself was far away in Canada, bridge-building and railway constructing. Caroline was still a spinster, though Oberon had more than once ascertained from his mother that her marriage with a certain Scotch baronet in search of a fortune was positively expected. This information produced no other effect on Oberon's mind than to wish that the alliance were speedily accomplished, as he should be then relieved from Miss Lever's rather too marked attentions. Though he could better judge of this young lady's 150 OBERON SPELL. feelings towards him from her letters than from her bearing and conversation when in his society. The epistles of the heiress were in truth very supe- rior productions. She evidently laboured to make her best impression through them. They teemed with just thoughts^ correct reasonings_, accurate and comprehensive information^ and pure and religious sentiments. But in them all was a manifest^ though by no means prominent^ desire and anxiety for Oberon^s welfare. She took a genial and hearty interest in his successes,, and tenderly sym> pathized with his crosses and failures^ rare and exceptional, indeed^ as the latter were. But all these amiable displays of intelligence and feeling produced no manner of effect on Oberon SpelFs heart. In that direction he was unassailable, and this began to be thoroughly felt at the Levers^. How different was it when his sj^mpathies were really aroused ! While in the midst of many learned speculations, some successes, and here and there a dream of ambition, his college career was one day suddenly invaded and stopped by a most unexpected visit. Occupied in the composition of a profound metaphysical essay, his attention was in a moment called away from the regions of abstrac- tion by a very realistic note from no other than Iris Dove. It was brief, but to the purpose. " The Caxton Hotel, Oxford. "Dear Oberon, — I am here — just staying for a day. Papa is with me. I thought you might like to see me. I know I should like to see you. I COLLEGE. 151 shall stop in all day to meet you. Pa ^vill be out. But that will be all the better. . Be sure to come, and soon. '^ Yours affectionately, " Iris Dove. '' Oberon Spell, Esq.^^ A sudden blush suffused the student^s face ■u-hen he saw the hand^^riting in the address. He kissed the note gently, as if it were some reverent thing, before he broke the seal, a delicate glow at the same time overspreading his countenance. He was no longer a student. He was the enthusiast and lover again. He threw his learned disquisition aside, read the billet three times over, kissed it tenderly again, and hastened to put himself in ■visiting trim. In about twenty minutes he was beside Iris in a small room of the hotel. It was now more than two years since he had seen her. She too had been away, going a round of visits with her peripatetic father, assisting him in various ways and adding to what he valued most — display and observation. Iris was greatly improved in appear- ance — quite a radiant beauty in face, size, form, and figure — a being of such commanding and elegant exterior as is rarely met with even in a sphere to which she had no pretension — among the acknowledged and reigning belles of the Einglish court and aristocracy. Oberon was quite enraptured at the sight of so much loveliness. Ah ! what a rich and glorious contrast to the severe and dis- ciplined forms, scenes and themes so long before his 152 OBEEOX SPELL. eves. Here was Iris^ fair Iris Dove^ tlie same merry, confident, unartificial and aifeclionate being as ever — but bow mucb more fascinating and beautiful ! It was impossible tbat Oberon should not love ber. The meeting was on one side exquisitely happy, on the other teeming with sisterly affection and eager ciu'iosity. " Why, Oberon, how you have grown ! You ai-e a great man — I cannot say you are improved. I fear I shall not like you half so well as when you were a boy. Ah ! my brown-haired boy, where is he gone? But I want to see where you are — and all about you — and all over all the places here. We have only to-day, so come, and let us be off and make the best of it. Yoa see I am quite ready to start — it is only just to run on my bonnet. Here, take a biscuit and a glass of wine — I shall be with you in a moment. You dine with us at six — pa made me promise him.'^ How the bonnet was run on was one of those miracles which only scenic transformations can realize. True to her word. Iris did return in a moment, and as elegantly and precisely attired to the disposition of a ribbon or a single hair of her rich fair locks as if she had devoted hours to her toilette. " There, you see, I have not kept you long wait- ing. But, you know, I was quite ready before, and this is such a love of a bonnet ; pa bought it me yesterday to see you in, that it is just like putting on a smile, or something equally easy, to sHp it over the head. Do you like it, Oberon V' "Well, I think it becomes vou, dear Iris."" COLLEGE. 153 "And is tliat all? Oh^ this liumdrum place has spoilt all your gallantry — ^hv, pn says it makes me look — Well, no matter ; let us go." It may be safely said that two such remarkable and handsome personages were seldom seen in the ancient seat of learning. Every one believed that the pair were sister and brother, for there was a resemblance between them in the lofty and com- manding carriage and in the open sunniness of countenance, only that Oberon^s face was of the Greek mould, while that of Iris was decidedly of the fair-haired Norman — a cast of features far more charming and elegant. It cannot, however, be denied that in the few introductions Oberon was compelled to make, the young lady^s general con- versation with the bland and courteous individuals who addressed her, by no means justified the expec- tations raised by her intelligent countenance, her clear, ringing, cultivated voice and elocution, and her very imposing exterior. Iris herself was quite unconscious of any deficiency. If the truth were known, she thought she was very polite in entertain- ing here and there a staid young man — Oberon took good care to make his introductions select — or a learned old fogy, with a little agreeable chit-chat not exactly within the round of letters or polished society. However, there was evidently no pretension about her. She was at home on the subjects she broached, and was listened to, if for nothing else, for her naivete and sound sense — a vein of solid understanding and clear and direct statement cha- racterizing all her observations. Their ramble through each spot was almost as 154 OBERON SrELL. brief as this notice. They had much to see^ and^, in truth, Oberon was not too willing that Iris should extend her acquaintance in his college, or the uni- versity, until she had acquired a little more polish and superiority in tone and language, if indeed he should deem such friendship necessary to his and her future career. Six o^ clock was drawing on, and both were not sorry to return to the hotel. Hilary Dove — the same joyous Hilary who made Edelstone ring with noise and pleasure — was present to meet them ; and right glad and happy was that father to see his child in the company of the only man he desired to be her husband. '^ It is a long time, Oberon, since I last saw you. I must congratulate you on your vastly improved appearance. Two years have made a man of you ; I am really delighted once more to see you.^^ That was a happy evening in the life of Oberon Spell, — one of those soft, sunshiny hours of felicity which glide into the blood and warm the heart, leaving a perfect feeling and savour of summer de- light and jjerpetual gladness. It was all conversa- tion — most agreeable, racy conversation ; each had to tell the other something new, something pleasing and interesting. Oberon had a thousand amusing incidents of college life to relate. Hilary had a whole budget of humorous news ; and as to Iris, she was most pungent and animated, and always to the purpose in her witty criticisms of the various characters she had met with in her travels, " here and there, roundabout, and everywhere," with her father. Not a word of sentiment was spoken, and COLLEGE. 155 yet^ for Oberon, those few hours teemed with love. He saw, or fancied he saw, in Iris not only a glorious form of beauty ;, but a mind capable of the largest thought and intelligence. He was really struck with the total absence of nonsense in all she said that evening. How different from the airy and flippant nothings which fell so glibly from her fathcr^s lips, and which he deemed the most winning turns of eloquence. At length the hour came when the three friends were to part. The separation just forced something like a tear from Iris ; Hilary Dove was painfully moved. Whatever were Oberon's feelings, they were buried deep in his breast ; but in his final gaze at her he loved, he appeared to drink in, and did drink in, the whole witchery of her countenance. " The soul is set with one bright image of The beautiful beloved." And the picture which formed there on Oberon^s heart was the one permanent likeness of Iris which alone through life he ever knew. It was inefface- able, — it could not be altered. Here was a contrast to the dull routine of the university ; here was a treasure to be cherished with his palpitating lifers- blood during that severe and stern course of literary discipline he had prescribed for himself till his college course should be mn. ^Tis true that course was interrupted by this flying visit, but it renewed in Oberon^s breast an affection which had for years lain dormant. It gave him new impulses, new motives, new hopes, and new pros- 15(3 OBERON SPELL. pects. He would raise Iris to his own height — to a height her intellect could command, and they would both_, hand in hand, stray through life together. The student went to work again as diligently as ever, but with more zeal and ardour. There was a renewed freshness, manliness, and vigour about him, and he made himself more sensibly and powerfully felt, not only at the examinations for honours, but in those sports which add more popularity to the winners than even the high scholastic distinctions themselves. It would be almost superfluous to state that Oberon Spell greatly signalized himself through- out the whole of his Oxford career. His college, and even the university, were proud of him not only for his proficiency in the walks of learning and science, but for his skill and mastery in most of the athletic games then coming into such general vogue among the students: He carried off nearly all the university prizes and filled the class lists, while maintaining at the same time the highest character for manliness and gentlemanly conduct. He took a first, and was solicited to stand for a fellowship, but this he declined, as his views extended far be- yond a mere university career. So that after pass- ing three years of happiness and triumph at Oxford, and when he had taken his B.A. degree, Oberon, with only a slight intermission, devoted to his mother and his most intimate friends, among whom he still ranked the Levers, prepared himself sedulously for some two years^ travel over the continent of Europe. For this he carefully read most of the authoritative COLLEGE. 157 books on the various subjects connected with the i:)laces and sights he intended to visit. Iris Dove and her father were still away on a business tour through the country, and he was denied the pleasure of a meeting with them in Edelstone. ^Tis true he could return the flying visit at Oxford, but Oberon had the tenderest regard for the feelings of his mother, and whatever may have been his heart afl:ections, he forbore to make them prominent by any formal or special notice of the young beauty, when not immediately brought into his society. He was always looking forward to a future when he could, with his parentis sanction and approval, gratify the one joy and hope of his existence. He saw Caroline Lever more than once, accom- panied her to the theatre and the opera, and to other places of amusement; but with the same feelings on his part as ever. He was a friend — certainly not the least of a lover. That the en- gineer's daughter regarded him with a deeper afibction than any she had felt before, she could not now conceal from herself, or from the discerning eyes of her mother. Ever since their last meeting at Oxford he had grown in her estimation far more handsome ; l)ut it was his supremacy as a scholar which entirely captivated and subdued her. She was brought up with the idea that Oberon, the brown-haired youth, would Avhen a man be her husband. She had looked upon him as her own. Her parents also re- garded him as more than their nephew — he was their son. With this prcdominatiug notion all that concerned him interested them, and it was not until 158 OBERON SPELL. his obstinate contradiction of ^Ir. Lever at the meeting in Edelstone that any thought of a divided house and^ palpably^ of a divided life^ existed. Her mother had been too confidential^ as mothers will^ with her very clever daughter^ who was led to be- lieve that Oberon was her own^ and though she was not in the least impulsive or demonstrative^, nor remarkable for too lively feelings^ she could not forget the fond and intimate relation with which she had formerly viewed him. She could not now conceal from herself that there was not the least reciprocity, and that her young love was sown in an un genial soil, where, tend and cultivate it as she would, it could never take root or flourish. On Oberon^s side and on that of his mother, they were careful to note the various rumours spread abroad of the intended marriage of Caroline with the Scotch baronet. Mrs. Lever herself had taken no little pains, after her conversation with her sister-in-law in her own drawing-room, to let her friends know, always of course in the most deli- cate manner, that her daughter was in the matri- monial market, and no doubt by many the young lady was regarded as a prize with considerable attrac- tions. Through some mismanagement or contre- temps, as it was believed, the union with the baronet never came oflP. The real reason was Caroline''s fixed aversion to him. He was much her senior in vears, while her heart was brimful of a very young lover. Then, whether from her reluctance, or diffidence, or want of personal beauty, no formal proposal came from others ; and the possibilities COLLEGE. 159 -were many that if Caroline Lever could not have her cousin^ Oberon Spell^ she would remain all her life single. Still there was a chance^, a mere probability^ that Hugh Graflf, the rising young painter,, might one day — it must be distant however — carry off the heii'ess. He was a great favourite, as we have seen, of Mr. Lever^s, he made himself always agreeable to his lady, and was regarded vrith some little friend- liness and kindness of feeling by Caroline herself. It was astonishing how this young man had made his way ; but make his way he did^ and that in every direction; at the Academy, among wealthy and noble pati'ons, at the Levers, with the chiefs of the press, and in fact in all places and among all persons, till he began to acquire a public name, and became decidedly popular. He was getting rich too — ay, rich is the word to apply to the once poor artist. Hugh had a trick of the miser, or rather of the severe economist, in his character ; and whatever money he made was not wasted in superfluities, but carefully put out at interest, and nearly always under the suggestion and guidance of the worldly- minded and experienced engineer. He kept eligible acquaintance, mingled in good society, and bade fair to be made an Associate at the very first vacancy. He frequently met the leading Academicians and the President himself at the Levers^ and other parties, and by his quiet and gliding disposition and un- assuming manners managed to render himself very agreeable and friendly with his superiors. Hugh Graff was on the hi^h road to fame and fortune. 160 OBERON SPELL. All this time Oberon Spell was Trandering in the land of dreams. He was preparing for some specu- lation^ some shadowvj indistinct course of life, which had not come, and which doubtless would never come, over all which his unalterable love for Iris Dove dominated. With this kind of feeling and aspiration uppermost, and a desire to attain to universality and perfection in his knowledge, our hero set out on liis travels. CHAPTER XVI. FOREIGN TRAVEL. AN is the lord of tlie globe — why should he not see the whole of his estate, or some goodly part of it at least ? Why pass his life cooped up in one corner ? The world is wide — it is diversified. Not a country but has its special scenery ;, its special climate, often its special language, usages, and manners. The human family are in a great degree strangers to one another — foreigners — why should they not become acquainted and have the same united interest? The strong: could protect the weak, the civilized instruct the barbarous, the energetic and rich diflPase their in- dustry and commerce among the idle and poor; in this way the light of Christianity might be univer- sally spread, and the one Lord and one Faith of the Gospel preached and received everywhere till true catholicity became the stamp and the character of religion. Thoughts like these were passing through the mind of the poet and scholar as his foot for the first time touched that vast Continent which certainly was the cradle of all modern civilization, and which ages ago had made vast strides in the lore and in- telligence of the world. The two years which he VOL. I. 11 162 OBERON SPELL. had given himself is a long time^ when devoted to regular sight-seeing. Oberon visited all the lead- ing capitals of Europe, and saw everything worth seeing — churches,, museums^ art galleries, prisons, hospitals, public buildings, and institutions ; places of amusement, of interest and note, sublime and beautiful scenery, and more than all, the people of each country, the various classes of the common family — rich and poor, small and great, industrious, lazy and criminal, pious and profane, believing and infidel; ascertaining, as far as possible, the actual condition and habits of the numerous social divisions into which the inhabitants were distributed. Of all this he made ample notes, designing one day to publish the whole as a comprehensive tour of Europe. Alas ! how many such masses of thought and labour lie stored among the MSS. of literary travellers, destined never to see the light ; or if published at the cost of the author, doubtless all too late for correct and useful present information. The world is moving on, and the description of this year will be stale, flat, and profitless the next. The newspapers and literary joui'nals have almost super- seded books of travel. Oberon did not much care for companionship. He had set out alone, and brought with him only a very few letters of introduction. He enjoyed him- self most in self-communion, and when actively employed in some kind of authorship. A latent love of solitariness and uninterrupted thought had begun to develope itself in his character. But we are never masters of ourselves. An unexpected FOREIGN TRAVEL. ICo incident recalled the wanderer to scenes of home and heart affections again. One day, Treary from exploring Alpine scenery, he sat himself down by the side of a crumbling rock up which vines were crowding now in wild luxuriance. It was the middle of July^ and the sun shone fer^Hldly down the hill, on one of whose banks he had found shelter from its rays. Around was an utter solitude ; and satisfied with his retired position, Oberon, placing his knapsack under his head, soon addressed himself to sleep. He may have been enjoying this refi-eshing slumber some two hours or more, when a solitary female passed the road, and on seeing the reclining form suddenly started. She had left her companions behind, and wandered on alone as had been her wont for some time. But she had strayed too far to make herself heard. Nor was she desirous of doing so, for a single glance at the countenance of the reposing figure reassured her. It was Oberon Spell, and he would never harm Ernestine TVTieatley. She was riveted to the spot. She could now fairly behold him. She had never seen that noble expression before, or realized the brown-haired man, boy-husband of her child- hood. Their meetings had always of late years been in the presence of others, and the lady was naturally timid and shrinking, or rather perhaps too proud to have it thought she had taken any special notice of the handsome scholar whose praises had at one time filled the whole of her own delight- ful village of Edclstone. He was now asleep ; pro- foundly so ; and she could gaze on him at her will. 11—2 1G4 OBERON SPELL. But even this liad its fears. She hesitated. The situation "^as awkward. They had ceased to be friends. He might awake. Her companions might come upon her or some stranger might pass. All this time^ while pondering on what had best be done, her eyes and, it may be well said, her heart, were rootedly fixed on the slumbering poet. How stately he had grown ! how magnificent that face and brow, and that thick, flowing beard and commanding moustache. Here was a living picture of one of those grand jNIiddle-age heroes over whose history she had so many times passed whole days, in- structed, animated, and delighted. There he lay on the mountain's side, with God alone to watch him ; and she — might she be permitted ? Yes ! she would feed her eyes on her love. They might never be gladdened with that sight again — nearer — still nearer. What graceful tapering fingers and small high-arched, compact, springing feet ! Surely here was one of nature's true nobility. Oh ! how difterent from that creature — that libertine — Earl Summers ! Ah ! that fly creej)iug about under his lashes ! It will v>ake him, and for worlds upon worlds she must not be found there. He awakes — he starts — ^he brushes the insect from his brow — ■ aud he beholds Ernestine Wheatley stooping over him. Both utter an exclamation of surprise — Ernestine is transfixed — caught — undone ! In a moment the traveller was on his feet, and apologized for being found in such a rude trim and situation before a lady. But that lady was very nervous and pale, and tottered near to fall. Oberon had all his senses and energies about him. FOREIGN TRAVEL. 165 " Permit me, Miss Wlieatley — you are eviclcutly not well — there, lean on my arm. All ! had I been aware that you or any one were so near, I should not have thrown myself thus carelessly on that hillock ; but the shelter the foliage afforded tempted me. Will you be seated ? There, make a seat of my knapsack, and rest a little till your friends come. I suppose they are in the vicinity.''^ All this time Ernestine did not utter a single word. She was helpless, and mechanically did what he told her. Oberon hung over her silent, and, it must be owned, he was deeply affected. At length a warm flood of tears came to the lady^s relief, and she indulged in them for some moments, then drying her eyes, she said in a choked whisper, " I thank jou." She began to recover rapidly. She arose and approached Oberon, who had retired a pace or two from motives of delicacy. " Mr. Spell, this meeting is indeed most won- derful — most unexpected. Surprised at beholding a stranger, you found me at the moment when your well-known features arrested my attention. I am very glad, believe me, to see you. And have you been well — quite well — and your mamma ?'' " Perfectly wtII, thank God, and thank you. I trust you have enjoyed your long tour on the Continent.^'' " I have not been all along here, we visit England occasionally ; but for some time I have not been to Edelstone. I think I am somewhat better, but still they say I am not quite well. My party are not far off, just above at the bend of the hill ; may I ask you to walk with me a little of the wav. I am but such 166 OBERON SPELL. a feeble mortal ; and the sudden siglit of you '/' — (Oberon gave her his arm, and she proceeded.) — '' I am very delighted we have met. There may be a Providence in it. Oh, those social distinctions, how I have lived to despise them. I have, through the public journals, followed you to a certain extent in your college career. What a series of triumphs and victories ! And you are not Well, never mind ; I was going to say something, — but never mind.^^ Oberon well knew what was uppermost at her heart and lips, but he forbore to prompt her ; he rather turned her attention to her father and to other subjects, which he knew would interest her and wean her from the oppression of present thoughts. ^^We stop here; sad to say, we part here. I own I should like you to join our little group. I can hear theii' voices ; they are now only a few yards beyond. But circumstances are against me, Mr. Spell, and perhaps vou would not desire the meet- ing?" "I shall consult your judgment entirely, Miss Wheatley.'' " AYell, I think this wonderful interview must be to ourselves, a secret — for the present at least. Can I in any way serve you, or papa, or any one I know ? I am so anxious to do you some good. We are fellow -villagers, Mr. Spell; I too was born at Edelstone." " And I have that honour. But, at present my course is somewhat fixed.''^ FOREIGN TRAVEL. 167 '^ Fixed V and Ernestine paused. Eecovering herself by an effort^ she continued^ '' and your poem ?^' '' It is in abeyance for a time. When this tour is over I shall once more begin^ not to leave oflp, I hope, till I finish/' "I have many of your fugitive pieces in my scrap-book. I wish you would collect them ; they would make a very delightful volume/'' " You think so ?' " I must think so. They are truly witching and beautiful.^^ ^^ I wish everybody thought so/^ and Oberon laughed. His thoughts glanced at the wilful girl on whom he had set his heart. " Do you know/' said Ernestine — '^ come, we will go back a little, not to keep you waiting here — I was going to tell you that a General Count Spell is one of our party. He belongs to the Austrian army.^^ " My family originally came from Vienna."'^ " The same. They are of much consideration, I assure you, in the Austrian capital. I wish I could introduce you. But it is so embarrassing; mamma is with us. Where are you staying? Give me your address^ I will write to you.'^ " For the next three days my quarters will be at the humble auberge indicated there," and he wrote the du'ection on a card ; " but at present, dear INIiss Wheatley, I need no introduction. Should I ever desire to trace back my family, I believe I know where to find them ; and I also believe that neither 168 OBEROX SPELL. they nor I will have occasion to be asliamed of one another/-' " I think not/^ said Ernestine, fervently. She had tnrned back again towards her party. ^'^ Perhaps ^tis better as it is. AYell, ]Mr. Spell, thank yon; once more the voices of friends bid ns part. Good- bye ; this meeting is a secret, remember. Adien ! May God watch over you."^ Oberon pressed the hand so fondly — we will say — given to him; and, repeating his farewell with a deep emotion, caused by the lady^'s agitation, he led her a few paces np to the brow of the hill. They then separated withont another word, and Ernestine, taking the first turning to her right, was soon in the midst of a very joyous party, — a lonely and desolate heart in a scene of festivity and gaiety. Oberon went his way and pursued his Avanderings, ruminat- ing much on the strange destiny which appeared ever to follow him. Could Iris Dove be compared with the glorious being who had now left his side, where no doubt she would wish to cling for ever ? But no ; he would banish contrasts. ]N"o good came of them. He would be true to his hearths love, and stand the hazard of the die, no matter Avhat the consequences. Time wore on. The tourist had now been away a year and nine months on his travels. Almost his sole correspondent was his mother. To her he gave from week to w^eek a full account of all his adven- tures. But he felt restricted as regards that strange inter\dew with Ernestine Wheatley at the foot of the Alpine hill; on this he was wholly silent. He FOREIGN TRAVEL. 