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 L I E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 82.3 
 
 C555b 
 v. I
 
 THE BEAUCLEECS 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 % iofel 
 
 CHARLES CLARKE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "(JUAKLIE THORNHILL," "WHICH IS THE WINNEH," &C. &C. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1867. 
 
 \
 
 LONDON : 
 I'mNTKI) I5Y C. "WHITING, BEAUFOKT HOUSE, STKAND.
 
 .'I 
 
 
 jj CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 0) 
 
 CHAPTEE I. PAGE 
 
 Eaely Patronage . . ' •*■ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Xaval Engagement 1^ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Colvilles or LT:\iiiEKSFiELD . . . .40 
 
 - CHAPTER IV. 
 
 >• ]MoTHEiiLESS Children ^^ 
 
 -^ CHAPTER Y. 
 
 "^ I\Iada3ie Roseneels ^^ 
 
 <^ 
 
 >^ CHAPTER YI. 
 
 r^ Prank becomes a Man S9 
 
 *N 
 
 t^ CHAPTER YII. 
 
 L- A Real Woman 1^^ 
 
 r
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. ,.AGR 
 
 A New Acquaintance 142 
 
 CHxYPTER IX. 
 A Pic-Nic 163 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Boating Pakty 1S5 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Violet's Trustees 196 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Our Village 214 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Just Joined 231 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A Transplantation 201
 
 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EAELY PATRONAGE. 
 
 consuefacere filium 
 
 Sua sponte recte facere, quam alieno metu. 
 Hoc Pater ac Dominus interest. 
 
 Terence's Adelphi. 
 
 " Who's that, Dobbs, in the well-made trousers 
 and tight jacket ? " 
 
 " Young Beauclerc, a lower-form boy : he came 
 this half," said Dobbs, in reply to his friend 
 Carloss's inquiry. 
 
 " Whose house is he in ? " 
 
 "Purser's, I believe; looks sharp set, doesn't 
 he?" 
 
 " No ; I don't see it, Dobbs ; he's a deuced neat 
 little fellow ; by Jove, how well his jacket fits 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 him ! Young swell, I should tliink, by tlic look of 
 him," added Carloss; "I'm going to make his 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " How do you propose to do that ? " inquired 
 Dobson, who was prepared for some eccentricity, 
 from his knowledge of his companion. 
 
 " You'll see. Hallo ! you fellow, Beauclerc ! " 
 The little fellow turned round, and disclosed a 
 face quite in keeping with the smartness of his 
 fimire. " Come here a moment." 
 
 Beauclerc came towards the two boys, looking 
 fearlessly up in their faces ; he had hardly had 
 time to realise the profound dignity of a sixth- 
 form boy, or he might have looked more abashed. 
 
 " What form are you in ? " said Carloss. 
 
 "The shell," said the little fellow, cheerfully 
 and undauntedly. 
 
 " Where were you before you came here ? " 
 inquired his interrogator. 
 
 "Nowhere at all," said he, understanding the 
 question to apply to school. 
 
 " Was it a nice place ? " 
 
 The boy laughed, and showed dimples that are 
 only becoming to women and schoolboys. 
 
 " How often did they flog there ? " No answer.
 
 EARLY PATEOXAGE. 6 
 
 " Come, out witli it, like a man. Twice a week? 
 or only every ^Monday prospectively ? " 
 
 '^ I was at a private tutor's." And as he drew 
 up liis neat little figm-e and handsome face it was 
 quite clear that he meant to impress his auditors 
 with a sense of the superiority of that system of 
 education. 
 
 " Oh ! really ; I know the system," said Dobson, 
 who had himself enjoyed the fullest gratification, 
 as a youngster, of thick bread-and-butter, resur- 
 rection pies, and corporal punishment at a county 
 grammar school : " Turkey carpets, patent leather 
 boots at tea-time, change of socks after exercise, 
 treacle posset, and modern languages. And where 
 was that, my boy ? " 
 
 "That was at ;Mr. Colville's, at Lymmersfield." 
 
 Carloss turned quickly round from somethino- 
 which had attracted his attention for a moment, 
 and said, 
 
 " Colville's, were you at Colville's ? What sort 
 of a fellow is he ? " 
 
 " Capital, and so is his w^ife," said the boy, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I should think you were a judge," observed 
 the other, laughing. "Did you ever see my 
 b2
 
 little sister Violet there ? " added lie, at the same 
 time. 
 
 " No ; never : but I heard of her having been 
 there once when I was away." 
 
 " I'm glad of that, for you'd have been dan- 
 gerous to her peace of mind." The boy looked up 
 smilingly at Carloss, not knowing exactly what to 
 make of him. " Do you ever fag, Beauclerc ? " 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " In those neat-looking gloves, I hope ? " said 
 Carloss, good-humour edly. 
 
 " Not when I have to fetch the butter for 
 Dorrien's tea." 
 
 " No, I should think not : keep them for 
 blacking boots. However, take them off now, 
 and run down to Dripping's as fast as you can. 
 Ask him for a quarter of a pound of butter, two 
 Yarmouth bloaters, four French rolls, and a pound 
 of sugar for Carloss, and bring them up to my 
 study." The little fellow was just starting, when 
 he was stopped again. " And I say, young 'un, 
 bring your verse-task for to-morrow, and I'll do it 
 for you." 
 
 Beauclerc departed on his errand, a common 
 one enough in those days with every lower-form
 
 EAELY PATRONAGE. 5 
 
 boy in a public school, and conveying to the mind 
 no degradation whatever. Everybody had gone 
 through it, and it was as natui'al to a schoolboy as 
 a kilt to a Highlander. 
 
 The two elder boys, Dobson and Carloss, 
 strolled away from the top of the school lane, 
 where this conversation had taken place, and bent 
 their steps towards the country, intent upon a 
 walk, before their anticipated rolls and bloaters. 
 
 "What in the world did you mean by your 
 little sister, Carloss ? I thought you were the 
 last hope of the descendants of John of Gaunt ? " 
 
 This was a joke at the school-house; but as 
 Carloss believed in it he always took it au serieux. 
 
 "I've no doubt I was the last hope, for you 
 know my governor was not in a position to provide 
 such luxuries as descendants for the family : his 
 elder brother's business, Dobbs. However, hope 
 is delusive, spes fallax, and about six years after 
 my birth came my little sister Violet." Dobbs 
 seemed tired of the conversation, feeling no great 
 interest in guds in general, nor Carloss' s sister in 
 particular ; so he turned it into his own channel. 
 
 " I wonder you don't work, old fellow," said he, 
 looking into Carloss's face with more curiosity
 
 6 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 perhaps than affection. Dobson affected highlows, 
 rather short trousers, and hair "svhich was con- 
 stantly falUng over his forehead and eyes, and 
 being pushed off again by well-inked fingers. 
 
 " Wliat's the use of it ? " replied the other, who 
 was as great a contrast to his companion as can 
 well be imagined. " Cui bono ? as you swells 
 have it." 
 
 " Why, if only to leave in the sixth ; it would 
 be so jolly." The sixth was Dobson's seventh 
 heaven, as near it as could be : and a gulf of 
 immeasurable depth separated it from the rest of 
 the w^orld. Even talking to his friend Carloss, 
 he felt something like an angel of light with a 
 deep regret for Satan's misfortunes. Carloss was 
 only in the upper fifth. 
 
 " Ah ! that's it, exactly," said Carloss, " to leave 
 in the sixth ! that strikes me as absurd. If I was 
 going to stay in the sixth, like you, Dobbs, why, 
 perhaps it would be worth while ; but I think I 
 shall do for the riding-school by Easter." 
 
 " Yes, old fellow, I know that ; but just to have 
 got your remove this last quarter ; and you could 
 do it so easily. Old Armstrong would be so 
 pleased. You're rather a favourite of his."
 
 EAKLY PATEOXAGE. 7 
 
 " What ! because I won the long jump. Well, 
 he's a good fellow ; but I don't think I can obHge 
 him in this particular. Slaughtering Frenchmen 
 is a much higher ambition than writing sapphics." 
 
 " It's a pity you should be thro-wn away upon 
 the army ; why don't you go to Oxford, and then 
 to the bar ? that's what I shall do. Then I shall 
 try to get into Parliament, and " 
 
 "Then you'll slaughter your thousands too; 
 only it w^ill be with a jaw-bone ; you Imow the 
 animal, Dobbs." 
 
 " Not so bad, 'pon my soul ! " said Dobbs, as he 
 attempted feebly to bonnet his friend. 
 
 As they retmiied by the meadows, alongside of 
 the river, to school, they remarked that it had 
 risen remarkably within the last hour or two. 
 
 " That's the snow from the Welsh hills : it goes 
 down as rapidly, though, as it rises." 
 
 "I don't know about that. I remember once 
 all the lower part of the town being flooded, and 
 the people going about in punts." 
 
 " Splendid fun !" said Carloss. 
 
 " I don't Imow about that, either : there was no 
 end of property destroyed, and the lower floors of 
 all the houses were under water for three days. I
 
 8 
 
 remember it ; I was flogged for being nearly 
 (lro^vned." 
 
 "What an odd punishment for such a diver- 
 sion." 
 
 " Oh ! it was my fault," said Dobson, who, 
 having enshrined Dr. Armstrong, felt no com- 
 punction at any form or extent of worship. " It 
 was all right. He said he'd flog any fellow that 
 got wet through again by going into the streets in 
 a boat. I did get wet through, body and soul ; and 
 it took three-quarters of an hour before I was 
 brought to ; and the next day I got six cuts." 
 
 " Going about in boats in the street ; by Jove ! 
 that would be a lark." And having arrived at tliis 
 conclusion and at the school at the same time, 
 Carloss said no more. 
 
 Meantime Frank Beauclerc had been to Mr. 
 Dripping, and had returned with an armful of rolls 
 and sugar, and hands-full of butter and bloaters : 
 and having deposited them on one of the study 
 tables, waited patiently the return of the proprietor. 
 The studies at Dr. Armstrong's were comfortable 
 rooms enough ; and while they answered their pur- 
 pose of patent digesters for mental aliment, they 
 were no less useful for recruiting the forces of the
 
 EAELY PATRONAGE. 9 
 
 bodjj when a more than ordinary share of repose 
 and comfort was reqmred. Each study was a 
 square and lofty apartment of about fourteen or 
 fifteen feet. It contamed two green baize-covered 
 tables, at each end of which was a drawer. There 
 were four rush-bottomed chan-s; two bookcases, 
 divided equally into two parts ; a coal-box, shovel, 
 poker, and tongs : and that these latter might not 
 lack exercise, there was a fireplace of but mode- 
 rate dimensions. To be sure, as it chiefly served 
 for mulling in small quantities the smaller beer 
 which was smuggled from the hall dinner, and for 
 grilling cold meat, the necessity for increasing its 
 dimensions was not so apparent as if its primary 
 use had been for heating whole bodies. The rooms 
 looked on to a cheerful court, whence might be 
 seen objects of considerable interest, but not in 
 great numbers : occasional maid-servants, with or 
 without children, to and fro between the masters' 
 houses and the street ; little boys going and coming 
 on some such errands as Frank Beauclerc's, laden 
 with tarts, butter, eggs, ham, and sugar ; big boys 
 lounging in the doorways, or amusing themselves 
 before the ground-floor windows, sometimes with 
 fencing-foils or boxing-gloves, and at certain times
 
 10 
 
 with heavy books, preparing the final polish for an 
 afternoon construe, before appearing in the pre- 
 sence of the Doctor. Regularly, too, at twelve 
 o'clock, might be seen the second master, who lived 
 in the house which occupied the third side of the 
 court, escorting his wife on their daily constitu- 
 tional. And a remarkably pretty woman she was ; 
 so much so, that Dobson himself was induced to 
 leave that interesting chorus in the Frogs of Aris- 
 tophanes, beginning with, 
 
 whenever he heard a shout from some less ardent 
 admirer of the Greek comedian of " Here comes 
 old Swipes and his wife ! " 
 
 The sounds, too, whicli issued from the study- 
 windows were suo;o;estive of uncultivated talent. 
 " j\Iy Love is like the red, red rose," on a flute, 
 pm'chased second-hand at a bookstall; "Auld 
 Robin Gray," and " The Lass of Richmond Hill," 
 set as an accompaniment, but played without it, on 
 the cornet-a-piston ; a nigger melody on the banjo; 
 and the intermingled yells of a junior, sentenced 
 by a com-t scholastic to a dozen from the prepo-
 
 EAELY PATEONAGE. 11 
 
 sitors for breach of discipline, loaded the air, like 
 a Dutch concert, not unfrequently more in rivalry 
 than in unison. 
 
 In such a room stood Frank Beauclerc. He had 
 had time to notice a dog-whip, a leaded stick for 
 the destruction of game, a half-finished net, a 
 blacking-pot and pair of brushes, and a kettle, 
 when Carloss and Dobson entered. 
 
 " Now, young 'un, out with the teapot, and put 
 the kettle on the fire ; there, that w^ill do. Now 
 while the tea brews bring us your verses." Beau- 
 clerc hesitated. 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " Bland," said the boy. 
 
 "Well, then, go and fetch them." The boy 
 stood still. " Why, you young vagabond ! I do 
 beheve he doubts om' capacity, Dobbs." 
 
 " Ah ! that's because you are not in the sixth ; 
 now then, be off." 
 
 Beauclerc, thus adjm'ed, went out, and re- 
 turned, bringing a copy of Bland's verses, and a 
 sheet of paper, rather the worse for his experi- 
 ments. 
 
 " Here, give us hold," said Carloss, snatching 
 the book and the paper ; " how many ? "
 
 12 
 
 " Six ; for to-morrow, at second lesson. I shall 
 have time to do them." 
 
 " Nonsense ; I know Bland by heart. Toast 
 that herring ; and if you burn it, Dobbs will be 
 down upon you. Where do you begin ? " 
 
 " But " began Frank again, and then stopped 
 
 and blushed, evidently anxious to say something, 
 but afraid. 
 
 " Well ! what is it ? " 
 
 " I think I'd better do them myself ; I really 
 am much obliged " 
 
 " So I should think, if you're going to do them 
 all like this. Why, here are false quantities enough 
 in these two lines to get the whole of the shell sent 
 down ! Don't you know that the first o in novo 
 is short, and that you can't have a word of three 
 syllables at the end of a short line. I hope your 
 friend Colville didn't tell you that you might ? " 
 
 " No ! I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't do 
 it any other way." 
 
 " Then, look here ; that is the way to do the 
 line.' And Carloss wrote the two lines as they 
 should be. 
 
 " But I'd rather try to do them myself," said the
 
 EAELY PATEOXAGE. 13 
 
 boy, at last, colouring as he spoke, but looking liis 
 patron in the face. 
 
 " But suppose you can't ? " 
 
 " ^Ir. Colville told me always to do my own 
 work." 
 
 " Very right," said Dobbs. " Did he tell you 
 why?" 
 
 " He said it was deceiving my master not to 
 do so?" 
 
 " Dobbs, that's a phenomenon. Wliat else did 
 he say?" 
 
 " That if I did that, and never told a lie, Dr. 
 Armstroncr would never floo^ me." 
 
 " Did he ? Perhaps he was right," said the 
 other ; " though it never struck me in that light. 
 At all events, he was a gentleman." 
 
 " So he was, I'm sure," replied Frank, making 
 the most of his opportunity. " So if you'll give 
 me the paper, I'll try to do them myself." 
 
 " Let him have them, Carloss. There, sit down 
 there, and turn them into Latin, and we'll help 
 you when you are hard up. Hollo ! mind the 
 bloaters, you've upset the shovel. You're a lucky 
 fellow to hare begun life under a gentleman, and
 
 14 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 to have come here afterwards. I wish I had. The 
 first time I ever told the truth I was flogged for it, 
 I rememher ; and it made a great impression." 
 
 " Did it? Is there any more cream?" inquired 
 Keginald Carloss. 
 
 " Yes ; they couldn't find out who cut down a 
 gooseberry-tree in the playground, and I said that 
 I did. The master called the confession gross 
 insolence, and flogged me before the whole school ; 
 so I never told the truth again until I came 
 here." 
 
 By-and-by the verses were done, and the tea 
 and bloaters w^ere eaten, and Beauclerc was going 
 away, delighted with his new patrons. 
 
 '' Stop a moment," said Dobbs, who saw a fine 
 opportunity for airing his professional talents ; so 
 Frank stopped, and looked down. " Do you ever 
 analyse motives ? " And Dobson put his hands 
 deep in his pockets, and his head on one side, and 
 looked as like an Old Bailey counsel as possible. 
 
 " Hang it, Dobbs, don't tease the boy ; what the 
 deuce should he know about analysing motives ? " 
 
 " Wait a moment, O descendant of kings. Do 
 you ever analyse motives ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," said the fag, in
 
 EAELY PATEOXAGE. 15 
 
 a niild tone of voice, and looking down at his boots, 
 instead of up, as a witness should look. 
 
 " Well, come now, witness, I mean, Beauclerc, 
 do you tell the truth because it's right to do so, or 
 because old Colville, or whatever his name is, told 
 you that Dr. Ai-mstrong wouldn't flog you ?" And 
 here Dobson looked as important as possible for a 
 barrister without his ^Yig and gown. " Now, take 
 time." 
 
 And indeed the witness, as he was called, seemed 
 very likely to obey this latter mandate by not an- 
 swering at all. He only blushed and looked again 
 at his boots, which were not so clean as before his 
 walk to Dripping's. 
 
 " Don't bother the boy," said Carloss. 
 
 " You've no taste for analysis of character," said 
 Dobson, " and never will have, while you remain 
 in the fifth form. Let me recommend the Ethics 
 of the mighty Stagyrite to your notice. Come, 
 yomig man, you're on your oath. Why do you 
 tell the truth ? Which is the motive ? " 
 
 " Because Dr. Armstrong would flog me if I 
 didn't." 
 
 " There," said Dobbs, triumphantly, " that's a 
 most extraordinary phase of the contradictions of
 
 16 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 character. By the answer he's given, wlilch is 
 symbolical of truth in the highest degree, he 
 proves that he doesn't lie, only from a most 
 unworthy motive — physical fear. Now you may 
 go." And as Beauclerc made off, verse-task in 
 hand, Dobbs's delight was so great that he threw 
 a book which he held in his hand after him. 
 " There, old fellow, what do you think of that for 
 an examination of an unwilling witness ? " 
 
 " Dobbs, you're a lunatic ; there goes the 
 prayer-bell."
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 Quid juvat errores mersa jam puppe fateri ? 
 
 So Frank Beauclerc began his public school 
 days. Nor must these early chapters of his boy- 
 hood be regarded as a work of supererogation by 
 those who long to plunge into the middle of 
 affairs at once, or who look for a ghost, a murder, 
 or a trial for bigamy, thus early in the story of his 
 life. The careful development of character, and 
 the steps by which our hero climbs to distinction, 
 good or bad, are the peculiar duties of the con- 
 scientious novelist. One knows what a good- 
 sized insect is without the use of the microscope, 
 but not without some detailed examination of his 
 parts. 
 
 VOL. L
 
 18 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 It was a great tiling for a lower-form hoj to 
 have dropped upon his feet so dexterously in* a 
 large public school like Dr. Armstrong's, and 
 that by his own merits. Not that he got his 
 lessons or verses done by the " big fellows ; " not 
 at all, he would not submit to suchl a degi'a- 
 dation. The Beauclercs, though an easy-going 
 lot, were blessed with a proper pride. But he got 
 just that amount of help from those who were able 
 to give it, which does so much to encourage and 
 to inform* younger boys. In private schools they 
 ought to get it from their masters, in public 
 schools they do get it from the boys. It only 
 requires a discriminating self-dependence not to 
 claim too much nor too frequently. 
 
 Then this patronage extended itself to all games, 
 in which he became an adept above his fellows, 
 and sometimes to scrapes which were not so good 
 for him, out of which, however, he was taught to 
 walk like a gentleman, after having run into them 
 like a schoolboy. The truthfulness of his cha- 
 racter made him popular with the good fellows, 
 and obtained for him a certain respect with the 
 bad; and lono; after his friends Dobson and 
 Carloss had gone, the one to Oxford, the other
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 19 
 
 to the sanguinary service in which his soul de- 
 lighted, their influence was felt by their 'prottgt. 
 
 There was another bond of union between this 
 little fellow and his very dashing schoolfellow, 
 Carloss. They were both Indian, before the 
 miscellaneous body who could pass a good exa- 
 mination, and wanted a provision for life or 
 death, had sounded the tocsin in Bengal, Madras, 
 or Bombay. The Beauclercs and Carlosses dated 
 from Olive's days, and the boys for four genera- 
 tions had only been sent home to be sent back 
 again at an age when they could appreciate the 
 good things which were in store for them. Every 
 house in Calcutta was open to such names as 
 these, as to their fathers before them. Not so to 
 the Joneses and Smiths, who had satisfied the 
 Civil Service examiners of their capacity, but 
 whose characters and respectability remained to 
 be proved before a naturally prejudiced tribunal. 
 The Beauclercs and the Carlosses declared it was 
 all over with India, and prepared to come home as 
 soon as their circumstances would let them. 
 
 The Saber did not overflow its banks this time, 
 to the present disappointment of Carloss. His 
 eminently practical mind — regardless of possible 
 c2
 
 20 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 consequences to the dwellers in the Low Cut, near 
 the Alderman's Bridge, Grammerton — had fore- 
 seen and longed for the certain pleasures of a 
 punting party, and, in the absence of his favourite 
 arm of the service, cavalry, a naval engagement. 
 The melting process in the Welsh hills was slower 
 than usual, and gave room for the body of water 
 to get away with nothing more important than a 
 few odd shirts and chemises, happening to be on 
 the hedges, "which it was a fine day," as Mrs. 
 Soaper remarked, when requested by the owners to 
 account for their disappearance. 
 
 Beauclerc passed much of his time in Carloss's 
 study, where he was sometimes fagged, some- 
 times licked, and sometimes taught. He impli- 
 citly believed that it was all for his good. A 
 great deal of it was so. 
 
 " Come here, Frank : who was that fellow I 
 saw you with yesterday evening, just before we 
 were gated?" 
 
 " ^lichaelson," said Frank, in a subdued tone. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you not to go about with Mi- 
 chaelson ? " 
 
 "Yes." And the youngster began wondering 
 how many cuts the confession was worth.
 
 A XAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 21 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you said lie was a snob and a black- 
 guard." 
 
 " Then what the d do you mean by being 
 
 seen with him ? " 
 
 " I can't help it always ; he's in our house ; 
 and besides, he can't help being poor and having 
 no tin." 
 
 " I don't care about his tin ; it isn't that. I tell 
 you he's a bad lot. He's boiTowed money of you, 
 hasn't he?" 
 
 Beauclerc would not answer. 
 
 " Tell me directly, Frank." 
 
 Still the boy was silent. 
 
 " How much was it ? Now if you don't tell me 
 the truth I'll break every bone in your body." 
 
 This ogre-like language is a true expression of 
 scholastic friendship, and must not deter mothers 
 from trusting then' boys to the billows of the sea 
 of troubles in a public school. 
 
 " Half a sovereign." And Beauclerc hung his 
 head at speaking the truth. 
 
 " Half a sovereign ? Why, you young million- 
 
 naire, what the d do you mean by having 
 
 half a sovereign ? Have you got any more ? "
 
 22 THE CEAUCLEECS, FATIIEE AND SON. 
 
 " No ; not till Easter." 
 
 " Has he paid you ? " 
 
 " No ; but I know he will wlien — when he can." 
 
 " Has he paid you any ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 Carloss put his hand in his pocket, and, draAving 
 out the money, placed it on the table before the 
 boy. " There, take it up." 
 
 " Oh, Carloss ! mdeed, indeed, I can't ; you're 
 always so kind, but " 
 
 " Will you take that money ? You needn't be 
 shy about it, for I'm going to commit an assault 
 worth five sovereigns; I'm going to thrash you 
 most heartity, and then I'm going to do the same 
 by Michaelson." Saying which he thrust the 
 money into his hand, while poor Frank's eyes 
 filled with tears, and Carloss fulfilled to the letter 
 his promises. " Now be off, and send INIichaelson 
 here directly." 
 
 Fortune favours the brave not unfrequently at 
 the expense of other people. So this winter was a 
 lonir one, and towards the end of it came more 
 snow on the Welsh hills, and then a warm sun, 
 and then the river rose. One night all Gram- 
 merton retired to bed ; the western hills of Wales
 
 ■ A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 23 
 
 were clothed in floods of rosy light at sunset, after 
 a cloudless day as little hke winter as possible. 
 The next morning the water was in the cellars 
 of the Low Cut, and before breakfast it was near 
 choking the arches of the Alderman's Bridge 
 (flattering memorial of civic liberality), and chairs 
 and tables w^ere being hauled up, high and dry, 
 through the windows; and cribs without their 
 tenants, and tenants without their cribs, and 
 rashers of bacon, alive and dead; and the poor 
 were opening theii- houses to those who had been 
 summarily ejected, as indeed I find they generally 
 do. And alonsj the stream were the wharfino^ers 
 and boatmen securing their craft, and manufac- 
 turers moving their bales of flannel and woollen 
 goods, these descendants of the old Flemings, to 
 higher stories of the warehouses ; and in the midst 
 of all this needless terror, but actual inconvenience 
 — you will hardly believe it ! — those young rascals 
 at the schools were chuckling and rubbing their 
 hands in anticipation of a naval engagement in 
 the middle of the streets. Wliat makes it more 
 important to us is that Carloss, who ought to have 
 kno'v\^i better, was at the head of them. 
 Dr. Armstrong was one of those admirable
 
 24 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AKD SON. 
 
 schoolmasters that must necessarily be rare articles 
 in any age. Time and space are not -wasted in 
 giving a few words to himself and his system. 
 He was in himself a grand and noble gentleman, 
 fitted to fill with respect, affection, or awe, the 
 rising generation of the upper and middle classes 
 of a country like tliis. A liberal, but no pedantic, 
 admirer of classical literatui'e, of accurate but very 
 extensive reading among the ancients, and making 
 this knowledge subservient to the other purposes 
 of a practical life : interesting his pupils by the 
 varied stories of apt illustration which he brought 
 to bear upon their immediate pursuits. Withal a 
 Christian gentleman of generous sentiments, con- 
 scious of his own powers, and not intolerant of the 
 mistakes of other men. Need I say, after this, that 
 he was large of frame, handsome of person, and 
 clean shorn ? 
 
 Of the upper boys he made friends. lEs whole 
 dependence was upon them for example and in- 
 fluence ; and he expected that like the barons of 
 old they should be the transmitters (the /ifo-tVat) 
 of all that was good in the governing body. Of 
 the little boys he made pets. He liked to see them 
 hearty in play, and energetic in and out of school.
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 25 
 
 But there was another class of schoolboy, usually 
 at a discount with schoolmasters. I mean those 
 boys whom physical courage and a sort of natural 
 restlessness make impatient learners, but very ex- 
 cellent playmates. He regarded these as a sort of 
 connecting link between the aristocracy of learning 
 and the democratic mixture of talent, dirt, simpli- 
 city, idleness, and genuine boyhood. He tiied to 
 bring the playfulness of the schoolroom into his 
 sixth form, and to carry down some of their dignity 
 below. Some of them w^ere idle ; he knew that 
 they w^anted rousing. Some were stupid; they 
 wanted enlightening. " The sixth may be trusted 
 to go alone," said he, " and the little ones will have 
 plenty of friends among the big ones ; but who is 
 to take care of the fellows who can only run and 
 jump, and play football and cricket ? That won't 
 get them through such a world of scrambling and 
 competition. I must look after them myself." So 
 Reginald Carloss became a prime favourite with 
 the Doctor, being remarkably sharp, but with no 
 capability for reading. 
 
 "Oh, Carloss, I wish you'd do me a favour," 
 said Frank Beauclerc, after second school one 
 morning.
 
 26 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 "What is it, young fellow; give you a con- 
 strue?" 
 
 " No, thank you ; but let me go with you to the 
 punting match this afternoon." 
 
 "And who told you there was going to be a 
 punting match?" 
 
 " I heard Digby tell one of the fellows in school 
 that he was going in Tremayne's boat as his squire, 
 and that you w^ere going in another. I should so 
 like to see it." 
 
 " You'll be flogged if you're found out, Master 
 Frank, so I tell you ; and wdiat will your friend 
 Colvillesay?" 
 
 " I don't think he'd mind, if he knew^ it -wasn't 
 for lying or lessons. The only things he cares 
 about are falsehoods and false quantities. He says 
 they're both the signs of a depraved mind." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose he sees some connexion between 
 them. Everybody is born with a depraved mind 
 then, for nobody ever wrote Latin verse by instinct : 
 at least I never saw him. So you'll run the chance 
 of a floggmg?" 
 
 " He won't flooj me. What would he do if he 
 was to catch youV^
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 27 
 
 " Set me a book of Homer : and make me do it, 
 too." 
 
 '^That's awkward." And Frank Beauclerc 
 began to think the expedition wonkl be given up. 
 He was soon undeceived. 
 
 "Well! it would be, just now. For do you 
 
 know, Frank, I've been gazetted to the 
 
 Hussars, and am ordered to join on Friday, which 
 is impossible if I don't start to-morrow." Poor 
 Frank was so shocked by this intelligence that he 
 felt half inclined to cry. Nothing but the prospect 
 of the naval engagement prevented his tears ; 
 " You shall go, Beauclerc, but hold your tongue 
 about it." 
 
 The lono;est time between callino^s-over was from 
 three to five; and the shortest road to the lower 
 end of Grammerton was by some meadows at the 
 back of the school fields. By five minutes after 
 three there were twenty-four schoolboys, all anxi- 
 ous to be punted from one street to another, and 
 apparently willing to pay any money or promise 
 anything for a privilege which the rest of the in- 
 habitants only seemed anxious to avoid. While 
 they bargain with Peter the boatman and his satel-
 
 28 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 litcs for his punts, we will just give a short descrip- 
 tion of Grammerton itself, which may account for 
 the peculiarity of its present necessities. 
 
 Grammerton, like other fair cities, was built on 
 a hill. The highest point was the fine old Eliza- 
 bethan school, then and now of European reputa- 
 tion. It had its proper place in the town. Oppo- 
 site to it was the old shattered and ruined castle, 
 overlooking the bubbling and boiling shallows of 
 the broad and rapid Saber. The civil war had com- 
 pleted the attacks of an equally ruthless assailant. 
 Time — " Tempus edax rerum." Science and war 
 went hand in hand in the reign of Elizabeth, and 
 the most accomplished scholars were the noblest 
 soldiers. 
 
 From this hill the town sloped rapidly down on 
 every side towards the river, which made it a pe- 
 ninsula, studded with habitations, and pregnant 
 with life. Humbler as it got lower ; for the great 
 people affected the Castle Hill, and the districts 
 around : and the lesser people sought the banks of 
 the river, where they seemed to make every use of 
 the water but one. 
 
 The aristocracy of the town, I say, lived on the 
 hills, as became it. There was the Doctor and his
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 29 
 
 staff, learned men, fellows of universities, not 
 much given to horseflesh nor playing the violin, 
 but very useful at dinner-parties. There was the 
 neat little Colonel Baldhead Lethbridge, one of the 
 great county families, with two lovely daughters, 
 that we boys, for I'm an old sixth-form Grammer- 
 tonian, fell desperately in love with. I've since 
 been informed that Clara Lethbridge was inclined 
 to enhonpoint and sallowish. At this present day I 
 believe her to have been a goddess ; and I've an old 
 Gloucestershire friend who wears a wig, who will 
 swear the same of her sister. There was Hooper, 
 the great solicitor, money-lender, conveyancer of 
 property, agent to the old Whig families, with a 
 long-legged rolKcking son, who was always going 
 out hunting, and whose whole hfe appeared to us 
 to be one of idleness and self -gratification. There 
 was the great physician of the county, a hea'V'y 
 man in more respects than one, who turned Moore 
 into elegiacs as he drove about, and threw them 
 into his waste-paper basket, only, however, to be 
 picked out again and revised with care. The 
 second master at Armstrong's said they were not 
 Ovidian ; but he was an old Eton and King's man, 
 and Dr. Bolus had been educated at Grammerton
 
 30 THE LEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 and Oxford. Several fine old dowagers, aunts and 
 cousins of county people, gave a tone to the society 
 on tlie Hill. The lower town was composed of 
 wharfingers, manufacturers, and the necessary- 
 adjuncts to a thriving, industrious, and very 
 wealthy population. But money went no way 
 in Grammerton ; " blood, sir, blood, was the 
 thing ; " and so it is, to go through dirt. 
 
 These two parties were far asunder, socially and 
 locally, only united by a few tradesmen ; useful 
 people enough, and in their innocent simplicity 
 (for it was far removed from London) not maldng 
 more than sixty per cent, of their goods. They 
 lived metaphorically and actually on the side of 
 the hill. The suburbs of London have reached 
 the top. Nothing more need be said of these 
 people, unless they fall in our way hereafter, which 
 some of them are pretty certain to do. Yes ! now 
 I remember ! The really great man of the place 
 I was almost omitting. Jacob Han dim an manafred 
 everybody, high, low, rich, poor, town and county. 
 Beau Nash was no greater in Bath in his day, than 
 Handiman was in Grammerton in mine. 
 
 " But wdio is Handiman ? " 
 
 What ! not know Handiman ? Come, then, I'll
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. §1 
 
 tell you. He's one of the most cheerful, good- 
 natured, obliging fellows alive. Condescending to 
 his inferiors, among whom you may certainly rank 
 everybody in Grammerton. A great beau above 
 all thmgs is Jacob Handiman. His hat has a 
 turn in it which verges on the ecclesiastical, but 
 just cleverly escapes anything professional; his 
 boots bear a polish which rivals all the patent 
 leather in the world, and sIioavs what a valet, well 
 looked after, can do ; and his feet have sufficient 
 gout in them only to give a respectability to his 
 walk, and restrain his energies from breaking into 
 a rmi. In his case gout has been an extraordinary 
 dispensation. His clothes were of the best and 
 newest material, but of an earlier pattern, when 
 trousers and coats were made to fit. 
 
 " But you haven't told us loliat Jacob Handi- 
 man was ? " 
 
 Truly ; it would be easier to tell you what he 
 was not. He was a town comicillor, chairman of 
 the gas- and water- works, had been mayor so often 
 that he seemed to be always full of beans ; he was 
 the great Conservative agent for I don't know 
 what extent of country, or for how many counties ; 
 lessee of the Grammerton Theatre, proprietor of
 
 32 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 the Grand Hotel ; public liandicapper for the dis- 
 trict, and projector, purveyor, starter, and judge of 
 the Grammerton race meeting, which, under ]Mr. 
 Jacob Handiman's management, had assumed a 
 truly leviathan form. To be sure, ill-natured 
 people said that the handicaps were made f©r his 
 friends ; but his conscious rectitude was above dis- 
 guise, and he only laughed, as he truly observed, 
 the money must go somewhere, and it had better 
 go to his friends than his enemies. Indeed, so 
 stern was his virtue in this respect, that on one 
 occasion he was said to have declined " to part," 
 feeling that it was worse than wrong to let the 
 stakes go into an improper channel, or that he could 
 have no better friend than himself. To do him 
 justice, the gentlemen all came in for their turn, if 
 they had but patience and horseflesh to wait long 
 enouiih for it. In a word, there never was a better 
 fellow than old Jacob Handiman, or a more perfect 
 autocrat in Grammerton. 
 
 " Now then, Peter," said the boys, " out with 
 the punts ; we're going to land on the opposite 
 side." And a couple of punts were manned in no 
 tunc. 
 
 "Up with the flag !" said a youngster, producing
 
 A XAYAL engage:mext. 33 
 
 a dirty red pocket-handkercliief tied to an old 
 stump. 
 
 " Dear heart alive," said Peter, " you're never 
 going to " 
 
 " You be hanged ! now, Peter, none of your 
 jaw ! You've got your money, so out you go." 
 And the punt began to move slowly in the rapidly 
 running water, which appeared to be about four 
 feet deep, and rushing in eddies along the naiTOw 
 lanes and round the comers of the houses. 
 
 Peter himself was a great character. Peter, 
 surname unknown, was the school boatman and 
 bathing-man. He was hard, thin, wiry ; without 
 a hair on his face, with high cheek bones, and 
 black twinkling eyes. At present his costmne con- 
 sisted of a thick striped woollen Jersey, and the 
 biggest of blue boating trousers, well patched with 
 divers colours about the seat, which was much 
 worn by his boating propensities. 
 
 " Only to think ; sich nice yomig gents," said he, 
 sootliingly. " Rebellious young wagabones (sotto 
 voce), you'll spoil all your clothes. What will the 
 Doctor say if he finds us out ? " 
 
 " Never you mind ; that's nothing to you, 
 Peter." 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 
 
 " Now, Charon, go ahead ; !Mr. Tremayne's 
 waitmg, don't you see the white flag ? " sung out 
 Carloss, at the same time handing some long poles 
 to his followers, which had been furnished for the 
 occasion. 
 
 Thus exhorted, Peter began punting, and his 
 subordinate followed with the second battalion, al- 
 most alongside. 
 
 Tremayne and his friends were not slow in pre- 
 paring for the reception of their foes. Far from 
 waitinor to be attacked, like the Athenians at 
 CEgospotami, on the open beach, they steered 
 straicfht out to meet them. As the rival fleets met, 
 even Peter forgot his caution, and roared in his 
 enthusiasm, " Go it, you cripples ! well done, Mr. 
 Carloss ! " as that gentleman's lance created some 
 confusion in the leading punt of the defence. 
 " Lud o' mercy, if we was to be cotched ! " 
 
 " Keep her head straight, Peter." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," returned Peter, redoubling his 
 efforts, which, from the pressure of stream, and 
 a well-directed effort of the other flag-ship, was 
 found to be no easy matter. The shock, however, 
 of the boat as it struck Carloss's amidships, sent 
 the leader and one of his followers head over heels
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMEXT. 35 
 
 into the water. This was, so far, satisfactory, in- 
 asmucli as it afforded undoubted evidence of 
 the depth; and the water-babies, once on their 
 legs, renewed the fight from the middle of the 
 stream. 
 
 " Go it, scarlet ! " shouted the crowd, which 
 besan to assemble. " Well done, white ! never 
 mind about a ducking." 
 
 *^Man overboard!" said Peter. "Mind your 
 hat, Master Simpson," as that useful article of 
 clothing disappeared full of water. 
 
 Nothing could be more equal than the contest ; 
 for the temporary success of the attack was more 
 than counterbalanced by a successful manoeuvre of 
 the second defending punt. She had got so well 
 up stream, that (the young Britons, up to their 
 waists in the water, guiding her straight towards her 
 point) she ran full tilt into the opponents' leading 
 boat. The punt turned over, and Carloss and his 
 crew, Peter inclusive, tumbled into the water. 
 When they recovered their footing, the defence 
 was so strengthened, that it seemed necessary to 
 beat a retreat. 
 
 " Carloss, Carloss ! quick ! help ! Beauclerc's 
 gone." 
 
 d2
 
 36 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHEE AND SOX. 
 
 Carloss turned; tliey had neared the bridge, 
 where they intended to land, close by wliich, on 
 the towing-path, the stream was running with ex- 
 traordinary force. The boy had been thrown 
 much further than could have been expected. As 
 he rose to his feet, the stream caught him and 
 whirled him on to the brink of the river's channel. 
 
 There was not a moment to lose. Frank uttered 
 no cry ; not a sound proceeded from his blanched 
 lips. He turned his imploring eyes, straining with 
 an aoronv of fear, towards his schoolfellows. His 
 face was pale as death, and he seemed paralysed 
 in all, save only when his arms were vainly 
 struggling with the whirl of waters. 
 
 Carloss answered the appeal; and years after 
 he had not forgotten it. Seizing Peter's boat- 
 hook, he made his way towards his protegt. 
 As the child tottered on the edge of the deep 
 flood he thrust the boat-hook towards him. Frank's 
 last effort caught it; and then commenced a 
 struggle which taxed all Reginald Carloss's strength 
 and weight to the utmost. He was just able to 
 hold on ; and Frank held on too with the tenacity 
 of despair. Help was at hand. "Dear heart 
 alive, if one of them young ruffians hasn't gone
 
 A NATAL EXGAGEMEXT. 37 
 
 and got drownded !" With wliicli consolatoiy 
 ejaculation Peter rushed to the spot, seized the 
 boat-hook with both hands, pulled himself up to 
 the boy, and hoisted him on his back at the very 
 moment that Frank Beauclerc felt his hmbs be- 
 traying their office. In five minutes he had had 
 some brandy, and in ten more was running back 
 to the schools by the shortest and quickest road 
 his legs could carry him. 
 
 " Dinah, Dinah," whispered Carloss through the 
 nm'sery door, knocking as gently as knocks can be 
 made to be effective. 
 
 " Lor bless us and save us, what is it now ? " 
 said Dinah, not in the mildest of tempers at being 
 distui'bed from her occupation of darning stockings. 
 
 " For goodness' sake let us in and don't make a 
 row. One of the fellows has tumbled into the 
 water, and I want some clothes for him." 
 
 '^ Oh dear, dear ! What mil ^Ii's. Armstrong 
 say ? Whose things do you want '? " 
 
 " Never you mind that. Give us sometliing, 
 and I'll give you a kiss to-morrow; only make 
 haste. He's dying of cold." 
 
 Dinah was sixty, and squinted terribly. 
 