1G9 had in the bejjiuning of his journey received a few letters from Hugh Graff and the Levers, but these gradually dropped off as the distance increased be- tween him and them, and he was not sorry when the con-espondence had entirely ceased. Letter writing where the heart is not set, becomes, if to be often repeated, a nuisance and a burden. L'is Dove and he had never but once communicated by letter ; he would have given worlds to be her guide and instructor, and to press her dear original missive occasionally to his lips ; but here, as else- where, he was restrained in his affection. There was no manner of engagement subsisting between them. He was not by any means sure that he was or ever would be the object of that strange girFs love. His mother, and indeed his circum- stances, were opposed to the match ; so a thousand prudential reasons prompted him to silence. It was a part of Oberon^s design to return through the north of France to England, taking Brittany, which he wished to explore, on his way. He ar- rived in that picturesque country about the com- mencement of the autumn season, and was much struck with the several sights presented to his researches. The people were in a manner new to him ; the scenery was beautiful and grand, and the historical recollections connected with this remote colony made it a special point of interest to the traveller. One night he took up his abode at a neat lodging in one of the primitive hamlets of the interior. The owner of the mansion was a middle-aged lady, 1.70 OBEROX SPELL. whose reduced circumstances caused her to open her doors to eligible inmates. Her brother_, somewhat her junior^ was the cure of the village^ and generally passed his evenings within the walls of his home. Oberon was rather surprised to find in Pere de Foix a gentleman and a scholar in a very humble clerical guise. They spent many a pleasant evening to- gether, discussing some of the higher subjects of science and learning, in which the Oxonian often found that he was not always the superior. But what puzzled him most was to discover that such acute logic, such amazing stores of knowledge, and such a mass of common sense withal, should submit to be the minister of an enslaving superstition. ^^ My child,''^ said the priest, in answer to some rather direct inquiries, ^' I never discuss points of religion. Where faith begins reason ends; who thinks otherwise is on the downward road to atheism. The child and the moribund believe ; they do not argue. I have been the one, and owe it to my creed that I was not brought up an infidel. I shall soon be the other, mayhap am so now, and I have no time to quibble or even to reason. ^ I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief V Here commence and cease my polemics. We have a wedding to-morrow ; that is a sacrament, and the pair are taught by due religious preparation not to profane it, but to enter it holy. We shall have a christening, please God, by-and-bye ; the infant will be admitted within the sacred circle of the Church which embodies the piu'est morality and sublimest knowledge in the world. When capable of knowing right from wrong FOREIGN TRAVEL. 171 the child will approach the sacrament of penance, be taught the nature of sin and guilt and to form a conscience ; and on his hearty sorrow he will be granted forgiveness by God through his minister. At a maturer age the boy will have to prepare his soul — his whole interior — to receive his Lord and Savioiu", and to w^alk as one incorporated with the Incarnate Word. His powers now strengthened, he is supposed to be able to undertake the entire responsibility of his religious profession. He is con- firmed as a soldier of Christ, and receives the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, if he partakes of the sacra- ment worthily. Should he wish to enter Holy Orders, here is another sacrament to bind him to God and his altar, to his Spouse and his Home ; and when about to undergo the perilous journey of death, there is the last sacrament — the extreme unction — to comfort, to sanctify, and to embalm his spirit. He is dead — passed from earth ; but the communion of saints — the sacred correspondence between all the good on earth and in heaven — makes him no stranger in our prayers and intercessions. All this may be, in your estimation, dear sir, super- stition, but I think it must be conceded that it leads to a pure life and a happy death, two great purposes of religion. Take from me or my poor people our faith, and what hollow^ carcases we should remain V' " I own,''-' said Oberon, in reciting this conversa- tion to his mother, " that I was powerfully affected by what the good father said, and I never will in my life strive to shake the Christian faith of any man, unless I am indeed prepared to say he will 172 OBERON SPELL. accept my better substitute ; without this assurance I only stir up doubts and turn a Christian into an infidel. On the whole^ dear mother^ this spot is charming to me — so filled with pleasing associa- tions, that I shall revisit it should I ever be in Brittany again_, and I will counsel my best friends on their foreign travels to take the little hamlet of Beauregard and the mansion of Madame de Foix, as a most interesting point in their rambles.^'' Not many weeks after_, Oberon having completed his two years^ excursion, placed his gladsome foot once more on the soil of England. He was a larger-minded, more liberal man for his travel, and had vastly lessened in himself the distance between the Englishman and the various races of foreigners, all brethren of the same large human family. " And now,^'' he would say in after life, " as these are days of international competition in works of art and industry, why not the great chiefs of learning and science contend for the mastery ? University against university ; always the very best men ; principals and fellows_, with scholars of the like pretension and position abroad, till the highest reach of mental excellence which the world could evoke were at- tained ? This only would appear to be wanting to make our modern system of promoting peace and civilization complete.''^ CHAPTER XVII. THE GRAND POEM. HE real business of life commenced ! To sit down to learn a profession whereby a man may be enabled to marry and support a wife and family ;, rear^ educate^ and por- tion off the latter^ and then die ; this was the grand problem which Oberon Spell had now to consider. "There is a shorter way than all this^ dear Oberon/" said his mother^ as they both sat beside a cosy fire at Edelstone ; " there is a shorter and^ to my mind^ a better way."" " Will you name it, dear mother ?"" " Suppose we begin to build the house at the chimney-top ; marry first, and think of a profession after P" "A strange proposition, mamma."" " No, not so strange. There is Caroline Lever with a fortune at command and a useful, intellectual calling too ; and if you reject your cousin, it may not be too late for another and a nobler alliance."" " I understand you, dear mamma. But once for all, I reject both proposals, even if attainable, of which I am not quite so certain. Many things besides the affections of young people would have to be considered. I really cannot see why all this I 74 OBEKON SPELL. fuss slioulcl be made about my marndng. I can get on very well in my own way. Perhaps, mother, I shall never marry /^ "That would be to disturb one of God^s ordi- nances, Oberon. The divine government is that men should perpetuate their race legitimately on earth. Here is the noblest worldly immortality.''^ " I had rather be immortal as a poet, mother, than be the great father of mankind himself. And so I shall remain single, if " " I know what you would say, dear child. But that shall never be with my consent. And now to decide upon a profession. ^^ " Well, dear mother, this is the more sensible part of our conversation. I have weighed the matter, and I think I shall take to the Bar. I shall enter on my terms at Lincoln^s Inn ; that will not interfere with the progress of my poem.^"* '^ Be it so. I earnestly trust, my dear, that this troublesome work will not in the end disap- point you.^'' " Do not call it troublesome. It is a labour of love. If I produce the right article, trust me it will be appreciated. I shall win fame, fortune, and honour.^^ " God grant it, my dearest child V Here the conversation dropped. In the course of a few days Oberon consulted a legal fi'iend who had become distinguished at the Chancery Bar, and was soon entered as a regular student of Lincoln^s Inn, not with the intention of qualifying immediately for a career as a lawyer, but to enable him to THE GRAND POEM. 175 acquire the name of a profession which he might follow or abandon at his pleasure. Iris Dove occasionally visited Edelstone_, but at this particular time she happened to be away on a lengthened visit to one of those numerous fi'iends whom her father had made in his tour of inspection as manager of the Hygienic Food Company^ and as peripatetic trumpeter of the great Liberal cause. Oberon was therefore left alone to advance his poem to completion. Meantime he contributed some valuable papers to the reviews and magazines,, for which he got well paid, and this, with the fame he began to acquire, though writing anonymously, became a matter of intense satisfaction to his mother, who thought that after all, her son might be right, and that his best course perhaps was to commence as an author. He had resumed his favourite rambles in the Park during the absence of the Wheatley family. The place had grown familiar to him. His mother fre- quently joined him in his walks and enjoyed with him the delicious scenery. On one of these occa- sions they were joined by Sir Roger Wheatley, who was paying a flying visit to the Priory. The baronet came upon mother and son suddenly as they were admiring the gi'and effects of one of the artificial cascades which formed the most interesting and im- posing feature of the lovely landscape around them. After an interchange of salutations and those general remarks which introduce more formal and regular conversation. Sir Roger said — ^^ And so I find, Mr. Spell, that you have at 176 OBERON SPELL. lengtli made up your mind to follow tlie Bar as a profession. AYell, you are yoimg enough yet to win your way betimes to eminence. I must say you bring bigli recommendations from college^ and no doubt your late tour lias vastly extended your knowledge of the world. A man of your calibre_, Mr. Spell_, generally makes a thriving lawyer. If at any time I can aid you in your professional career, I shall be most happy to do so.^^ Oberon bowed and looked at his mother, who was beaming with smiles and gratitude. He answered for himself. '' I am deeply sensible, Sir Roger, of your kind- ness. At present, though ostensibly going to the Bar, I am solely engaged in literature, and in par- ticular on a poem now near completion, and of which possibly you may have heard — a work on whicli depends my future movements, and, I may say, my fame and fortune.'''' The baronet eyed the young man keenly, and with a smile. ^' A poem, Mr. Spell ; a great undertaking in these degenerate days. But "^ — (turning the subject as he perceived his quiet satii'e was felt, he con- tinued) — " we have all been much gratified here by the absence of that troublesome mortal, Hilary Dove, from the country. For the last six years he has been endeavouring to plague me with his opposition. Tlie general election, you know, is coming round, and we poor members are made to tremble for our seats. I trust the fellow will not oust me.''^ " That I think would be a crime, Sir Roger. I THE GRAND POEM. 177 ought to have some influeuce with Hilary Dove. I beheve I have. AYith your permission I should feel great pleasure in exerting it in yoiu' favour/'' " I shall feel honoured in becoming your de- pendent for this act of kindness, my young friend ; and if I dare mention a return to you, I promise not to prove ungrateful. Dove, I assure you, is most mischievous, for ever speechifying about sub- jects he does not understand — Reform, the Ballot, Church-rates, Direct taxation, and other favourite Radical topics — he has succeeded, to a wide extent, in making people believe that I am little better than a legislative and social tyrant — an old Tory, grinding and robbing the poor, and checking the advance of liberty. But I fear I have interrupted your walk, madam.^^ " You have enhanced its pleasure a hundredfold by this fortuitous meeting. Sir Roger ; and the ad- mirable but delicate lesson you have conveyed to my son, who just now is lost in high speculations, too elevated, I fear, for busy, wayfaring life, but nevertheless, not to be ignored or neglected." "Ah, madam, it would be a rude, coarse world without our poets. But a dull balance-sheet of my steward^s awaits my rapid examination and signa- ture, so I must needs hurry back to my library. Good-bye, and pray remember, not to make your- selves strangers either here or at the house.'''' There was something unpleasant in this meeting — it grated harshly on the sensitive nerves of both son and mother. Sir Roger "Wheatley, the member of Parliament and ex-Minister, did not regard the VOL. I. 12 178 OBERON SPELL. spirit of independence exhibited by our hero as a quality to be praised in young men. On the con- trary, he had set his own opposite conduct as an example and exponent of his genuine opinion. For this Oberon did not care ; his principle was a high and noble one, and ought to have been better re- ceived. Why should obtrusive patronage persist in interfering with his occupations and plans of life? His true concern was for the displeasure, or rather the disapproval and disappointment, of his mother. She continued to walk by his side calm and silent. This lasted while they advanced some three hundred paces. At length Oberon broke the still- ness. ^^ Mother/^ he said, " I perceive that my refusal of Sir Roger Wheatley^s somewhat abrupt olFer, though undoubtedlv well meant bv him, displeases you.- " I only regret, my dearest child, that you are so blind to your own interest. It is necessary to live in this world. Here is a great function and duty of our existence. You know my means. They have gone to their utmost tether, and your own, the result of our common retrenchment and saving, are but scant and limited. "V\ e cannot live without money ; and that man defeats the designs of Provi- dence who not only does not use the best means to promote his interest, but actually rejects great op- portunities when offered. I would not for worlds discourage you, my dear; but however unwilling I am to believe it, from all I hear it is clear that in these ^ degenerate days ' — you remember the words THE GKAXD POEM. 179 — no sure fortune can be made by following the profession of a poet/^ " I could point to some instances to the contrary, mother. It all depends on the marketable character of the work.^^ '' You see how you are obliged to use commercial terms. I fear, dear, it is all — so far as success is concerned — an affair of trade, nothing more. But I wanted to cultivate the baronet^s friendship. ^^ '' ^Miy ?' 'Tor reasons of my own — for you, Oberon.^^ " Ah, I understand you, mother ; but let me beg of you to abandon all such delusions. To be candid with you — though I should be aware of Miss Wheatley^s regard for me, and had even her parents'' consent — she should never be my wife. No — no — never V "^ Rash boy ! you know not what you say, or what bright fortunes you are casting from you. Remember Caroline Lever ! I fear she is lost to you." " Oh, absurd, mother, to be hatching marriage plots for me. They never answer. Herein, mother, I believe in destiny. [Marriage is too gi-and an event ; too much of present and future depends on it to have it arranged and decided by our petty mundane plans. I am pre-engaged, mother, by the will and wisdom of God. Let us change the sub- ject. There must be no difference between you and me.''^ " Xo, my love, I will gladly turn to a brighter theme." And gradually and skilfully did the fond 12—2 180 OBERON SPELL. and judicious mother draw away the thoughts of her child from the object whom she knew was then uppermost in his heart. She spoke of a thousand things interesting to him ; asked question after question,, and required explanation of this^ instruc- tion on that, and guidance in some other matters, all suggested by their route as they passed along towards home. Oberon''s attention was entirely absorbed in satisfying his mother^ s inquiries; and in admiration of some new beauty of the scene, well as he recognised each spot. In passing from out the gate into Blackberry- lane, and when a little way on the road, they came face to face with Jonathan Cubborn. He was now grown a man, short and strong in frame, his dis- figurement still prominent, he looked repulsive and forbidding. With a malicious smile and a muttered chuckle he pursued his course up the green lane, at the same hurried pace which had marked his ap- proach. Was he fleeing from mischief? He had passed. "Wliat a hideous sight, Oberon. I always re- gret meeting that man. I wish he had not crossed my path to-day. It bodes no good.''"' " It cannot bode e^dl. There is no use in a vain sorrow for what occurred long ago — the thing cannot be undone. I did not court the fray. Mine was not the first insult, not the first threat of a blow. If I struck, I struck fair, and on sufficient provoca- tion. "'TIS past, mother ; it was inevitable.'''' " It may have been so, but since it happened, Edelstone has not been pleasant to me. The even- ing draws in; let us quicken our pace."'' And THE GRAND POEM. 181 mother and son^ as if urged by au uncontrollable forcC;, hurried forward. " Ha ! OberoUj what is that ?^^ exclaimed Mrs. Spellj as she got into the open road leading direct to her house. " A fire-engine ! and see, what a crowd ! Look ! look ! there's a fire V' " There is, but we ourselves are safe, dear mother, Deborah is at home/^ " We have enemies, Oberon, my child, wicked enemies. Another engine ! another again ! Ah ! God have pity on us. It is Myrtle Cottage \" " No, mother, no ; do not alarm yourself. Walk slowly on, and I will be back in a moment." Ih a moment Oberon returned, agitated and pale. ^' Dear mother, fortitude. It is our home. Step in here while I run forward. I must be on the spot.'' " And I too. I go with you. Oh, God ! have mercy on us ! jVIy poor Deborah ! My child's poem !" Saying this the anxious mother pressed eagerly forward, leaning nervously on Oberon's arm. It was in vain he essayed to console her ; she continued to breathe in a half-w hisper, " My poor Deborah ! My boy's poem !" " We must not anticipate the worst. It is yet daylight, and Deborah could escape. As for my MSS. they will defy the fire — they cannot perish. Let us hurry on, dear mother ; ages are now in a moment." They were at last fairly in front of the fire, in the midst of the crowd. A lane was cleared for them. Every one deplored their loss and murmured sympathy. The superintendent of police soon 182 OBERON SPELL. assured them tliat Deborah was safe^, and that the fire had begun among Mr. SpelFs papers. '^ My son^s papers ! Merciful Heaven ! His work — his noble work — all destroyed ! Oh^, Oberon '/' " Run^ run/'' cried Oberon^ '' fetch me a ladder. Oh ! this will do/^ seizing a chair and table. " I will mount to the room ! They must not go ! I will save them V " Madness, sir/"* said the chief fireman. " Come down, I say, there. Pull him down. Do you want to destroy yourself? I tell you, there it began. ■'Tis all over in that room. Here, bear a hand. For God^s sake, sir, do not add to the confusion. Now, boys, now, to it, my hearties V' Excited by the scene, Oberon was among the foremost in labour ; now pumping the engine with might and main, now dragging out the furniture vigorously. The cottage was but a small detached structure, with some few outhouses. No other building was in danger. The neighbours crowded to the rescue, in the midst of whom were Zadok Graff and his stalwart sons, exposing their lives to save whatever could be extricated from the flames. Oberon was everywhere; now rushing through the door, which had been left open by Deborah, as at the last moment she escaped ; now huddling the moveables together in the road ; and again at the engines, exciting all others to the charge. " What trunk is that my son is dragging out now ?" exclaimed Mrs. Spell to Dr. Trensham, on whose arm she leant as she stood on an elevation prepared for her on the opposite side of the road. ^' Can it be his precious MSS. ? No, no I I see. THE GRAND POEM. 183 it is only an old box of waste papers^ belonging, I believe, to his grandfather. Why should he risk his life for refuse like this, lying buried in the cellar ? AYill no one check him ? He will destroy himself ! I shall lose all V " My dear madam, be comforted. The firemen have stopped him. The engines are playing beauti- fully now. But, oh ! how awful ! Had you not better retire, dear madam ?''^ " No, Dr. Trensham ; I am in my place. My God ! — my Father ! what a terrible scene ! And this is a fire V At that moment a pillar of flame started up like a giant through the clouds. But there was a full supply of water to dash it down again. The con- quering jets of flame were met by stUl more victo- rious jets from the hose. They steamed and foamed and hissed together, till at last a black mass of carbon was the result. The roof fell in with a hideous crash. All was over. The fire gradually subsided into ashes, charred wood, and cracked and broken walls. Mp-tle Cottage, the neat, the unique, was a mass of ruins. Oberon SpelFs grand poem was lost for ever. There was some mitigation and solace in the active presence of Sir Roger Wheatley in the midst of the disaster. The moment he perceived the di- rection of the flames he hurried to the scene, and rendered by his countenance and exertions no small amount of aid and encouragement. He had post- poned an urgent call to the Carlton Club, in order to assist at this fire, and he was the first to offer the hospitality of his mansion to the suff'erers. 184 OBERON SPELL. " Your mother and yourself, Mr. Spell, will take ■up your abode at the Priory. I myself, and the family will, unfortunately, be away ; but then you will have none to interfere with you. Rest is needed for your mother till the effects of all this dreadful calamity shall have passed away. You must indeed, both come. I have sent for the car- riage .^^ " I must be on the spot. Sir Roger, and where I am, my mother will remain. Eternal thanks for your kind and hospitable offer, but my position is amidst these ruins.''' ^' AVell, sir, as you will /' and after a short time the baronet retu^ed. Oberon could not have well quitted the situation ; and perhaps he reflected that, had it not been for his unfortunate delay with the owner of Priory Park, his mother and he would have retui^ned earlier, and Myrtle Cottage might still have been standing ; the work of the incendiary — for such he felt per- suaded that sudden and rapid conflagration was, so long after he had left home — would, perhaps, have been wholly averted or defeated. As it was, his loss was irreparable, utterly and thoroughly irre- trievable. He had no copy left of his poem, and the labour and triumph of a life was thus gone for ever. But when in the midst of her great and over- whelming calamity, Oberon's mother heard Sir Roger Wheatley's generous and courteous invitation, and its curt rejection by her son, she exclaimed, " It is — it is destiny ! the hand of fate is upon us V* CHAPTER XVIII. AFTER THE FIRE TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. HE fire wliich swept Oberon Spell from the home of liis birth made him a changed being. All his treasures of intellect were utterly annihilated. Not a vestige of a MS. or a book was left^ the conflagration was so quick and furious throughout, but in particular in his own room, where by all accounts it commenced. He could never renew those works again. His pre- vious career had been distinguished by a remark- able precocity, and by the rapid production of literary essays of various kinds. All the freshness, and it may be said, the fulness, of his genius were stored in those pages. The child, boy, youth, and man had each been a severe student, and had early acquired the habit of committing thought to paper. He was now twenty-three years of age, and it is questionable whether under the most favour- able circumstances he could ever produce again works equal or superior to those irretrievably destroyed. Certainly he had lost the true heart for successful authorship. His great achievement — his poem — was buried ; unlike the dead, it left no ejutaph or monument. Reflection, memory, or reconstruction could never restore its creative pages. Diflfering from many a plaguy rhymester, Oberon 186 OBERON SPELL. Spell had not the art of learning his verses by rote, and reciting them to willing, or far more likely, un- willing, listeners. This feat he reserved for the standard poems of his own and other countries. He was accustomed to write with a running pen, and was always satisfied when his ideas were hived, as he termed it, in MS, These MSS. consumed, his past intellectual life became a blank, and left no record behind. This to the young author was a terrible bereavement. And he felt and resented the shock through every fibre of his being. He was never the same person after. A blight had passed over his mind and heart. He thought, and spoke, and estimated himself not according to any existing merits he displayed, but by the standard of productions of undoubted value — productions which had never seen the public light, and of which he cherished only the bare reminiscences. Not that we would by any means indicate that the genius of the poet was extinguished or at all sensibly impaired. This would be doing his subsequent works great injustice ; but he never wrote with the same power, verve, and originality again. His mother, in her way, felt her special misfortune. We have described the furniture and arrangements of Myrtle Cottage, internal and external, as some- thing unique. They were truly so; models of solidity, convenience, and taste. These could not be replaced ; for they were the result of years of planning, contrivance, and collection. Even the fashion of making good and lasting furniture had passed away from the country. In none but rare AFTER THE FIRE. 187 and exceptional caseS;, and at an enormons cost^ were houses garnished then^ or are thev now in a manner to combine the elegancies of art with perfect accom- modation and dnrableness of make and material. Besides, there were gems in that house which only taste and long and careful selection could bring together ; and there were other treasui'cs^ as por- traits and various souvenirs and memorials^ which no skill of the mechanic or artist could ever re- place. House and furniture were both well insm-ed, and the money was punctually and ungrudgingly paid by one of our principal fire offices. But though the bank-notes could rebuild the house^ they could not restore Oberon SpelFs precious MSS._, or the ^lyrtle Cottage of the incomparable widow — the ^lyrtle Cottage of Edelstone, known as the bijou of the village for miles around. The calamity effected a change in everything ; but it likewise brought its consolations. The universal sympathy expressed for the suff'erers was in itself consolatory. From every quarter came letters of regret and condolence. The moment Hugh Graff" read an account of the disaster^ all his old feelings came back again. His grief for Oberon^s irreparable loss was heartfelt and genuine. The misfortune was his own — it was a dear part of him- self which suff'ered. He earnestly entreated Oberon to join him in the metropolis, pui'sue his legal studies, and thus endeavour to dissipate his troubles. Mr. Lever was away, but his wife invited her sister- in-law and her nephew to spend a few months with 188 OBERON SPELL. the family at the seaside during the rebiiildiug of the Cottage and until things should again get into their regidar position. As to Zadok Graff, his great sorrow Tvas for the handsome furniture. The books and writings of the young gentleman^ and all that sort of stuff, could be easily replaced by a little money and exertion ; but there was that marvel of a sideboard — never ! — that was irreplace- able. He had done his best to repair and restore, and he had had the assistance of a first-rate work- ing cabinetmaker. But their neatest efforts were mere bungles — the genuine finish and beauty could never be given back again to those choice bits. Then the total destruction by the fire, how could that be remedied ? Many of these views were those of Deborah, too, who was inconsolable for her pots and pans, and the graceful and cleanly fittings of her unexceptionable kitchen. Dr. Flowers, his wife and daughters, and especi- ally Catherine, were even tender in their solicitude. They proffered the magnificence of Crampton Hall as a suitable mansion until matters should take a correct and normal turn. Dr. Trensham, too, was assiduous and kind, perhaps rather too much so, considering the almost stern solemnity of the occa- sion. But in the warmth and goodness of his heart, he offered