 " Get along with you, do; there, there's the
 
 38 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 tilings, flannels and all. They're Master Gold- 
 dust's ; he's got ever so many suits ; only don't 
 you tell, please, Carloss. It's as much as my place 
 is worth." 
 
 So Frank Avas clothed, and became less blue by 
 degrees, and dried his wet things in Carloss's study ; 
 and he vowed eternal gratitude to his friend and pro- 
 server ; and by-and-by we shall see what came of it. 
 
 Carloss did not get a book of Homer, so Beau- 
 clerc had not to write it, which of course he would 
 have done ; and he joined on Friday. 
 
 One week later Dr. Armstrong required some 
 information. " Who was the boy who had been 
 down to the bottom of the Low Cut, and was 
 nearly drowned in the flood ? " So he asked the 
 question after evening chapel. 
 
 Six jumped up, but five sat down again. Beau- 
 clerc remained standing. 
 
 " Please, sir, it was me." 
 
 " That's bad English, boy." 
 
 " But it's true, sir, if you please." 
 
 " But it wouldn't have been less true if you had 
 said, ' it was I.' The verb ^ to be ' takes the same 
 case after it as before it. Did you know you were 
 doing wrong ? "
 
 A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 39 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " T\Tiat's your name ? " 
 
 " Beauclerc, sir." 
 
 " Whose house are you in ?" 
 
 " Mr. Pui'ser's, sii'." 
 
 "What form?" 
 
 " The shell, sii\" 
 
 " Then, Beauclerc, of ^Ii'. Purser's house, and 
 of the shell, I must flog you to-morrow morning 
 for doing what you knew to be wrong. The mo- 
 nitor of the shell will bring you down after first 
 lesson. 
 
 So Frank Beauclerc was flogged, not for Ipng, 
 nor for lessons, but for wilful disobedience ; and 
 Dobbs was quite right, and Mr. Cohdlle was quite 
 wrong. But the Doctor never forgot him, and 
 bore him especial favom- evei' afterwards.
 
 40 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYMMERSFIELD. 
 
 Goodness resolved into necessity. — Dryden. 
 
 We must go back a little way. The suburbs 
 of London are perhaps as beautiful as those of any 
 large city in Europe. They may lack the warmth 
 of Italy, the grandeur of Switzerland, the colour 
 of Eastern longitudes. As a homely, peace-loving, 
 picture-like variety of cultivated scenery they are 
 unrivalled. 
 
 Amongst tlie most beautiful of them is Lym- 
 mersfield. In its aspect it was uninterruptedly 
 rural, in its population so far metropolitan as to 
 exhibit comfort, not un frequently wealth, at almost 
 every door. Utter poverty was unknown at Lvm-
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYMMERSFIELD. 41 
 
 mersfield amoiio; the labourino; classes : it could 
 scarcely be called courtly, but it was eminently 
 respectable. Everybody, that was anybody, kept 
 a brougham. 
 
 A feAv years before the date of which we have 
 been writing, there arrived in that village a clergy- 
 man, his wife, and a few children. It was the sort 
 of family difficult to count, not difficult to name 
 when counted, for they had their idiosyncrasies. We 
 have nothing to do with them, particularly in this 
 story ; I mention them incidentally, because their 
 existence exerts an influence upon their father and 
 mother, who form connecting links with others of 
 my dramatis personce. 
 
 The Eeverend Harry Colville had no prefer- 
 ment, incumbency, or curacy of any kind ; he had 
 given up the latter after labouring in his vocation 
 as long and as honestly as he could. He was not 
 impressed with the responsibilities of cold and 
 hunger for his little ones beyond a certain point. 
 He was rather hardworking than much-enduring ; 
 and having done what he called his best, he took 
 four pupils and a house at Lymmersfield from an 
 outgoing tenant. 
 
 Harry Colville had been ordained five-and-
 
 42 
 
 twenty years ago. He had imbibed his notions of 
 discipline from a Roman Catholic lady, and of re- 
 sponsibility from the rector of his uncle's property. 
 To ride and shoot occasionally, but very well ; to 
 play a decent rubber, and lose points and sixpences 
 with good temper ; to carve gracefully at the 
 Squire's table, and not to exceed fifteen minutes 
 of very orthodox doctrine on Sunday. 
 
 That was theory ; what was the practice ? 
 
 A population of paupers ; an absent squire ; one 
 hundred per annum ; typhus, dirt, smells, bad ven- 
 tilation ; a lodging over a cheesemonger's, clothing- 
 clubs, Dorcas societies, daily school, Wednesday 
 evening lecture, tea, muffins, bad music, constant 
 toil, bad society, and an early marriage. The last 
 was the best, for it broke the spell. 
 
 The romance of a man's life is never gone, if 
 he be married to the w^oman he loves. There's a 
 motive for living, and a motive for living well; 
 and a tenfold streno-th of inducement is added 
 when there are children. They exist as a constant 
 antidote to trials, a constant reminiscence of God's 
 goodness. We seldom look at them without think- 
 ing of the Giver ; and sometimes it is the only 
 one of his bounties which recals him to our minds
 
 THE COLTILLES OF LYMMEESFIELD. 43 
 
 dui'ing tlie day. They force worldly and selfish 
 men to think for others as well as themselves, when 
 nothing else would do so. They are among the 
 best of Heaven's mercies. Presei've us from the 
 adoption of John Stuart ^lill's theory on this sub- 
 ject, say I. 
 
 So Hariy and his wife left Slavingf ord and came 
 to a comfortable house at LjTiimersfield, pupils, 
 children, and Jock. Jock was an old pony which, 
 I notice, all parsons keep, however pauperised. A 
 Jock costs nothing. 
 
 For a woman of thirty, I think Bessie Colville 
 was the most beautiful person I ever saw. She sat 
 at the head of her husband's table making tea for 
 him and his pupils, who all made love to her in 
 their simple ways : and she shed a shower of gold 
 over his poverty by the brightness of her mind. 
 Men said she governed him, if so, it was because 
 she governed herself. 
 
 " AYait a moment, Harry, I want to speak to 
 you," said she, after breakfast, dismissing his four 
 pupils with an unmistakable hint. 
 
 " I'll come to you after the things are taken 
 away." He slipt into the greenhouse to smoke a 
 cheroot, and returned in the course of a quarter of
 
 44 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 an hour. " Well, Bessie, you wanted to speak to 
 me?" 
 
 " I did ; and I do ; but I dare say you are going 
 to those boys, and I want a good half-hour. AVho 
 do you think has written to me ? " 
 
 " Tom Shirley," said Harry, without a moment's 
 hesitation. Tom was an old lover of Mrs. Colville's, 
 and he rather expected a rise out of her. 
 
 " No, dear, not Tom Shirley ; but it's an Indian 
 letter for all that." 
 
 " I know that." And then he guessed the names 
 of half a dozen old pupils. Civil Service, Company's 
 Army, Queen's Service, and everything else. 
 
 Bessie said " no " to all. 
 
 " I don't know anybody else." 
 
 " Yes you do. Do you remember Everard 
 Beauclerc, the colonel, whose property at Beauvale 
 has been out at nurse. He stayed with us just 
 before he went out with his }'oung wife, eight or 
 ten years ago." 
 
 " What, Everard ? of course I do. By Jove, 
 what a capital fellow that was; and wasn't he 
 handsome, Bessie? We used to be great chums 
 at Grammerton, and at Oxford, only he left with- 
 out taking a degree."
 
 THE COLYILLES OF LYMMEESFIELD. 45 
 
 " Would you like to see the letter ? " said Mrs. 
 ColviUe. 
 
 "Immensely; let's have it, that's a dear old 
 soul." And the dear old soul produced a limp, 
 but closely written, double-sheeted epistle from 
 her pocket. She was about leaving him to its 
 perusal. 
 
 " Oh ! I say, Bessie dear, this is — that is — it's 
 rather long ; I don't think I could read the 
 writing. You wouldn't mind reading it to me, 
 would you?" And he proceeded to lace up his 
 boots. 
 
 "That's very like you, Harry. You like ^im- 
 mensely' to do nothing but just your own 
 work. But here, sit down." 
 
 The letter was like an Indian letter. It con- 
 tained the news of several years. Colonel Beau- 
 clerc had risen in his regiment to the command. 
 He had shot tigers, been up the country, visited , 
 Cabul and the five rivers, been wounded at Fe- 
 rozeshah, assisted at a loot, had not forgotten old 
 England, and his dear Harry, and the old faces 
 at Grammerton ; had lost his wife, and finally 
 had a son. All this was detailed with admirable 
 skill ; and when Bessie Colville reached this cli-
 
 46 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 max, she paused to take breath, and (knowing 
 the contents to come) rather looked for some ex- 
 pressions of sm-prise. All Harry said was : 
 
 " Well, dear, so have we ; several. Except the 
 tiger hunt, it seems to be rather uninteresting for 
 so sharp a fellow as Everard." 
 
 " Don't be impatient," said she, and resmned. 
 
 The letter went on : " My boy, who is one of 
 the finest little fellows on earth, wdll leave this 
 for England as soon as I get your answer ; and 
 pray let it be at your earliest convenience, or as 
 soon as you and your husband can make up your 
 minds. Will you take charge of my little Frank ? 
 He is but nine years old, very intelligent and 
 docile; and I know nobody with whom I could 
 place him with so much satisfaction." Then fol- 
 lowed most liberal offers on the score of pecuniary 
 arrangements, expressions of entire coincidence in 
 Colville's views as to education, with only an im- 
 plied wish that the boy might have the advantage 
 of a public school, wdienever the time for it might 
 arrive. 
 
 Colville was one of those duck's backs of hu- 
 manity from which troubles usually ghded like 
 water ; but he had his hard trials, and the difficulty
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYMMEESFIELD. 47 
 
 of keeping tliem from the woman who would will- 
 ingly have borne two-thirds of them on her 
 shoulders, added to the burthen. It is but a 
 mistaken kindness after all. 
 
 The letter had really been uninteresting enough 
 to Harry Colville, and he heard but little about 
 the campaigning of his old friend ; but when she 
 came to the proposal and the liberal conditions 
 attached to it, he saw a pleasant addition to his 
 income for some few years to come. His mind, 
 which had been looking eagerly forward to next 
 year, when his present pupils might not be re- 
 placed, was a Httle upset by this very unexpected 
 relief; and when his wife had finished reading, 
 and looked up, she saw a very puzzled expression 
 in his face, and a tremulous twitching of the lips, 
 which she was at no loss to interpret, but which 
 she thought it prudent not to notice. 
 
 "Well, Harry; that's very lucky, isn't it? I 
 suppose you'd like to take the boy; he'd be a 
 companion for Charlie and Maurice." 
 
 " Take him ! " said he, jumping up in the reco- 
 very of his spirits, which good fortune sometimes 
 damped, but misfortune never, and giving his wife 
 a kiss, which might have been heard or seen by all
 
 48 
 
 liis houseliold for anything he cared ; " take him ! 
 I should think so. Oli, Bessie ! if you only knew 
 how anxious and wretched I have made myself 
 thinking about next year " 
 
 "Perhaps I do know, Harry, better than you 
 think." 
 
 " Oh no, you don't ; I take pretty good care of 
 that." Bless the man, how clever he was in his 
 own eyes ! " But upon my word, it is so uncertain 
 from day to day ; and then one fellow thinks this 
 ousht to be taught, and another wants his son to 
 have an occasional ride on horseback, if it is not 
 too expensive, and a third suddenly changes his 
 views, and requests you to send his son's books 
 home, and the things which he left behind, and 
 never dreams that it's customary to give or pay for 
 a quarter's notice, that I really have lived for the 
 last four years over a powder-magazine. How- 
 ever, it's all right now, Bessie, for some time to 
 come ; and you shall have a comfortable brougham, 
 and " 
 
 "Let's have some more furniture first in the 
 children's room, and an under-housemaid, dear ; I 
 don't care about the brougham." 
 
 " But we can have both ; and you know nobody
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYM:MEESFIELD. 49 
 
 thinks much of one here without a brougham ; 
 only one horse, you know; I do beheve it's as 
 cheap as flys." And away went Harry Colville 
 upon the strength of the Indian letter, forgetful 
 of all the accidents or obstacles that might happen 
 to rob him of his new som'ce of income; of the 
 thousands of miles that as yet divided him from 
 his pupil ; and of the possibility of illness or death 
 with the boy or others, adding one more to the 
 hundreds of disappointments he had experienced 
 in his speculative vocation. 
 
 ^Irs. Colville regarded matters from a more 
 sober point of view ; but she was not the woman 
 to put a spoke in the wheel of her husband's 
 happiness. 
 
 However, this time all went right. Harry's 
 prognostications of a successful issue turned out 
 true. There were no deaths, no quarrellings, no 
 extraordinary demands for things which Lymmers- 
 field could not produce, as Turkish bath, hack 
 ponies, gymnasia, a swimming master, a professor 
 of Sanscrit, a piano in his bedroom, or a French 
 cook ; and in the course of six months from the 
 receipt of the letter, little Frank Beauclerc took 
 his seat in ^Irs. Colville's nursery. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE BEATJCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 " Bessie, liow old is Frank ? " We have aiTived 
 at a period about six years later. 
 
 "Nearly fourteen; at least within six months 
 of it." Harry Colville's face lengthened, and he 
 was deep in meditation. He turned a few half- 
 crowns round in his pocket; perhaps they gave 
 him courage, for he said, 
 
 " It's time he went to Grammerton ; his father 
 and I were there long before that." Possession 
 brightens even a dull prospect. 
 
 "You'll be rather short of numbers the next 
 quarter; how many go up for their examination 
 at the end of the term ?" 
 
 "Two out of the four ought to do so." 
 
 "Will they both get through, do you think?" 
 Mrs. Colville was but a woman after all, ^^ithout 
 much ambition, and rather wished they might not. 
 
 " One of them will ; and so will Temple, if 
 they don't ask him certain questions in Euclid, or 
 history." 
 
 "What are they like?" 
 
 "Well, his present impression is that a recti- 
 lineal figure is contained by two lines; that 
 Charles I. was tried and executed by William of 
 Orange, and that Dr. Johnson was a dramatic
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYMMEESFIELD. 51 
 
 writer in the reign of Elizabeth. That's about 
 his form. It's no use to put those right, because 
 he breaks out then somewhere else." 
 
 "Is Frank fit for Grammerton ?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly. I'm sure his father would 
 wish him to go ; and it's better for the boy that 
 he should." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad we didn't have the brougham, 
 Harry ; we did just as well without it." 
 
 "I can't agree with you in that. It wouldn't 
 have cost " 
 
 " But it would have been very disagreeable to 
 have to give it up ; and now you have the money, 
 which you put by instead, against a rainy day." 
 
 "That's all very well; but I do think I'm 
 bemnnmor to be so well known now that I shall be 
 able to command a certain number of pupils." 
 
 " Yes, dear, so you ought ; for you work hard 
 enough, and with great success ; but don't forget 
 that you've children to come after you, who want 
 our help, as well as example." 
 
 " No, I won't : you're quite right. We'll send 
 
 Frank to Grammerton, where he shall have every 
 
 advantage that the school can afford him; and 
 
 we must knock off the second housemaid if we 
 
 E 2 
 
 UliRARY 
 
 U.NlVERSiTy OF tUiNWT
 
 should have a room or two empty after the next 
 examination. And, now, if I can c;et out for lialf 
 an hour, I sliould like a cigar to think over little 
 Frank's prospects at Grammerton." He stopped 
 a moment at the door. 
 
 " Harry," said his wife, " you look a little tired ; 
 you must go somewhere at Easter." 
 
 " That sounds very well, but her Majesty's 
 Army Examiners have settled that question for 
 us by fixing the examination in May. Of course 
 no tutor can leave his pupils a fortnight before 
 the time, especially with such peculiar notions as 
 Temple's." 
 
 "Why don't you write to the Times ?" 
 
 "Because it's unsatisfactory to write to any- 
 body with the certainty of not getting an 
 answer." 
 
 Mrs. Colville said nothing more, seeing that her 
 husband was in a humour wdiich scarcely wanted 
 improving. 
 
 Frank Beauclerc went to Grammerton, as we 
 know. His career there was more than respect- 
 able ; and we shall come back to him by-and-by. 
 Temple escaped some of the dangerous traps to 
 catch candidates, but not all. Havi)ig proved
 
 THE COLVILLES OF LYMMEESFIELD. 53 
 
 beyond all question that two sides of a triangle 
 are greater than the third, he astounded his exa- 
 miners by stating that fact to be " absurd." And 
 the Eeverend Henry Colville did write to the 
 Times, and got no redress. 
 
 " Don't you think it would do you good to take 
 three of the children down to Brighton, Bessie ? " 
 said Mr. Colville, wdien the pupils were supposed 
 to have retired to rest. "You want to see 
 Violet, who is gone there ; and you can't have a 
 better opportunity. You must want change." 
 
 "Nobody ought to w^ant change who hasn't a 
 sovereign to give for it. I want to see Violet, 
 Harry, but Violet is well able to afford the 
 luxury ; so, suppose we ask her here when she 
 comes back. I wish you were more prudent." 
 
 " Oh, you always say that ; just as if a sovereign 
 or two could signify. But all women are screws : 
 more or less," added he, as he recalled a few who 
 were not. 
 
 "Do you know wdiat somebody says. That 
 prudence is a necessary ingredient in all the 
 virtues, without which they degenerate into folly 
 and excess." 
 
 " Goldsmith says something like it, and was a
 
 54 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 brilliant example of his own theory, my love," said 
 Harry Colville. 
 
 In the possession of these two people was a 
 store of rough diamonds between them. I think 
 that those which fell to the parson's share, he had 
 endeavoured to polish ; they looked best to the 
 eye ; but I am sm'e Bessie had much the 
 greater number, and they were worth the most 
 money. 
 
 We must go a little further back again, and 
 introduce some more of our puppets ; after that 
 we shall go on more smoothly. Until we get all 
 the leading hounds out of cover we shall have no 
 chance of runnincj into our fox.
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MOTHEELESS CHILDREN. 
 
 The briefer life, the earlier immortality. — Milman. 
 
 In a room of handsome dimensions in Soutlisea, 
 facing the sea, in one of the best situations of the 
 town, and more than comfortably furnished, were 
 tw cribs. They contained occupants of from two 
 to three years old. The noiseless and cautious 
 tread of a professional nurse, the anxious look of 
 an Indian ayah who occupied a rocking-chair by 
 the side of a low fire, the darkened windows and 
 the hea^y atmosphere proclaimed the state of the 
 tiny occupants to be one of sickness. One was 
 fast asleep. Its delicate little features were pale 
 and wan. Its dark hair floated in long masses of 
 wavy curls on the wliite pillow. Its breathing was
 
 56 THE LEAUCLEECS, FATIIEE AND SOX. 
 
 lieavy, and its tiny hands and limbs occasionally 
 twitched convulsively. Still, the quiet of its long 
 dark eyelashes gave it rather the aspect of conva- 
 lescence than dangerous sickness. Not so the 
 other : her bright colour was fixed and feverish. 
 Her large eyes were open with an anxious, fearful 
 gaze. She sat up in bed ; and, as her nurse tried 
 to persuade her to lie down, the poor little girl 
 moaned feebly. She picked with one hand the 
 parched skin from the other, and as she tried 
 to drink some cooling and refreshing draught, 
 she swallowed with evident pain. Then the ayah 
 went to her, and the child, seizing her convulsively 
 as she bent over her, dragged her forcibly down, 
 and began to cry. Her lips were hard and dry, 
 and her hot breath frightened the poor woman, 
 wdio burst into tears, and sobbed aloud over the 
 sweet little face. 
 
 " There, sit down, do," said the niu'se, kindly, to 
 the Indian, leading her away at the same time, 
 " don't 'e take on so ; you'll only make her worse." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! my little one ! Won't she get better ? " 
 and then the woman began rocking herself again. 
 
 " You'll only make 'em worse. Look at Miss 
 Margaret — see how she's sleeping."
 
 MOTHERLESS CHILDEEN. 0« 
 
 "But my little one — oh, slie'll die!" And the 
 poor child began again to toss herself about in the 
 delirium of fever. 
 
 " We must hope for the best. Dr. Millingen 
 says the other one's better, and the turn o' the 
 fever '11 come to-night ; so don't be down-hearted." 
 Nurse found it very difficult to soothe a woman 
 who understood none of her duties but such as 
 affection prompted ; and not more than half of her 
 language. Affection is very valuable by a sick 
 couch, but we want firmness and judgment too. 
 In these latter the poor Indian was sadly deficient. 
 
 In a room immediately below the bedroom just 
 described, another scene, having reference to the 
 little sufferers above, was being enacted. Leaning 
 forward in an attitude of anxious attention sat a 
 very handsome woman of perhaps thirty years of 
 age. She was more than handsome; she was 
 very remarkable in appearance, and of a very 
 commanding presence, in figure as well as feature. 
 At the moment I am presenting her to my readers 
 she was engaged in listening to an intelligent, but 
 apparently very young man : he was explaining 
 the nature and treatment of the disease from which 
 the children were suffering. He was earnest ; but
 
 58 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 his voice was low in tone, as thougli unwilling to 
 disturb a reasonable sorrow, or to jar nerves strung 
 by manifestly painful tension. It was plain to see 
 suffering in the lines of the lady's face ; care and 
 want of rest. She had done her duty, more than 
 her duty, of watchfulness ; but a close analysis of 
 the expression of her face exhibited absence of ma- 
 ternal solicitude. The young medical practitioner 
 who sat opposite to her, had, however, failed to 
 discover this ; and her manner and language 
 evinced a strong, if not tender, anxiety for the 
 safety of the invalids. 
 
 " One, then, you say, will recover. Which is 
 it? But there can be no doubt of that?" And 
 she answered her own question m a disappointed 
 tone, as if one were a greater personal favourite 
 than the other. " The one sleeping when we came 
 down, nearest the door. And the other, Mr. Mil- 
 lingen ? Can nothing be done ? absolutely no- 
 thing ? " And she pressed her fingers to her lips, 
 and bit her nail Avith an impatience of sorrow not 
 common. 
 
 " It is only honest to — to — say that — well ! I 
 won't say nothing can be done. I have tried 
 everything. Nature may yet do more than ai't.
 
 MOTHERLESS CHILDKEN. 59 
 
 I will return with Dr. Jones the moment he comes 
 home : he is the safest man in Southsea. Oh ! 
 Madame Kosenfels, ours is a sad task to explain to 
 a mother " 
 
 " No, sh', no. You are saved that. I am not 
 then- mother. They are but cousins entrusted to 
 my care in India : it is almost as hard a task to 
 convey the intelhgence ; but not quite so bad as 
 that. Their names are Carloss, Violet and Mar- 
 garet Carloss. Poor Mary ! what a blow !" 
 
 ]\L.\ Millingen rose, somewhat relieved. He 
 looked so very young. 
 
 " Is the nurse I h ave trustworthy ? She was 
 recommended by my landlady; for, as you see, I 
 am a stranger in this place. Half Indian, half 
 German." She spoke, however, "s^ith no accent, 
 but remarkably well and grammatically, even for 
 an Englishwoman; occasionally only making use 
 of a Germanicism. 
 
 " Perfectly ; and your Indian servant ? " 
 
 " Will do all you tell her correctly, neither 
 more nor less." 
 
 " Then, madame, I will wish you good morning, 
 mitil I can return with Dr. Jones, who may give 
 us better hopes than I can. I think I have now
 
 60 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 the names entered in my memoranda correctl}', 
 Violet and Margaret Carloss? Thank you." 
 And Mr. Millingen took his hat and his departure 
 together. 
 
 When he was gone, Madame Rosenfels, as she 
 was called, did not go to the sick-room again im- 
 mediately. She drew her chair to the fire, and sat 
 moodily contemplating it for sometime; but she 
 shed no tears, and only said once or twice, "How 
 terribly unfortunate : poor little thing ! who could 
 ever have thought it!" Her face reassumed its 
 look of impatient perplexity. 
 
 The nurse came down to report progress two 
 or three times. The child was just as restless as 
 ever: no better — her sister, as she called her, was 
 sleeping calmly, and was cool and comfortable. 
 
 Then Doctor Jones arrived with Mr. Millingen. 
 Their united ages would have been that of two 
 average practitioners, for the physician was an oc- 
 togenarian at least. Mr. Millingen mistrusted his 
 own youth and inexperience ; he had not erred on 
 the same side now. I presume the two together 
 might have made up an average of two vigorous 
 intellects. 
 
 But the fact is that nothing could be done. If
 
 MOTHEELESS CHILDEEX. 61 
 
 all the Doctor Joneses in England, inclnding 
 Wales, liad assembled round that little fever- 
 stricken form, it was too late. That night the 
 baby died; and its innocent breath went np to 
 heaven, carrying with it the better part of life in 
 its death, it left a legacy of e\dl thoughts and deeds 
 behind it, like the gross refuse of some exquisite 
 perfume, when its essence has been allowed to 
 evaporate. 
 
 Dr. Jones brought no comfort to Madame when 
 he came down-stairs, excepting that everything 
 had been done which human skill could debase ; 
 but he took away a guinea. It was a very sad 
 one, though given without a sigh, and well de- 
 served. The old gentleman had spent a life in the 
 patient investigation of disease in this world, and 
 began to reap the fruits of his labours just as he 
 was about to go out of it. There is no one whom 
 the sick man so greedily calls for as the doctor, no 
 one from whom he gathers such comfort, such 
 relief, such encouragement ; there is no one so un- 
 willingly paid. We cannot think with Zimmer- 
 mann even, that the patient can often er do without 
 the doctor than the doctor without the patient. 
 The obligation, all said and done, is not even
 
 (j2 the beauclefvCS, father and son. 
 
 mutual ; the patient lias a great deal the best of 
 the bargain. If he live, he has bought back wliat 
 he prizes more than anything ; if he die, he goes 
 out of the world like a gentleman, with his phy- 
 sician by his bedside. 
 
 When the physician and the general practitioner 
 found themselves in the street, the former very 
 naturally offered his companion a seat in his 
 brougham. It was readily accepted, and Mr. Ml- 
 lingen seated himself well forward. It sQrved two 
 purposes, as a modest tribute to the superiority of 
 proprietorship, and as a letter of introduction to the 
 promenaders on the parade. 
 
 " Who's that young fellow in old tJones's 
 brougham ? " 
 
 " His name's Milligan or Millingen, or some- 
 thing of that kind ; seems to be in good practice. I 
 suppose he's been to a consultation ? " 
 
 " I suppose Jones does a practice of about ten 
 thousand a year ? " 
 
 " Quite that. Dunderhead gives him three hun- 
 dred and fifty for a daily visit." 
 
 " Well, Dunderhead makes it pay, for he does a 
 great deal of gambling in life insurances ; and the
 
 MOTHERLESS CHILDEEN. 63 
 
 Doctor s information, which is drawn out of him as 
 a mere matter of incidental conversation, is verj 
 valuable." 
 
 Whilst the passers-by speculated as largely on 
 the messengers of death as Lord Dunderhead was 
 supposed to do on the living, the tenants of the 
 well-appointed brougham had their subject of con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Then my little patient cannot recover, 
 Doctor?" 
 
 "Nothing short of a miracle can save her; 
 your treatment has been all that it could have been, 
 in my opinion. But I thought it was a ^Irs. Ko- 
 senfels, not Carloss ? " 
 
 "The lady is Madame Rosenfels, the child's 
 name is Violet Carloss. She is a guardian or go- 
 verness — their friends are all in India." 
 
 " A remarkably handsome woman," said the 
 Doctor, dogmatically. 
 
 "Very," replied the general practitioner, ten- 
 derly. 
 
 " I don't know when I've seen a more striking 
 face. Those fine dark eyes of hers, and her straight 
 eyebrows, are singularly classical."
 
 64 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 " They are so, Doctor Jones ; and lier very 
 stralf^ht, perfectly-formed features and excessive 
 paleness add to the effect." 
 
 " Precisely. Do you know, Millingen, I made 
 a pretty close study of physiognomy, formerly, and 
 I think I never saw a face exhibiting one cha- 
 racteristic so strongly." 
 
 " And what's that, Doctor ? " 
 " Can't you guess ? " 
 
 " The general character of the face seems good ; 
 and she exhibited great anxiety about the little 
 girl ; more than usual with guardians of children 
 that belong to other people. Yet her face has no 
 tenderness. Perhaps you mean patience ? " replied 
 Millingen. 
 
 ^' You're near the mark. It's active patience, 
 if that's not an anomaly. She has the character- 
 istics of the most indomitable perseverance. It 
 may be for good, or it may be for bad ; of course I 
 can't tell what her circumstances or education have 
 been ; but if she sets out on a scent she'll follow it 
 with the tenacity of a bloodhound." The Doctor 
 took a pinch of snuff. 
 " You think so ? " 
 " Look at her mouth, sir, look at her mouth —
 
 MOTHEKLESS CHILDEEN. 65 
 
 real Prince's mixture." This referred to the snuff, 
 not the mouth. 
 
 " So I did, Doctor, and it made mine water." 
 Here the gentlemen, both young and old, indulged 
 in a laugh. " Wonderful teeth." 
 
 " I never saw an under-jaw like that, with the 
 same conformation of features, that did not do a 
 great deal of mischief or a great deal of good. Let 
 us hope it may be the latter. Here we are." 
 
 " Good afternoon. Doctor. I'm A^ery much 
 obliged to you." Saying which, Mr. Millingen 
 took out his latch-key and let himself into his 
 modest abode. 
 
 The Doctor was right. That night the baby 
 died. 
 
 About ten o'clock the same evenino; the nurse 
 came to call Madame Rosenfels. 
 
 " Is the child worse, nurse ? " 
 
 " She's quieter, ma'am, but it's very near all 
 over. Poor little thinor | " 
 
 o 
 
 Madame Rosenfels followed her out of the room, 
 and went up-stairs. The little thing had subsided 
 into utter exhaustion from her prcAdous paroxysms. 
 Her forehead was moist, and her hair hung in 
 damp masses round her pillow. Her eyes were 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 6^ THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 half closed; and she uttered a low moan as the 
 ayah moistened her parched and blackened lips 
 from time to time. Madame Kosenfels came to- 
 wards the hed, and looked sorrowfully on the little 
 sufferer. She had been constantly to see them 
 both during the few days of their illness, and the 
 contrast was even painfully striking between her 
 present prostration and her late delirium. She 
 looked at her companion, who was sleeping peace- 
 fully, and in a fair way for recovery. Then she re- 
 turned to the sufferer ; and as she looked steadily 
 at her, perhaps into the future, her eyes grew dim, 
 and tears fell heavily and slowly, not in showers, 
 over the counterpane of the little crib. 
 
 " Baba, let me have that chair." The ayah 
 made way for her mistress, who, taking the child 
 in her arms, and wrapping her closely in the shawls 
 and blankets which surrounded her, pressed her 
 closely to her bosom and sat rocking her by the 
 fire. 
 
 The little hands played at first over the beauti- 
 ful features ; lisped the name of Aunty, which she 
 had been taught; and then put its gentle heavy 
 head upon the softest pillow that human sorrow 
 ever knows — a woman's breast.
 
 MOTHEELESS CHILDEEX. 67 
 
 The breathing was loud and irregular at first. 
 Then, as the hands grew tighter round the neck, it 
 became calmer and more regular. 
 
 Madame continued to rock, and looked past the 
 tiny head into the waning fire. Xot a word, not a 
 motion was heard in the room; and those large 
 bright eyes were fixed in sad and gloomy specula- 
 tion. An hour had passed, when the door-bell 
 rang. ^^ The doctor," said nui'se ; and Madame 
 Rosenfels woke from her reverie. She listened; 
 not to the door, or the step, as it tm-ned into the 
 drawing-room, but to the breathing of her little 
 bm-then. It was hushed. It was gone. How 
 still and quiet ! She put her gently down into her 
 lap. Alas I she had gone to sleep in Aunt Ady's 
 arms, and she never woke again. 
 
 From this period nothing remarkable happened. 
 Time wore on. Madame Rosenfels and her little 
 protegee continued to five together in the greatest 
 comfort and harmony. The ayah liad been sent 
 back to India with a family who required her 
 services; and !Mr. Millingen had called to inquire 
 after Madame and her sm'viving companion, not 
 of course with any view to his professional ser- 
 vices. 
 
 f2
 
 G8 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Madame paid his account with many expressions 
 of gratitude for his services. 
 
 "And would you only be kind enougli to correct 
 the name of my poor little girl on your account to 
 Margaret ? Margaret Carloss, not Violet — the 
 other is Violet. She scarcely knows her name, to 
 be sure, as she has always been called Pet. As 
 she gets older, we must give her her right title." 
 
 " A thousand pardons, madame, certainly. I 
 thought our poor little patient was Violet," and 
 then Mr. Millingen hesitated. " By the way, ex- 
 cuse my referring to a painful subject, but I rather 
 think" (he might have said he was quite sure, but 
 everybody adopts euphemisms at times) " that I 
 gave the wrong name to the registrar at the funeral. 
 I w^ill see about its being corrected before it is 
 placed upon the gravestone." 
 
 " Oh ! tliank you, very much, for your kindness. 
 May I rely upon you ? " 
 
 " Indeed you may, Madame Rosenfels." 
 
 Madame Kosenfels took a dislike to Southsea. 
 Comfortable as it was, much as she valued the 
 services of Mi\ Millingen, she could not but feel 
 the recollection of her first arrival to be painful. 
 She should leave it shortly. What for? Two
 
 MOTHERLESS CHILDEEN. 69 
 
 tilings mainly guided her. Masters for Violet 
 as she grew up, and society for herself. Old 
 Doctor Jones was nearly right. j\Iadame was 
 a woman of active resolution. In one week her 
 bills were paid, her rooms were vacant, and she 
 and her lyrotegee were gone. Her servant, one 
 maid to whom she entrusted her little girl, and who 
 waited upon herself, received a month's wages, and 
 was gone too. 
 
 Where to ? That was a great question with her. 
 A spa, a cathedral city, the seaside, or a London 
 subm'b ? Leamington ? Cheerful, clean, commo- 
 dious, witli a pretty country. Kot inexpensive, 
 though, and the sort of place where your next door 
 neighbour knows what you have for dinner; al- 
 most whether it agrees with you or not. Bath ? 
 Just as bad, and much hotter. Cheltenham? 
 Madame Rosenfels had no particular desire to fall 
 into the society of old Lidians. Chichester, Salis- 
 bmy, Canterbury ? Clerical society had no fasci- 
 nations for Madame, and canons are married or 
 unmarriageable. Brighton? She hesitated some 
 time over this. Considered the di'ainage question 
 seriously. It appeared to have most of the incon- 
 veniences of London without its conveniences. A
 
 70 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 suburb then ? within easy reach of the metropoHs : 
 tolerably good society, a dry soil, a small detached 
 house, and the sympathy of neighbours without the 
 inconvenient intrusion of friends. 
 
 She made inquiry in town, and found on the 
 books of a house-agent what she wanted at Lym- 
 mersfield. 
 
 " There's a small house to be let now, ma'am: 
 you can have a card to see it. It is detached, has 
 a small garden, and may be let for a term of years 
 on lease, or for one. Rent moderate. Say sixty 
 pounds a year. Stable and coach-house, small but 
 commodious." With which, he took his pen from 
 behind his ear, and commenced writing again, as if 
 his life depended upon it; as the manner of such 
 persons is." 
 
 " And the society?" 
 
 " A 1." Here he looked up, and struck by the 
 figure before him, added, '' I beg pardon, ma'am ; 
 very good indeed. We live there." 
 
 This seemed hardly to reassure Madame Rosen- 
 fels quite so much as it ought to have done. She 
 thought, however, that it was hard to condemn the 
 whole village for one ; so she went fm'ther. 
 
 " And when could I have possession ? "
 
 MOTHEELESS CHILDREN. 71 
 
 " Immediately, to-day, if it suits you/' said the 
 clerk, writing away. 
 
 "Is it furnished r' 
 
 " Fui'nished or unfurnished are our instructions. 
 Of course the rent is higher furnished. Eighty- 
 five. There's a card of admission. Only half an 
 hour from London Bridge." 
 
 " Rather a bad part of London to come to." 
 
 " Pardon, ma'am, we find it uncommon conve- 
 nient." Which most likely he did, as he was 
 writmg upon Fish-street Hill. 
 
 This constant reference to " us" and " I " jarred 
 upon Madame Rosenfels uncomfortably. Reflect- 
 ing, however, that she would not probably be 
 thro\\Ti much into the society of the young man 
 wdio was addressing her, she merely added : " Then, 
 if you will give me a card, I'll go down at once." 
 
 " Very good, ma'am," rejoined he, signing his 
 name with a flouiish. " Over the bridge, first on 
 the left. Lymmersfield and Flummerxton Station, 
 half an hour's drive, lovely country, sandy soil, 
 and beautiful church, lately built, and all open 
 seats, quite the right thing. Morning, ma'am." 
 
 Madame Rosenfels found the house and the 
 village nearly what she wanted. She took the
 
 72 
 
 house at once ; and by the time our acquaintance, 
 Harry Colville, arrived there, she and Violet Car- 
 loss were as much an established fact, and likely 
 to remain so, as the new open-seated church, the 
 gentlemanly grey-headed old vicar, Suet the 
 butcher, established in 1793, and the parish 
 pump. This latter institution was somewhat re- 
 markable, for it had been erected by the kindness 
 of a neighbouring nobleman on some auspicious 
 event of his life (birth or marriage, anything but 
 his death, I believe), and opened by two most 
 worthy churchwardens and an overseer, who re- 
 galed the school-children from its ample resources 
 subsequently to their singing a hymn, com- 
 mencing, 
 
 As pants the 'art for cooling streams, 
 
 an obvious compliment to the professors of hy- 
 draulic science. The history of Madame Eosenfels, 
 and the relation of how she came where she was, 
 is too important to begin at the end of a chapter.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MADAME ROSENTELS. 
 
 The world was sad ! the garden was a wild ! 
 And man the hermit sighed — till woman smiled. 
 
 Casipbell. 
 
 Adelaide Eosekfels, 7iee Yon Gasteiii, had 
 been brouglit up in a false position. It is the 
 worst thing that can happen to anybody. It 
 damps energy, misrepresents reaHty, encourages a 
 spirit of petulance and discontent, and perverts 
 valuable faculties from their proper objects to the 
 worst exercise of their powers. 
 
 Mademoiselle von Gastein was of German pa- 
 rentage, but born in England. Her father had 
 been one of those persons who, nobly born, could 
 never have been notorious, but for one of those
 
 74 
 
 numerous Smeutes which arc of the utmost signifi- 
 cance to Germans, and of none whatever to any- 
 body else. Enrrland became his home. lie mif'ht 
 as well have been hanged in his own country for 
 any good he was likely to do here. 
 
 He brought up his daughter with a theoretical 
 notion of her own importance, and a practical 
 knowledge of his own insignificance. 
 
 As she grew up she became exceedingly hand- 
 some, clever, and unscrupulous. She detected the 
 value of an empty name in a country where there 
 is a place for everything but incapacity. She 
 studied perseveringly, and in process of time, in 
 spite of father and mother, apprenticed herself in 
 a school of some eminence ; ostensibly as a sort of 
 parlour boarder, actually as a companion and 
 teacher of German and French; of both which 
 languages, from the father and mother s instruc- 
 tion and habit of conversation, she was a perfect 
 master. The extreme beauty of her face, as she 
 ripened into womanhood, secured her plenty of 
 favourites among the pupils ; and as Adelaide von 
 Gastein was intent only on making her way in 
 life, at any cost, she attracted the elder girls by 
 her injudicious indulgence of their foibles.
 
 MADAME EOSEXFELS. 75 
 
 Amongst tlie most constant and culpable of her 
 intimates was a weak, pretty, vain person, an 
 orphan of good position and fortune. Mary 
 Lanorlev could never have been an estimable 
 girl; but she might have been less selfish and 
 self-indulgent, had she chosen a companion of 
 higher principles, or one less fixed in bad ones. 
 Interest made Adelaide von Gastein unwilling to 
 lose sight of her ; and when she left Momit 
 Chesterton, to plunge into her vortex of London 
 society (there are vortices enough to swallow of all 
 sorts), her friend made a point of spending a week 
 or two T^-ith her eA'ery three or foui' months, when 
 she hstened to possible maniages, and probable 
 proposals, and exacted in return very substantial 
 offerinfTS for her forbearance. 
 
 When Miss Langley did really many Major 
 Carloss, a perfectly well-bred and singularly 
 inane old gentleman, with an eye-glass and a 
 wig, creaky boots, and a well-starched cravat; 
 when she transferred herself and her Three per 
 Cents, to the keeping of a man old enough to be 
 her father, for no earthly reason but to avenge 
 some fancied slla;ht of some vomifjer lover, Ade- 
 laide von Gastein assisted at the ceremony. A
 
 7G THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AXD SON. 
 
 year or two later, when the ^lajor accepted a 
 lucrative post as one of the now defunct Com- 
 pany's servants, the two women swore eternal 
 friendship on the shrine of mutual convenience and 
 confidence ; and the one gave and the other 
 accepted an invitation, as particular as it well 
 could be, to go out to Indiaj sliould matters not 
 take a favourable turn in England. 
 
 Matters did not take a favourable tm'n in 
 England ; whicli means that young Lord Splinter- 
 Bars, wdio had been feeling, as far as he could 
 feel, and expressing, but not in sufficiently explicit 
 language, his intense admiration for Adelaide von 
 Gastein, suddenly married Lady Rachel Hop- 
 pington, sister and co-heiress of the Marchioness 
 Turniptop, who made the match to save her 
 cousin Splinter-Bars, as she said, from a hand- 
 some adventuress. But women are very suspicious 
 of one another. 
 