his house as a quiet retreat till a calm and restorative system of things should re- appear. This was most liberal ; for the doctor was now in the flush of the great Hygienic Food Com- pany's success, and his prospects were truly of the most dazzling description — nothing short of a for- AFTER THE EIRE. 189 tune of millions — some great public testimonial — and a baronetcy or peerage to crown and reward his brilliant discovery. As to Hilary Dove, he was on his travels for the company all over the United Kingdom, and engaged, too, in vast electioneering schemes; smashing Toryism, as he described his career, wherever he set his foot. But no sooner did the disaster to the Spells reach him through the public journals, than he came by express to town, and was down in Edel- stone one hour after his arrival in London. Nothing could be more cordial than his proffer of friend- ship. The only thing was that he promised a hundred-fold more than he could possibly perform, or than could with any sense of independence be accepted. The widow, her son, and servant were for the present lodged in a quiet house in the outskirts of the village. This indeed was a temporary abode ; but it answered every purpose of proximity and management. As to the profuse offers of Prosce- nium Villa, the amiable companionship of Mrs. Dove, and the near prospect of a visit from Iris, wdth the speedy return of the promoter himself, these temptations were all heroically resisted, Mrs. Spell said, in her quietest manner, that Sir Roger AVheatley had courteously placed the Priory at their disposal for a few months, but that she had felt it to be only consistent with the sense of independence of both to decline the friendly and hospitable offer. This was paying Mr. Dove in his own shining coin, only the currency happened to be genuine not 190 OBERON SPELL. spurious metal. Joyous HilarV;, after despatchiug- a very hearty lunclieon, and expatiating in glorious flights of oratory on the wonders he had performed for the Hygienic Food Company and the political cause which he had only a few years espoused^ and which the next general election would show, ended his visit by placing a letter from his daughter in the private hands of Oberon_, not choosing to trouble his mother with these little matters of gossip and youthful recollection. When Oberon was alone — and he soon took an opportunity to be so — he drew forth the precious missive. It was neither inviting in chirography^ envelope, nor seal, for Iris was somewhat slovenly and careless in the style of turning out her letters ; nevertheless, the poet and scholar, as he gazed on the well-known handwriting, felt a glow and visible light break over his countenance, and for the first time he owned a heart-smile since the evening of the fire. He kissed the impression reverently, shall we say more reverently than the text it concealed deserved ? But yet it came from a pure and earnest friend, and one with whom the whole of his child- hood and a good part of his youth were associated. The epistle ran as follows : — " Grindthebones Mill, Shoddysbire. " My dear Oberon, — The account I have just read of that horrible fire (I fear some horrible crea- ture had to do with it) has made me miserable. I feel I ought to be near you; had I been, this hideous thing never would have occurred. But do- TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 19i bear up, my dear brother, bear up and comfort your mamma. She must be terribly cut up by tlic destruction of her nice house and furniture. Poor Deborah, too, she must take on about her kitchen. There was nothing like it in the universal world — nothing certainly here. These are all such queer people; oh, I do not like them at all — so stuck up and consequential. One had need be somebody to be acknowledged here. Their visitors are just as starched as themselves — country doctors, lawyers, and manufacturers, or buyers from the warehouses in London. Pa says they are all good Liberals ; but they are as grand as bashaws. True mushrooms, don^t they hold up their heads ! ^Yhat are kings, emperors, lords, and ladies to them ! The people here can afford to despise som- grapes. I must tell you I have had no end of beaux since I began my travels ; but the nabobs of fathers will not have it that I am good enough. I am not one of them- selves. Just as if I would look at their pieces of fustian. They are not such frights either ; some of them are decidedly handsome; but ^tis plain they don't know the knack of making love : some are shy, some are rude, some are pompous ; all are re- pulsive. Every scrap of their knowledge is picked up from the newspapers, and if you should chance not to be up in them, you are set down as decidedly ignorant. But, Oberon, there was one such nice creature, so like Hugh and you, both of you. They said he was crazy for me. Think of that, young gentleman ! He proposed to pa, and then popped the question — you know to whom, and of course 192 OBERON SPELL. got his conge. I had the dear originals at home ; I didn^t want the copy. Besides^ to tell you the truth, his father would not let him. I had not the needful. You have no idea of the aristocracy here. The porter Avont speak to the errand-boy out of business, the clerk holds the porter at arm^s length, the shop-walker looks down on the clerk_, and the buyer thinks himself an emperor. They are all sneaky enough to the governor, as the principal is called. Oh ! how they do toady and crawl to him. He on his side is truly royal and exclusive. He never invites his young men, he only uses them ; they serve his turn, and when he has squeezed all the blood he can out of them, he sends them adrift and lets them go to the dogs. I wonder how they think of getting to heaven here; unless they can mount up on yarns, I don^t see by what means thej^ can ascend. Pa says the workpeople are either fanatics or infidels; and as to their superiors, they think of nothing from morning till night but making money. The disregard of truth is shocking ; to fib cleverly in trade is the one great recommendation. Then to do the short-measure trick and the covers for bad articles, and the other frauds and adultera- tions, are, I can assure you, quite necessary to get on in business. Without this you could not meet the competition- Then they do so harry the poor w^orkpeople — men and women, but the women the worst. ' Grind her fine and grind her sleek. She is but a woman weak.' " But I must tell you a little bit of gossip. I was TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 193 last ^eek at a party here, a Mr. Gusset^s, and he carried raatters very high and mighty the whole evening ; not a word could be said, that he did not pretend to be more learned and intelligent in than persons evidently well-informed on the subject. The good people — wife, husband, sons and daughters — were all gracious enough to patronize me, and among other things I was asked to recite for the amusement of the company. ' AVith much pleasure/ said I, promptly ; and away I rattled with ' The song of a shirt.^ I don''t know, Oberon, whether you have seen it, but it is capital, and just out ; "'tis by Tom Hood, that witty writer in the magazines. Believe me, I never declaimed better in my life. I sent a shudder through the room. Poor Gusset, every time I said ' stitch,' I put a stitch in his side. " How I do run on, to be sure. I had almost forgotten the fire ! Do you know, dear Oberon, I never began to think so much of the utility — I know you dislike that word — well, the advantage, of poetry as since I came down here. To see them all grub- bing for money, and thinking and living for money and nothing else, has made me see the necessity for something to keep mankind from sinking into ani- mals — something to give the soul, as well as the body, of things. And just at this moment of my new birth, as one may call it, this horrid fire comes to destroy all your dear verses. I would have risked my life to have dragged them out. I am sure there must have been a want of management somewhere. But Oberon, my brother and friend, I have heard you say that nothing striking occurs without its VOL. I. 13 194 OBERON SPELL. symbol and warning designed by Providence. What mamma says may be all true : ' Poetry was intended to amuse tbe mad or idle/ It demands money and leisure^ and was never made to meet the rongh, sturdy business of life. Do you know that the crazy people in an asylum in Scotland write very good rhymes ? but I can understand this,, for only imbe- ciles are wholly mad ; the language of frenzy may speak out from a bursting heart. " By the by^ I should tell you that Hugh-'s — our Hughes — pictures are thought a great deal of here. You often meet them in the houses about. Pa says- they are at a premium^ and will one day sell for the double of what they fetch now in the market. I am sure of this, or the shrewd folks here never would buy them ; but they are great patrons of the arts. The chief drawback to poetry is that it can- not be sold like a picture. Do you know I would propose, as a part of the divine art, that the author should make a very neat original draft, and sell the manuscript, bound, to the highest bidder, and that the general copies, like engra^dngs, should go at the ordinary price, only letting the buyer of the manu- script propose his own terms. I know the poets usually write a desperate scrawl (you do not, dear Oberon), but they might be taught to set a value on a neat and characteristic penmanship, and thus make their works just as they come from their hands, of rare and special value. " They tell me I am getting still taller, which if true is wonderful at my age ; I am up to pa now ; shall I ever be up to you ? What a gander ! Talking of that, do you know I have always found that geese,, TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 195 instead of being stupid^, are the cleverest of animals. I do wish there was a kind of study of the intellects of the lower creatures. They never go to school^, they are never taught. What little barbarians children would be if they had not regular instruction ! "I need not ask how you look after your two years^ foreign travel. I only hope you are not handsome. Do you know I think your handsome men out of position ; they are admired and take our places. I should like to know, young '^ Apollo/ what chance a poor wife would have with you ? You have no end of admirers ; there are four of them to my knowledge, but I leave you to guess their names. Oh, would it not be rare fun to set the dear fools by the ears. I wish from my heart we were all children again, and near our brown-haired boy to comfort him. Oberon, do you remember the long, long sunny evenings on the door-step at Edelstone ? Oh, my heart ! They are shining and dancing pit-a- pat there now, like sunbeams on Easter morning. I shall be back soon, and we will try and make the best of the fire. It is a dire calamity, one that overthrows and overwhelms us all. But I will be near you, dear brother Oberon, to comfort and cheer you. My kindest regards and love to your mamma. " Dear Oberon, brother, " Your very affectionate sister, "Oberon Spell, Esq." "IwsDove. ''^ P.S. AVhat became of your darling cat ? The papers said never a word of poor Nelly. Do, dear, let me know. — Such a beauty V 13—2 196 OBEKON SPELL. We Tvill not sav that tlie man of refinement and intellect was proud of this letter ; but for him it had undoubtedly a certain charm ; its very naivete gave him an agreeable sensation "which no polish of dic- tion or elevation of sentiment could commimicate. Nor was he seriously piqued at the marked preference shown in the context for his friend, Hugh Graff. Oberon had grown up with the idea that no com- parison could ever be instituted between him and the young artist. In person, in intellect, in educa- tion, in position, aye, and in work actually done, though not at a monied profit, and in the world''s estimation, he was entirely his superior. For the student had ever been a stern labourer, and his college career had given him a stamp to which Hugh Graff might in vain aspire. Oberon could never dream of him as a rival. This was his way of think- ing, and the source and explanation of many of his actions in reference to the artist and the young lady on whom he had set his heart for a wife. Her artless composition and sentiments left him an en- viable ground, as he thought, for the improvement of both. Her education, her true elevation, would be his genial work. And then, how beautiful she was ; and with all her deficiencies in accomplish- ments and knowledge, how commanding and capable of extorting respect and homage from others, from others who did not know her intimately, and even from those whose acquaintance extended much further. Here was a block of beautiful marble left to him to cut, to shape, and to polish into intellec- tual life and grace. T\YO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 197 He had been accustomed to sliow his mother all his letters, to make her a partner in his eveiy sentiment and resolution. But here was matter now becoming exclusive and sacred, so esoteric and precious, so much within his being and heart, that he even dreaded the air around him, lest it should bear abroad those hushed, whispering words, — words of gold to him though imbedded in quartz, — words of ridicule and babble to all besides, and of stumbling and offence to his mother. That anxious parent should not behold it. He would spare her this contradiction and sorrow. As to the cutting remarks of Iris on his writings, he had become inured to them ; but he confidently looked forward to the time when his gloiy would be her gloiy, when what he loved she must love too, when both their hearts and their fortunes should be one. This was another victory which he had to achieve, another heart-rapture in store for him ! "'TIS true, since the fire his thoughts on a career of literature had grown rather dim and confused. He stood like a man who had suddenly lost every ves- tige of his property, who cared not, who knew not how to begin the world again. Stupor, apathy, and inaction were upon him. For this he was the more inclined to mope along with the grand sentiment, to become the silent and secret victim of an ab- sorbing passion. He was in this mood, resting his forehead on his hand, whilst seated in the small room now assigned him as a study, when his mother entered with a smile on her face, a smile unwonted of late ; for 198 OBERON SPELL. Mrs. Spell had taken lier son^s loss and her own very deeply to heart. " Here^ Oberon/'' she saidj " here is a letter which ought to please you^ or awaken a deeper sentiment^ if only ont of common gallantry and to gratify me.^'' ^' From whom;, dear mother ?" and Oberon raised his head and stretched forth his hand for the letter. " Read_, and see, my dear child. Read it aloud. It will bear re-perusal. It is, as you perceive, ad- dressed to me.^^ Oberon, leaning back in his chair, drew forth the sheet from its very neat envelope, and read as follows, first satisfying himself as to the person from whom it came. " Oh, from ^liss Wheatley ! Well, what can that interesting young lady have to say V " The Ravines, Northumberland. " 25th August, 18—. '^ My dear Madam, — The dreadful disaster which befel Myrtle Cottage reached me through the public joiu'nals this morning. I sensibly felt the shock just as if the blow had been dealt to myself, the Priory, or any other object dear to me. I lose not a moment in conveying to you my most sincere condolence and regret. ^' Ah ! this, indeed, is a great misfortune ! What cunning hand can ever restore that neat edifice — that unique furniture — those rare and exquisite gems ? But the books and the MSS. destroyed ! Here is a great public calamity, a loss to me and to TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 199 every one in the community; not_, therefore^ a pri- vate grief, but one to be universally deplored. Oh that it were in my power to restore one page of those precious poems^ the publication of which I had so long and so eagerly expected. I would in- deed give all my prospects in life to be of any real assistance ; but lamentations and regrets are idle and unavailing. Accept my deepest sympathy, dear madam, and tell Mr. Spell to bear up under his heavy affiction. He must take heart. His Ti'oy laid in ashes, an eternal Rome will arise from the dust transported elsewhere. I anxiously look for- ward to the hour that is to crown the public fame of Oberon Spell, the poet of Edelstone — that most charming of all spots for me, and the place of my birth. " Alas ! dear madam, what can secure us hap- piness on this earth ? Xot youth and genius, or the works of Oberon Spell would be extant, and your once delightful hearth and home standing now ; not riches, kind parents, hosts of friends, or the heirship to vast estates, or I should never know a sorrow; but we must look to the merciful hand of Heaven and to the obli-^-ion of time to cure our griefs — if, indeed, such a thing as forgetfulness be possible. Mr. Spell, however, and you, dear madam, must try to obtain consolation from whatever source is open to you. Surely the sympathy of kind friends is much. I can conceive a lonely sorrow which can never share this blessing, for which there can be no healing, no sympathy, no condolence, no oblivion ; and this may fall on very young hearts and be their 200 OBERON SPELL. lifers canker. But I fear, dear madam_, that instead of comforting- you_, I am indulging in a vein of un- pardonable moodiness and melanclioly. ''Tis my way sometimes, especially so of late ; so pray in your charity excuse me. " One thing delights me. "VVe shall be back to Edelstone soon, and I hoj)e to have the privilege of personally comforting and soothing you. If un- feigned regret for your irretrievable loss can be a consolation, you have mine from the depths of my heart. " With my compliments to Mr. Spell, and every expression of condolence and sorrow, '' My dear JNIadam, '^ I beg to remain, " Your very sincere friend, r.^r o ^^ ,-> " ERNESTINE WhEATLEY. " Mrs. Spell." " Well, what do you think of it, Oberon ? A very charming letter, is it not V " It is indeed. You must feel exceedingly obliged to Miss Wheatley.'' " And you V " Oh ! — I too, of course." " But do you see nothing further in it ? Has it no meaning beyond ?" " No doubt there is a concealed meaning, an irrepressible sentiment and allusion, a feeling scarcely controlled even when writing to you. But I can have no part in this. I do not, never have, never shall share in the affection." "Do you mean to tell me, Oberon, that if Miss TWO KINDS or LOVE-LETTERS. 201 Wlieatlev — the young, the accomplished, the beau- tiful heiress of estates worth 60,000/. a year — "were to indicate a regard for you, that you -would be the dolt not to perceive it and rejoice at it ?'' " Mother, why will you persist in totally mis- apprehending my nature and feelings ? Once for all, to be very plain with you, if Miss AVheatley were not alone what she is, but ten times more accomplished, more learned, more lovely, and with double her prospective fortune, were she a royal princess, and if she came with her parents' consent, and I saw and understood her passion, I would not marry her: for this good reason, my dear mother, that I have no heart to give her, and I could never be happy where I had not settled and fixed my heart.''' "Oh, yes you would, with Ernestine AVheatley. She would inspire you. Love begets love. We grow fond of what is attached to us. Xew ties would arise. You would altogether cease to be what you are now. You would be a father — a great pro- prietor — a statesman — a poet. Ah ! my dear boy, do, for my sake, if not for your own, reflect on sur- rounding circumstances. Think that this shadow of a great substance at such an hour is a signal blessing from heaven. Do not, let me entreat you, reject and despise it V " Reject and despise what, mother ? Is othing is proposed — nothing known — nothing offered. 'Tis all our own conjecture — probable indeed, but still conjecture. And then, have you never heard of a girhsh fancy? Every young maiden in her life- time has many of them. Some wear their hearts 202 OBERON SPELL. on tbeii' sleeves^ and are for ever^ as they think,, in love. Suppose this should be such an affection ! But even grant that it is true^ real^ genuine, vigorous^ and permanent, is it right, is it fair and honourable, to encourage such a treachery against this young lady's parents and friends ? Is it gi-ate- ful to the man who has been so graciously kind to us ? Is it just, moral, or honest to sacrifice his daughter's name and fame, high position, grand prospects — the prospects of one day becoming a duchess and doubling her rent-roll, — all to raise up your poor son — the broken-hearted poet — to a station of riches and eminence ? As if rank and wealth could confer happiness, while I believe they only increase care. No, my dear mother, this is one of those temptations in hfe often set before very humble people, which we must resist, or we should be as mean and villanous as the abigail who perverts the love of her young mistress to her own snob of a brother, or the thief who finding the sole treasure of a fond couple in his way, seizes it, and beggars and ruins the owners. We must not contravene the laws of God — of honour — of gratitude — and of true affection ; we must tell Satan to get behind us, mother V "1 stand rebuked and corrected, my dear son. I was very wrong — and yet — but no, you are right. I will say no more about it — at least for the pre- sent. I must write a nice, adroit note, returning the young lady our most sincere thanks. ''' '^ It is doubly incumbent on you to be cautious and prudent, as I have no doubt that this letter was TWO KINDS OF LOVE-LETTERS. 203 written without the consent or knowledge of her parents — is, in fact, a clandestine communication/^ '' My dear child, you alarm me. But you are quite right, and take a just view of the whole case. I am so thankful to Heaven that you were here to lead me out of the snare. My fondest blessings on you, Oberon.''' The subdued and corrected mother retired to her room, and there penned a very kind and careful letter, skilfully interweaving the most sentimental and impassioned allusions of Miss Wheatley in the body of her own text, and referring them all to the loss herself and her son had sustained, so as not in the remotest degree to appear to interpret or un- derstand what were the young lady^s real feelings. This done, she went to rest and calmly slept, with the consciousness of having avoided a great tempta- tion. Oberon too withdrew, and soon sank into a de- licious slumber. He had placed the letter of Iris under his pillovv, after fervently kissing it and beg- ging God to bless her. He passed the night in a dream. He thought he was a sculptor. He was busy in moulding a piece of pure white clay to the shape of a ^linerva, and was pausing at every manipulation to drink in the pleasure of the plastic artist. At length the statue breathed, and became Iris, but Iris beatified and exalted — and — and — but as he gazed, his idol fell down from its pedestal with the vulgar crash of broken crockery. He started and half awoke; but composing himself again, spent the rest of the night in gathering up 204 OBERON SPELL. and re23lacing the pieces. These now appeared to multiply and grow into other new and still more pleasing forms and images. The sequel he could not recollect or describe. It was lost in one of those vague hiatuses which break and dissever our dreams. At last he awoke. It was mornings and he felt as if he had gone through a lifers experience in his vision. He sj)rang up, aroused by a strange noise. The magic letter had fallen on the gi'ound, and a kitten was playing with it on the floor. Puss had slipped in and claimed her own property. CHAPTER XIX. THE CUBBORXS. HE biirniug clown of ^lyrtle Cottage did not take place without ample comment on its cause. As we have seen, the Spells, mother and son, had a host of friends in the village. The destruction of that neat abode "was regarded by almost everyone as a personal loss. The total annihilation of the student^'s MSS. was universally deplored, and people the least capable of understanding them, were loud in their exclama- tions of sorrow. That the fire was the work of an incendiary most of the inhabitants believed. In the room where Oberon wrote, and which faced a lane and an extensive range of meadow and woodland, were two windows, both usually left open during close weather. It would be easy to cast a ball of combustible matter through one or the pair of inlets. That such was the operation no doubt was entertained. But who was the assassin ? — what hand tiung the villanous shell ? Gimlet and Picker, who had been summoned, took counsel with the police and firemen. But after a very careful investigation, and with their conclu- sion unanimous as to the diabolical cause, they could not bring the act home to any special delin- quent. Everybody pointed at the Cubborns. But 206 OBERON SPELL. everybody pointiug is not legal proof, and the breatli of the suspecting -was mnffled. It was only here and there a nod^ a wink, or a shrug, the dumb language ; not a word was uttered, not a whisper escaped the lips of the nearest friends even in their closest confidence. They dreaded the tremendous power of the law in the hands of ras- cally attornies. Mrs. Cubborn had been seen flitting about on the night of the fire. This was more noticeable as she seldom quitted her house. Trapper, Cotching, Snodgepole and Co. were among the crowd. Jonathan, with his usual legal bag, was in the village before the conflagration, and the next authentic account of him we get is that he was in Blackberry-lane when it commenced. Much of what was advanced proved to be mere conjecture, and no one was willing to say what he knew. In fact, there was not a shadow of tangible evidence against any individual. Still the suspicion lurked about the village, and the Cubborns were made to feel that they were moving in a thick, suffocating atmosphere, where they could not breathe freely. The smouldering embers seemed to choke them, so oppressive had become the general condemnation. It was the morning Avorking-hour — nine o^clock. Mrs. Cubborn was at her desk in the inner room of the vicious circle. Her son sat before her. They both looked troubled. '' ^Tis done, Natty, well and cleanly done too ; but though I planned it, I Arish it were undone V ^' And so do I too. They have the profit ; they pocket the insurance money; and as to friends. THE CUBBORNS. 207 swarms of them have sprung up. The whole village is mad after them and dead set against us." ^' Let them go mad^, let them dead set. Think you I cannot transform all this^ and turn their heaven into a hell ? Boy^ we have had our revenge, that is sweet. Not all their smiles,, and tears, and condolences, and that trash, will give them back the lost poem. No ; while I behold youi' maimed face, dear child, I am ripe for any deed of vengeance. The whole world has become our enemy, and I hate it. I only want you to be true to yourself." ^' Well, I am true, am I not ?" '^You are. Leave all this fine froth of friend- ship to me ; I will cool it down, I tell you — turn it into bubbling gall." '^'^But can you undo the suspicion? "'TIS that which strangles me, mother. I often feel the rope tightening about my neck, and the blood rushing like flames to my brain. I fear I shall go mad. I cannot sleep, I cannot work as I used to do. I am all fever and restlessness." " Nonsense ; you should take courage and be calm." " Calm, indeed ! It is well for you here, smugged up in your room, with no eye to look on you, to be cool and calm. What can you suffer ? The world does not glare on you, dog you, spit at you ! I tell you, the weight and oppression I feel of people^s hate are crushing me. I am not the same since that night. The fire is not out yet ; it is here, here, mother, raging Avithin ! I cannot walk, or talk, or sit, or ride, but everybody suspects me, and has his 208 OBERON SPELL. eyes fixed on me. They, the Spells, suspect me ; the \411age suspects me ; the police suspect me ; Trapper suspects me ; so does Snodgepole ; so do they all. Father suspects me and abhors me — he drives me from him — he shuns me like contagion; the "whole world suspects and hates me. Mother ! mother ! can you undo this hideous hell -glaring suspicion ? Can you ? — can you T^ " Of course I can — nothing so easy. Be quiet, lad, only be still, and you shall see it all pouring back like molten lead, to sink him, your enemy. There, boy, cheer up, be comforted.