 When Adelaide von Gastein sailed from Encr- 
 land she was the possessor of a very small fortune ; 
 but it was a something. Her parents had both 
 died ; her mother some years before ; her father 
 but lately — she was still in mourning, and it was 
 vastly becoming to her. From him she inherited
 
 MADAME EOSEXFELS. 77 
 
 wliat remained of a ]3roperty which, as he repre- 
 sented, had dwindled from a magnificent estate 
 to something under a thousand pounds. If a 
 shark is attracted by nothing short of a man's 
 thigh-bone or a leg of mutton, a j^erch, when 
 hungry, will run at anything. 
 
 Such a perch was on board the good ship Cor- 
 morant, bound for Madras in the autumn of 1830, 
 in the shape of a fellow-countiyman. M. Rosenfels 
 was a good-looking man, and not so blaze by the 
 charms of Parisian life but that he could feel for 
 the lonely situation of so handsome a person as 
 Fraulein von Gastein. 
 
 The voyage out was not unprofitably employed 
 on his part. He looked like an idler; he was a 
 gambler; who had passed through the fiery- 
 ordeals of Paris, Hombui'g, and Baden. Those 
 climates did not ao-ree with him. The homao-e 
 which was due to his talents ^\'as not tendered to 
 his reputation. He was seeking India, where he 
 trusted to lay subaltern improvidence under con- 
 tribution, and an extra thousand would be of 
 infinite service at the commencement of his cam- 
 paign. If it must be saddled with something, why 
 not with so strikino; a woman as mademoiselle?
 
 78 
 
 The young lady was touclied. She liad come out 
 to he married ; wliy not immediately ? The 
 strongest-minded women, and Adelaide was far 
 from heing the weakest, are vulnerahle at some 
 point. They have a tender heel, and judicious 
 flattery points the shaft with unerring aim. On 
 their arrival she sought the house and the counsel 
 of her friend, who was nothing loth that her dear 
 Adelaide should follow her own example. 
 
 It took but little time to undeceive her as to 
 the temper, resources, and honesty of her husband. 
 Madame Rosenfels had scarcely parted with her 
 last hundred pounds to this worthless scoundrel 
 (for what will not a w^oman do for any thing or 
 body she loves ?), when a quarrel took place at the 
 gambling- table of some officers up the country. 
 Monsieur was detected with the king concealed in 
 his hand, and was kicked ignominiously down- 
 stairs. As he had now got rid of all his money, 
 all his credit, and the greater portion of brains he 
 ever had possessed, he blew out the small re- 
 mainder of them with a pocket-pistol. An unbe- 
 liever has just courage enough to show the world 
 how much afraid he is of life. 
 
 No one could help sympathising with the de-
 
 MADAME EOSENFELS. 79 
 
 serted lady; and Major Carloss, who was nmcli 
 from home, in consequence of his appointment, 
 was dehghted to obtain for his pretty Httle wife so 
 desu-able a companion. Mrs. Carloss wanted no- 
 thing but some bosom into which to pour her 
 senseless comj^Iaints of her husband, the extent of 
 whose injustice seemed to be, that he was thirty 
 years older than his young wife. Could any one 
 answer the purpose better than her old bosom 
 friend, wlw at the end of a couple of years' sepa- 
 ration found herself in want of a home, and all the 
 necessities of civilised life ? 
 
 The two ladies lived very much together ; for the 
 married life of Major and Mrs. Carloss was not 
 a happy one, and he made his visits few and far 
 bietween. The Major had reason to complain, 
 though he did not go the right way to soothe nor 
 to subdue a frivolous, but pretty and inexperienced 
 woman, who looked for attention and flattery as 
 regularly as for her daily food. It would be too 
 much at this time to say that the conduct of Mrs. 
 Major Carloss had become criminal; it was only 
 vicious enough to induce the suspicion that it 
 might become so. 
 
 Circumstances favoured the conclusion.
 
 80 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATIIEE AND SON. 
 
 One of the handsomest and most reclierche 
 persons in India was Colonel Beauclerc, the father 
 of Frank, who has already been presented to the 
 reader. A chetah hunt or two, witli some wild 
 shooting, brought him into the Madras Presidency ; 
 and as that kind of meeting seldom terminated 
 without some sort of gambling, the least offensive 
 form in which that fashionable \dce can present 
 itself was postponed for a " finish." The Colonel 
 backed himself to ride one of his own chargers, 
 which he had brought from England, against a 
 native Arab, over four-and-twenty hurdles, distri- 
 buted over three miles of country, for a consider- 
 able number of rupees. The EngUsh horse had 
 to all intents and purposes won, when at the last 
 hurdle, which was insecurely fastened, he slipped, 
 and catching the top of it with his fore-legs, it came 
 down. Unable to release his feet from the bars, 
 the Colonel and his horse rolled helplessly over, 
 and when the latter extricated himself the former 
 did not. He was carried to the nearest convenient 
 house, which happened to be that of Major Carloss, 
 at that time the residence of his wife and her 
 companion. 
 
 The nursing proved a long and interesting
 
 MADAME KOSEXFELS. 81 
 
 business ; and after some weeks, wlien the shoulder 
 was put right, and the inteiTial injuries were de- 
 clared to be reduced, the handsome Colonel lingered 
 in a mlling captivity. He had been a widow^er 
 but two years. His reputation might have been 
 of service to his hostess if " f orew^arned " always 
 meant " forearmed," but it does not ; and when at 
 length absolute necessity compelled his retm'n to 
 the Bengal Presidency, he carried vrith him no di- 
 minution of his reputation for gallantry. 
 
 It was thought that the birth of a daughter, 
 some time afterwards, might have mended matters 
 in the ^lajor's bungalow. It might have been so, 
 and frequently is. In the present case it Avas not. 
 Indeed, it almost appeared that this messenger of 
 peace w^as rather a cause of regret to both. 
 
 When the weak and the strong come together 
 in mutual confidence, the weak get the worst of 
 it. They have always something to reveal. The 
 strong are guilty of no such infirmity, for they 
 keep their revelations to themselves. Mary Car- 
 loss had plenty to tell, and she told it. It scarcely 
 astonished her friend, but it is not too much to say 
 that part of her story shocked her. Adelaide had 
 few moral doubts about her friend's weakness, but 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE CEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 she scarcely expected to have had them cleared up 
 as they were. There arc secrets of which it is ex- 
 ceedingly unpleasant to be the depository. It is 
 but justice to her to say that she had nothing to 
 confess, unless it were a dogged perseverance to 
 regard the world as her oyster, and to open it. 
 She began with her friend, and a very good specu- 
 lation it was to trade on. In this partnership of 
 infirmities she brought less capital to the concern, 
 but had by far the more profitable situation in the 
 firm. The senior partner sometimes sighed for 
 more independent action, and it came to her sooner 
 than she thought for, and differently from her ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 Whatever Major Carloss's short-comings as the 
 husband of Mary Langley, he was a gentleman, 
 and always treated his wife's guest with the cour- 
 tesy due to a lady. On the present occasion he 
 did more. 
 
 " Madame Kosenfels," said he, during one of 
 his occasional visits, " I have a proposal to make 
 to you, which I think may be mutually convenient ; 
 that is, if you have any idea of ever returning to 
 England."
 
 MADAME EOSENFELS. 83 
 
 " I have been a long trespasser upon your kind- 
 ness " 
 
 " Not at all, maclame. You have rendered me 
 an essential service by your goodness to Mary, and 
 I can scarcely express to you how much I feel it." 
 
 The Major was perfectly sincere, and Adelaide 
 Rosenfels saw that he was so. She expressed her 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " What I was going to propose to you is this. I 
 am anxious that Violet should have the benefit of 
 an entirely English education." 
 
 '' I can easily believe it," rejoined the widow. 
 
 " I know no one so capable of superintending it 
 as yourself." 
 
 Madame Rosenfels felt sincerely flattered. 
 
 '' This little girl will have a handsome provision. 
 I propose to settle upon her the sum of ten thou- 
 sand pounds; the interest of this money to be 
 placed in your hands to be expended in her educa- 
 tion. I should propose to make you her sole guar- 
 dian and trustee, in conjunction with an old friend 
 of mine in England. At my death I shall leave 
 her an additional ten thousand, should there be no 
 reason for altering my intention in this respect." 
 g2
 
 84 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 The Major drew himself up, feeling that he was 
 acting liberally by the little girl. ]\Iadame Eosen- 
 fels bowed a gratified smile. 
 
 " The income," continued he, " from ten tliou- 
 sand pounds judiciously invested, will produce 
 about five hundred a year ; and with good manage- 
 ment I think two ladies may live upon it comfortably 
 for the present. 
 
 Again the widow Rosenfels signified her assent 
 to this proposition 
 
 " But I have another scheme by which the in- 
 come of the lady who shall undertake this charge 
 may be materially increased. I have a niece, of 
 whom you have heard me speak, Margaret Carloss, 
 the daughter of my brother Frederick : he is not 
 rich, not so well off as he might have been; but 
 I have thought that with the one hundred and 
 twenty pounds a year which he proposes to add to 
 it, a very good income may be made by taking the 
 two children together. Now I should like your 
 opinion of my project." 
 
 Madame Rosenfels was a lady firm of purpose ; 
 and that purpose had been a home for herself 
 whenever she saw the opportunity of making it a 
 desirable one.
 
 MADAME KOSENFELS. 85 
 
 " I think well of your project, Major Carloss. 
 But in my position it requires consideration." 
 
 " Pray take your time, and give me an answer 
 when it suits you to do so : there is no hurry." 
 
 " It is not so much time, as an explicit under- 
 standing of the terms. May I ask a few ques- 
 tions?" 
 
 " As many as you please. 
 
 " Do I understand that the control of this income 
 will be entirely in my hands ? " 
 
 " Entirely. If I had not sufficient confidence 
 in your discretion I should never have made the 
 proposition." 
 
 Madame Rosenfels felt more than flattered, but 
 she knew that flattery was but light sustenance. 
 
 " The control of the property will be ?" 
 
 " In the hands of yourself and my old friend 
 General Fletcher. It will, however, be handed 
 over to my daughter intact upon her marriage, or 
 upon her attaining the age of twenty-three." 
 
 It was a long time to look forward to, and a 
 handsome income for some years. 
 
 " And of the hundred and twenty pounds a year 
 for Margaret?" 
 
 " On precisely the same conditions. It is, how-
 
 86 THE r.EAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 ever, my 1)rother's intention to liave Margaret out 
 again when she shall liave finished her education. 
 Still I think that can hardly be for many years to 
 come." 
 
 " And the expenses of the voyage ?" 
 
 " Will be defrayed by me. The money will be 
 properly invested in the joint names of yourself 
 and General Fletcher, and a year's income in ad- 
 vance placed to }'our account at your banker's, on 
 your arrival in England." 
 
 " May I give my answer to-morrow. Major ? It 
 is a great responsibility, but the liberality of ^'our 
 conditions holds out a great inducement." 
 
 " I am glad you think so. In the event of my 
 death it will be equally secure to you. Of one 
 thing, however, I shall warn you. Do not let 
 Violet indulge hopes that it will ever be increased." 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " It is a great object to me, moreover, that the 
 cousins shovdd be together, and that the tie should 
 be strengthened in every respect. ]My brother, 
 though a poor man, holds a high position, and in 
 every respect but that of fortune is my superior." 
 As the Major said this, however, he drew him- 
 self up, looked at his boots, which were of the first
 
 MADAME EOSEXFELS. 87 
 
 order, and pushed up his neckcloth. At that mo- 
 ment his brother must have been a great man 
 indeed. 
 
 Within three days the preliminaries were settled. 
 Servants were en^acped. Little Maro-aret and her 
 ayah joined the ^Major's circle, neai' Madras, from 
 the Bengal Presidency. AYithin two or three 
 months adieux had been made. The ladies wept ; 
 one of them bitterly, for she was weak, the other 
 one conventionally, for she was strong. The 
 Major was but slightly affected ; but he was the 
 gentleman to the last, and pressed on Madame 
 Kosenfels a very handsome present at parting. 
 The voyage was auspicious ; and thus it was that a 
 veiy handsome lady and two little girls reached 
 Southsea. 
 
 Madame Kosenfels's triumph may be summed up 
 in a few words. A handsome income for some 
 years, and a few confidences which were worth 
 somethinsj whilst ^larv Carloss was alive. 
 
 But life is uncertain ; for one of the two children 
 was dead within three months of her return to 
 England. It was a contingency for which Adelaide 
 Rosenfels had not bargained. 
 
 It was a very trying time for that lady, but she
 
 got over it. Two letters were despatched to India. 
 One plunged a father in immediate sorrow ; the 
 other satisfied a mother that her darling was still 
 alive. As to the Major, he secured a considerable 
 sum to the protectress of his daughter in the event 
 of another such calamity. 
 
 But the child grew and prospered, and learnt 
 very little, having but slight inclination for what 
 is called book-learning. She "was healthy and 
 -wealthy, but not over-wise. Loving and lovable 
 at the time we speak of, wdien Frank Beauclerc 
 was still at Grammerton, and Madame Kosenfels 
 occupied the detached cottage at Lymmersfield. 
 
 Major Carloss had one son by a former wife, 
 many years older than Violet. He it was who 
 w^ould remain in the upper fifth form at Grammer- 
 ton ; who would lead armies in punts ; Avho fished 
 Frank Beauclerc out of the Saber with a boat- 
 hook ; and w^ho had joined the Hussars in 
 
 County Cork ; good luck to him !
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 FKANK BECOMES A MAX. 
 
 Imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remoto. 
 
 Ars Poet. HoR. 
 
 Now we start fair again. Five chapters and a 
 great deal of energy have been devoted to bringing 
 the candidates up to the scratch. At last they 
 are all there. About five years have transpired 
 since our last meeting at Grammerton ; and now 
 we are coming back again to look at little Frank 
 Beauclerc, and see what he has grown into, and 
 what he has been doing. We can afford to leave 
 the Colvilles and Eosenfels' elsewhere for a time 
 till we want them. Then we can pick them up 
 again and let them down, which makes imaginary 
 acquaintances so much more agreeable to manage 
 than those of real life.
 
 90 THE BEAUCLErtCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Speaking of real life, by the >vay, I must beg of 
 my acquaintances not to invest themselves with the 
 characters scattered about in my books, nor indeed 
 to dress up their friends or mine in such badly 
 fitting robes. I can make a coat to fit, or a cap, as 
 •well as most men; but I must protest against 
 this habit of regarding these pages as an old 
 clothes' shop, full of garments to be clapped 
 upon somebody or other. You see, if the waist- 
 coat fits, the chances arc that the coat does 
 not; or if the coat seems positively made to 
 order, be sure the breeches will prove baggy. If 
 you insist upon putting on these garments at ran- 
 dom, O reader, do not be disgusted or offended at 
 your own appearance, as a Holy well-street swell. 
 If you are not in such a hurry to recognise yourself 
 in your wretched costume, others will not be so 
 ready to do so either ; excepting your very best 
 friends indeed, who have alway* something plea- 
 sant to say, and invariably think they have caught 
 sight of you, where you would prefer not to have 
 been found at all. 
 
 Let Strabo squint, and Partus have a slight cast 
 in the eye. Strabo natm\ally becomes Pa3tus. A 
 knock-kneed young rascal may well style himself
 
 FEANK BECOMES A MAN. 91 
 
 Varus, and he of the club-foot become a Scaurus. 
 But why reverse this natural order ? Why delight 
 in accumulating on your own head all the depra- 
 vity of the rascal, or the extravagance and inanity 
 of the fool of the story, because the one wears 
 the same coloured clothes or the same shaped 
 hat as yourself, and the other is blest with the 
 same superabundance of rank or resources? 
 What good-natured friends you must have ! 
 
 But I have let slip my old acquaintance Frank, 
 of whose welfare I professed in the beginning of 
 this chapter to be curious. 
 
 What has he grown into ? Legs and wings, of 
 course. All fellows do about the age of eighteen. 
 At least those do who do not become set and stiff ; 
 and though they be strong, they have not those 
 characteristics of elegance and activity which are 
 essential in heroes, from the fashionable highway- 
 man upwards. He had good honest open eyes, 
 which looked men straight in the face — and women 
 too, sometimes, very much to their detriment. It 
 was a fine manly face, with a certain amount of 
 softness about it, which did not belie the natural 
 character, but which was all the better for the 
 capital training it had undergone.
 
 92 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 And what has he been doing? Not a great 
 deal, I admit. His intellect was made for wear, 
 not for show. " It wonld wash," so I think Swan 
 and Edgar would have described it. Fast colours 
 in the human subject do not always wash ; only 
 occasionally. What has he been doing ? His pro- 
 nunciation of French was execrable ; but, having 
 professed to learn it, he Avas not ignorant of that 
 language. Arithmetic he believed to be useful in 
 his intended profession, and mathematics generally, 
 but he did not know much of either yet ; he could 
 construe extempore a moderately difficult passage 
 of a Greek and Latin author or two, enjoyed 
 Thucydides and Herodotus, appreciated the wit of 
 a language more than its construction, and wrote 
 good Latin verses. Knew a great deal of Grecian 
 histoiy, but was not so fond of the Romans, whom 
 he regarded as of a harder nature than the Greeks. 
 Was no great hand at the " ologies," and always 
 averred that the first step to success was the study 
 of the things that lived on the crust of the globe, 
 and afterwards those that w^ere buried inside it. 
 In fact, his friends called him a very sharp fellow, 
 wdiich he w\as not ; but he had been doing enough
 
 FKAXK BECOMES A MAX. 93 
 
 to become a good scholar, and to have balanced 
 his mind in such a manner that difficulties were 
 sure to vanish before his application. 
 
 His last day at Grammerton has arrived. It was 
 the last day of the summer half, the examinations 
 were over, and to-morrow Frank Beauclerc would 
 be a man. So he thouo-ht or tried to think. We 
 have many of us had our last days, and felt very 
 much in the same manner. Few of us so modestly. 
 But we have managed to pull through, all of us, 
 with something to be thankful for to our school 
 days, and so will he. 
 
 It is a good warm summer's afternoon, time ten 
 minutes to seven, when the stumps are to be di-a^n, 
 and the match too, unless one side or the other can 
 manage to win in that time. 
 
 The gentlemen of Grammerton and the county 
 are playing their annual match with the school; 
 and there are plenty there to whom it is the great 
 occasion of the year. They are playing in the 
 school close ; and the walk round it and the mar- 
 quees are full of company. The ladies have not 
 on their worst bonnets, bibs, and tuckers, for the 
 occasion, you may be sui'e.
 
 94 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 There arc twelve runs to p^et, and ten minutes 
 to do it in ; and the last of the school eleven is 
 just going in, the ninth wicket having fallen. 
 
 "I say, Beauclerc, why haven't you been in 
 before?" 
 
 " Because the captain desired me to go in last." 
 Saying which he finished the last buckle of his 
 pad, and began walking towards the wicket as he 
 drew on his glove. 
 
 "What a shame of Scorewell not to have put 
 him in before ; don't you think so, Tremayne ? " 
 
 " What a young ass you are," says Tremayne ; 
 "just as if Scorewell doesn't know his own 
 business best." 
 
 "I know why he puts him in last," joins in 
 young Culpepper. " He wanted a steady man at 
 the end, to keep his wicket up, while somebody 
 else got the runs. And you see it's all right. 
 There's Slogger's got his eye in for hitting, and if 
 we've luck we shall just win." 
 
 " By Jove ! there goes old Goldicott, wdth his 
 cheroot : they're going to put on the slows. 
 That's to play against time. What a shame !" 
 
 Old Goldicott, of the Priory, Grammerton, was 
 an old Grammertonian, and an immense favoui'ite
 
 FEANK BECOMES A MAN. 95 
 
 witli the boys, except when he played against them. 
 He had been long time a dweller in Hindostan, 
 and had returned to live in his own and father's and 
 grandfather's native place, with an ample, if not a 
 very large, fortune. Nothing went on in Gram- 
 merton well without him, from a cattle-show to a 
 new pump ; but he was never so happy as when 
 he was playing football or cricket with the boys, 
 or indulging some of them in any legitimate way 
 he could think of. 
 
 "Well bowled!" shouted the elders, as they saw 
 one of Goldicott's slows drive Frank Beauclerc 
 nearly on to his wicket. 
 
 "Well played!" shouted the youngsters in 
 return, as they saw it placed safely to mid-wicket 
 off. The field came a little in, as it seemed clear 
 that Beauclerc's was not to be a hitting game. 
 
 The next ball was not quite so good, and was 
 put away between short-leg and the bowler for 
 one run. 
 
 Nobody spoke now, for the matter had become 
 serious. The field almost imperceptibly mdened 
 itself. Goldicott, too, felt a little nervous, for 
 Slogger was in fine hitting form, and not likely to 
 let off a loose one.
 
 9G THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 It was, however, anything but a loose one ; and 
 even Ashford, the reverend gentleman who kept 
 wicket, and was an old Gentlemen-and-Players 
 man, could not help an exclamation as he took the 
 ball within three inches of the top of the wicket, 
 and returned it to the bowler. 
 
 " Another coat of paint wanted ! " shouted the 
 young scoundrels from the tent — and then came 
 the last ball of the over. It was pitched a trifle 
 too far, and Slogger hit it for four. Yells from 
 the Lilliputians, who, however, were reminded of 
 their bad manners by the fifth and sixth forms, 
 and some not complimentary allusions to the Eton 
 and Harrow matches of last year. 
 
 Seven to win, and two more overs to do it in. 
 
 Oh! for youth, and hope, and the opening 
 scenes of the drama once more ! Should we spend 
 it in knocking about a ball with a block as sense- 
 less as ourselves; in stirring up the blood with 
 such unprofitable enterprise, instead of oiling the 
 mind from the midnight lamp, and wrestling to 
 the death with the realities of life? Indeed we 
 would, and we would knock it twice as hard, and 
 twice as often, were that, forsooth, possible, which 
 in our own case it is not.
 
 FRANK BECOMES A MAN. 97 
 
 Play : " Who's bowling at this end ? " inquired 
 Culpepper, of the fifth. 
 
 " Don't you know ? It's Lord Legbail's brother 
 — he's a swell, he is." 
 
 "But can he bowl?" 
 
 " Can't he just I that's all ! " says Tremayne, 
 whose English was about fit for the remove, I 
 presume. " Such a pace, too ! " 
 
 " That will suit Beauclerc ; he can hit fast 
 bowling," replied the other. 
 
 The truth of the remark w^as verified by a sharp 
 clean cut into the hands of point, who, however, 
 let it drop, and the youngsters, being quick be- 
 tween wickets, stole one run. 
 
 "Rather a hot one," said Mi'. Funckham's 
 friends. 
 
 " Well fielded," shouted his enemies ; for which 
 a fourth-form boy got a licking from Culpepper. 
 I remember at Grammerton we rather prided our- 
 selves on om- good manners ; they were best, how- 
 ever, when we were in company. 
 
 The next ball was a rattler ; but one was scored 
 for a " bye." 
 
 " That comes of wearing pads to stop in," said 
 the miserable sinner who missed it. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHEK AND SON. 
 
 " What's the score ? " said the players. 
 
 " Five to win," said the scorers. 
 
 "Play it out," shouted the youngsters. The 
 morning of life is the time to play out every- 
 thinir. 
 
 Beauclerc stood well at his wicket. He had a 
 good eye, and played with great steadiness. 
 There was time to wan, but it wanted a hit or two 
 to do it. The ball came fast, well up to the bat, 
 but was wide of the wicket to the leg ; it was just 
 the ball to be hit by a free hitter, but required 
 decision. 
 
 " A tenter," shouted the young ones again : 
 "three for the tent," said they, as the ball fell 
 within the ropes, and rolled behind the canvas. 
 Only two more; their ardour was irrepressible. 
 To have stopped them now would have been as 
 impossible as to have pulled up a " rusher " in 
 front of a double post and rails wheu he has been 
 once set going. 
 
 The over finished with no more. .Two to win ; 
 and Goldicott lit another cheroot after a short 
 consultation. 
 
 " Those beastly slows," said Beauclerc to him- 
 self, as Goldicott took a gentle hop on one leg,
 
 FEAKK BECOMES A MAX. 99 
 
 a peculiar inin of very short steps, and delivered 
 a ball which looked slower than ever. The field 
 closed in round the bat, but there w^ere no effects. 
 
 "Well kept down." 
 
 The next ball was equally good, and equally 
 well played. Two more runs to get and two 
 more balls. The Doctor was out, and his wife 
 was out. The more lovely daughters of a lovely 
 mother were there; and one of them felt a — 
 shall we say sentiment ? — for this fortunate 
 youth, Beauclerc, which only wanted careful en- 
 couragement to have developed into la helle 
 passion. They would have lost the match had 
 he known it. As it was, he saw them, and re- 
 garding them as mortals, played accordingly. 
 
 The ball w^as bowled by no means so straight 
 as its predecessors, and Frank, taking advantage 
 of the opportunity, cut it clean past cover-point 
 with such hearty good-will that the rmis were 
 called before the ball was stopped. 
 
 He was chaired on the shoulders of a couple 
 of unlettered giants, pressed for that purpose, and 
 received with a cordiality that would have damaged 
 a less enduring back than his. It was a fine finish 
 to his career at Grammerton. 
 h2
 
 100 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 " Where arc you going ? " said a liuiidred 
 voices. " Where are you going, Beauclerc ? 
 Come into my study; there's tea all ready." 
 " Tarts and rum punch," said another, clandes- 
 tinely, " in number six." 
 
 " I hope you are not engaged, Beauclerc," said 
 the Doctor. 
 
 " Indeed I am. I am so sorry, sir, but " 
 
 "Not a word, my good fellow, not a word. 
 We wanted to take leave of you once more ; but 
 you're going to sup with my old friend Goldicott. 
 It's better for you ; you'll leave with a happier 
 impression " 
 
 "No ; really, sir." And Frank began pro- 
 testing, with great truth ; for he loved the Doctor, 
 though he preferred supping with Goldicott. 
 
 " I knew you had leave to go. I ought to have 
 recollected it ; but come and say good-bye to us 
 to-morrow before you go for good. Come to 
 luncheon." And the fine old scholar-like gentleman 
 walked slowly away, followed by the young ladies 
 and the three best boys in the school to partake of 
 his hospitality, but whom he did not like half so 
 much as the gallant fellow who had just won the 
 match for them.
 
 FEANK BECOMES A MAX. 101 
 
 Tom Goldicdtt was better known than any man 
 within a circle of ten miles of Grammerton. His 
 father had lived there before him ; but that is not 
 the only reason for his popularity. He himself 
 left the Priory, which was but a better sort of villa, 
 when he had passed at Haileybury for the Com- 
 pany's service ; for he did not think that a man 
 who hunted on two horses was justified in making 
 an eldest son an idler. Ten horses would have 
 been different, he said. Then he w^ould have shared 
 the honour and the profit, and been thankful. As 
 it was, the patrimony was not enough to do good 
 with after his enlarged views, and was sufficiently 
 tempting to lead him into evil. ^^ No, no ! my 
 brothers and sisters will want their share ; and as I 
 should like to come back and live in the old house 
 like a gentleman, without robbing them, I'll go to 
 India. Warren Hastings can't have stripped all 
 the Begums bare on that immeasurable peninsula : 
 besides, some more must have grown up since then. 
 I'll go and see what I can do." 
 
 So he went away, and he never came back again 
 until his father's death ; and then brought rupees 
 enough to enlarge the house, and clean out the 
 ponds, and take care of his sisters, and subscribe
 
 102 THE EEAUCLErtCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 to the charities, and farm high, and breed sliort- 
 horns and long fleeces, and to take an active lead- 
 ing part in eveiy association that was likely to do 
 good to his country. By the Grammerton fellows 
 he was idolised. They ran their paper chases over 
 his farms, went birds'-nesting in his hedgerows, 
 fished his water, jumped his gates, and established 
 a right of way for themselves over his enclosures ; 
 and in retui'n for it all, they shouted his name on the 
 speech-day after the Queen and the Koyal Family, 
 and received it with equally vociferous applause. In 
 fact, he had come back at five-and-forty as much 
 a Grammerton schoolboy as he had gone out at 
 eighteen : and no cricket-match between the town 
 and the county, or the school and the old Gram- 
 mertonians, would have been considered perfect 
 without Tom Goldicott. They would have pre- 
 ferred him to George Parr. He presided at the 
 dinners, was chairman of the board of guardians, 
 a justice of the peace, great at open-air festivities, 
 archery parties, and pic-nics : and when a happy 
 accident made an opening in the county, you may 
 be sure that Tom Goldicott proposed or seconded 
 somebody on the Conservative interest. He always 
 gave the bishop a dinner when he came to confirm
 
 FRANK BECOMES A MAN. 103 
 
 tlie people, in pity to the excellant diocesan, wlio 
 preferred the Priory claret and delicate fare to the 
 Rectory port and the roast and boiled of the un- 
 ambitious vicar. 
 
 And this is the man towards whose house, as a 
 wind-up of the summer half, Frank Beauclerc and 
 eleven of his companions are making their way to 
 supper. We call it supper because it took place at 
 nine o'clock ; a sociable meal after a cricket-match, 
 which released us from some of the formidable 
 courtesy of a set dinner ; and pleasanter, when we 
 take into consideration the time of year. 
 
 " Beau, you are a great swell, it seems to me. 
 You know that the eldest girl is engaged to young 
 Peckwater; they're to be married as soon as he 
 takes his degree. So that's no go." 
 
 " I can't return the compliment, Slogger, old 
 fellow ; you look as if you hadn't seen soap and 
 water for a fortnight. And that coat of yours " 
 
 " Ah ! I know. Well, I couldn't help that, you 
 know ; 'cos that Dinah had gone and packed up 
 all my things to go to-moiTow." 
 
 Dinah at Grammerton was something like ma- 
 jesty ; Dinah never died. 
 
 " That's a pity; because the youngest girl isn't
 
 104 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATIIEll AND SON. 
 
 engaged to be married, and you don't know wliat 
 a clean shirt does for a fellow who isn't accus- 
 tomed to indulge in the luxury often." 
 
 " Oh ! come, hang it ; that's too bad, Master 
 Beau. It is clean ; for I took it off Lather's bed, 
 as I couldn't get at one of my own." 
 
 " That's good," said Beauclerc, laughing, in 
 which the rest joined, as they turned into the 
 Priory gate ; " that's rather good. It's the one 
 Lather has just taken off. But he's not a fellow 
 that ever exerts himself much, so I dare say it 
 will do." 
 
 Whatever qualms might have been felt on the 
 score of dress-coats or patent-leather boots, they 
 were set aside at once by the appearance of Tom 
 Goldicott himself at the door to receive his guests, 
 in a beautifully clean suit of white jean, and 
 smoking a Manilla cheroot. He was a scrupu- 
 lously neat person, but had imbibed his notions of 
 propriety in a school of his own. The boys were 
 at their ease at once. 
 
 There Avas a ]\Irs. Goldicott — a small, bright- 
 eyed, pretty woman of forty, who had been mar- 
 ried young. She was Indian all over — her dark
 
 FEANK BECOMES A MAN. 105 
 
 eyes, inenergetic manners, and luxurious shawl ; 
 it was a favourite article of toilet witli her. 
 
 " My dear, I think you know most of these gen- 
 tlemen ? Frank Beauclerc's father is an old friend 
 of yours in India." 
 
 Mrs. Goldicott shook hands with them all, as 
 they came up in a shy manner, in Indian file (out 
 of compliment to theii' host, as Frank told them 
 afterwards), and then made room for Beauclerc on 
 the sofa. 
 
 " Your father ; oh ! was that your father that 
 we knew at Calcutta ? The most charming person 
 I ever knew. You're very like him, only rather 
 younger-looking." 
 
 Beauclerc laughed. " Well, I suppose I ought 
 to be ; as he's my father, he's sm'e to be the elder 
 of the two." 
 
 " Of course," said the little woman, falling back 
 on a cushion ; " but it's twenty years ago I'm 
 thinking of ; so, you know, it wasn't such a stupid 
 speech after all." 
 
 " Stupid ? " and Frank began to stammer 
 
 apologies, when Tom Goldicott came to the rescue. 
 
 " I've seen your governor (the best of fellows
 
 106 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 are often a little unrefined in their language) 
 several years later than Mrs. Goldicott, who came 
 home long before me. He's the youngest and one 
 of the most agreeable men in India." 
 
 " I remember him well. He was very young- 
 looking twelve years ago." 
 
 " Why, how old were you when you first came 
 to England?" 
 
 " About eight, I think." 
 
 "Would you know him if you met him to- 
 morrow, Beau?" said one of the small Grammer- 
 tonians, in a confidential tone, to his senior. 
 
 " I don't think I should, quite, unless I expected 
 to see him." 
 
 " I say, Avhat a rum thing it must be not to 
 know your own governor." 
 
 " Surely not for you, Dufferling, because it's a 
 "vvise child that knows its own father." And then 
 Tom Goldicott, having administered his witticism, 
 turned attention away, with a good-natured laugh, 
 from the discomfited one, by introducing Slogger 
 as the hero of the day. 
 
 " Mrs. Goldicott, you'll be delighted to make the 
 acquaintance of Slogger, who distinguished himself
 
 FKANK BECOMES A MAN. 107 
 
 exceedincrly as^ainst us : in fact, Slocjcrer won the 
 match.*' 
 
 It T^ill be perceived that Tom Goldicott was a 
 bit of a farceur^ and felt bound to keep his guests 
 amused till the supper was on table. 
 
 " Noj su'," said a matter-of-fact youngster ; " it 
 wasn't Sloo^CTer ; it was Beauclerc won the match 
 with that beautiful cut to cover-point." 
 
 " Well, then, come along, young 'un, and we'll 
 drink both their healths." 
 
 So Mi's. Goldicott led the way with Frank, while 
 Slogger followed with Miss Goldicott, a very pretty 
 girl in a maze of white muslin and cherry-colom*ed 
 ribbons, and Dufferling closed the procession ^^4th 
 a second edition of the muslin and ribbons, only, 
 being bright-haired, in blue. A miscellaneous rabble 
 (Tom Goldicott magna comitante catervd) hmig upon 
 the steps of the advanced guard. 
 
 Nothing could be better than the supper, except- 
 ing the appetites. 
 
 " Well done, Slogger ! " said the jolly old Indian, 
 from the top of the table. "How do you feel 
 now ? " Slogger had just passed on the claret-cup 
 to Tremayne. " How do you feel now ? "
 
 108 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AXD SON. 
 
 "Awfully jolly!" said the KSlogger, recom- 
 mencing on the viands. 
 
 " I'm glad to see old Armstrong doesn't neglect 
 your English." 
 
 " I don't understand exactly, sir," re2)lied he. 
 
 " I mean, that some young gentlemen and ladies 
 of my acqviaintance find everything * aivful jolh/,' 
 which is not such good grammar as yours, that's 
 all." Here he looked at his youngest * daughter, 
 who said, '' Oh ! pa," and pressed her hand- 
 kerchief to her face with a becoming modesty. 
 " Now", boys, let's drink Dr. Armstrong's health. 
 If it hadn't been for him, you youngsters wouldn't 
 have been here to-night, for I meant to have had 
 the eleven. Have some more tart, Chesterton ? " 
 
 " Not any more, thank you," said the boy, who 
 was a most jovial-looking little fellow, and Avhose 
 appearance belied his abstemiousness. 
 
 " I think Chcssy could do it, Mr. Goldicott, if 
 he might stand up to it," suggested his neighbour, 
 who had made great play with the champagne and 
 claret-cup, whatever abstinence he had observed 
 among the tarts and custards. 
 
 " Thank you, my dears. Now my fan ; thanks ; 
 and now my gloves; they are somewhere under-
 
 FEAXK BECOMES A MAX. 109 
 
 iieatli the table." Upon which there ensued a 
 dive of little heads, which returned with the scat- 
 tered treasui-es among them ; and then Mrs. Gol- 
 dicott prepared to go. Frank Beauclerc, Slogger, 
 Tremajne, and one or two of the oldest of the 
 party, who did not appreciate such an address, but 
 left that part to the lower schoolboys, rose at 
 once, and bowed that lady out with a vast amount 
 of full-grown coui'tesy. The young ladies fol- 
 lowed. The boys lost nothing of their claims in 
 their hands : they were regarded and treated with 
 considerable hauteur after their social meal. Both 
 parties played at ladies and gentlemen to perfec- 
 tion. Slogger never felt the least uncomfortable 
 in his second day's linen and week-day clothes 
 until he was addressed with such profound polite- 
 ness by Miss Isabella Goldicott ; then for the first 
 time he regretted Dinah's obstinacy or precipi- 
 tancy, and his own w^ant of a dress-coat. It is a 
 comfort to think that it had not affected his 
 appetite. His sense of dignity came too late for 
 that. 
 
 " Xow, young fellows, I'm not going to get you 
 into a row by keeping you here too late. I pro- 
 mised the Doctor you should be home by eleven.
 
 110 
 
 You've lialf an hour more, so make tlie most 
 of it." 
 
 Then the conversation became general ; tliat is, 
 it varied from cricket to football ; from jolly fel- 
 lows to beasts and sneaks. A corner was kept for 
 our big brothers, and somebody's pony took a 
 prominent part in it. There was a mention of a 
 pic-nic at our place, and a young cockney w^as great 
 on theatres. Frank Beauclerc has found a ready 
 informant on Indian life, and an interesting 
 theme in the scrapes, talent, good looks, and 
 popularity of his own father. Slogger and Tre- 
 mayne were arguing the merits of the last Uni- 
 versity boat-race, the former maintaining that the 
 boat was in fault, and that the stroke had injured 
 his wrist the day before, the latter offering to 
 lay the most frightful odds on Oxford for next 
 year, and pulling out a small memorandum- 
 book and gold pencil-case in earnest of his inten- 
 tions. 
 
 Presently it was time to take leave ; so the 
 well-fed and judiciously-liquored little rascals 
 pressed around Mrs. Goldicott, and offered her 
 the choice of some very warm hands. She shook
 
 FEANK BECOMES A MAN. Ill 
 
 one or two, but the exertion was too much, so she 
 sunk back and nodded a o-eneral " o-ood niMit," 
 distinguishing Slogger by name. The young ladies 
 bowed with much graceful condescension. 
 
 " I hope when your father comes home, he will 
 come to see me, Beauclerc," said jVIrs. Goldicott, 
 tendering him a hand, " and that you will come 
 with him. We shall all be very glad to see you 
 again, shan't we, girls?" 
 
 " Oh yes, mamma!" said both of them at once, 
 presenting the object of their newly-aroused incli- 
 nations with a hand as they spoke. 
 
 " Beauclerc, I'll walk with you a little way. I 
 shan't be long, my dear." And lighting a cheroot 
 from a taper on the mantelpiece, he opened the 
 door and followed Frank. 
 
 " What a handsome boy," said the mother ; " so 
 like his father." 
 
 " Charming young man," said the girls. " Did 
 you see his studs, mamma?" 
 
 " And Mr. Tremayne says he's veiy clever ; he's 
 going to leave to-morrow to go into the army." 
 
 "He'll have a very good fortune, too, girls. 
 His father has, or will have, the Beauclerc pro-
 
 112 
 
 perty, besides a good sliare of the Anglo-Banian 
 Bank." 
 
 Isabella looked down at lier blue ribbons and 
 white gauze, and Miss Goldicott smoothed down 
 her hair, which was certainly magnificent, and 
 naturally cr'tpu. 
 
 Frank and his late entertainer turned through 
 the garden gate towards the town of Grammerton. 
 
 " Will you have a cheroot, Beauclerc ? I don't 
 often offer one to you fellows, but I suppose the 
 last niiiht of the half there's not much harm ;" and 
 he held out a small cigar-case. 
 
 " No, thanks ! The fact is, I was caught, and I 
 promised Armstrong not to smoke again while I 
 was here. I don't think I'm exempt till to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " You're quite right, having made the promise, 
 to keep it to its legitimate end ; besides, it's a very 
 bad habit for young fellows to get into." 
 
 " I shall begin to-morrow." 
 
 " You don't really like it ? " 
 
 "Do you, Mr. Goldicott?" 
 
 " Well, as a matter of habit ; once I did it out 
 of opposition."
 
 FEAXK BECOMES A MAX. 113 
 
 "Just SO. Perhaps I do so too. But I re- 
 member years ago vowing that I'd smoke when I 
 was my own master, because I saw Mr. Colville 
 do it, and he looked so comfortable in the middle 
 of all his troubles." 
 
 "WhoisMr. ColviUe?" 
 
 " He's a private tutor, at whose house I've lived 
 since I came to England, and to whom I'm going 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " A private tutor ! poor man ! then he must 
 have wanted a narcotic. I wonder whether he is 
 a relation or connexion of a family of the name 
 of Carloss?" 
 
 " Yes ; a distant one. There's a little girl, at 
 least she's about fifteen, lives in our village, named 
 Violet Carloss." 
 
 "Violet Carloss! Then he's the same man I 
 recollect years ago ; he was a fellow of Tri- 
 nity." 
 
 " And a very good fellow too, I can tell you ; 
 and such a nice woman his wife is. I'd just 
 as soon be with them as at my own home. 
 Besides, I expect my father home in a year or 
 two." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 
 
 " Aiid do you know the Carlosses, too ? " Old 
 Goldicott seemed to be still absorbed in his own 
 reminiscences. 
 