^^ " But the inquiry, that ugly inquiiy, may go fur- ther. I was seen with the bag in the village." " Bah ! Did any one peep into it ? You were seen with the same bag more than a thousand times before and since. As to the investigation, I have had a word with Gimlet here. He is all right ; a twenty pound note has made him careful not to push his prying eyes too far. There is such a thing as the law of libel. He does not fear it, but he can make others do so." " But he knows nothing of the fact, does he ?" ^^ No, sure ! That is where it is — entombed be- tween my brain and right hand, which you are, Natty. Only, you understand me, he is not to en- courage vague and libellous suspicions. The inquiry is already blown upon ; as to that, set your mind at rest. 'Tis because you are new to it. I tell you the world is our enemy ; we are both at war with the world. And see what they do in war — those brave and glorious soldiers ! Don^t they burn, and THE CUBBORNS. 209 ravage, and plunder^, and murder? Tut, boy, their great generals have more blood, arson, and robbery on their individual souls, than all the highwaymen hanged at Tyburn, Xewgate, or all the gallowses put together. So take it easy, my raw recruit ; you will get used to it by-and-by. And, mark me, not a single week shall pass away before the tables are turned, and this ugly suspicion shall point at him and at her, and make their lives the hell you now find ar ^' Oh ! if only I could feel that, see it, know it V " You shall, boy, I tell you. Now, listen to me, Katty, listen to your mother, and drink in her words, as you did the milk of her breasts. I am growing weary of your father ; he is good for nothing. If it were not for that bit of election business he does for Sir Roger Wheatley, I would get rid of him and conduct the profession with you. I hoj)e to live to see the day when women shall have their rights and be admitted on the Rolls. I am working for it quietly but deeply, and I think I shall succeed. ^Yhy not female attorneys and barristers, as well as doctors and what not ? Why should there be any restriction ? People ought to get their bread as they best can without let or hindrance, and especially poor, weak women, as they call us. We shall not have free-trade in food, and cowardly pro- tection and prevention in the means of procuring it. No, no ; none of that absurdity. But this is not what I am coming to. What I want to call your attention to now is most serious.^'' ^' Yes, mother ?" VOL. I. 14! 210 OBERON SPELL. "Well; I have not liad voii taught penmanship for nothing, my son. 'Tis a great art is that of the pen ; if well used, the highest art known or con- ceivable in a commercial community. With this talent alone, well applied, one might make thousands. I need not remind you that it has long been my opinion, that a great deal more might be made of our profession. We have everything in our hands. We have it really all our own way, so long as the power to issue writs is with us. But the profession requires development. Some do get the knack by instinct. We see attorneys sprouting from the dung everywhere. Why not ? Our opportunities, our authority, are enormous. This, Xatty, is an old, a respectable firm; let us see if we cannot turn the humdrum title to wealth and honoui\ You are a genius, child, a born genius at the quill and the faculty of exact imitation. Thanks to your mother, boy, for discovering and developing your extraor- dinary gift. I alone know its right use, and you know that you have the instrument. We have kept the secret well between us. This is the way to success ; no boasting, no blabbing. Well, I want this Priory estate V' " The Priory V " Do not interrupt me, but listen. Not the Priory alone, but the Ravines, Blackmines, and Erlam Court — the Staffordshire and Shi'opshire estates of young Summers. There, don^t sit gaping, but hear me. All this will require time and work ; time and work, boy, will do wonders. I see great prospects for my child, my Natty; riches, honours, high sta- THE CUBBORNS. 211 tion, ample estates, perhaps a peerage ; or, I tell you, if this be unattainable, and it is just possible that under our curst restrictive system it might be, I will try and upset everything, and strike for the presidentship of a British republic. Ay, boy, you shall be that, or it might be myself — a woman ; and why not a woman ? Queen Victoria is a woman. We will sweep away this rubbish of Church and State, Kings, Lords, and Ladies, if they stand in the way. I know no obstacle ; I will not recognise one. But all in good time ! There is nothing which an attorney cannot reach, if only he have the courage and ambition. We shall begin by throwing all this musty old Toryism overboard ; yet, at its proper season. We must be prudent as well as brave. Oh ! I have a vast plan in my head to develope the profession, enlarge its sphere, and avenge the scorn men heap on us attorneys, by showing that we are their masters. What think you, boy T' *' I think, mother, I would let well alone. You might be taking things too far. Your ambition gives you the fancies of a madman. All that peer- age and president talk is sheer insanity.'''' " There spoke your poltroon of a father/'' " I am no poltroon. But I bear my father^s name ; he has always given me good advice, and set me a fair example. This is an old, an honoured business. ^ly father, my grandfather, and great- grandfather, all stood by it and built it up. Why should it not go on as other firms, in a legitimate, safe way, making money and fame ? I don^t want 14—2 212 OBERON SPELL. to be a lord or a president. I am satisfied to be a plodding^ practical attorney.^'' '^ I know you are^ for you are your coward father's son. But listen to me. You should have spoken sooner — said all this before; "'tis now too late. You must get power to save yourself; you must cut the knot^ or it w^ill tighten about your throat. Ha ! do you begin to feel me ? I tell you what^ retreat would now be ruin ! But why is all this nonsense of doubt and fear ? Kings^ emperors, and statesmen — the great rulers of the world — are hourly planning worse crimes — wholesale murders, widespread de- vastation, every conceivable horror daily, and they eat and drink like other people, and are as calm and good and pious. They are not called mad. Why ? They have been brought up to it. I — I am born to it, born to wonderful, unheard-of greatness ; and you shall be, or I will hang you. Natty — ay, hang you up with my own hands, as unfit to live, to bear the part and character of a son of mine and of a man. Their place is war, their nature is war, the w^orld is war, and all things in it, devouring one another. To strive, to struggle, to over-reach, to get all they can for themselves and trample on others, is their birthright and instinct. There is not a man who gets on in the world, and is fit to lire in it, who does not do this and ten times worse for success, which covers all his sins, be they legion \ Boy, your green hand ofi'ends, it is not clean ! Flesh it in crime, wash it in knavery and blood, it will grow strong and smell sweet ! See how they will stretch forth their eager arms to grasp it, as a trusty THE CUBBORNS. 213 friend ! Are you assured ? Be so^ and what I promise is within your reach. "'^ " I will do what you bid me/' " That is all I require. The taste and longing will come by-and-by. Hear me now ! You know those Germans,, Wolfstein and Schnapps P'"* "Of course I do. ^Twas I who introduced them to you/' " And I found out their talents ; I know them better than your father or you. They are amazingly clever men; the Germans are all intellectual^ and to be dreaded when their super- subtile brains turn to roguery. I will use those men^ but watch them too ; or do better^ put nothing tangible in their power. They have a pair of friends^ Swivel and Son, the great city jewellers.'"' " I know them too." " Of course you do, and so does your father ; but I know them as they are, and not as fair-spoken tradesmen, bidding high for corporate honours. They are sharp, useful men, up to business; but Schnapps is originally clever. Now, I have a grand project in my head. No danger attends my scheme, for the whole is here, and will remain here, locked in my brain ; and the parts, the separate instru- ments — you among the rest — cannot betray one another ; certainly not me. All I require is tho- rough and utter obedience and submission to my supreme will. No talk, no inquiries, but simple action, not even a look or a whisper in the strictest confidence ; for the time comes with us all when what is told in confidence ceases to be a secret. I 214 OBERON SPELL. Tvant nothing needless; ^ye are to live^ and niove^ and do — do, mind, as if this thing existed not, had no action, knowledge, or being. The business will work itself through on this system without peril to the six partners/^ '' Who are they ?' "Myself president, or grand operator, and five instruments — Wolfstein, Schnapps^ the two Swivels^ and you, Natty /^ " Thank you, mother/'' '' You will have reason to thank me, rogue, when you enjoy the fruits/^ "Well, as to the fruits^ how are they to be divided r " Of course each can work for himself; but whatever is done in the partnership, the profits will be equally divided, fair share and share alike, no superiority here or preference/'' " Well, so far so good ; but what is it, mother — ■ what is the business ?'' " To obey, to do, and make no inquiries ; that is the secret. When you come to the work, you will never know more than what you yourself per- form for legal purpose ; you shall never be able, nor they, to trace the deed home to its source. Do you see this page of ciphers? Go and study them. T\Tien you know them pat, I will examine you. Now you have had your lesson, guard your tongue, lay the wisdom you have learnt to heart ; not a breath or a sign to anyone; study the cipher, it is very simple ; practice your imitation. Go, child, retire to your own room ; I have done with you.'"' THE CUBBORXS. 215 Jonathan Cubborn slunk awav to liis chamber. The bell rang to admit Trapper. The solicitrix was buried in the pages of a brief. '' Oh, is that yon^ Trapper ? I want you, sit down, I was on this case of Scoppins versus Squibbers ; but I am glad you are here. This ugly affair of the fire at Spells annoys me. "We are not friends, you know, with those people ; we never shall be, my boy^s wound still rankles in my heart. This has given them a kind of malicious handle ; they are busy all about circulating scandal, the vilest reports. By-the-by, has anything tangible reached you 1:" " No, nothing that we could use. I am, how- ever, on the look out ; but if nods, and hints, and looks, and shrugs are a language, ^tis as plain as if old Tolland cried it in the market-place, that Jona- than is put down as the incendiary. ^^ " Hush, Trapper ; this must not even be spoken. I have had my suspicions that some calumny of the kind was afloat ; but we must check it. Trapper. I want vou to place the real ti-uth before the public." '' Yes." '^ Well, I have certain information — information from an undoubted source — " Mrs. Cubborn paused, and fixed her large eyes full on the clerk. '^ Yes, ma^am." Trapper opened his mouth as if about to swallow a whale — the undoubted information — looking a model of surprise and wondenuent. ^' I see you ai'e attentive. Well, I have ascer- tained from an undoubted source, that for a long time before the fire, that fellow Spell was discon- 216 OBERON SPELL. tented witli his poem,, and had more than once threatened to commit it to the flames — the flames ! Do yon heed me ?'' ''Yes/' '' Well, he met with a whole host of disappoint- ments from the magazines, and all that ; in fact, he was sick of the thing and of what he had done. He is only a poor-brained fellow after all, and he has overworked himself. But he had been puffing-up this identical poem, and his mother never ceased talking about it, also that scamp Dove, though his daughter. Iris, really wished the whole farrago anywhere out of her ears, made deaf and dazed from her father^s continual boring. Well, coupling all these established facts with the snug insm-ance money, is it not clear to you how the fire oc- curred — eh "i" " I must own I do not see it in that light, ma^am.^^ '^^You do not see it? — But you must see it. Trapper. You must, I say ! — you grow dull. I want you to work it. 'Tis a part of your duty. By-the-by, how does that aff'air of the Flam get on ? 1 wish to lay hold of that paper for you. Trapper ; we must be no longer dependent; we must be proprietors, man. What is doiog V " Oh, Frogget is going a-head swimmingly. He will soon be out of his depth. I expect we shall have him in Spinsterton Towers soon. Then the paper, ma^am, is our own.'''' "^Very well. Trapper, very well. Don^t spare the writs. You know my bargain about that. But THE CUBBORNS. 217 you must not be so stupid ; you must do your cluty/^ Trapper saw determination in Mrs. Cubborn^s eye. He was not prepared to throw up his situa- tion, and he took out his note-book, and said — '' Of course, ma'am ; I am always ready to take instructions/' " I should think so, when I state nothing but facts ; I like to have the truth where I can to go upon. I did not make that last rise in your salary, Ti'apper, for nothing, — I had an object in view."" — (Mrs. Cubborn had a way of insinuating a meaning.) — " But however, now to business. I want you to put the undoubted facts of this case before the public. It is to be, mind you, an extract from an American paper. Go, now, and let me have a nice spicy morceau ready for the Flam, or any other paper, in half an hour, — a neat paragi'aph, well pointed, and not too long.'' Mr. Trapper had got a habit of obeying his mis- tress according to her own blameless, common-sense way whenever he perceived that his interest was clearly concerned; otherwise he was rather dogged and slow to apprehend. He saw clean through and through his prompter now, but looked as unknow- ing as if the whole scheme was quite legitimate and innocent. Mrs. Cubborn understood her man, she knew he was thoroughly sordid and selfish at hearty but he was indispensable to her movements ; what she most dreaded was his marriage, or too intimate connexion with anyone who might one day master his secrets ; she had, therefore, a knack of convey- 218 OBERON SPELL. ing the hint^ tliat if Cubborn,, senior, should hang or drown himself, or get out of the way in any final direction, he, Gilbert Trapper, would become lord and master. "^ Then,^^ he would say to himself, "wont I pay her off for many a slight now and shabby trick ! I have only to bide my time, that will right and steady everything.^'' AYe are all, one way or other, biding our time in this world, till eternity slips in, and proves that not the future, but the present is alone in our power. We have given the vernacular of the managing clerk's thoughts, which for the present were locked up in his own snug breast. He retired to his room, took up his pen, and speedily put together his story. Quickly returning, he found that this time the lady required no reminder ; his knock was im- mediately answered by the well-known tingle of his bell, and forthwith Mrs. Cubborn addressed him : — " Sit down — go on — I am attending. How slow you are ! Do get forward. Trapper.^' "Yes, ma'am.'''' Notwithstanding the pressure he hemmed his usual " hem,'' three times to clear his throat, and then began : — " Ingenious Method of making a Literary Reputation. — A luckless scribe, weary of continual rejection from the pages of our magazines, and other foremost periodicals, resolved upon establish- ing a name, not for what he had done, but what he had left undone. He caused it to be given out among his friends that he had been long engaged in the production of a poem which his critical admirers. THE CUBBORNS. 219 whO; lie said, had read tlie ^IS.^ pronounced a work of the true stamp and ringing metal, in fact, a genuine epic of sustained merit and character throughout. This panegyric was made to find its way into the newspapers and other journals, and at length a series of advertisements appeared announc- ing that the chef cVosuvre would soon be published. The world of letters was kept on the tiptoe of ex- pectation, when all of a sudden came the melan- choly and calamitous intelligence that the glorious poem, already in a state of completion, a mass of valuable MSS., and a rare and extensive library, were all consumed by an accidental fire. Fortu- nately for the gifted author the property was in- sured, but the world had lost by this a transcendent work of genius. Such was one side of the ingenious story. Rumour, however, always busy, suggests that the poem destroyed was purely a feat of the imagination, and that the sterling ore of the in- surance office was the most solid and enduring part of the work. The fire is believed to be the result of spontaneous combustion, and the enkindling art of the poet still continues to enjoy the fruits of his creative fancy. His fortune is enhanced, his effusions are inserted, and he has earned an imperishable name for a work which never had an existence be- yond his own inventive faculty.''^ — American Paper. " No, do not say American paper ; quote the New York Herald at once boldly.'"' " But they might blow upon it.^' " Let them ; -'tis true, you know it is true. Why, 220 OBERON SPELL. you stupid, if it were the biggest lie ever invented, you might safely cite to support it even the authority of the Times itself/' " WTiat; -without being found out ?'' " Unquestionably. Do you think the owls who conduct a paper know every line that goes into it when once it sees the light ? So far from that, no one knows less about the journal of the day than the very hands that produced it ; they are busy upon the next issue. You ought to be aware of that.'' " Wonderful ! There, I have put New Yo7'k Herald. Well, ma'am, what do you think of it as a whole ?" " It drags, Trapper — it drags ; it is decidedly heavy, not at all up to the mark ; but it must do, I suppose. You will get it into the Flam first, then work it into the dailies, the weeklies, and the lead- ing provincials. Remember, a shilling a line for every time you can produce it to me in a public journal. Be prompt. I am very busy, you know, with this great chancery suit." Mr. Trapper disappeared, and the plotter con- tinued her thoughts. " I do not think this will bring the fire home to the pair; but people will get the clue, — the way will be open for the train when laid. Ill-nature will do the rest. I will take care the insurance- offices get the papers ; they are rather too lively in smelling out arson. Ah ! it will do, I see it will. I will sweep them from the face of the earth, I will. People will read, and laugh, and babble, and listen THE CUEBORKS. 221 and believe. We shall not be idle ; no^ no, my re- venge is with that sure devil, * Whose hoof is on the road, A treading-out the face of God.' " Saying this, Mrs. Cubborn drew her brief before lier, and was soon buried and lost in the depths of the Kolls Court. She might have been some half hour engaged in this way when her husband^s well-known rap dis- turbed her. She raised her head, and rang the bell assigned him. He entered. " Well, what do you want of me ? Do sit down, I am not going to eat you. Well '^ " I came about that poor boy Natty. '"' '' Oh, leave Natty alone ; he is busy for me.^^ " Busy ! why he is shut up in his room, and no one can get to him. I want him to attend to the business.^^ " My instructions were that he should not be disturbed.^' " Pretty, indeed. And what about this fire ? I must speak ; he is my son, — he is the heir to a fair property and a transmitted j^rofession.^^ " Well, what is all this bother about — what do you mean V " I mean that you are leading my child to de- struction y " Your child ! — your child, forsooth ! — who told you he is your child, nincompoop ? He is my child." '' Everybody says he caused this fire.''^ *^ Everybody tells a lie ; I know its authors.^' 90 OBEHOX SPELL. " You do ? — Then pray make the villains public/-' '' That is just as I choose. I am in possession of the facts j but it may not suit me to be so open-mouthed. However, the boy^s fair fame must be vindicated ; leave all that to me/'' ^' I fear I have left too much to you, woman/-' ^' Who is a woman ? Have a care ; be more cautious and respectful/-' " I will be plain and candid, so take it as you will. You are ruining my son, you are ruining my profession, you are driving everything to destruction ; our name is already infamous, a by-word everywhere. I tell you what it is, if you do not change, and conduct yourself more like a woman, I will quit you altogether and go/-' '' You may go — to , if you like ; but, re- member, I will follow you thither ; ay, and rake up the burning devils around you ! Do not menace me, fellow. Know who I am and who you are. I could hang you any day V " Not me. I am not to be alarmed by your threats, I can tell you.-'-' " Alarmed ! I don^t want to alarm you. But have you not abetted and suggested perjury over and over, and done worse, ay, worse ?" " I own, to my bitter shame and sorrow, there were times when, listening to your evil counsel, I did not not set a proper value on the sacredness of an oath ; but catch me stumbling again, and I will thank you. No ; I am cured ! — I have had my lesson ! And to be candid with vou, I know those TPIE CUBBORNS. 223 Tvho will share their fortunes with me^ if you do not mend '^ " Monster ! dare to utter that threat again and your life pays for it ! "Well, suppose — oh^ do sit down_, pray, I \\-ill not touch you, you are too con- temptible for my hands — well, suppose you went away to-morrow, think you I would not be after you, and pursue you to the end of the earth, till I saw you hanging T' "You are an awful woman V' " I am awful did you fully know me. I am awful. I am in a bad, competing world, and I will not be put down or trampled on, though all the fiends of hell were about me. Well, go, Andy Cub- born — go, denounce or renounce me, and see how far I shall be from you and from your trull the next day ! Your career here has not been so immaculate ! You had better keep a still tongue in your head !" " With those exceptional cases I have mentioned, I have done nothing to be ashamed of.^"* " Nothing ! why we all, the best of us, practising attorneys, do deeds the sun dare not look upon ; often for ourselves, often not to lose a cause when a trick, or an oath, or an act of oppression will save what may be a just cause. But you, Cubborn, your crimes stink in my nostrils and in the face of Heaven V " Mercy, woman, what can you mean ?^' " Go, leave me ; try and break up this business^ and you will find out.^'' " I suppose so; for you stand at nothing.''^ " True ; you speak the exact truth now. If you 224 OBERON SPELL. budged I would tell a tale, concoct a tale, if you will, prove a tale on oath, on veritable oath of un- doubted witnesses, that would soon break your long neck in a halter V' "You would ?^' " I would. So no more threats of separation ; and do leave the boy to me, he is in safe hands ; no one cares for him half so much as his mother. The profession requires development. We do not make half enough of it, and I have determined that to be an attorney is really to be at the head of the com- monwealth. You laugh. I wonder you can laugh after all that you have heard. But I shall live to make good my words ; so there is nothing for you but quiet obedience and submission. Pray, what is doing in regard to the election ? You know it is coming round, and it is my policy to return Wheatley for the county.^'' " Then, I fear you will be disappointed. Hilary Dove has ruined his prospects. The home-truths that fellow speaks sink deep in people^s minds, how- ever superficial he may appear.^^ " We should never have lost him only for you. If the county goes before I want it to go, look out — look out, I say, for my malediction ! My plans are large, and I want this item of success at the election to bring matters home. It will not do to lose the Wheatley connexion. Go ; I am upon this aifair of Scoppins. I will let you have my notes upon it in the course of the day. Let not Natty be disturbed. ^^ Husband and wife separated, each to follow some THE CUBBOEXS. 225 TTorldly pursuit_, differing in dishonesty only by the heart of boldness and courage, and the peculiar in- tellect possessed by the operator, resolved to be busy to make money anyhow and any-through. Did the Cubborns' practice disagree with that of the rest of our commercial world ? Only in intensity, not in principle. It is this sordid principle of constant gain-seeking which we wish to see rooted out of society. VOL. T. ]5 CHAPTER XX. THE OLD T R U X K. HE Spells were still in the Edelstone lodging-liouse. Myrtle Cottage was being rebuilt, and they were undecided whether they should reoccupy it_, or let it and settle in London. Many things incited to this latter step. It was necessary that Oberon should actively pursue the attainment of his j)rofession. Literature with him was dead since the loss of his INISS. He could scarcely bear to look at a poem_, and he entirely ceased to write for the public press. A life in chambers would be lonely apart from his mother,, and somehow he did not like the idea of going to town and returning daily to the "tillage. The TMieatleys were expected at the Priory, and it would not be prudent or honourable in him to re- main on the spot, continually liable to come into the presence and conrersation of Ernestine. This had to be avoided. Lis Dove, too, he understood would soon be back, and for one reason or another he did not desire to be in too close proximity to her. His plans of marriage, if he had any, were at present vague and undecided. He had no settled calling, and until this should be determined on, and he was on the road to fortune, and able to main- tain a wife and family, he thought it would be THE OLD TRUNK. 227 un^vise to encourage a passion vhicli perhaps after all might never lead to a legitimate and satisfactory conclusion. He therefore set to^ and began to arrange the few papers left him from the fire_, with the resolu- tion of fixing at least for some years in the metro- polis. He consulted his mother on his views^ so far as a profession and residence were concerned, and these met with her heartiest sanction. They were but two ; and for the present eligible lodgings would answer all theii' requirements. Deborah could still wait on her mistress. A suitable place being found in Upper Gower-street_, Bedford-square, the little family were to settle there in the course of the following week. Rummaging through and turning over his papers^ Oberon came upon the old trunk which he had rescued from the conflagration, simply because access to the cellar where it stood Avas not precluded by the smoke and flame. The accumulation of MSS. in a literary house is endless. If the abode be at all neatly kept — and we all know how Myrtle Cottage was managed — the removal of some of the papers now and then to an out-of-the- way place becomes necessary. The box of docu- ments saved from the devouring element had never so much as been preWously examined. It was known to contain some letters of Oberon^s paternal grandfather^ Henry, or Heinrich, Spell, for he was a German ; and as these had been rendered unim- portant by the death of Bertram, Oberon^s father — they had been thrown by in the trunk we have mentioned to rest in the cellar with other lumber 15 — 2 228 OBERON SPELL. wliicli only some such sweeping visitation as a fire could disturb or suddenly destroy. The writer of the letters and his correspondents had long been gathered to their fathers,, and as they left no im- posing name behind them, their memorials, if any, were forgotten. But as Oberon was now really at a loss for something to do, he opened the box, which he found to be well secured, and seriously set to work to decipher the various documents it contained. As he advanced in his task, he got in- terested in the materials thus strangely disentombed. When he had accomplished his labour in a student- like manner, made a brief abstract of the subject of each letter and document of any importance^ noting the whole, and arranging them according to their matter and dates, he sought his mother, who herself had become anxious to learn the contents of that singular relic, alone saved from out a mass of such valuable papers. " My dear mother, somehow I find that we have never taken a family interest in our ancestors. Do you know, my curiosity this way was first actively excited during my short stay in Vienna, where I saw that the Spells were held in much considera- tion. On my travels abroad I had an opportunity of being introduced to some of them, but declined the honom^ ; for I need not tell you how repugnant it would be to me to be thought a poor relation. But now the papers in the old trunk have really awakened a very natural family concern in me. I do not wish to stir up painful memories in you, but I should like to know something about my father. THE OLD TRUNK. 229 and his father, and if possible about his father again, or my great grandfather. So there is a string of paternals for you to unravel. Then I have never heard you tell the story of your own family. I know you were a Miss Erndale — but what Erndale ? AYere they of Kent or Sussex ? Or did they come out of that migrating county, Norfolk, whose inhabitants are to be found all over England, and, I suppose, the colonies also. Come, dear mamma, as we both have leisure now, do in- dulge in a little family gossip. Every gentleman should know from whom he sprang; for I believe in the lineage of men as well as of horses.^^ ^^ Well, really, my dear, genealogy is a subject which never much interested me; but, as you say, one ought to know his descent, if only to show that it was legitimate and honourable. For myself, I am derived from a race of clergymen. ]My father. Dr. Erndale, was rector of Little Plimpton, Devon- shire, and my grandfather was a poor curate in the same parish. They married, one into the family of the Illinghams, my mother^s name, and her mother was nee L^Estrange, of the Norfolk family, I be- lieve. It was a stolen match, they report, and gave some umbrage to my grandmother's friends. My father died early, and my dear mother soon followed him ; and I must own, I was only a poor governess when I first beheld your father. Oh, Oberon ! I ought not to touch upon this — do excuse mc.^' Mrs. Spell buried her head in her handkerchief, overcome with grief. Her tears fell fast and warm ; and so solemn and ghostly did everything become. 230 OBERON SPELL. tliat it seemed as if tlie dead were in that room beside the disconsolate Tvidow. Oberon_, deeply- affected himself, did all he conld to comfort and restore his mother. But he had revived very pain- ful and distressing scenes. He was passing over the grave of a troubled spirit^ and it was almost impossible to allay the hovering oppression and sorrow. Both were silent for a time^ overwhelmed with grief. At length the feelings of the mother asserted their superior power^ and drying her own eyeSj Mrs. Spell endeavoured to console her son. " ■'Tis over^ dear ; I am well now — do you be well also. What you have requested is only natural and necessary. I will go on^ dear_, if you will listen to me." " A moment^ dear mother. Proceed now. I am better. But will it distress you T' ^' 'No, not now. I almost think this conversation a duty^ a debt I owe to you and^ perhaps_, to the dead. We may not be always together^ dear child. We come of a short-lived family ; on both sides the destroying angel visited us soon — too soon for this earth^s happiness. Well^ dear,, to continue : — Your father and his sister Frederica^ our Mrs. Lever^ who had been a few years married^ came as young friends on a visit to the family where my lot was placed. They were amiable people where I livedo and almost regarded me as a daughter^ certainly they treated me with marked kindness and affection. Bertram Spell was then a merchant^ in partnership with his father. We had frequent opportunities of meetings THE OLD TRUNK. 231 A mutual passion sprang up betTveen us. He very soon proposed for me^ and was accepted. His mother was dead^ but bis surviving parent^ Heinricb Spell,, was very fond of me, and immediately gave bis sanction. We were married^ Oberon ; and if ever there was a union of hearts^ it was ours. Well — yes — in one month from that — for our bliss was very short — we lost your dear grandfather. He met with a fatal accident in one of the crowded thorouoh- fares of the city. That to us was a terrible be- reavement. We felt very lonely in the world ; but a more solitary hour came. He — he^, my precious, noble husband — oh, Oberon, he was a glorious being, so good, so generous, so affectionate, so brave, so handsome — he was snatched fi'om me. My God ! — my God ! how I have suffered ! He was always averse to commerce ; traflSc of any kind he abhoiTed. He was ill suited, dear, to a city life. Somehow he one day got into a quan-el with a French merchant, his senior, a son of the revolution. I believe it was about a matter of principle. Your father was rigidly honest, and the Frenchman was a man of the world, and so they seriously differed. There were sharp words and quick blows. The angiy Frenchman sent his defiance. It was accepted. They met, as they should not have met, with swords. !My beautiful beloved was murdered by a hoary rebel. His bleeding and mangled corpse was all I ever saw of him since that fatal morning. He was still alive when borne home, but they would not allow me to see him. Oh, dear Oberon ! no wonder that I should shudder at violence of anv kind ! It 232 OBERON SPELL. was only tliree montlis after your poor grandfather^s sad and painful deaths and a bare four from our marriage^ that he fell^ and I was left a desolate widow. ^Tis marvellous how I survived; but you came not many months after to comfort me. Since then you have been my only solace^ you^ and poor Deborah, who nursed you. Oh ! my dear child, I hope you will never do anything to break in upon the happiness you have brought upon me since the hour I saw your dear father^s image in you ! Promise me, Oberon V^ " Never, mother, so help me Heaven, never ! All through life shall I be and remain your fond and dutiful son, now as heretofore, and hereafter as now.-'^ The ratification was tender and solemn; and if ever the angel of affection registers human vows, here was one worthy of his crystal pen. Mrs. Spell, when she had somewhat composed herself, briefly resumed. " You know all the rest, dear child. But have you found any papers which really interest you?^^ "Well, dear mother, I must own that I have. They take the shape of correspondence, and are nearly all in German. There arc some letters from a Wilhelm Spell, the uncle of my grandfather, which are really entertaining. It appears he was much attached to his sister, my great-grandmother, Mar- gherita Spell, who was married to her own cousin — one of the Spells — and who, strange to say, also lost her husband a very short time after her mar- riage, I cannot exactly make out how ; but she gave THE OLD TRUNK. 233 birth to Heiiirlcli some few months subsequent to the decease of her husband/' " A very strange coincidence indeed ! But some- times these singular occui'rences do happen in families." " There is a mass of fragmentary matter Tvhich some day might be of use. I will lay the papers carefully by, and when I next go into the city I will call at 39, Old Broad- street, my grandfather and father^s offices, and make inquiries there. As I said, the information might prove useful. You know, dear mother, I am now going to work hard at an honourable profession ; it might happen that I shall distinguish myself; then family will be of some account. The Erndales, the L'Estranges, the Spells, the present General, who is a count, among the rest, might all be of some importance in work- ing out and sustaining a j)edigree." " You have decided on the chancery bar — is that settled, dear child ?" " Well, ma, I think it is.'' '' I am glad of it. Do you know I could never be brought to like the common-law bar after what I witnessed at a trial in Westminster Hall long ago with your father, who took me everywhere. A poor gentleman, who had been an officer, was under cross-examination by the then attorney-general, one of the most eminent counsel of the day, and after- wards Lord Chancellor. Well, he did so worry the poor gentleman, and was so common-place and cun- ning in bolstering up a very bad cause, that I really felt that such a profession must be deteriorating and 234 OBEROX SPELL. degrading^ quite Tinwortliy of an lionoiirable^ pure^, and ingenuous mind/^ ^' The license of the common- law bar is indeed to be deplored. Sometimes it is flagitious. The judges are to blame for allowing this species of per- secution and torture to run riot in cross-examina- tion and attack. It often happens that the meanest artifice is tried in order to make an impression on a jury or to prop up a rotten cause. Matters^ "'tis true,, are not so bad in these days as in former years ; but liberty of speech is still much abused^ and I think with you^ incompatible with what ought to be an elevated and honoui-able profession. At the chancery-bar^ dear mother, I shall have the judges and my legal brethren — all superior men — alone to please ; and I hope by due diligence I shall succeed in winning their respect and esteem. They shall never find me touting to either clients or attorneys. I enter, please God, next week, the chambers of Mr. Yigilly,the eminent conveyancer and equity draughts- man, as his pupil : and I shall all along endeavour to keep within the strict line of honour enjoined by the profession. ^^ Ti'ue to his new plans of life, Oberon Spell took a ground-floor office in Lincoln^s Inn, and entered seriously and methodically on his legal studies, joining his mother every evening in Upper Gower- street. He thus bade fair in the opinion of all competent persons to work his way up to distinction, wealth, and eminence as a chancery barrister. CHAPTER XXI. f IR ROGER WHEATLEY, liis lady, and daughter returned to Edelstone. The elections were approaching, and it was necessary that the sitting member should be on the spot. His prospects had been seriously impaired by the indefatigable and unscrupulous ex- ertions of Hilary Dove and his mp'midons, for the agitator had gathered around him a host of political followers. He was still on his travels^ plying his mingled avocations of Hygienic Food agent and Radical lectui'cr. But his electioneering work was pushed forward for him by a band of sturdy and zealous adherents and admirers. Iris also was away on a visit to one of her father's numerous friends. She was the object of many earnest suitors, some of them men of wealth and commercial posi- tion ; but the heedless girl only laughed at her lovers, and her father did not press the suit of any one of them. Her affections, if anywhere fixed, were at home in Edelstone, and thither her parentis sanction went with them. The law student was in London, deep in fathoming the various mysteries connected with the rights of real property, and in genial endeavours to make his mother happy. He was soon made aware that Ernestine was once more 236 OBEEON SPELL. in lier and liis native village. This debarred liim from the enjoyment of some relaxation and pleasure. It had been his delight, since the commencement of his legal career, to run down to Edelstone, visit his friends there, and stroll for hours in the park, not an idle or unfruitful spectator of its noble scenery. He had now deemed it prudent to discontinue his rambles. He came at rare intervals to the village ; but Oberon Spell, the handsome, was no more seen straying in Priory Park. His abstinence here was not in harmony with the secret inclinations of his mother, who with feminine tenacity still clung to the brilliant prospects designed them, she thought, by Heaven : but she admired her son's strength of resistance, kept silent, and left events to their natural course. As to Ernestine AYheatley, the noble domain sur- rounding her mansion became the scene of her con- stant daily walks. She never tired of flitting into every nook and corner with her maid. She was anxious and moody, evidently in search of something. How her heart beat and her colour went and came Avhen anybody approached; and then, her sigh and blank look of disappointment ! No ! she would try again ; she might have missed him, he was so fond of hiding away in the lonely places. He was not here — ^he was not there — -he was nowhere. Her picture was hope and despair — anxiety, nervous, pining anxiety. How she longed to come upon him; and yet, if she had she would have wished herself miles away, or buried in the seclusion of her own chamber. Her visits were renewed from day to day, and at all ERNESTINE WHEATLEy's LOVE. 237 lioui's, whenever she could snatch a moment from her studies. But morning, noon^ erening-, and sometimes night with its dancing moonlit beams came^ they found the accomplished and beautiful lady a wan- derer — but yain her search — vain her eager, prying looks — vain her longings ! He came not. He had deserted the park. He was a stranger in Edelstone. It was too clear he had taken up a fixed resolution to avoid her. This did not deaden her love, while it strengthened her obstinacy and pride. Should a miserable adventurer's daughter, and her father's enemy, baffle her and win from her that noble heart — the object of her choice ? Him whom she could make at one turn so exalted and happy ! T\'ere riches, power, accomplishments, and beauty on one side, and form, genius, learning, and principle on the other, to give way to the machinations of an artful giii and her unworthy, low-minded, ill-conditioned parents ? Ernestine had a firm, unconquerable will — she had unbounded influence over her own father and mother — she resolved to save Oberon Spell — and to make him her husband if possible — but at all events to deliver him from the snares of the siren. Withal the lady was practical, cunning too, as young hearts will bej but as she reviewed and examined her schemes one after another, they faded away before her commonsense and sagacity, as dreams — the visions of a very sick fancy. The re- alities were terrible. Granted all other obstacles overcome, could she conquer to herself his love ? A 238 OBERON SPELL. double victory — root out a set passion — and fix lier own image unalterably in bis beart ? Could sbe make berself tbe sole object of bis afi'ection? He was bigb-minded and noble,, resistant and constant — bow tben could sbe subdue bim ? tame down tbat lofty nature to ber will? Sbe was but a woman — no^ not a woman — not yet out of ber teens ; and tbougb strong and migbty in love^ alas ! in ber sex and years sbe was weak. Wbat means could sbe employ to obtain a recognition — a return? Had sbe not tried? — cunningly^ prudently^ adroitly tried? — ber Cu^rld^s arrow bad sped in vain. He was cased in trijole panoply — bis love for anotber — bis natural independence — and bis total disregard of berself. How penetrate tbese^ and reacb bis bosom ? A tbousand plans baunted ber by day and by nigbt. But tbey came and went^ and went and came — were cberisbed and were gone^ witbout leaving any tangible result bebind. Tbeir only effect was on ber own brain and bosom. Sbe looked tbe picture of an cxbausted^ weary spirit. Tbe sunken eye — tbe fcA'ered cbeek — tbe parclied tongue — tbe nervous frame tbat started at everytbing — tbe sleepless nigbts — tbe anxious days — tbe one in- cessant palpitating deatb-watcb at ber beart — tbese told tbe story of bopeless, unrequited, concealed love. In tbe language of ber own darling Oberon, — " Joys and sorrows rise like days of sun and storm, But who can count the fond heart's sleepless vigils ?" At one moment sbe tbougbt of confiding every- ERNESTINE WHEATLEy's LOVE. 239 tiling to that meekest and most loveable of women, ^Martha Spell. But then she saw at a glance that this honourable lady would not sanction a clan- destine passion, and would insist on the knowledge and co-operation of her parents. And would all this circumbendibus bring her nearer to the centre of his heart ? She instinctively felt it would repel his free and noble nature. ~So, she would not trample on delicacy. Should she confide all to her mother? That mother had been her instructress and guide. She had grown up more as her companion than daughter. The interchange of thoughts between them — all save on one subject — was most generous and per- fect. Still her mother was a lady of noble birth and fixed aad haughty ideas and bearing on every matter connected with her own station. She was too naturally dignified to be merely proud ; but her sense of family honour — what she owed to her ancestors and to posterity — precluded altogether any notion that she would ever give her consent to a mesalliance. But even here there might be some hope, some shadow of excuse, if Oberon returned her love. Ah ! would there, indeed ! only let her be sure of that, and she would elope with him — the thought — the crime — did come into her bosom — and she would leave the reconcilement to time and affection. But he, the man — he, the lover — the prompter and supporter made no sign. He was cold and silent as a statue, or if he moved, it was away from her in repulsion. He shunned her. This it was which made her lot terrible. 240 OBEROX SPELL. Her father was pliant and sensible ; a man con- scious of his wealth and rank it is true^ but too conversant with onr modern world not to know that a suitor of respectable family,, youth^ healthy hand- some person^ accomplished^ gentlemanly^ of admitted learning and ability^ and pursuing one of oui' fore- most professions^ might be considered an eligible match even for an heiress^ the daughter of a baronet and ex-minister. This liberal and enlightened sentiment of her father^'s Ernestine had long ago ascertained during one of those indiscreet conver- sations which parents sometimes indulge in before their too susceptible and observant children. The arguments of her father referred to a young bar- rister of theii' acquaintance^ on a matter which had no family connexion with them whatever. But they made a deep and lasting impression on Ernes- tine^ who at a very early age became caj^able of entertaining her own opinions and convictions ; nor werq these always in unison with what she con- ceived to be the mere prejudices of a haughty aristocracy. Should she confide in that father? She felt with feminine instinct that her reception would be far more encouraging than the cold and formal audience she would be sure to experience fi'om her mother. But then the idea was altogether pre- posterous — untenable. How could she tell her father that she loved a man^ and that man the village youth — Oberon Spell ? Should she make a confidant of Martin ? The woman was only her maid it is true^ and not educated ERNESTINE WIIEATLEy's LOVE. 241 beyond the average of persons of lier condition. But then, as Oberon Spell said, for she loved to form her thoughts and actions by his divine words, — " There is a soul of wisdom in the world, Beyond our written knowledge ; broad and clear, Germane to every mind, which shines on all, And makes men's genius equal," Tvords which, as we have seen. Iris Dove could turn to account. Martin had sound, natural understanding and sense, much experience, and was withal very kind, good, and faithful. ^Moreover, she knew that Oberon Spell was a favourite, and Iris Dove and her mother odious to her feelings. Should she confide in her ? It would be something to have one being on earth to whom she could unburden her overloaded heart. Then her maid was ever with her, and there would be no strangeness or formality in whispering her secret to her, and this was half the battle. But against this rapid trust she had been trained by her mother never to communicate family matters to domestics, and above all things never to put herself in their power. How could she disobey a solemn and wise parental injunction ? And after all, what good could !Martin do her ? T\"ould it not be a desecration to impart her holy and mysterious thought — the very jewel of her heart — to a servant^s keeping ? and this against the express family com- mandment. Xo, Ernestine could not bring herself to this depth of disobedience and folly. So she re- VOL. I. 16 242 OBERON SPELL. mainecl as she was^ pent up in her own grief, till in the words of her own poet_, " Sorrow pluck'd the rosebud from her cheek, And planted the pale lily." The heiress of Edelstone was seriously ill. No- body knew what was the matter with her. But she was visibly pining_, wasting to a skeleton. The anxious eye of an affectionate mother was upon her ; the fond regards of an observant father ; all the ser- vants were concerned^, and friends saw the change in the lovely girl with regret. She was questioned as to her symptoms and sufferings. Her answers were not satisfactory. All she could say v/as that she did not sleep well^ and that she did not care for food, or for study, or for anything, but to ramble all over the park, often wearying herself. The doctor was called in, or rather the young lady visited the great man in town ; for the very first and foremost advice was sought. Sir Ulysses Kennard made a very careful examination of his patient. He pronounced no definite opinion. But he hinted that the physician required was the confidence of a mother. He thought the girFs mind was troubled, and her feelings possibly in some degree affected. In fact, the experienced and unerring eye of the aged doctor soon discovered Ernestine's real malady. But practice had taught him that it would be unwise to be too explicit on the subject. He therefore spoke generally, and left an opening for the explanation to come to him. He prescribed some sedatives, and above all things the ERNESTINE WHEATLEy's LOVE. 24 S confidence of her parents, and requested to see his patient again that day ^eek. From the cautions communication made by the physician, Sir Roger Wheatley and his lady could only infer that Ernestine had some secret cause of grief which was preying on her tender nature. Her mother rebuked herself for not perceiying the cause of her illness sooner. As to sharing her inmost confidence, she had no doubt about immediately obtaining that, and her only wonder was that any secret should exist without her knowledge. She dared not doubt Sir Ulysses Kennard^s great autho- rity, but she owned to her husband that she had her misgiyings here. Howeyer, the matter would speedily be set at rest. For two or three days subsequently nothing was said to Ernestine to induce her to open her mind to her mother. Both her parents watched oyer her most tenderly, eyen with more than their usual affectionate "sigilance and care. She partook of the medicine prescribed for her, and diligently obeyed, as far as she was able, the directions giyen with respect to her food, exercise, and studies. In no particular was the docile and obedient child found wanting. One eyening as Lady Wheatley sat alone in Ernes- tinea's room, after some general observations, the mother addressed her daughter in the following terms : — " Ernestine, my dear, I think it my duty, as your mother, to say something special to you." " Yes, mamma." IG— 2 244 OBERON SPELL. " Well, my dear, may I conclude that I have your perfect esteem and love ?'' " Oh ! yes. indeed you have, my dearest mother/' " And that now as ever I share your entire con- fidence ?'' Ernestine did not immediately reply. Lady Wheatley continued, not failing to observe the deep blush which tinged her daughter's pallid face. "^ I mean, dear, that now as heretofore you keep no secrets from your mother.^' Ernestine well knew whither the inquiry was tending. Her heart beat violently, but she re- mained silent. " My dearest child, I would not annoy you for worlds, or be the cause of giving you a moment's anxiety or pain. But, in truth, your papa and I have become, as you know, very uneasy about your health ; and somehow I have begun to think that of late I have not had. your usual confidence — that you are intensely troubled about something which is a mystery to us all. But do not agitate yourself, love. I will pursue the conversation no further now. Only think upon what I have been saying ; and remember I have never violated your confidence in any particular; and that I am your friend and companion — nay, your confidant as well as mother.'' The daughter still sat mute, her beautiful head bowed down. There was a pause of a few moments, during which her colour went and came. At length a flood of burning tears seemed to relieve her. ERNESTINE WHEATLEy's LOVE. 24:5 " My dear child, I fear I have ^mined you. Oh ! Ernestine, forget what I have said if it afflicts you/^ " No, mamma — no, my dearest mother, "'tis I am in fault. I T^ill speak to you. I will tell you all. I should be wi'onging you to break the sweet link of united affection and trust between us. I will imburden this poor heart to you.''"' " Presently, dear Ernestine, presently. Just take your medicine — that will relieve you. Ah ! there is no glass. I will go for one myself that AVilliams may not see you.''^ The judicious mother purposely left the room for a few moments that her daughter might collect her scattered thoughts, and whilst alone somewhat re- assure herself. In about ten minutes she returned with the wineglass, and administered the restorative. " Thank you, dear mamma, I feel much better now. I will — I will try and bring myself to tell you my story ; only you must not blame me, or be angry whatever it may be.''^ " It would be cruel to be angry with you, my love. Ernestine, I have not often in my life been angiy with you.^^ •' Oh ! I know you have not ; and that is the reason why I shrink from giving you any cause of offence now." The anxious parent thought this an ominous in- troduction, but she said nothing, smiling compas- sionately on her child as before. " Well, dear mamma, I suppose you are waiting till I fulfil my promise, though I scarcely know how- to begin. ''^ 246 OBERON SPELL. Now it was that Lady \Ylieatley showed her feminine tact. She did not wish to press her deli- cate and nervous child to an abrupt disclosure. She was not quite certain^ but she strongly suspected some affair of the heart. She therefore thought it most prudent to beat about the bush for awhile. She said quite innocently : " Is it my dear^ any scruple of religion ? These things will sometimes occur in the course of our reading. I have heard your papa say so. For my own part^ I must own I never had any such frivolous thoughts. Is it anything that way?"*^ " No, dear mamma. ^'' " Or the sufferings of any of our poor pensioners ; old Watkins^ for instance. But we do our best for him, and indeed for them all. They begin to think it a right, and are never grateful. But do tell me, dear. Ah, perhaps, for I wish to help you on, it is grief for the political annoyance your papa now and then suffers. This kind of thing, dear, is the life of gentlemen. I believe they would pine and die without party excitement, commotion, and opposi- tion. So I would not take that seriously to heart.'' ^^ I do not, mamma ; though I own I take a great interest in politics. But it is not that.'' " Now I am fairly puzzled. Do tell me in one word, my sweet dear child, what it is which afflicts you, and is our affliction also ? Only think of your papa's anguish and mine." ^^ Well, mamma, I am coming to it. I have a heart, my dear mother." ERNESTINE WHEATLEy's LOVE. 247 " Ah, a heart ! Why, dear Ernestine^, am I right — are your aftections engaged ?^^ "That is \i." She bowed her head and Tvept once more, this time hysterically. " Nay, my dear, be comforted. What you have revealed is not so terrible. We women are not strangers to such feelings. Why were you so foolish as to make a secret of the matter to me ? Do you know, child, I feel quite interested now, and long to learn the whole story. Who is it, Ernestine 't" " Spare me, mamma — spare me a moment.''"' "Ah, I see — I see. So that lady-killer, your cousin, young Summers, has bewitched you during his recent visit at the Ravines. Why, there is no crime in that, my lady. Everybody says he himself is fixed at last — smitten. Only you are so young. ■'^ " Eighteen, mamma,^^ said Ernestine, half re- ^-ived by the playfulness of her mother. '^ Have I guessed right, truant 1:" " No, indeed, mamma. Lord Summers is a libertine.^-' " Well, my dear, these are not matters for ladies to enter on. But in the name of the blind god, Cupid himself, who is the happy man ? I could run over a long list of your admirers, but I own none pleases me better than my kinsman Summers. He is a little gay or so, they say, but we must not listen to such things, or mention them. What is more serious, your papa does not like him.^^ " I suppose he has good reasons for his dislike, mamma V^ " Perhaps ; but Ernestine dear, you are forgetting. 24S OBERON SPELL. Do tell it out at once, and ease my curiosity. Who isit?^^ " Oberon Spell, mamma/^ She said this in a low, deep whisper, and then buried her head in her hands. Lady Wheatley sat still a moment perfectly be- ■wildered ; then percei^dng her child^s bitter agony, she arose and once more persuaded her to revive herself with the cordial medicine prescribed for her. ^' I fear, dear mamma, it will not do me any good ; but I will take it as you wish. There — and now I will swallow no more physic; I do not like it. I have told you all, mother ; I have broken my secret to you, and I have your promise that you would not be angry .