 " You forget. I have never been in India since 
 I was quite young." 
 
 " True ; but your father was very intimate with 
 them. The women were very good-looking ; and 
 all the good-looking women liked him. He was a 
 irreat favourite of Mrs. Goldicott, I can tell you. 
 There was a very handsome German woman, too, 
 a sort of companion, who lived with them, a 
 
 Madame What's-her-name." 
 
 "Rosenfels, perhaps," suggested Frank, who 
 seemed to have nothing better to say. 
 
 " Rosenfels, to be sure it was ; how the deuce 
 did you know that? The Avomen seem to have 
 made some impression upon you, though you have 
 forgotten the old Major. Ah ! he was a gentle- 
 man, though rather of the slow school. He was a 
 good officer, too, and as brave as a lion. He only 
 died three years ago. But what makes you recol- 
 lect Madame Kosenfels so well?" 
 
 " She lives in Lymmersfield. So of course I 
 know her. But I recollect nothing about her. I
 
 FKANK BECOMES A MAN. 115 
 
 believe tlie Carlosses were in Madras when we 
 were in Calcutta." 
 
 " All ! not your father, Beauclerc, for I've seen 
 him up at Carloss's, in the hills, after a fall, or an 
 accident of some kind." After smoking a few mi- 
 nutes in silence, Goldicott said, " Violet Carloss 
 with Madame Rosenf els ; oh ! I see now. I sup- 
 pose Violet is the Major's daughter, and came 
 home with her." 
 
 " Yes ; Major Carloss was her father. I know 
 this only from the CohiUes, for I have scarcely 
 seen her half a dozen times in the last five years ; 
 and I didn't know her at all before that. Madame 
 Eosenfels must have been very handsome indeed. 
 I've seen her in church : and she has been at the 
 Colvilles', but not when I was there." 
 
 " Be careful, Beauclerc ; she's said to be a veiy 
 clever woman ; and Miss Violet ought to have a 
 little money. There was something not quite right 
 between the Major and her mother, I quite forget 
 what : some sort of unpleasantness. However, 
 they are both dead now, and I suppose the girl 
 will have her mother's fortune. Her half-brother 
 was here a few years ago." 
 I 2
 
 116 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 The old Indian had finished his cheroot; they 
 stood before the school-house, and it was eleven 
 o'clock. He shook hands with Frank Beauclerc ; 
 begged his regards to his father when he wrote, 
 and wished him success in the course of life he had 
 chosen. One went to bed to think of the career 
 that was opening before him, to sleep upon the 
 roses that appeared to strew his path with sweets 
 from the morrow's dawn ; the other to remind his 
 wife of their former cheerful friend and compa- 
 nion, Everard Beauclerc, and to ask her whether 
 she recollected the Carlosses and other people, and, 
 above all, a veiy beautiful Madame Rosenfels, in 
 the Madras Presidency. 
 
 Mrs. Goldicott would fain have gone to sleep, 
 thinking that bed was made for that, and life for 
 bed ; but her husband roused her by a rather per- 
 tinent question or two. 
 
 " Madame Rosenfels ? of course I do," said the 
 lady, rather tartly, seeing that Mr. Goldicott 
 among others had been slightly smitten by the 
 charms of the humble companion and adven- 
 turess. 
 
 "And don't you remember that pretty little
 
 FRANK BECOMES A MAN. 117 
 
 !Mrs. Carloss? There was some sort of row be- 
 tween the Major and his wife ; not exactly a sepa- 
 ration; but something, I've forgotten w^hat. I 
 thought Frank Beauclerc might have heard of it, 
 being much with Indian people. 
 
 " Why, Tom, you don't mean to say you have 
 been asking that handsome boy about the Car- 
 losses and their business ? " and the lady raised her- 
 self in bed. 
 
 " Indeed I do ; why shouldn't I ? There's no- 
 thing wrong in it, I suppose ? " 
 
 " There, go to sleep, you stupid old man. Why, 
 it was that boy's father, Everard Beauclerc, that 
 was supposed to be the cause of the quarrel. It's 
 well it's no worse. I foro;ot all about it. How- 
 ever, it's clear the boy has never heard of the 
 scandal. So good night." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later our old friend Tom 
 Goldicott was fast asleep, and regardless of all 
 intrigues, Indian or British ; while !Mrs. Goldicott, 
 in spite of her soporific nature, woke up occa- 
 sionally with a languid laugh at her husband's 
 blunder, and a malicious regret that he hadn't 
 made the remark to the father instead of the
 
 118 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 son. The little woman remembered that it took a 
 little time to forgive the Colonel on his return to 
 Calcutta, and that nothing but the habit of deal- 
 ing with the Beauclerc peccadilloes leniently got 
 him into favour again. So true it is that one man 
 may steal a horse, when another must not be seen 
 looking through the stable ^^indow.
 
 119 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 A REAL WOMAN. 
 
 &) KaWt(f)€pp€s 7]Xtov aeXas. — EuR. Troiades. 
 
 "Haery, you look tii-ed," said Mrs. Colville. 
 For we must change tlie scene from Grammerton 
 to Lymmersfield. 
 
 "I look as I am, my dear; and these Army 
 Examiners have done me out of part of my vaca- 
 tion again. You know I got no Easter, because 
 they had fixed the examination for May : and now 
 I must go on till August." It was a warm day in 
 June, and Harry Colville gaped at the anticipa- 
 tion.
 
 120 
 
 " Who are going up this time ? " 
 
 " Standish : he's siu'e to come back again. He's 
 been educated entirely on the modern system, and 
 consequently knows nothing of English. Bentley 
 has been taught nothing in the world but Latin and 
 Greek : so that he's pretty sure to be plucked for 
 Mathematics and History. Still he may pull 
 through, for it has taught him to spell his o\vn 
 language, and to write the essay of a scholar and a 
 gentleman ; thanks to his classics." 
 
 "And Frank? What do you think of him? 
 He comes to-morrow." 
 
 " I should think Frank is quite safe, thanks to 
 your teaching when he was a child, and Dr. Arm- 
 strong's since he has been a schoolboy. Ah ! it's 
 an ill wind that blows nobody any good. If he 
 likes to go on reading at once, I can get him 
 through in August ; and then I shall not regret the 
 labour." 
 
 " Harry, you never regret labour for other 
 people." 
 
 " I never regret it for you and the children, my
 
 A KEAL WOMAN. 121 
 
 love ; and some day or other we shall be repaid for 
 it — at least I always think so." 
 
 " One thing you're not deficient in." 
 
 "What's that?" And her husband looked up 
 a little f amtly. 
 
 " Coui'age. You've had enough to try yours. 
 If you were not a good man, you would have 
 ceased to believe in any one." 
 
 "I don't believe in many men, Bessie; but I 
 have never ceased to believe in God." 
 
 Bessie Colville stooped down and kissed his fore- 
 head. " Yes ; He's been very good to us some- 
 times when we least expected it. We'll continue 
 to trust in Him. I have but one sorrow." 
 
 " What's that, my wife ? " And Harry got up 
 and looked at her with a hand on each shoulder. 
 He thought for the ten thousandth time that he 
 had never seen so beautiful a face. And so it was. 
 It was just the face to give expression to eveiy 
 word that she uttered, as she slowly replied, "I 
 never can help you ;" and then he saw her eyes fill 
 with tears.
 
 122 THE CEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 " You never can help me ? Tliat's very un- 
 fortunate indeed, Bessie. You are a great incum- 
 brance. You know neither Greek, Latin, nor 
 mathematics. The Binonical Theorem would be 
 a sad puzzle for you. And yet I prefer you, as 
 you are, to a prof ound gi'aduate, an LL.D. and an 
 A.S.S. ; and without such a helpmate I think I 
 should have died. So don't fret, dear ; and then 
 I'll give myself a holiday, and we'll go out for a 
 stroll. Where are you going to put Frank Beau- 
 clerc?" 
 
 " Into the spare room." 
 
 " It's a bore to give that up." 
 
 "Not at all. It's a blessing, Harry, to think 
 that we're obhged to do so." 
 
 " Let him have my dressing-room." 
 
 " Certainly not. We can do without company 
 for the present, at all events ; and when the house 
 is clear of your natural enemies we shall have room 
 for everybody. What an odd person Madame 
 Kosenfels is, Harry ! " 
 
 "Mysterious looking. But very pleasant and
 
 A EEAL WOMAN. 123 
 
 handsome. Next to you, tlie best-looking woman 
 in this neighbourhood." 
 
 " Beauty is a man's weakness : the thickest of 
 coverings for the concealment of defects; you 
 never see beyond it, and seldom try to do so." 
 
 "It's a letter of recommendation, dear, wliich 
 one is bound to read. But what has Madame been 
 doing?" 
 
 " Since Major Carloss's death gave us some sort 
 of interest m Violet, she has seemed more than 
 ever desirous of keeping the girl to herself. She is 
 of an age now to see some society ; and though I 
 have avoided any great intimacy hitherto, I think 
 it is our duty to do something for her." 
 
 " Now Frank's coming home, certamly." Colville 
 suspected a woman's weakness. 
 
 " Nonsense. Frank's nothing to her, nor she to 
 Frank. Besides, he'll soon be in a cavahy regi- 
 ment, with other companions, and forget Lym- 
 mersfield altogether." 
 
 " Not if I know him, Bessie. He'll never forget 
 you. There goes Madame."
 
 124 
 
 As he spoke, a very handsome, well-dressed 
 woman walked sloAvly by the front of the house. 
 She was tall, above the middle height, and walked 
 with a firm, well-assured step ; her veil was down, 
 light with dark spots on it, giving a delicate ap- 
 pearance to her complexion. She half halted at 
 the gate of Colville's house, as though hesitating to 
 go in ; but continued her course again unchanged. 
 
 " How well she wears," said the mistress, looking 
 at her figure. 
 
 " What a complexion ! " thought the master, re- 
 collecting the veil, and what he had seen through 
 it. "If all veils were like that there would be 
 more women ready to take them." 
 
 In due time of course, as in due course of time, 
 Frank Beauclerc arrived safely at Lymmersfield. I 
 say of course, for had an accident happened to him 
 this story would have come to an untimely end : 
 besides, he did not travel by the Eastern Counties. 
 He lost his luggage naturally, and got it again at 
 the end of four days : that came of finding him- 
 self on the South Western.
 
 A EEAL WOMAN. 125 
 
 Wlien he did reach Lymmersfield he was heartily 
 welcomed by Colville and his wife : for it Avas im- 
 possible to have lived or been in any close con- 
 nexion with Frank Beauclerc without liking him. 
 Standish lent him shirts, and Bentley found him 
 a sufficiency of external toilette for dinner, until 
 the superintendent of the lost luggage-office and 
 the telegraphic wh-es enabled him to ascertain that 
 his chattels had gone on to Sommerfield, on the 
 other side of London. The two words ended in 
 " field," which was considered a valid excuse by 
 the railway officials, and reluctantly acquiesced in 
 by Frank. 
 
 He had not been very long back at his old 
 tutor's, when a novel impression was accidentally 
 made upon him. It ought to be premised that 
 Frank Beauclerc was not a susceptible person. He 
 was as little so as anybody. Like other schoolboys, 
 he had experienced soupcons of the tender passion 
 of coui'se. One was very early in life : he was 
 about ten, and the young lady eighteen. He 
 showed her every attention by gathering for her
 
 126 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 quantities of gooseberries and currants (it took 
 place in the warm weather), by sitting near lier at 
 all meals, and by weeping copiously when he left 
 her. To be sure he was going away from a garden 
 full of fruit, and a pond with a punt in it, to the 
 elements of Latin poetry and the verbs in fit, 
 which might have had something to do with his 
 tears. However, let us be generous : he was 
 touched. 
 
 I do not count the young female who dealt out 
 the cheesecakes to the boys at Grammerton. For 
 a pastrycook she was very pretty: and there can 
 be no doubt that Frank had preferred the cheese- 
 cakes dealt out to. him by hand. Many went 
 further than this, of course ; but it was the extent 
 of Frank Beauclerc's passion, so long as he liked 
 cheesecakes, which was not beyond the forth form 
 or the shell. Tom Skelter was devoted, and lie 
 was a big fellow. He wrote a beautiful copy of 
 Latin verses to her, headed " Ad Cloen," be- 
 ginning : 
 
 Te quando aspiciam, curae solvuntur amara3 
 Insolitos risus reddit imago tua,
 
 A EEAL WOMAN". 127 
 
 with some more lines equally original. One indeed 
 was so original as to have in it a bad false quantity, 
 which was detected by Dandy Calthorpe, to whom 
 Fanny Tarts showed them, asking for a construe. 
 It covered poor Tom Skelter with confusion to 
 think that his inamorata did not understand Latin, 
 and saved him froni much future trouble. Dandy 
 Calthorpe, who was a great fool in everything but 
 Latin verses, came back from Oxford and married 
 Fanny. His family, very judiciously, refused to do 
 anything for him in this country, and sent him off 
 to assist in raising the population and reputation of 
 our colonies, whence he has not yet returned. 
 
 Of all these things, and such hallucinations, 
 Frank was guiltless. He had dearly loved Mrs. 
 Colville, and the good-humoured woman who 
 tucked him up and sung him to sleep when a little 
 boy. Beyond this he was heart-whole. 
 
 One morning, while Mrs. Colville was super- 
 intending her garden, and while Frank was read- 
 ing by the window which opened on to the lawn, 
 the door opened, and a young girl of extraordinary 
 beauty stood before him. As soon as she saw that
 
 128 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 the room was untenanted except by himself, slie 
 turned abruptly round, saying, " I beg your pardon, 
 I was looking for ^Ii*s. Colville." 
 
 Frank Beauclerc was rather taken aback by the 
 vision, which came between him and his " remark- 
 able events in the lives of the kings of the House 
 of Tudor." Although the face was altered since he 
 had last seen it, which indeed had not been for two 
 years or more, there remained sufficient resem- 
 blance for identification, so he called out : 
 
 " Why, Miss Carloss, is that you ? Mrs. Colville 
 is here ; through the window." 
 
 Violet turned round, and saw not Mr. Bentley, 
 nor Mr. Standish, nor any other of the numerous 
 pupils which filled up Colville's house even to the 
 spare room, but the face of a person whom she had 
 not seen often, but of whom she felt that, she must 
 have a sort of instinctive or necessary knowledge. 
 She had some difficulty in recognising him at first ; 
 then the old boyish chubby face came out in the more 
 oval shape and manly look which he had acquii-ed. 
 The neat, trim, tight figure of the lad, however.
 
 A KEAL WOMAN. 129 
 
 was gone with his round jacket, and there was 
 nothing of it left in the lengthy, active, loosely-set 
 limbs and broad pliant shoulders, which rose from 
 the chair to the height of a good six feet. When 
 she saw who it was she laughed, however. 
 
 " And why did you call me Miss Carloss, if you 
 knew me ? " And they shook hands . 
 
 "What was I to call you?" said Frank, some- 
 what amazed. 
 
 " Violet, to be sure ; what do you think ? " 
 
 "Does everybody, that knows you, call you by 
 your Christian name ? " 
 
 " Of course they do," said the lady, looking 
 equally surprised. 
 
 "What, Standish, and all the fellows here ?" 
 
 " No, they don't know me ; at least, not in that 
 way." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 " Why, not as you do — not when we were chil- 
 dren together." 
 
 " That's true, Violet," said Frank, musing ; " it 
 makes a great difference." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 
 
 " Besides, we both came from India," added the 
 girl, who looked as English as a girl well could 
 look. 
 
 "That's something more: so our interests are 
 partly identical." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, Frank, by our 
 interests being partly identical ; but when I've 
 known people a long time, and we've played toge- 
 ther when we were children, I don't like them to 
 call me Miss Carloss ; and now we'll go to ^Irs. 
 Colville, if you'll tell me where she is." 
 
 When Frank began to consider the simple ra- 
 tionale of the young lady's request, he was not in- 
 clined to judge her very harshly. He reflected 
 that she was scarcely seventeen years old, and was 
 not likely to calculate results; so he accepted his 
 position with a good grace. Besides, it was a very 
 lovely face, and not of a character to make any 
 one sceptical as to its unaffected simplicity. Mrs. 
 Colville was deep in the mysteries of a ribbon- 
 border, which was to rival all the ribbon-borders 
 in the county for colour, though it was likely to 
 yield to that of the Crystal Palace in length.
 
 A BEAL WOMAN. 131 
 
 " Well ! Violet, what is it ? You look supremely 
 happy this morning." 
 
 "So I am, dear." She had a way of demon- 
 strating her affection pretty strongly, so she seized 
 and kissed her friend at once; wliile Mrs. Cohdlle 
 stood to endm-e it with, her dirty gloves and her 
 spud held out from the clean white muslin, which 
 she seemed to regard much more than Violet her- 
 self did. ^' So I am, dear Mrs. Colville. I've no 
 work to do for a month : no honid lessons, or 
 anytlung ; and I'm come to ask you to do some- 
 thing for me." 
 
 Mrs. Colville laughed at her notion of happi- 
 ness. " Well, what is it ? " 
 
 " Have you an invitation to go to Lady Clara 
 Barrington's pic-nic at St. Hilda's Mount on 
 Wednesday?" 
 
 " Yes : I had it last night : and that just re- 
 minds me that I must go in and answer it." But 
 Mrs. Colville did not stir. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm so glad :" and here she clapped her 
 hands and laughed aloud. " Of course you'll go," 
 k2
 
 132 
 
 she added : for it never occurred to Violet that 
 any one could be so senseless as to refuse a pic-nic. 
 She did not quite know how her friend had ma- 
 naged to sleep without having already accepted it. 
 
 " My dear child, what should Mr. Colvillc and 
 I do at a pic-nic ? " 
 
 ^'Do at a pic-nic! Why, eat cold pie, and 
 lobster salad, and drink champagne, and run all 
 over that beautiful place. I could sit an hour 
 looking at that one view over the lake. Besides, 
 we're to have music, and so many people are 
 going. All the officers from Portbridge." 
 
 " And have no salt to my dinner : and if it 
 should be wet, spoil my dress. I'm too old for 
 pic-nics, Violet." Here the lady recommenced 
 operations with the spud. 
 
 " Too old ? nonsense. And there's the griffin." 
 The griffin was Alice Colville. 
 
 ^' The griffin is away from home : and will go 
 from Eastbury with the Montgomeiys." 
 
 " Then you'll go for me, dear : oh ! I quite for- 
 got. Madame will not go herself, but she has 
 given me leave to go if you will take me."
 
 A EEAL WOMAN. 133 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" 
 
 " Ah ! now you will go, I see, you dear old 
 
 thing you." And here Violet Carloss commenced 
 
 another embrace; and then sung with the sweetest 
 
 voice in the world a favomite waltz, to which she 
 
 danced in time. 
 
 Nobody ever resisted Violet, excepting Madame ; 
 
 so in this case she had her way. 
 
 " Shall I take the note for you, and send it to 
 
 Lady Clara by my maid ? " 
 
 " No, dear, thank you. Let it go by post." 
 " But then she won't get it till to-morrow." 
 " Well I that will be three days before the time, 
 
 at any rate." 
 
 " And what are we to take ? — plovers' eggs, 
 
 they're easy to carry : and Stilton cheese. I am 
 
 so fond of Stilton cheese, and Madame won't let 
 
 me eat cheese ; she says it's not ^ comme il f aut.' 
 
 I know what that means." 
 
 " I hope so, my dear ; it's time you did, and 
 
 nearly time you practised it. How old are you 
 
 Violet — seventeen ?"
 
 134 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 " Not quite, yet. I shall be, next month. But 
 what shall I do?" 
 
 " Go home, dear, and get cool, first of all : and 
 if you'll be ready at tlii'ee o'clock on Wednesday, 
 I'll call for you in the pony-carriage." 
 
 " So I will, dear Mrs. Colville." And having 
 given her another squeeze, she went away through 
 the window. Frank Beauclerc was not there, so 
 she made her way into the street, and walked 
 home. 
 
 Mrs. Colville had a smile on her face for some 
 minutes after she left. It was difficult to wish 
 Violet Carloss other than she was: and yet she 
 was so different from Mrs. Colville's standard of 
 excellence. She was so idle, so impulsive, so igno- 
 rant, and so happy in it all ! But then she was so 
 good, so generous, so innocent, so lovable : and, 
 after all, she wasn't seventeen. 
 
 I ought to give a description of Violet Carloss : 
 a short one, a mere sketch. The reader must fill 
 it up and colour it according to his taste. 
 