^^ " Keither am I, my love ; only a little surprised — a very little surprised. I suppose this is natural. " Oh, quite so ; I expected it.^' '■^But, my dear Ernestine, there is nothing serious. You understand me — that is, arranged — concluded — or anything that way?^^ " I love him ! that is all.'' " Oh, as for that matter, child, you know I am no trifler; but I could not count my various loves, or likings rather, coming and going, and coming and going again, when I was of your age. But when I saw your dear papa, my love was fixed.'' " Mine is fixed, my dearest mother. It will live and die with me." " My child, what you say now is serions indeed. I did not think that yonng man and his mother had so much cunning and dishonour in them — pardon the terms — as to seduce vour affections." ERNESTINE WHEATLEY's LOVE. 249 " You wrong them^ mamma, indeed you wrong tlicm — him ! They do not know anything about it ; or if they do, if he does, my feelings are not re- tui-ned. He loves another ! You now see the abyss of my miseiy/^ " Oh \" said Lady Wheatley, drawing a deep breath, and inwardly congratulating herself that all was not so bad as she had expected. " I see, my dear Ernestine, I have wi'onged those good people. Well, he is a pleasing-looking young man, and has fine intellectual qualities, so your papa says ; but, my dear, if he is engaged, there^s an end of it. You would not love a man whom you must regard as already married.'" '^ Such is my crime, mamma." " Well, my dear, we will say no more on the subject at present. Remember it is now in my hands — in the hands of your friend, your companion, yoiu' confidant and mother. Feel assured that whatever is best for you shall be done. So be comforted, my child."' " And you give me hopes, oh ! my dearest mother, do you ?"" ''The hopes of a Christian, Ernestine — courage and fortitude. We were sent into this world to bear our trials, to take up our cross ; but, as I said, we will not dwell on the matter now, I must go to the di-awing-room. Retire to your chamber, Ernestine, and Martin will prepare you to join us. God bless you, darling !"' Kissing her child. Lady Whcatley descended to the drawing-room, where she expected company. Ernestine went to her own room to prepare to mingle in a gay assembly. CHAPTER XXII. THE ATTEMPTED CURE. ADY WHEATLEY did not return to the subject of her last conversation with Ernes- tine^ but she skilfully endeavoured to occupy her attention^ so as to leave her but little time for moping reflection. Everything too was done to improve the patient's healthy but that e\i- dently did not amend ; Ernestine remained wasted and careworn. The long nights were passed in those contemplations denied her in the day. The heiress to the Ravines and Priory was fast gathering to her fathers. The whole house — parents, friends, domestics — were concerned and afflicted. The deliberations of the baronet and his lady on the state of their adored child were constant and prolonged. In the estimation of the proud dame such a solution of the difliculty as a marriage be- tween her daughter and Oberon Spell, the poor author, or barrister, or whatever else he might choose to be called, was altogether out of the ques- sion. She pooh-poohed that view of the case as wholly inadmissible ; the antidote was worse than the poison. Health might come back, and would most likely come back; but marriage is a life gone for now and posterity. That would never answer, even if encouraged on the young mane's side ; and of THE ATTEMPTED CURE. 251 this there were strong doubts. Her mind was made up that no issue whatever, not death itself, would drive her to sanction so miserable an alliance. She would be true to her pure blood, no matter what the sacrifice ; nor did she despair of being able to recover her chiUrs health in her own dexterous way, and aided by Sir Ulysses Kennard^s experienced advice. She was a woman herself — she understood her own feelings ; she remembered that she had no fewer than nine quondam adorers seated at her own wedding breakfast. She looked forward to time and circumstance as the great restorers; but time and cii'cumstance are the harbingers of disease and death where the heart-wound is deep and incurable. Sir Roger Wheatley was not of the same frame of mind as his lady; the pride of aristocracy was not uppermost in him; he rather regarded family distinction from the side of wealth than of mere hereditary rank. Not that he did not feel the dignity and consequence of a noble pedigree ; he was himself of very ancient lineage, and could boast of some time-honoured national achievements to illustrate his scutcheon. But he lived in a practical age ; he breathed the free, democratic air of the House of Commons, and although a Conservative in politics, he could not well shut his eyes to the real influence of money in a great commercial nation. He saw many distinguished and some great men around him who had sprung from the people, and he could not but perceive how very little the want of family honours and high and remote descent Tcally affected their position. It all depended on 252 OBERON SPELL. the man himself — if the aristocrat was in him he must rise^ and would be ever equal to his station. He thought it possible for a man of true nobility — no matter how lowly his lot at the outset — to ascend to the loftiest elevation and fortune in our free and encouraging country. Nor did he know of any profession so suitable to a well-sustained ambition as that of a barrister. There was in this young man, Oberon Spell^ a commanding exterior,, a lofty and independent bearing united to good manners and great learning and ability, which might raise him one day to the supreme honours of the Chancery Bar, if only his powers should be well directed. No question but so severe and profound a student would become a consummate pleader and learned lawyer. Then he was of a good family : the Spells were of gentle blood — the Vienna Spells; one branch of them having turned from some unaccountable whim to commerce. He had heard the old Marquis of Lorndale talk very highly and somewhat mysteri- ously too, of this family. He knew everybody and almost everything, and no doubt had good reason for his eulogy. Mrs. Spell w^as the daughter of Dr. Erndale, a very erudite divine, and his mother was a L^Estrange, a remote connexion of Lady TMieatley^s paternal grandfather. These were not such bad antecedents and recommendations. Lord Summers w^as the cousin of Ernestine, a relationship in a husband he did not aj)prove. He was no special favourite of his ; he knew a great deal about him, and should be sorry to give him his daughter, unless indeed a great reformation became percep- THE ATTEMPTED CURE. 253 tible. But lie could decide nothing hastily ; all he wanted was to combat Lady Wheatley^s stiff and unapproachable exclusiveness and ancestral pride, and to make his daughter's health and happiness the sole study of both her parents. But he would now, however, abide the opinion and advice of Sir Ulysses Kennard, and be a great deal guided by his con- clusion. But before the day came for a renewal of the visit to the physician, he thought it only an act of kindness and prudence to interrogate his child him- self on the delicate subject affecting her ; he there- fore took the first favourable opportunity to intro- duce the matter to her. " Ernestine, ray love, your mamma has deemed it to be a duty to communicate to me the ideas you entertain in regard to our friend, Oberon Spell. I do assure you I am by no means insensible to his excellent qualities. But, my dear, there are many things in this life which we must be content to admire without allowing our feelings to go further. Otherwise society would be intolerable. The rela- tions of father and mother, brother and sister, children, husband and wife, kindred, friends, master and servant, superior and inferior — all necessary to order and morality — can only be maintained by an observance of this essential rule — one that commends itself to the pure and delicate heart, as well as the informed and disciplined judgment. I hope I am not distressing you, my child."'' " Oh no, indeed, papa ! I am so much obliged to you for all you say. I feel and comprehend you. 254 OBERON SPELL. and honour a fatlier^s instruction and advice ► Only '' '' Well, what, my dear ?" " I fear you do not imderstand me, that is all/^ " How, dear Ernestine, explain.'^ " Think not, dearest papa, since I am permitted to speak to you on the subject — and I respect you too much not to speak out plainly now that you have been kind enough to give me the opportunity — think not that my regard for him is mixed up with any concern for myself, or to gratify any wish or feeling of my own. Oh no ! my sole concern is for his happiness. He is about to sacrifice that to a most preposterous passion, to a liking for a young person who cannot but make him miserable. ^^ ^' You allude to the daughter of that man Hilary Dove.^^ " The same. A forward, uncultivated person ; from all I hear, resembling her father in boldness and want of principle, and her mother in cunning and dishonesty. Married to such a creature as that he must be wretched V " Really, my dear, these are matters which scarcely concern our house, and which, least of all, should concern a young lady like you. AVe must not forget ourselves, Ernestine. I fear you do not exactly apprehend the awkward position they place you in. We have nothing to do with the manner of regulating the affections of these young people. It is a rule of life not to meddle in the domestic affairs of others. ^^ THE ATTEMPTED CUEE. 255 '^ I knew you would not understand me ; and T have done/^ " No ; I want to comjDreliend it all. Speak ont^ Ernestine; your father will not blame you, child/' '' I will speak out, for my heart is ready to burst. Know then, I hate — I do intensely hate Iris Dove ! Nay, start not, papa, but hear me, — I do hate her from the deepest depths of my nature. You gave me permission to speak : I tell you the very air she breathes is suffocation to me ! I speak for his sake — for his dear sake ; not my own, heaven is mv witness V^ *' My dear, these are terrible thoughts — dreadful admissions \" " I know they are. But I want to go to sleep, mv father, to get a long deep sleep, and forget it'all.^^ " You do indeed, my love, for these feelings and expressions demand oblivion." '^ They do ; I said I knew you would not under- stand me. I shall be silent." " No, no, Ernestine ; that would be doing me an injustice. I want to get at your whole soul, to meet your difficulty in full. I hope your father is worthy of your confidence." '^ Of my utmost confidence and trust, dear papa, and I will be plain and open with you, because I want a guide and friend — a confessor; and you know how I reverence you as my all, as my earthly protector and comforter." " Ernestine, my love, my only desire on earth is to promote your happiness ; so that be secured I 256 OBERON SPELL. Avould go so far as to say^ I would not be too par- ticular in regard to any honourable means/'' " There spoke my dear papa. Ah ! I knew you would take an enlarged and enlightened view of my agonized feelings. Well then, dearest papa, I have such a deep, a settled, and eternal interest in the welfare of Oberon Spell, that I would sacrifice my life rather than she should have him. You must not ask me why this is ; you must only know that it is, my father.^'' " Dear child, be calm ; it is dreadful to see your excitement and suffering. Now, dear, I must tell you that from the feelings you express, it is you that would be likely to make Oberon miserable.'''' "1, pa— I?^^^ ^''You — a woman capable of these paroxysms of jealousy — for this is the passion you are sufi'ering under, Ernestine, would be sure to render the life of a husband wretched. The never-closing evil eye would for ever watch him — the eager presence would ever haunt him — the suspicious feeling would ever tortui'e him — the causeless incessant anger would make his house a pandemonium.^^ '' Oh, pa ! and should I ever become that mon- ster r' '' Unquestionably, my child. I know you have reason clear enough to draw conclusions inevitable. You must see whither all this blind passion — for it is not love — must ultimately tend.'''' " You are right ! you are right ! I am saved from a precipice. I must not be unworthy of him. This were still a lower depth of misery. My dearest THE ATTEMPTED CURE. 257 papa^ I humbly acknowledge ray siu_, and I stand corrected for ever." *' Thank God ! But dearest Ernestine,, as I wish to make the best use of my time, I must ask you one more question : If ]Mr. Spell is engaged to this young lady^ as we all liaA'C reason to believe^ — nay, you must bear it — your affection for him is ir- regular. You must know that. Have you tried to overcome it ?^^ " Oh., yes, papa ! Tried ! — look at me. I could tell you much of ray endeavours — struggles — pangs ! but, see me! Am I not changed? — very much changed ? Read my efforts in my broken health and spirits. ^^ " I do, my love. You have suffered — you are altered ; but a matter like this must be treated reasonably, calmly, kindly, not by impulses of passion. It is all very serious, and caimot be undone by ex- planations which may tend to aggravate. Feel this, however, Ernestine, that I thoroughly understand and appreciate all your motives and feelings. I sympathize with you, and with God^s help Avill aid you, Ernestine, my beloved daughter, my only child, the sole remain of my house. Nay, nay, be com- forted. Perhaps there is a way out of it all.''^ " There is, papa — one." " Come, Ernestine, put away all wayward, sinful thoughts. These are temptations. ' Cease to do evil ; learn to do well.^ Prove yourself worthy of an honourable man^s love. I have a very high opinion of Spell ; he is a noble young fellow.^^ " Oh, he is glorious, did you but know him V VOL. I. 17 258 OBERON SPELL. ^' Well;, I think I understand Mm at least. Biit^ young lady, how came your knowledge of him to be so far superior to mine 1:" " To yours, papa ? How should you know Oberon Spell ? Why, I was almost brought up with him . Every day in the park, when I was a wee little child, I played with him. He used to run and fetch my ball, and I used to fling it archly away that he might throw it at me ; and I used to run at him with my hoop in my mad romps, and he used to catch me. Oh, hundreds of times have I hung round his neck as a little child, and twined my fingers in his brown locks till they tingled. I loved him as a child, pa, and he loved me too, he did, till she came — the evil one V " Nay, Ernestine, forbear ! Oberon Spell was always more intimate with Iris Dove than he possibly could have been with you.''^ "It maybe — it was, and I correct myself; he never did love me \ I never knew a thought from his lips that was not good and pure, or an action of his that a saint might not witness. ''Twas all my fault. I should not have played with a handsome boy ; I did wrong, very wrong, even as an unsuspecting child, and I suffer.'''' " One more word, before I forget it, Ernestine.^^ '' Yes, papa; I am attending.^^ " Iris Dove is not the inferior mortal j^ou would make her. I have seen her, conversed with her, and I think I understand her. Trust me, such a face and form, such open and undesigning speech and manners cannot be associated with cunning, want of THE ATTEMPTED CURE. 259 principle, or dishonesty. That affair of the brooch was mysterious ; but the fault, if it rests with them at all, does not affect the child, but the mother. I would not have you think meanly of the young lady, Ernestine. She might make a very good wife for a sensible, plodding man.''^ '' But not for Oberon Spell V " Providence might even will that, my dear. We ourselves must be honest ; we must not invade the property or covet the loves or husbands of others ; we must not be revolutionists and anarchs, Ernestine, or violate the Commandment.''^ " Oh, my dear, dear father ! how you do speak home to my understanding and soul. I appreciate and feel every word you utter ; still, excuse me, dear papa, for the thought — a presumption, perhaps — she is not, and cannot be, what I am ; I who have treasured every scrap of his verse, every page of his composition. There is not a published poem of his, or a line saying or passage that I cannot quote from memory ; and if you were to hear how she under- values — despises them.^^ '^They will settle all these little matters between themselves.^^ " I know I detain you, dear papa, but I will do my best to save him. Remember, Hilary Dove, her father, is your worst enemy. Save him — my Oberon^ dear papa — from that vile connexion, and I will live to bless you. Mamma is coming up the long avenue ; she will be here. I must not appear thus agitated before her. Do you forgive me, dear papa V^' " From my heart, Ernestine. May God forgive 17—2 260 OBERON SPELL. you ; for ^tis him you have offended. Retire to your room_, my child. ^^ The father kissed his weeping daughter, and was soon joined by his wife, to whom, as matters stood, he coukl offer but little consolation. All noAv depended on the doctor. But, no ! there was one hope left, still one solitary hope. That proud father would try it. He would do anything rather than risk the life of his darling child, the sole heir of his house and fortunes. Sir Ulysses Kennard saw his patient the next day. He had previously heard from her father a full ac- count of the real state of affairs ; he had thus been enabled to make, as it were, a thorough diagnosis of the disease. The physician was a bland, gentlemanly man, and soon placed the young sufferer quite at her ease, and even interested her by his pleasing conversation. But he saw no improvement, rather deterioration. " You may try change of scene and air, if you like, and I advise it. But guided by my experience in many similar cases, there is only one safe remedy for these rooted affections. Offer no opposition. Let things take their course. The disease will often in this way cure itself, especially if there is repul- sion on one side. I have met this young fellow, Spell, at the house of his uncle, in Eaton Place. He is a very fine young man ; one could make anything out of such materials. His college course was highly distinguished ; and at the bar, trust me, he is sure to make his way to eminence. He is a very re- markable person, and has my warmest well wishes.^^ THE ATTEMPTED CURE. 261 " You anticipate many of my own conclusions,, Sir Ulysses. It -would not be difficult to place him in a position -which -«ould justify an alliance -«ith my daughter/^ Lady Wheatley looked astonishment^ but was too well-bred to express dissent from her husband. " I think your choice -«ould not be misplaced, Sir Roger, and we must not only hope the best but try the best ; for I ought not to conceal from you, that the case is serious. There is a glitter in the eye which I do not like. I would at first see the effects of change of scene and constant occupation, as far as possible in your ladyship's com])any. If this should fail, and our patient should become worse, I candidly advise you, as a friend, since you have done me the honour to ask my opinion, to see Mrs. Spell. She is a very sensible, superior lady, and earnestly devoted to her son. She Avill, no doubt, do much to raise his fortunes, and save him from what may be — though I do not understand the cir- cumstance — a mesalliance ; but I refer to the young person, Dove.^^ " "We -will follow your excellent counsel, Sir L'lysses. Meanwhile, I should observe that young SpelFs family, on both mother and father^s side, are of gentle blood, so to speak. The young man him- self has certainly the unerring stamp of a gentleman, in person, in manners, and bearing.'^ " I ought, perhaps, to mention,^^ said the phy- sician, " for there has heretofore been no secret in the matter, that SpelFs cousin, Miss Lever, a wealthy heiress too, has long been designed for him.^^ 262 OBERON SPELL. " Such was the case^ I believe/^ said Lady Wheat- ley, " but Mr. Lever himself now, I understand, entertains quite different views. That engagement, if ever there was one, has been off some time.^^ " Indeed ! I have not visited the family of late ; but you know your course. Our charming young patient must be saved V With this, the friendly and professional interview ended. CHAPTER XXIII. THE ELECTION. "5^ T did not suit Sir Roger Wheatley^s political plans, interest, or position to be absent from the county at that moment. The elections were pending. Hilary Dove was once more on the spot, and a most active and, let us add, able opposition was got up against the Conservative candidate. The great object was to carry two Liberals for Riverside, thereby giving it a real party voice in the affairs of the nation, instead of the present tame balance of neutrality. Sir Felix Sackville^s seat was safe. He and his father and grandfather before him had been the stock Whig members. He was a good landlord and a great sportsman, a thick and thin supporter of the Liberal government, and very wealthy withal. He was, therefore, very popular with men ol ill parties. Those who differed from him in politics liked his consistency. They could calculate upon the man, although his vote might be sure to clash with their own special views. Decided politicians, like decided characters of every kind, are esteemed in England. Sir Roger Wheatley belonged to the old school * It will be seen hy the context that this election took place before the Reform Bill of 1867-68 became law. 264 OBERON SPELL. of members of parliament^, among wliom there pre- vailed the notion of a description of divine right in the great owners of the soil to rule the people. AYith them the feudal idea had not died out with the advance of individual liberty. They held the largest stake in the nation, and had therefore, so they thought, the best title to make its laws and govern it. They sometimes forgot that it was men they had to rule and not broad acres, or they really believed that the masses in every population were incapable of thinking for themselves or of indepen- dent action, and that the select few must always govern the aggregate many. Hence hero-worship, the domination of kings, the sway of priests, and the reverence claimed by title and property. These w^ere necessary elements of a compact and powerful society. The imperial and aristocratic principle developed itself naturally in the constitution of communities, and Toryism was but the regular con- sequence of ambition among a people — a sure sign of healthy action and due subordination in all the members. There must be a head — there must be a centre to approach w^hither the efforts of all will tend ; and in proportion to the stability and autho- rity of the supreme direction, the well-being of the inferior agents and their vigour and most productive energ}^ will be established. Let Liberalism do what it w^ould it coidd not shake these innate and universal principles of the union of human kind. Sir Roger AVheatley and others of his class indeed felt that the very circumstance of an election of legislators in itself ignored the prerogatives of riches THE ELECTIOX. 265 and station. This was a fact wliicli could not be got over. But notwithstanding, he and his party- would do their utmost to conserve as much as pos- sible of the aristocratic element in the democratic portion of the government ; because if allowed its full scope, the popular branch, overwhelming in numbers, would weigh down the others and bring all to the ground. The Conservative candidate was also an excellent landlord, an enlightened social reformer, and if anything wealthier than his friend and colleague. Sir Felix Sackville. By all who knew him he Avas beloved. The agricultural party were entirely with him, and the most affluent and settled inhabitants of the boroughs. His natural fears were from the threatened opposition votes of the numerous new towns and extensions which had sprung up everywhere in the county. These, if not won over to his side, must swamp his supporters. Mr. Nutmeg, the Radical candidate, was altogether of a different stamp from the two sitting members. He was literally a man of the people. He had sprouted from nothing — a pure city mush- room. He began as an errand-boy in the very warehouse where he was now magnate and prin- cipal. He commenced life as a beggar and became a millionaire. This he owed neither to great in- dustry, wonderful perseverance, superior attain- ments, nor enlarged mind. How then did he rise? By the exercise of two arts : he always made the most of opportunities, and cuffed down where he could everybody before him. There never was a man who could show what he did to greater advan- ^^6 OBEROX SPELL. tage, or more skilful in making little of and under- mining otliers. He was great in keeping both superiors and inferiors in their places. In fact_, Gregory Nutmeg Tvas a natural aristocrat^ and people soon began to feel it. He rose almost miraculously^ and had actually to learn to read and Tvrite in order to fill the posts offered to him. Spell he never could, but got over this rather necessary acquirement by employing a secretary in after years, and by seldom putting his pen to paper, except in matters of pure business, for which he was entirely capable = But then, in assumption he was always equal to his position, never abashed, no matter what his defects. He readily and summarily put down all signs of opposition. He was dreaded in the warehouse. For that he cared little. The chiefs thought him a useful and able man, and when a junior was introduced among them he always undertook to patronise and direct him. In time these became the heads, and the heads had long ago acknowledged him for their master. Where he could he ground down everybody. Under him they had no chance to rise. But Mr. Nutmeg practised one peculiar art; he always made it a point to assist unfortunate city men when in the very depths of distress. His custom was first to ruin, then to aid ; taking care that he secured ample protestations of gratitude from those he had most injured. The abject letters of thanks he received this way would fill a large range of volumes. The smaller the trifle given to the miserable applicants the more fervent and extreme the acknowledge- THE ELECTION. 267 meut. With all his shortcomings Mr. Nutmeg was not a vulgar man^ not naturally vulgar. His tongue and his appetites were under control^ and no one with this power of restraint can be said to he coarse. Manners, in the conventional sense, he had none beyond those of a shopboy ; but these are matters which result from long training and imitation, till custom becomes a habit. His most uncouth dis- plays were in the dining and drawing-rooms. There, though he kept a very grand house, he made sad mistakes, and was truly uncomfortable. But in the city and his warehouse Mr. Nutmeg was quite the gentleman — quite so. Didn^t he know how to silence intruders, and to keep snobs and upstarts in their places, and to awe wretched creditors to the earth ! He had been over and over again solicited to become a common councilman. It would have been easy for him to rise to an alderman and to be lord mayor, but he left these paltry Gog and Magog honours to small men and shopkeepers. When elected to serve as sheriff, he paid the fine like a man of substance and position, and delegated the summoning of jui'ies, the incarceration of debtors, and the hanging of felons to persons of an inferior stamp who coveted the office. He would not be Jack Ketch with a silver collar. This was the veritable man of the people selected by the Reform Club to contest the county of River- side with the distinguished Conservative member. Sir Roger Wheatlev. The train was laid well. At first Mr. Nutmeg was by no means prominent. He was known to live in a very fine mansion in Tipton, 268 OBERON SPELL. that convenient suburban ampliitheatre of villas. His name appeared largely in the city subscriptions. This was the modern benevolent way of claiming oppidan honours. The higher the figure the greater the man. The worshipful the aldermen, the sheriffs in their gilded carriages, and the right honourable the lord mayor himself, could not cope with the man whose least subscription to a public charity was a hundred guineas. This it was which gave Gregory Nutmeg a true place among city magnates. But beyond this he v/as scarcely known in the county. However, Hilary Dove soon bruited his fame far and wide. He had taken up the grocer^s cause, and it would not be his fault if he was not soon the most popular man in Riverside or the kingdom. Iris, the beautiful and showy Iris, accompanied her father. She was his select and holiday companion, his foil for any plebeian short- comings he might exhibit. He was proud of her, and the very earth she trod seemed, too, to be proud of her, so lovely had she become, so grand and im- posing in appearance. As tall as her father (Hilary was of a good size), but though young, more stately in her carriage, with her open sunny coun- tenance, and, let us add, with the best costume of the day, the daughter of the agitator, arm-in-arm with him, passed through the streets and public parks and promenades, an object of universal attrac- tion, and in many instances of admiration, homage, and tender regard. She did not, indeed, mix up with the political meetings. That would have been unseemly ; but she was present at most of them THE ELECTION. 269 when the gathering-place was of suitable importance and respectability ; and her affability and extra- ordinary beauty not only won personal admirers, but conciliated for the advocate and his cause attention aud consideration, where otherwise he might not have been listened to or well received. A specimen one from the stock speeches of the demagogue, the otlier from an address of Andrew Cubborn^s, will each best explain the tack and course cleared for the rival candidates by their respective pioneers. The scenes lie in the pair of competing hotels, The Innerman aud The Com- forter, which graced the capital of the county. There was scarcely a pin to choose in the accom- modation afforded by each of these showy houses of entertainment. The Innerman depended on the public and drew all it could from each customer, and the Comforter depended on customers and squeezed as much as could be squeezed out of the public. Their system was identically the same, the only difference being in what was a customer and what the public. Both were good to fleece, which was the sole object of the innkeepers. Mr. Dove and the Liberal party took up their quarters at the Innerman, while Mr. Cubborn and the Conserva- tives were housed in the Comforter. The large room of the Innerman was densely crowded, to hear the address of Mr. Hilarj^ Dove in favour of the liberal candidate, Gregory Nutmeg, Esq. There was a raised platform, on which some ladies were seated, the wives and daughters of IMr. Nutmeg^s committee ; among these Iris Dove, fore- 270 OBERON SPELL. most in personal beauty and grace and richness of attire, had the place of honour. Several gentlemen immediately surrounded the chair, which was filled by Mr. Alderman Dips, late Lord Mayor of Lon- don. There was immense cheering when the orator appeared, the gentlemen shouting and clapping their hands, and the ladies waving their handker- chiefs. At length, silence being obtained, the chair- man duly coughed, and then proceeded in a neat speech to introduce that great bulwark of the liberal cause, Mr. Hilary Dove, to the respectable meeting, who in reality needed no introduction. " He is here to speak for himself,^'' said Alderman Dips, and sat down. " Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen,'''' began Hilary Dove, " I am not here to interest your feel- ings, my business is to arouse your patriotism, to convince your judgment. The time will soon come when the voters present will have a great constitu- tional right in their hands. For once in your lives you will be kings, and have the destinies of this great empire confided to you. Not alone the existing ge- neration, but remote posterity will feel how you exercise this great privilege. The future, gentlemen, is built upon the present. The foundation is to be your work ; and as you lay it, so will the super- structure be. The inhabitants of this town and county, the kingdom at large, the whole British empire, to our most distant colonies, are truly and virtually concerned in your choice of a member of the legislature. The mighty stake at your disposal may be given some of you only this time, to exercise THE ELECTION. 271 at tlic election to come. It "svill be the grandest moment of your lives^ and it behoves us all to em- ploy it in a manner worthy of the occasion. Our forefathers have vindicated for us this right ; they have fought and bled, and counselled and watched to obtain it ; they are our eager witnesses. To your safe keeping they have confided Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, the Habeas Corpus, this present prerogative of free voters, and all our dearly bought, cherished liberties. Let us beware how we use a trust so sacred. It belongs not to ourselves alone, but to the illustrious chiefs of the past and to En- glishmen yet unborn. There are two great parties in this country — the Liberal party and the Tories. Now, what I want to ask is, why should there be party views at all as respects the House of Commons ? It is the assembly of the people — their representatives. Ours is a mixed constitution, and there is the seat of the democracy. What right, I demand, has aristo- cracy to intrude itself there ? The people do not invade the prerogative of the Queen : God forbid ! They don^t meddle with the privileges of the Peers. Oh, if they did, how loud would be the outcry ! Why, then, I require, in the name of all that is constitu- tional, just, and fair, should the Tories, representa- tives, not of the popular interest, but of the imperial and aristocratic branches of the State, interfere with the third division, which belongs wholly and solely to the peo))lc ? I know it is assumed that the action of party is good for the nation ; that it works well for pure administration and wholesome legislation. There never was a more fatal fallacv, gentlemen. 272 OBERON SPELL. Party turns tlie House of Commons into an arena of contention for office. The struggle of members is not for the public weal^ but for private_, selfish, and corrupt ends. The whippers-in, and not prin- ciple^ knowledge^ or justice, decide the great questions of government. Now, were there no parties, did these abnormal divisions not exist in oiu' portion of the legislature — were the members all Liberals — that is, all wholly and solely devoted to the cause of the people — you would no longer have the sad experience of the greatest and most impor- tant public questions postponed from year to year for want of a sufficiect majority to carry them. A house divided against itself, proverbially, cannot stand ; and, trust me, that the day will come, if this state of things be not altered, when it will be ac- knowledged that party has been the ruin of our free government. When I speak of a lower assembly all composed of Liberals, do not mistake me ; I do not mean to say men all of one opinion ; no, that would be unattainable ; but what I do mean to say is, that no member of the popular house should declare himself to be there to represent the aristo- cratic elements of the constitution. What can be more absurd and inconsistent than to hinder a peer from interfering in elections and, nevertheless, allow the nominees of peers, their representatives and tools, to stand up before you and claim your suifi'ages ? I repeat, party government is the bane of our House of Commons. For this reason alone time is frittered away, the business of the nation is neglected ; and, instead of the lower chamber presenting any of the THE ELECTION. 273 grave and regular features of a senate^ it often be- comes a mere debating club, or the scene of conver- sations whicb would discredit a lady^s tea-table. So much then for the party of resistance, -which is only a resistance to all soimd, practical, and progressive legislation. I should like to know why an organized opposition should be so beneficial in the House of Commons, and so distracting and disastrous in all other councils ? Decide, then, this moment, gen- tlemen, so far as you are concerned, that this baneful antagonism shall cease. And do not be led away with the idea that the diflPereuce between the Liberals and the Tories is small. It is great, gentlemen, very great. It reaches the heart of the constitution itself; it is a pure contradiction — the distinction between motion and rest — progress and inaction. The Conservative cry has ever been, ' we have gone far enough / ' further advance will place liberty itself in danger.^ This is their watchword, their master argument. Let us go back a little, my friends, and inquire who are those Tories ? There was a time when the government of this country was purely regal and aristocratic. The king reigned and ruled, calling the lords spiritual and temporal and the knights of the shires occasionally into one great as- sembly — for they all sat together — to vote supplies and to consult upon the affairs of the nation. Such was the anti-popular origin of most of our laws ; in fact there was no people. Well, it is very hard to forego any privilege; and the barons and landholders had gone on from age to age believing themselves, with the Sovereign, the rulers of the kingdom. In VOL. I. 18 274 OB E RON SPELL. time tlie masses,, who had been the serfs and clients of the king and barons, obtained power, and a House of Commons, much as it is now, w^as formed. But some of the old leaven remained, and legislation was mainly carried on to secure or extend the interests of the landlords. It was only natural that a body of wealthy and powerful men, owners of the soil, and in later days, of large funded property, should support their own order, and ignore or forget the rights of the people. I defy any one to examine our laws and to say that this evidence of an exclu- sive aristocratic and patrician spirit, intention, and endeavour, is not to be found throughout all our statutes down to the present half-century. Self- preservation is the first law of nature ; and the Tories, long before they got that name, took good care of themselves. I scarcely blame them ; know- ing our common inclinations and tendencies, I am willing to excuse them. They looked to themselves. I am here, gentlemen, simply to ask you to do the same. Do you look to yourselves and your own interests. " But how was this state of things amended ? There was generally but one great party in the times to which I am alluding — the j^arty of the king and nobles. The first great break-down towards demo- cracy was the quarrel of Henry the Seventh with the barons. Then came another and mightier po- pular movement — the Reformation. After that we had the Revolution. The people, you see, were all along gaining, while the powers that swayed had some reason to exclaim that Church and State were THE ELECTION. 275 iu danger. But they did make tlie outcry, and con- tinued it all through, down to the Reform Bill and up to the present hour. There arose two parties then ; the wealthy and powerful holding what they had, grasping it firmly, and the people, that is, the Liberals, under whatever name they were called, resisting the oppressions and encroachments of tyranny. This went on, gentlemen, until the de- mocratic element of opposition became the staple of the House of Commons ; and it now happened, that the Tories, driven from their former high ground by repeated manly assaults, became in their turn to be regarded as the party of resistance. This is their condition at the present moment. The people, that is, again I say, the Liberals, have gone on enforcing the concession of their rights ; and now they are in a position, if they will only see their own interests and exert the power, to extirpate the aristocratic element altogether from the lower assembly. God forbid that you should think I mean by this, that the real respectability, knowledge, and justice of the House of Commons should be excluded. Xo. What I desire is to see the Constitution on its normal basis — the inferior chamber solely for the people, the aristocratic element being amph' represented by the Sovereign and Peers. When this is effected we shall have able and progressive legislation. " And only sec what we Liberals have done ! I forbear to go back to what some of the barons, the regular clergy, and at a later period the Puritans and other champions of lij)erty, have wrested from the tyrants who ruled aver the destinies of this 18—2 276 OBERON SPELL. country. I would only remind you that within your own memories^ we have carried the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts^ Catholic Emancipation, the Reform Bill, the Amendment of the Navigation La'v\ s, the improvement of our Criminal Code, and last, not least, our glorious triumph — Free Trade ! The Tories say that some of these were their mea- sures ; but if they were we extorted them, they could not help themselves, and yielded rather than throw up ofiice or cause a revolution. Let the good work go on then, and we shall clear the House of Commons of those miserable party quarrels, those clissTaceful manoeu^TCs which now distract its counsels and hinder useful legislation. Only see, gentlemen, the baleful effect of this spirit of division in our own county. For the last live parliaments you have returned two members as usual ; but where, I ask, has been your voice in the councils of the nation ? Our worthy and consistent representative Sir Felix Sackville, was always ranged on the right side in questions of great moment. But up started Sir Roger Wheatley from the opposition benches, and rendered his vote — your vote — a nullity. Here, then, is a palpable result of party government. Let us do away with this anomaly, gentlemen, in the name of common sense, just, right, and honourable patriotism. ^' And who is it you are bound to reject, gentle- men ? A man who says, ' there shall be no more reform, we have gone far enough / ' There shall be no abolition of Church-rates, the sacred institution is in danger ;' ' There shall be no Ballot, the laod- THE ELECTION'. 277 lords must know tlicir enemies / ' There shall be no further retrenchment, the arm}^ and navy must be supported/ In a word, encroaehment must be staid, the status quo preserved, the rights of property re- spected ; that is, the old tyranny must be enforced as far as possible. Oh, how I abhor such despotism ! It is not what we are, gentlemen, but what we should be, if the Tories all along had their own way. We should be as other enslaved peoples, not the freemen we are here, deliberating on the highest functions of government, which so soon we shall have the power to exercise. I urge nothing personal against Sir Roger Wheatley. It ought to be enough that I proclaim he is a Tory; li(3 Avill neutralize your vote in the House of Commons, disfranchising the county. But I could tell you a tale, gentlemen, ay, one that would rouse your manly indignation, as husbands, as brothers, and as fathers. It is now some years ago since a fair girl, a near and deat relation of mine, she was then a mere child, a pla^/ful little thing, yet with great intelligence and the best of feelings. Well, this wee maiden was in Edelstone Park, the seat of the great Sir Roger Wheatley ; and what was the young lady doing, think you? She was not plucking flowers, or destroying the fences, or chasing the deer, or scaring the wild fowl, or even disturbing the gravel ; she was simply re- citing a poem written by a friend of her childhood who was present, Oberon Spell, and in company with another little boy, now a rising artist, Hugh Graff, when who should sweep by but the baronet^s proud daughter, and ordered my child — ay, my child. 278 OBEllON SPELL. ladies and gentlemen, to be expelled from tlie- grounds, and never again to enter them. I knew I sliould enkindle your anger, and I have done so pur- posely j, that if any supporter of Sir Roger Wheatley is here he should do now as I did at that moment. I vowed no vengeanee, I ' left that to a Higher Power; but I said within my heart, there must be an innate and rooted feeling and principle of tyranny here to induce a mere child — as this daughter of the baronet was then — to issue a peremptory command to an inoffensive damsel, merely entertaining her two juvenile companions in a quiet intellectual manner. The effect was that I gave my almost undivided attention to politics ; and, gentlemen, you pretty well understand how strong was the force of my enlightenment and conviction : from a blind and ignorant Tory I became what I am, thank Heaven ! a foremost disciple and advocate of the great and glorious Liberal cause — a cause with which is iden- tified the progress of the entire human race. I could also narrate another deed of cruelty and op- pression perpetrated by Sir Roger Wheatley himself. A certain brooch belonging to this same imperious daughter, was lost, ladies and gentlemen ; I had the good fortune to find it in an assembly almost as numerous as the one I have the honour of address- ing : and what did I do ? Only what every honest man should, and for this I ask no praise. I pro- claimed my treasure -trove and fastened it on my coat publicly where the loser might see and own it. This was done, as some of you may remember, in the sight of all. AVell, the article was afterwards. THE ELECTION. 270 claimed by a person who represented lierself as Miss Wheatley's maid. And what did my wife^ in whose possession the brooch then was_, gentlemen ; well, what did Mrs. Dove do, ladies and gentlemen ? why she did what every worthy woman here would do, she gave it to the person so lawfully and authorita- tively claiming it. This person happened to be an impostor and a thief. But now learn how our enlightened and merciful Tory member acted. During my absence from my home — Proscenium Villa — he sent in two detectives, and a policeman^s wife to search Mrs. Dove, my child Iris, and every cranny and corner of my house. Of course no brooch was found; and this was the reward that honesty and honour got from the sitting Tory member for Riverside. ^Tis true I made him smart for his rashness and oppression : he paid a heavy pecuniary fine rather than go to a public trial. But no amount of gold could heal my wounded feelings. I have never been the same man since that houi', ladies and gentlemen. However, the ordeal and suffering did me good ; they converted me to the cause of the people. From a slave — the servile political supporter of this man, I became a thinking being, a freeman, a staunch, unswerving, determined Liberal. And now, gentlemen, you have a duty to perfomi, and I have one. We must, then, on our side expel this principle of despotism and party spirit, represented so faithfully by Sir Roger "Wheatley. The man who does not aid in the good work, is, I say, an enemy to his country. '^ Happily for your choice, gentlemen, Mr.Nutmeg 280 OBERON SPELL. seeks to represent this great county in parliament. He is exactly the description of candidate I would recommend to your selection. He is a man of the people, sprung from the people. I know the city well, and I know how highly Mr. Nutmeg is re- spected. His career has been that of a foremost citizen. He must have had rare and original quali- ties to rise to the eminence he has attained. He must have combined ability, perseverance, extensive knowledge of trade and commerce, great public liberality united to private economy, a habit of con- ciliating his inferiors and studying their interests, and of commanding the recognition of those above him by his superior powers, sterling integrity, and consistent and manly conduct. In a word, he must possess the art of governing. Such is the candidate for your choice, gentlemen — such the representative to be the exponent of your opinions and the sup- porter of your interests in the House of Commons. We are a nation of shopkeepers, Mr. Nutmeg is a shopkeeper on a large scale. His concerns are yours. He desires cheap tea, so do you; sugar, coffee ; the ladies will join us in declaring that such is their wish also — quite a feminine, domestic ambi- tion. But rising higher, gentlemen, to the great argument of the State, I am instructed to say, that Mr. Nutmeg is a staunch advocate of an extension of the Suffrage, of the Ballot, of the total and un- compromising Abolition of Church-rates, of Free- Trade in its widest and best acceptation, of Civil and Religious Liberty, of Peace and Retrenchment, of the diffusion of Education, and the protection THE ELECTION. 281 and amelioratiou of the condition of the Poor all over the kingdom. Above all, gentlemen^ he is opposed to the evils of party government, and will go into the House of Commons, should you elect him, for the sole purpose of studying the welfare of the people, and advancing the greatness and glory of the nation, confirming and establishing its insti- tutions, and handing it down improved, strengthened and elevated to his successors. But it is for you, gentlemen, to unite and combine wdth these noble and patriotic resolves. The power is in your hands. You are now disfranchised, or misrepresented ; secure two good Liberal votes, and thus do your part and duty in asserting those rights without the possession of which life would be insupportable, and this gi'eat kingdom, like some foreign countries, a mere fastness of corruption and tyranny .^^ Mr. Dove sat down amid thunders of applause. He had agreeably disappointed his audience; they came to be amused, they went away convinced. Many of those present dated their Liberalism from that night. The truth is, as the contest approached, the deeply wounded husband and father became serious and earnest. For upwards of six years had he cherished his resentment — had he studied his cause ; and now that the moment was at hand to give effect to his feelings, ail his soul and energy were concentrated in the battle. He would rout Sir Roger AVheatley ! he would crush the Cubborns ! Turn we next to the agent of the Conservative candidate. He, too, had his cause at heart. So much of his own personal success and interest de- 282 OBERON SPELL. pencled on the election of Sir Roger Wheatley for the county. He dreaded his wife^s anger ; he feared that the loss of the battle would cost him the Priory connexion. It must be said, moreover, that at bottom Andrew Cubborn was a good Conservative. He never shone to greater advantage than in these heated political contentions ; he felt it to be his in- terest as well as duty to present every obstacle he could to the schemes and efforts of Hilary Dove. He remembered with some bitterness that he him- self, or rather his termagant wife, was the cause of the break between the commission agent and the baronet. He wisely kept his forbidden son out of the way, leaving him to stay at home or in his London chambers, to concoct plots with his mother. But Trapper accompanied his principal ; he was of sovereign use as manager and ostensible proprietor of the Flam. The Tory journal had fallen into the lawyer^s hands by one of those nefarious plans through which so many newspapers and literary records change their owners. The unfortunate possessor was supplied with money to effect im- provements, at an enormous interest and on the security of the property. When he could not repay the advances, Mr., or rather Mrs. Cubborn, claimed the whole for the clerk and secretary, the real acting proprietor being the lady in crimson in the central office at Edelstone. About this time, too, the strong suspicions excited against the Cubborns on account of the fire, began to die out. By a piece of machia- vellian cunning the tables were turned. The news- paper paragraph had been placed and circulated. THE ELECTION. 283 Whispers and innuendos got rife. There was anotlier aud more probable cause for the conflagration ; Oberon SpelFs fair fame suffered in proportion to the general acquittal of the real incendiaries. This was pretty well the state of things when Mr. Andrew Cubborn took his stand on the " Comforter " platform. '' Gentlemen, I am proud to see you assembled in such numbers. It shows the deep interest you take in the present contest and the cause of your country. This unpaid devotion to public affairs is a national virtue. There are no people who dedicate so much time, attention, and money to the general good as we English. If ever there was a moment when the patriotic sentiment should be encouraged and prac- tised, it is now, gentlemen. We are at a crisis. All our old landmarks are threatened. This is an hour for self-sacrifice and self-oblivion. Every impulse and energy in us should be called out to save the country. We are menaced with a Radical assault on the State, an organic change in the constitution, and if you and other Conservatives do not stand forward and resist the attack, as sure as there is a sun in the heavens the' kingdom will fall. The salvation of your country is in your hands, and you are expected to do your duty. " Before I proceed to examine the more w^eightj^ questions before us, I will clear away the rubbish cast up in another place, to obstruct, confound, and alarm you. We have heard much talk of party government, and it has been described as an unmi- tigated evil. Now, gentlemen, I do not assert that 284 OBERON SPELL. if the business of tlie nation could be conducted without differences of opinion^ the result would not be satisfactory; but so long as those differences exist and there is no means of preventing them, their reduction to order and discipline must be an advantage. We do not want a parliament of crotchets w^here everyone will have his say, and the whole assembly, like congresses I could name, is a Babel. I say, then, if differences must continue, let us manage them with the least possible inconvenience and damage to the public service. This alone can be done by the recognition of two great parties in the State. These regularly constituted bodies have their prescribed rules, their parliamentary usages. They acknowledge their chiefs, they follow them, they suppress their own upstart notions for the per- manent success of a cause, and in this way not only the strongest united force is given to the Opposi- tion; but, on the other side, the most powerful incentive is applied to good government. In actual practice the party contentions in both chambers are rare, occurring, perhaps, only once or twice in a session. On all other occasions the business of the House goes on, helped forward, I am happy to say, by Oppositionists without distinction. It is sur- prising what an amount of legislation is got through which never strikes the public eye. " A great deal of nonsense has been spoken about freeing the House of Commons from its aristocratic element. Can our new magician change human nature ? The patrician sentiment prevailing in the lower assembly of om- legislature is only an ex- THE ELECTION. 285 pression of feeling and opinion inseparable from certain forms of thought and action. It is most probable that a great landholder or o-svner of other large property, -will regard legislation from the side of possession, masten-^ or dominion. But have we no such interests to represent in the kingdom ? Is England a nation of slaves and paupers ? What arc laws for, if not for the protection of life and property ? While there is such a thing as owner- ship in the country, I contend that the prior and original right is to maintain it, and that it should be first defended. I hope you at least, gentlemen, have something to own and to protect. I am sure it is not your interest to send into parliament a body of tribunes and agrarian levellers. The same, thank heaven, applies at present to every voter in the United Kingdom. The barons and early kings have been assailed for the character of their legisla- tion. ^Tis true, they had not the advantage of political economy, or the prices cun-ent, or money- market to guide them. They had no leading articles in the newspapers. There was no public opinion then, gentlemen. But notwithstanding, the foun- dation of ?.ll our liberties was laid by them and the conservation of our religion. For my own part, I look back with a feeling of gratitude and reverence on those great men who fought and bled for our freedom — father and son often stretched dead or dying on the same plain in defence of their pos- sessions and country, not always against external enemies, but in opposition to the oppressive acts of individual tyrants. I am pained aud annoyed at 28G OBERON SPELL. the ingratitude displayed by upstarts profaning the noblest names and epochs of our history. If we are a people^ if we are a nation, if there is liberty, religion, prosperity, I say we mainly owe them to the counsels, the struggles, and the battles of our baronial forefathers ; for the country may well claim kindred with those to whom it owes its very exist- ence. Sweep their influence oiit of the House- of Commons indeed ! sweep human nature, faith, free- dom, honour, gratitude, memory, history, property — all wc live for, revere, and love — and then, and then only, will you succeed in extinguishing the aristocratic feeling and tendency in our popular assembly. But instead of the patrician sentiment being too strong in the lower chamber, it is, I con- tend, far too feeble, as is evidenced by the ultimate constitution of the house. Chosen by the people, it holds the public purse, it virtually elects or rejects the ministers. In fact, the real power of the king- dom is in its hands, and only by shifts and con- trivances, by fictions and ingenious compensations, but more than all by a courteous understanding and forbearance, can we stave off the despotic effects of republican domination. " The speaker I am alluding to confined his ob- servations to the House of Commons. He forgot that in the chamber of peers there is often a very strong Liberal sentiment and party, ay, and on the throne itself, or, which is the same thing in effect, among the responsible advisers of the Crown. Surely this is an ample set-off for any prevalence of an oligarcliic feeling or action in the lower THE ELECTION. 287 assembly. The truth is^ the same self-willed humau nature prevails everywhere ; and as^ we have ascen- dency in the Commons, we have democracy among the Lords. Party feelings and interests are pretty fairly divided and distributed in the three branches of the legislature, only unfortunately we have a too frequent display of Radicalism from the throne in the presence amongst us of a quasi Whig govern- ment. But the whole theory about parties is as ignorant as it is false. The House of Commons is intended to represent the entire population — men, women, and children, poor and rich, electors and non-electors, the rights of the Queen on her throne, as well as those of the meanest cottier in his cabin. It was never intended to represent any special class or interest — certainly not the unpropertied masses alone, not any particular holding or corner, any ex- clusive division, borough, or county, but the whole British empire. And it is to be hoped there is as much aristocracy and property in the country to represent as there is plebeianism and pauperism. I trust I have disposed of the elaborate essay on party government, gentlemen. " T come now to the real issue we have to try at the forthcoming election. It is the question between Conservatism and Liberalism, which is the better calculated, under existing circumstances, to advance the permanent interests of the country. I take it for granted, that if the extreme Liberals win their way in the House of Commons, we shall have a ten-pound county and a six-pound borough fran- chise as the law of the land ; that is, the whole 288 OBERON SPELL. legislation and government of the country will be in the hands of the uneducated and impoverished many — the multitude — the mob — the lowest class in the kingdom. I am speaking to sensible and prac- tical men_, and I ask you in your experience what 3"0U are to expect from electors paying for their cottages 3s. lOd. a week to entitle them to a county vote^ and 2s. 3^d. a week to a borough vote ? They will naturally cleave to their own order. They will follow demagogues who will profess to study and carry out their clients^ immediate views. Remember^ they are strong enough in numbers to out-vote all the other classes taken together. As society ad- vanceS; as the community becomes richer^ rents increase, and the men occupying six pound_, ten pound, ay_, and fifty pound houses in these days are not to be classed with the tenants paying the same amount twenty years ago. They are of an inferior grade. So that the humblest rank of labourers, costermongers, sweeps, and other roughs, may be expected to occupy the 2s. 3d. cabins — a choice body to erect into an electoral constituency. The 3s. lOd. occupants in town and rural districts are to swamp and annul the votes of you, gentlemen, as if this were not done sufficiently now by the new order of fifty-pound electors found in houses of this moderate value in the suburbs springing up every- where around London. " Well, when the rights of property and intelli- gence are ignored and abolished, and the ten-pound and six-pound men have the laws in their own hands, theii* first operation will be to extend the THE ELECTION. 289 franchise to its consistent and normal limits. AVe -shall have universal suflPi'age — it inay be that not male adults alone^ but women and children — the strong household of your family-man — will each have a vote. This I say is the correct conclusion from premises so disastrous and absurd^ from the adoption of a qualification so immoderately low. They may stop short of anarchy, though I am not so sure of that, but it is quite clear that they will covet a redistribution of property. When once you let loose the three-and-tenpenny and two-and-three- penny roughs on society and make them your political masters, you must expect an agrarian revolution — the England of present and past gene- rations will be gone for ever. We shall have a new era — the era of democracy — where the servants will be the superiors, the unpropertied classes will rule the owners of property, and where respectable men will stand aloof and give up government and legislation to incapable and unprincipled agitators. Such, gentlemen, will be the sure eflPect of electing men of Mr. Xutmeg^s stamp as the nation^s repre- sentatives in parliament. " But it is said that the working classes would not abuse their power, that they would strive for the glory and greatness of the country, and seek equal right and justice for all. I know not where it is found that working men so nobly and heroi- cally differ from other men and from human nature. They would be an overwhelming and overpowering majority, not composed of various grades balanced one against the other, as the electors are now, but a VOL. I. 19 290 OBERON SPELL. compact class, the sole arbiters of the House of Commons. I say^ tlien_, they would study their own interests. They would stand by their order. They would^ perhaps, seek for nothing that did not look honest and fair. They would consult their immediate advantage — direct taxation, a volunteer army and navy, a paid House of Commons, laws to subdivide lands, and compel a more equal distribu- tion of property, the abolition of a State church, the abrogation of the peerage, the annulment of hereditary rank, the destruction of the throne, and the creation of a free republic. There would be in all these extremes a show of right and justice, an abundant display of common sense, reason, and argument ; but its real force would be revolution and confiscation. There is in the theory of a pure democracy a certain simplicity and beauty ; the best of men in all ages have been captivated by the appearance; but the experience, like many a mar- riage, is anarchy or an ultimate tyranny. Such, I contend, would be the residt in this country of fur- ther lowering the qualification. I have watched the trades unions, I have observed the conduct and learnt the aspirations of some of our young city men. I know the feeling of the real producers of the country — how eager they are to clutch a share of theii' employers^ profits. I have carefidly studied the opinions of their organs, and I declare it as my most matured judgment and con^dction, that if by deteriorating the franchise you lodge the electoral power of the nation in their hands, a revolution is inevitable. And remember, gentlemen, we should THE ELECTION. 291 not have to deal with our own sex alone. There might be — there are — ambitious women_, even among the meek and docile daughters of England ; and Heaven help the State that shall be left to their tender mercy and justice. '' Where is to be the limit ? Have we not de- scended low enough already ? Consider that the increase of rents has made the qualification less than it was when the Reform Bill became law. You must draw a boundary line somewhere. If you remove the present humble barriers, the floods of democracy, ever pressing to rush in, wiU over- whelm the kingdom. ^^ A great deal has been urged about the people^s right to the franchise. There can be no right here but expediency — the good of the greatest number. And here, as elsewhere in our social and political order, it is better that men should earn the privi- lege, and show some stake, consideration and secu- rity for its proper exercise. You do not make foremen or partners of the labourers or apprentices of your establishments. They must, as joui-ney- men or able hands, first display competency and merit. The same safe rule, feel assured, holds good of the electoral body, who are bond fide partners in the great firm of the nation. " After all, what is required is a competent and incorrupt legislature. You want an able and pure body of law-givers. So long as you secure that, the mere manner of choice — the number of the electors is not of such prime importance. I leave vou to judge whether a beggarly mob, hounded on 19— i^ 292 OBERON SPELL. by demagogues, is more likely to select the fitting men, than voters who hold the property of the county, and who are blessed with its largest share of enlightenment and principle. " But we shall have the ballot to protect the voters ! The ballot, gentlemen, can only mean a cover for deception. Xo man wishes to hide what he is not ashamed to do. Take away from your Englishman the public exhibition of the hustings and polling-booth, and you destroy his interest in the election. Voting, as you know, is attended with some trouble, and if the virtue of the man is to lie concealed, I very much fear he will not act for conscience sake or patriotism. But the ballot would be a robbery — the perversion and confiscation of a right belonging as much to the non-elector as the elector. The franchise is a trust conferred on certain propertied men for the good of the nation. The two pound a year cottier, as well as the great landlord, are equally represented at the poll. To satisfy this indefeasible claim you must have uni- versal sufirage in its extremest exercise, or there ought to be open voting. But it will indeed be a sad day, gentlemen, for the interest, the freedom, and independence of election, when the overt and manly competition at the polling-booth is trans- formed into a secret and irresponsible system. Already you have many more electors than will trouble themselves, even when under the stimulus of their fellow voters and the public eye, to use their privilege. Only let the operation be hidden, and you will find how few will put themselves out THE ELECTION. 293 of the way to record a vote wliich nobody can see or recognise. I conld go into an examination of all tlie other blessings which Liberalism is to confer on us. But this would be tedious^ and our time is limited. One thing must strike you in comparing it with our principles — that no government is pos- sible under its direction. The cabinet must be Conservative in act^ whatever they are in profession. It may be said that this concedes the whole ques- tion ; for if ministers must be constitutionalists^ it matters little to what section of politicians they nominally belong. No, gentlemen^ the difference is very serious indeed — it is whether you will encourage hypocrisy or not. It ought not to be tolerated^ that men should squeeze themselves into office by adapting their views to the crotchet- mongers of the House of Commons^ and then ex- pand into statesmen when enthroned in Downing- street. But the concession to conservatism is not a little remarkable^ and should decide any waverer at once. What^ then^ shall we say that a Whig administration and Tory administration are the same ? No^ I repeat again. The Liberal ministry is too often forced alon^ by their pledges and their friends to adopt counsels which they would shrink -from and reject were they unshackled. They must please their party in doors and out of doors. This is the real danger of giving them the predominance. '' The triumph of Radical principles will altoge- ther disfranchise you^ gentlemen. The moment the constituency shall decide to elect Mr. Nutmeg, it will proclaim an opinion, which, prevailing, must 294 OBERON SPELL. swamp or annul your suffrage. You may go to tlie poll, indeed, but only to haye your total and oycr- "svlielming defeat by tbe masses recorded. You have, then, simply to determine whether you will give away yom' yotes to your seryants and labourers making them your political masters. But I put the matter on the higher national ground. Is it wise or expedient to risk our present state of peace, order, and prosperity, to introduce a degree of popular licence unknown to our fathers? Ask yourselyes how it happens that the nation is great and free, while so many states around us are either in a backward condition or enslaved? You will remember that all our liberties were achieved with- out this extreme extension of the franchise — achieved, in fact and truth, under the sway and principles of the old Toryism. On you and your co-electors throughout the kingdom it depends whether these blessings shall continue. To you, voters, God has confided the power to save or de- stroy the British nation — a nation, bear in mind, which has colonized and civilized more than half the globe. With you it rests whether we shall have a Queen — who may be said to be under your manly English protection ; whether we shall have a church for tho poor as well as the rich ; whether steadfast and comely Christianity shall hallow the land; whether the rights of property shall be main- tained ; whether those honours to which we all, one way or other, aspire, shall be transmissible by the illustrious and heroic holders to their children as their lawful acquisitions ; whether we shall have the THE ELECTION. 295 gravity and the efficacy of a senate in the House of Lords^ balancing and composing the two extreme parties in the state ; and finally, whetlier the House of Commons shall be an assembly of gentlemen comprising the wealth, intelligence, and respecta- bility of the land, or whether these shall be driven from it and have to give place to adventurers and demagogues. These, gentlemen, are the mighty issues to be decided at the forthcoming elections. " I am almost ashamed to compare the two can- didates set before you for your choice. On the one side you have a baronet of ancient lineage, many of whose ancestors have fought and bled for their country, many more of whom have sat in public council for its good. You have an able statesman, an experienced politician, a man who has represented you in the House of Commons for upwards of thirty years, who knows the rules and usages of that as- sembly well, and the business of government and legislation. You have a large landholder and owner of funded property — pledges of his steadfast and conservative administration. You have a kind and considerate landlord, personally known to most of you, and from whom many have received acts of courtesy, favour, and liberality. You have a perfect gentleman, of whom the House of Commons is proud, and a man of the highest enlightenment and educa- tion. Above all, you have a candidate who will defend the Constitution in Church and State from the assaults of deniagogues — men without property or principle — whose aim is to found a selfish republic on the ruins of this great and glorious nation. This 2dQ OBERON SPELL. is the experienced, tried, able, affable, Trealtliy,, generous, and meritorious statesman, whom I am to- place in comparison with Mr. Nutmeg, the grocer. No wonder, gentlemen, I should shrink from the invi- dious task. There are acts which in themselves are a satire, without penning a line or uttering a word. "Mr. Nutmeg is almost a stranger to us all, gentlemen. He is a successful tradesman, who has advanced from very small beginnings in the metro- polis. This may be to his credit. But I know something of city life ; and my experience teaches me that not all men should be proud of their rise from humble circumstances. The tricks of trade are proverbial ; and many a shabby trick may have been played, many a deed of oppression done, and of false pretence assumed, before a moneyless adven- turer could mount to opulence and station in the city of London. I wish these observations to be regarded as general, not personal; for though I know this county well, of Mr. Nutmeg I know very little. We see his name to advantage in public subscriptions; but this kind of charity has now become a species of rivalry in great city houses — the badge and test of their respectability. I should be sorry to found my idea of any man^s real benevolence or private bounty from these prominent and popular displays of his munificence. I shall, therefore, not dwell on this point, as a special merit and recommenda- tion in the Radical candidate. I prefer considering the public qualities of business-men for the work of legislation. Why, gentlemen, the ablest of them are found to be either bores or non-entities in the THE ELECTION. 297 House of Commons. They are generally men of one idea^, who never received any high training or regular education, who smell of the desk or the counter in all their proceedings, and are wholly un- used and unfitted for the intellectual task of gene- ralization. We seldom hear of statesmen or orators emanating from that class of members. As a case in point, who does the premier select for his Chan- cellor of the Exchequer — the business-man par ex- cellence of the government ? Xot the merchant or trader, you may be sure ; but the poet, the orator, the novelist, the philosopher, the tliinker and states- man, who can comprehend a large and deep fiscal question, and administer the finances of a great nation in an enlightened spirit, involving practical results as well as recondite principles. You may be sure that such a man as ]Mr. Nutmeg, with all his boasted knowledge of commerce, would never be appointed by the Prime Minister to construct a budget, and explain its details to a full, eager, and expectant House of Commons. On the contrary, Sir Eoger Wheatley was formerly in the Cabinet, and from his able and luminous financial views, which his speeches in the House amply testify, might not inappropriately be the object of the first-lord's choice for so important a department of administra- tion ; and this without having served a city ap- prenticeship to business. The truth is, gentlemen, very poor faculties are sufficient to conduct trade successfully. The operations are seldom of an in- tellectual order. Take a boy who from dulness has failed at everything else, and let him plod in a shop. 298 OBERON SPELL. warehouse, or counting-house_, and you will find he gets on very well. In fact^ it is only mediocrity that can rise in business ; talent or genius would spurn its trammels, practices, and usages. The highest recommendation Mr. Nutmeg can have for the novel position he aspires to is that he has had the art of stepping before others, and must be supposed to possess some kind of pretension to sit in the presence of the natural leaders of his country. This forward virtue I willingly allow him. " I do not wish to indulge in any loud and alarming cry — that the throne is in danger, the church is in danger, and the peerage is in danger. I have, nevertheless^ proved that all three are in actual jeopardy, if not peril. Let only the three- and-tenpenny and two-and-threepenny franchise become law, and they will bring down these great institutions to the dust. I leave you, gentlemen, and your friends to judge how you should act in this situation. You are to decide whether hereafter men of your stamp shall be a nullity in the country, or that bulwark of the State which England has ever- found in her sturdy yeomen. If you return Sir Roger Wheatley, unquestionably you neutralize your voice in the House of Commons on certain occasions ; but is not this better than doubling the evil. Be- sides, the equal balance of votes will not happen often, and assuredly it will be a less inconvenience and obstruction than trailing Mr. Nutmeg at the heels of Sir Felix Sackville into the lobby on all great party divisions, to have him in most other instances an obstinate Radical, in mischievous, independent opposition. THE ELECTION. 299 " In a very few days^ gentlemen, parliament will be dissolved ; the Lord Chancellor will issne the Qneen^s writ, summoning a new parliament. It behoves us all on that unique and great occasion to do our duty, so that the illustrious dead who have confided to us this free and happy England shall have no cause of rebuke of us to trouble their spirits, and that distant posterity, enjoying the blessings of peace and liberty in a powerful and prosperous nation, shall hallow and honom' the age which offered a timely resistance to the inroads of democracy, and trans- mitted to them, improved and consolidated, the liberal and beneficent institutions of our common country/'' Mr. Cubborn evidently produced a deep im- pression on his hearers, and in the course of his speech elicited frequent long and loud applause. But somehow his success was not equal to the orator of the antagonist party. The lawyer was not per- sonally popular, and his style of delivery and ap- pearance were far inferior to those commanding recommendations in Hilary Dove. Besides, it must be admitted that the Liberals are the heartier class ; they have generally something to gain by the move- ment ; while the Conservatives in actual possession are slow to believe in existing danger. ^loreover, in our opinion, the solicitor's address had not the vigour, strength, terseness, and logical point evinced in his rival's discourse. It was truer and more practical, more too in the vein of ordinary English speeches, but it went less home to the enthusiasm and expectations of the meeting. However, it had the honour of being printed in a pamphlet from the <;olumns of the Flam at Sir Roger Wheatley's ex- 300 OBERON SPELL. pense, who was so well pleased with the entire argument^ that immediately on its perusal he for- warded a very handsome letter of thanks to Mr. Cubborn^ enclosing a draft for a hundred pounds, for that gentleman^s acceptance. Mr. Nutmeg thought it would be wiser not to make too much of his agent^s efforts. In fact_, he was somewhat jealous of his popularity ; and on this occasion flew to his old practice — to kick the steps by which he rose from under him. Of course, he left this genial process till the struggle was over. For the present he was simply depreciatory. Neither candidate had much reason to be proud of the personal qualities of his representative. But they very well answered the heats and broils of a contested election. At length the great day came. The writ had been issued, the hustings erected, the polling-places demarcated. The most systematic exertions had been employed on both sides. The excitement was very great all over Riverside and elsewhere in the kingdom. There were men in both camps who would have cheerfully laid down their lives to win the battle. Say that the public takes no interest in these struggles. But only witness any well-con- tested election. Hoary old fellows with one foot in the grave, fathers and sons, husbands, wives, and even children, were all fiery enthusiasts for victory. Nothing but the election was thought of or talked of; and many was the poor woman, trapseing one child by the hand with another in arms, and perhaps a pair before her who hurried to the scene, and only regretted her man had not a vote to make THE ELECTION. 301 *' Summat on it, if it wor ou^ a drop o^ driuk to comfort owe." There were bands of music before the hotels and principal committee-rooms. Flags flaunting everywhere, ribbons to constitute an elec - toral order, beer, gin, and brandy-and-water in rivers. "Who paid for it all our chronicler doth not record, but no doubt there was an arrangement. Hilary Dove kept up a regular army of roughs. They had strict orders only to make a noise, to roar and shout, cheer and groan, but to keep down fists and cudgels. A number of sturdy farmers under- took to guard the approaches to the hustings for Sir Roger AVheatley, Sir Felix Sacksille, and their friends, and to groan lustily when little Nutmeg appeared. Clamour and hubbub were triumphant. The nomination somehow proceeded, but all was uproar and confusion. Nobody could hear any- body, though the vociferation from everybody was incessant and alarming. It was in vain that " Order, order V was bawled, disorder reigned supreme. After a great deal of action and display, the show of hands was obtained. The old members. Sir Felix Sackville and Sir Roger Wheatley, were declared to have the majority. Upon this a shout was raised which rent the heavens, answered by a roar which seemed to "Bellow from the vast and boundless deep." A poll was demanded for Mr. Nutmeg ; and the days of real business quickly succeeded — anxious days and sleepless nights for the two contending candidates ; almost equally so for the electors. Not a voter m 302 OBERON SPELL. the county but was roused and stimulated. Mr. Nutmeg was resolved to win. Sir Roger Wheatley on his side had good reason to rely nn the pluck and earnestness of his agricultural and propertied supporters. The numbers at first were entirely in his favour^ and his return was considered sure. Sir Felix Sackville was safe. He had a help from both parties. When the contest was drawing towards its close,, a large accession of Radical voters was collected together from the new towns, and rode in a train of omnibuses and cabs to the polling-place in the county capital. These advanced in a continuous stream with bands playing and colours flying, Hilary Dove heading the procession in an open carriage with Alderman Dips and the leading members of Mr. Nutmeg^s chief committee. The triumphant approach of this jovial company de- cided the waverers, who were in great force in the town. Waifs and strays, they were holding back for their " commons," as they facetiously termed the electoral sugar. The whole move was consummately arranged, and decided the contest. When all the returns were counted up and had passed through a scrutiny, it was found that Sir Roger Wheatley was defeated by a majority of forty votes. In the very midst of his chagrin, disappointment, and bustle, Mr. Cubborn dispatched a letter to his wife announcing the disaster. He attributed the loss to its proper cause — bribery. The lady replied by the same messenger, with her accustomed promptitude and energy : — " And why the d — 1 didn't you bribe bigger ? If THE ELECTION. 305 the tiling had to be done, it onght to have been done bravely. Ah ! Andy Cubborn, you are a poor, paltry, sneaking creature, not "worth your salt. Hilary Dove is the man for the occasion. It T\ill not be your fault if a fine scheme of business be not ruined . At bottom I am not sorry that the bashaws have had a snubbing. Now is the time to bleed ATheatley while he is down. By-and-bye he will be himself again, kick, and grow saucy. Do make as much of the thing as you can, and come home. Bring that sot of a clerk of yours with you. I want liim at my elbow for other business.^^ Such was the consolation Mrs. Cubborn thought fit to administer to her husband — the rub on the grazed skin in the way of domestic friction. The only other incident worth recording in this heated contest was the appearance of Ernestine "VMieatley and her mother in a private room in the Merry Thought, from which they could see all that was passing at the Edelstone polling-place. " Oh ! mamma, look ! look ! he is coming. Hugh Graff is with him. But they separate. Oberon on our side. Hurrah ! hurrah ! my life upon him. He is faithful. How grand he looks; but I think he is paler. That traitor, Graff, has actually gone and voted for old Nutmeg. I wonder where he could have got the property.^'' " My dear, pray do not be so excited. Young Graff has lately bought some houses in the village, and I understand he has just painted the portrait of Mr. Nutmeg. This may account for the vote. Besides, his father has always been a Radical. 304 OBEKON SPELL. Mr. Spell^ I believe^ is now the registered proprietor of the new Myrtle Cottage.'' " I think pa's victory is siire since Oberon has voted for him. Oh ! I verily believe I should have xLied if he had gone against ns." But notwithstanding all this youthful enthusiasm, the news of the baronet's defeat came that evening. This was felt as a great blow in the - family. Ernestine, who entered fully into the political situation and spirit of the contest, was inconsolable. The whole party was dashed by a defeat as unmerited as it was unexpected. Sir Roger Wheatley, that able and useful member of the Conservative phalanx, was out of parliament. END OF VOL. I.