 The beauty of Violet was a beauty to " make
 
 A REAL WOMAX. 135 
 
 virtue shine and "s^ce blush." Such a beauty as 
 hers was better than all the letters of recommenda- 
 tion in the world. It was a beauty to which you 
 might have bound yom'self for life, ^vith the moral 
 certainty that it could never fade but with life 
 itself. It could never have grown old : in her it 
 was bound up with such enduring love. As a 
 mother or a wife you could see that it would have 
 absorbed all proper authority, and triumphed over 
 the verv^ excellences of the character: like every- 
 thing eartlily, it had its defect. But it would have 
 retained, it will retain, a reflexion of its bloom 
 long after the golden light of its spring-time or its 
 summer has passed away. 
 
 She was verging on seventeen. She was tall 
 and full gro^^i beyond her years, lithe and grace- 
 ful, and budding into womanhood somewhat pre- 
 maturely. Her eyes were large, long, soft, of a 
 dark grey colour : hitherto they had looked at all 
 men with a royal indifference. The lids were full, 
 and the veins gave amplitude to the light that 
 quivered below them. The lashes swept her cheek
 
 136 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEll AND SON. 
 
 with a gentle cui've. Truly they were " occhi, 
 stelle mortale." Her brow was rather low, but 
 broad and square; and hair, the darkest auburn, 
 waved in wrinkles over her handsome and well- 
 shaped eyebrows. 
 
 Her nose was the most perfect feature in her 
 face. It was small, and delicately formed: the 
 nostrils narrow, and the bridge slightly developed 
 nearly to the end. There is something ridiculous 
 attached to the description of noses. All sentiment 
 vanishes when we leave the eyes or the mouth. 
 Why? It would have puzzled you to have .an- 
 swered that (juestion had you seen that feature in 
 Violet Carloss's face. 
 
 Her mouth was not small, but beautifully shaped. 
 The lips WTre full, and of a warm bright colour: 
 naturally parted, exhibiting at all times a glimmer 
 of the pearly teeth within. The chin, too, was 
 round and firm; very handsome; giving evidence 
 of a character which the rest of her features 
 denied. There was a fund of constancy to bear 
 (not to forbear), through good report and evil
 
 A FtEAL WOMAN. 137 
 
 report, ^vhicli was looked for in vain in the impul- 
 sive tenderness of the rest of her face. 
 
 From childhood everybody had submitted to a 
 gentle tyranny, which her beauty rather than her 
 nature exercised. The facts of her case endorsed 
 the beautiful notion of poor Keats : 
 
 The first in beauty should be first in might. 
 
 As a child, with nurses, maids, doctors, and lolly- 
 pop-sellers, she was, not to make a pun, facile 
 princepsy a prince of easy sway : but still a prince. 
 Whenever she was contradicted, she threw her 
 arms round the dissentient's neck, and covered him 
 or her with kisses. Nobody withstood those bright 
 round lips, and the floating auburn tresses that 
 tumbled all over one. Nurse always gave way, 
 for Violet laughed at her good sense, was not 
 amenable to orders, and did as she liked, asking 
 permission after it was over. Philosophers and old 
 maids would have said, " Bless me ! what a naughty 
 little girl ; wouldn't take her pills, and would go 
 out without her bonnet." In fact, they did say
 
 138 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 SO. Yet my friend, Dr. Bartholomew, positively 
 idolised her; and sent her pleasant physic, because 
 she would not take the nasty. Indeed, she kissed 
 Dr. Bai-tlemy, as she called him, and desired him 
 to send something equally good in return, or he 
 should have no more. The gingerbread and lolly- 
 pop-makers fed her from her childhood ; and had 
 encouraged a most perverted taste for Everton 
 toffy and brandy-balls. Alas ! age and indiges- 
 tion always correct that. 
 
 On one person only she tried no blandishments. 
 Madame and Violet never quarrelled, but they 
 never loved. Madame Rosenfels thoroughly did 
 her duty by the orphan heii'ess. She kept her in 
 comfort, as far as she could in luxury; but it 
 always seemed as if a cat was keeping watch over 
 a mouse, for her own amusement or profit. She 
 succumbed to nothing but a tear, and then she did 
 so with a bad grace. 
 
 Violet was desperately idle, and, knowledge not 
 coming in her case by intuition, not veiy well in- 
 formed. Learning anything at all as a lesson was 
 quite out of her way. She loved sunshine, and
 
 A EEAL WOMAN. 1^ 
 
 kittens, and a pet dormouse ; and she had a rough 
 terrier, who must have had a rough time of it, for 
 she cuddled and tormented him alternately from 
 mommg till night. She had an excellent ear for 
 music, and a pretty voice. She could barely play 
 her own accompaniments, and, when left to her- 
 self, never did so. She reminded me of an Irish 
 nobleman, who never walks when he can ride, nor 
 rides when he can drive, nor drives when he can 
 be driven. She never read, and never listened 
 when she was being read to. She made terrible 
 blunders in a naive way, at which everj^body 
 laughed ; and when any one ventured to expostu- 
 late with an astonished "my dear Violet!" she 
 stopped the exclaimant with kisses, and brought up 
 her face from the embrace covered with blushes 
 and laughter. Heavens ! what a mass of smiles 
 the girl was. They would have redeemed the 
 ugliest face in Christendom. There are smiles 
 indicative of fifty different feelings : but vary the 
 smiles of Violet Carloss as you will, they all 
 ended in love. There was a radiance of goodness 
 and innocence and truth all over her, which defied
 
 140 THE EEAUCLEECS, FATIIEE AND SON. 
 
 ill nature, and set even the justest reproof at 
 nought. 
 
 Now do not su2:)pose that 1 am an advocate for 
 this sort of young person. Forfend it, Heaven ! 
 The most dangerous of implements in the hands 
 of society is a dear, lovable creature that nobody 
 has courage to correct. She upsets all principles 
 of education and training, gi^-es very little chance 
 to the theorists, and none whatever to the prac- 
 tical. I only tell you what she was. She had 
 thousands of faults. Was always doing or saying 
 injudicious things ; only nobody regarded them as 
 such from her. She was quite an irresponsible 
 agent : just as much so as a pet kitten would have 
 been. I ought, too, to reconcile a curious ano- 
 maly in her character in these days of universal 
 " ologies " and " isms." She neither knew nor 
 cared where the Achelous was : had most eccen- 
 tric notions of Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay, of 
 which she judged, poor child ! by London, Liver- 
 pool, and Manchester as to distance : and had 
 never heard that Peter the Great and Charles the
 
 A EEAL WO^AN. 141 
 
 Twelfth were contemporaries : yet she was a most 
 amusing companion, said very excellent things oc- 
 casionally, and delighted in the Times newspaper. 
 She peopled the village with organ-grinders and 
 beggars by the indiscriminate alms that she gave, 
 and horrified the philanthropists by denouncing 
 the union workhouse. 
 
 Such was the heroine of my stori'.
 
 142 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Mystery magnifies danger, as a fog the sun. 
 
 The pupil-room at Hany Colville's looked on 
 to the turnpike-road : and as Lymmersfield was a 
 grand public thorouglifare for all the surrounding 
 neighbourhood to the meli'opolis, it was a favourite 
 resort for the candidates for examination. There 
 they stood at the receipt of custom, either of the 
 two windows, and criticised carriages, dog-carts, 
 broughams, and pony-chairs on their road to the 
 railway station. 
 
 From nine to ten was the most popular hour for
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 143 
 
 this diTei*sion, when they were supposed to be pre- 
 paring their work, and when the stin?et was alive 
 with the patrons of the daily-bread trains which 
 accommodated learned Serjeants, rismg counsel, 
 topping attorneys. Stock Exchange men, and City 
 tradesmen on theii* way from their ^illas to their 
 vai'ious occupations. 
 
 The room of which we speak had few pecu- 
 liarities worth mentioning. Two- thirds of the wall 
 was devoted to books, and the rest was occupied 
 bv windows and doors. There was a large table 
 in the middle : about ten strong serviceable chairs, 
 and there was a fireplace, of course not lighted, 
 though laid even m the middle of July, i*eady for 
 an emergency. Colville's arni-chaii* occupied one 
 comer, and by its side was a small table, on 
 which were -^Titing materials, and a book or two : 
 Arnold's '- Thucydides ' and Aristotle's '^ Ethics." 
 On the larger table were some works more popular 
 with the present occupants of the study. Some 
 short cuts to a " satisfactoiy result," kno^-n under 
 the populai'ly fallacious name of '* knowledge :" as
 
 144 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 Clie})meirs " History," Authon's " Caesar'' and 
 " Homer/' and all the direct commission examina- 
 tion papers of tlie last three years. Against the 
 wall was a black board, on which in chalk were 
 the two sides of a simple equation, and a figure of 
 the forty-seventh proposition of the first book of 
 Euclid. 
 
 Its present occupants were four boys, who 
 called themselves men. They would have been 
 so, if seventeen or eighteen summers, capacious 
 pockets, neat boots, well-cut clothes, and consider- 
 able self-sufficiency, gave any sort of claim to the 
 distinction. Two of them were from Eton, one 
 from Harrow, the fourth was from a private esta- 
 blishment conducted on the modern system; he 
 had a little more modesty, but not more knowledge 
 than the rest. 
 
 Bentley stood with his back to the unlighted 
 fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece, with his 
 hands buried fathom-deep in his pockets. He was 
 staring out of window: and from his occasional 
 remarks there was plenty to stare at.
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 145 
 
 '^ There goes Manning in his brougham. What 
 the d — 1 does he wear a white choker for? 
 La"vvyers have no business with white chokers ; 
 only waiters and parsons." 
 
 " But he's a churchwarden," said Standish, the 
 private school pupil, whose views were less 'pro- 
 nonces than those of his companion : " besides, 
 just look at the lot of money he gave to the new 
 church." 
 
 "And just look at the poor devils of clients he 
 took it out of. I should like to see them : there's 
 nothing like justice in tliis world, is there, Gorse- 
 hampton ? " 
 
 Lord Gorsehampton was reading, or trying to 
 read ; but he looked up, and said, " No : nothing 
 at all like it : somebody's always making a row 
 about somethincr or other." 
 
 " There goes Lady Clara Barrington. What a 
 capital judge of a horse Barrington is." 
 
 "Who says so?" said young Pitt, late of the 
 fifth form at Harrow, who, being the son of a 
 master of hounds, thought this an incursion on 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 14G THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 his especial prerogative : besides, lie was fond of 
 taking down Bentley, who, being in a hke posi- 
 tion, gave himself airs, and was Eton. 
 
 "Who says so? — why, why, everybody says 
 so ! " rejoined Bentley. 
 
 " What, all the people about here ? " 
 
 " Yes, everybody ! " 
 
 " Ah ! then, it can't be true : for I've heard 
 you say a hundred times nobody knows anything 
 about a horse here ; so everybody's judgment can't 
 be worth much." 
 
 "But he is a very good judge," said Lord 
 Gorsehampton, " and always drives and rides 
 capital cattle." 
 
 " I didn't say he wasn't. I only asked who said 
 so ; and Bentley said a great many people who 
 didn't know anything about it. Are you going to 
 the pic-nic at St. Hilda's Mount, Gorsehampton?" 
 inquired Bentley, after a pause. 
 
 " Not if I know it. When is it ? " 
 
 " To-morrow : didn't you have a ticket ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the indolent young aristocrat;
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTAXCE. 147 
 
 " Lady Clara said something about it, but I 
 forgot it. Who's going ? " 
 
 " ViliY, the !Montgonieiys, and the Barkers, and 
 the Trefusis, and the officers from Portbridge, and 
 I think I shall go." 
 
 " Then I certainly shall not,"' said Carr. " I 
 shall go on the river." 
 
 " What difference can my going make to you, I 
 should like to know ? " said Bentley, who w^as 
 getting a little savage. 
 
 " We should have to come back together, and 
 the strength of your tobacco, with the windows 
 up, is quite insufferable." Here the rest of them 
 laughed so cheerfully, that Bentley was obliged 
 to assume good humour. So he asked whether 
 Beauclerc was going. 
 
 " Of com'se he is," said Standish. 
 
 " Why of course '? I don't see it." 
 
 " He's spooney on that pretty girl, Violet Car- 
 loss, and she's going : I heard ^Ii's. Colville tell 
 the governor so." 
 
 "What's your idea of being spooney, Stand- 
 l2
 
 148 
 
 isli ? " said Lord Gorseliampton : " I should be 
 curious to see Beauclerc in that state. What 
 makes you think Beauclerc is spooney on Violet 
 Carloss ? " 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you. He walked up to their 
 house with them on Sunday after church, and it's 
 more than half a mile out of the way : besides, I 
 saw him carrying her prayer-book. If you don't 
 call that being spooney, I should just like to know 
 your idea of it." 
 
 " I quite agree with you, my dear fellow," said 
 Gorsehampton. "I never knew a stronger case. 
 I dare say the pic-nic will be good fun. I think 
 I shall go, if it's not too hot. Let's all go : we 
 can get a fly." 
 
 Just at this point of this animated discussion 
 the study door opened, and Beauclerc came in. 
 
 " Beauclerc, they say you're going to Lady 
 Clara's pic-nic. She's given a sort of invite to 
 the house, and some of us think of going." 
 
 " So much the better. The more the merrier," 
 said Frank.
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 149 
 
 " Will you join us ? We want something to go 
 in : a fly, or a phaeton, or an omnibus. We must 
 have two horses : it's such a deuce of a pull to the 
 top of the mount." 
 
 " I can't go with you fellows : for I dine and 
 sleep at Ashdale the day before, and I shall drive 
 from there." 
 
 " Is that Lord Ashdale's place ? " asked Pitt. 
 
 " Yes : he's a cousin of mine, and Fred Ash- 
 dale is quartered at Portbridge just now. Do you 
 know him ? " 
 
 " We w^ere at Eton at the same dame's, and in 
 the same form a good part of the time. Wliat a 
 capital fellow he is ! " 
 
 " I think if you spoke to Colville or Mrs. Col- 
 ville, you might all go together in Faulkner's 
 'bus : she has to take INIiss Carloss." Saying 
 which, he left the room, whistling an air from 
 the Trovatore. 
 
 "I say, Bentley, I don't think he's so very 
 spooney, after all," said his Lordship. " You 
 might cut him out, if you tried hard."
 
 150 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 " I don't tliink he'll clie of it this time, at all 
 events,*' said another. " However, I "\'ote we 
 propose it to the governor, and see what he 
 says." 
 
 " I recollect now, I heard of Frank Beauclerc 
 being at Ashdale's for his winter holidays. Lord 
 Ashdale was master of the hounds last season, 
 and there was an account of an extraordinaiy 
 run, which no one saw excepting Lord Ashdale 
 himself and Beauclerc. I'd no idea it was the 
 same." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Pitt, " he ought to be pa- 
 tronised." 
 
 " He don't look to me as if he would stand 
 much patronage. It might spoil him, Pitt," said 
 Lord Gorsehampton, from the middle of a propo- 
 sition. Li truth, I think his Lordship, with all 
 his inexperience, was right. Just then Colvillc 
 entered the room. " Will you join us, sir, in an 
 omnibus to go to Lady Clara's pic-nic ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Colville. " I suppose I must 
 go, if you all go."
 
 A XEW ACQUAIXTAXCE. 151 
 
 " Then tliat's fiAe of us," said Lord Gorse- 
 hampton. " I'll order the 'bus." 
 
 " Yes, tliere'll be plenty of room," replied tlieir 
 tutor. "Miss Carloss and ^Irs. Colville are going 
 to drive in the pony-cliaii\" 
 
 The faces of more than one of the party were 
 exceedingly blank. Whether a natural taste for 
 ladies' society had led to the proposition, or an 
 especial fancy for these two in particular, I cannot 
 say. At all events, it was too late to retract ; so? 
 instead of a phaeton or a fly, and a plentiful 
 supply of tobacco, they were condemned to the 
 company of the Eev. Harry CoMlle and an 
 omnibus : and very good company it was, too. 
 " By Jove ! look at Madame ; she's off to toA\ai ! " 
 
 Time had dealt leniently with Madame Rosen- 
 fels since we were last in her company. She was 
 still as good-looking as ever : well preserved : and 
 handsomely dressed : her jewelleiy, although it 
 was morning, was remarkably good, and, if plen- 
 tiful, selected with much care as to its value and 
 propriety. It was massive, and of the Italian
 
 152 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 type : and the gems among it were rare and of 
 the finest water. Her straight, cleanly-cut fea- 
 tures were the least likely to have suffered from 
 time. With the exception of a little hardness, 
 there was no alteration in thirteen years. 
 
 Wliy was Madame still a widow ? Everybody 
 asked the question, but no one answered it satis- 
 factorily : and no man solved it by cutting the 
 Gordian knot. 
 
 Madame Rosenfels was ambitious. That's the 
 truth. Like many clever women, she felt her 
 power, and intended greater things than common. 
 There was another pourquoi in the case. For 
 some reason or other, she affected mystery or con- 
 cealment. Now, Madame was just the person to 
 have won her way in a crowd. L}Tnmersfield, a 
 picturesque, quasi -suburban village, was neither 
 far enough off from, nor near enough to, London 
 to make it available as a matrimonial market in 
 her sense of the term. The people were migra- 
 tory, the men especially : and they lived on the 
 railroad. A widow does most mischief in the
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 153 
 
 morning ; the evening is the time for the fire-flies 
 to exhibit. 
 
 Besides, for the present, what more was to be got 
 than she already possessed ? A comfortable home, 
 and some luxm'ies : the management of somebody- 
 else's money almost without control : to be ex- 
 changed for an uncertainty. She had put herself 
 down at a thousand a year, and a man wdiom she 
 could profess to love or to admii'e ; and Lymmers- 
 field had not yet presented her with the opportmiity. 
 
 Lymmersfield was a mistake. Brighton, Bath, 
 Cheltenham, Malvern even, might have done : 
 and sometimes she thought of giving them a 
 trial. One consideration prevented it. 
 
 Immediately previous to the death of Major 
 Carloss he had become acquainted, by some ordi- 
 nary commmiication, with the Colvilles' residence 
 at Lymmersfield. A correspondence ensued. Hariy 
 Colville had been an intimate friend of some of 
 the Major's family, and at the Major's death he 
 found himself associated, to a certain extent, in 
 the guardianship of Violet and her property. It
 
 154 
 
 was clear that If Madame Rosenfels changed her 
 name again, Violet would seek a home with the 
 Colvilles. She was not empowered to do so, so 
 long as Madame, her mother's earliest friend, had 
 an independent and undivided one to offer. 
 
 Madame was extravagant : personally so rather 
 than otherwise. Handsome women frequently are 
 so without intending it. The previous co-guar- 
 dian. General Fletcher, who was now dead, had 
 been a singularly apathetic and easy-going person. 
 He had been put to some trouble (he cared no- 
 thing for expense) about a trumpery three hun- 
 dred pounds which was unaccounted for. Ma- 
 dame's oratory and eyelashes were too much for 
 him, and he resigned the inquiry and the guar- 
 dianship together. From that time real responsi- 
 bility rested only with Madame, who, however, for 
 her credit's sake, suggested some mutual friend 
 as a coadjutor. Unprotected females are fond of 
 listening to advice, as they would pay for a pre- 
 scription, without much idea of taking it.
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 155 
 
 The Major was singularly unlucky in his choice 
 once more. Harry Colville had a dozen irons in 
 the fire, and the only thing of which he knew 
 absolutely nothing was money. His wife managed 
 his house, signed his cheques, and paid his bills : 
 presenting him -svith wdiat he wanted. It was 
 usually sixpence to pay the turnpike, and not that 
 when she was with him. As to suspicions of other 
 people's money matters going wi'ong, that never 
 crossed his brain. 
 
 Adelaide Rosenfels sat in her chaise lono;ue of 
 the most comfortable fashion, looking out on a 
 small but well-kept lawn. She was reading a 
 French novel, for she liked her luxuries ; and we 
 need not venture upon classing that with the 
 necessaries of life. Some women declare they 
 cannot live without singing-birds and scarlet gera- 
 niums, without Pivet's gloves, or Melnotte's boots, a 
 French maid, or a Dutch poodle : we presume they 
 have never tried. Madame said the same of 
 French romances. Whether they consoled her
 
 156 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATKER AND SON. 
 
 for the omission of good, or nen^ed her for the com- 
 mission of evil, I cannot tclL 
 
 Violet Carloss was gone into the village to buy- 
 some tarlatan, to beg some exotics which she could 
 not buy, and to call upon a poor old woman, whose 
 cow had died in the night in full milk. ^ladame 
 had the house to herself. 
 
 The door opened, and a very respectable-looking 
 woman of middle age, and presenting the appear- 
 ance of a high class of servant, brought in a note 
 on a waiter, adding, " There's somebody waiting to 
 see you, ma'am. The person who brought that 
 note." 
 
 Madame Kosenfels did as many do on a hot 
 day ; instead of looking inside of the letter, she 
 turned it upside down three or four times, inspect- 
 ing the writing and the seal minutely, and then 
 replied to her servant : 
 
 " Who is it, and what does he want ? " 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am. It's a woman — a woman 
 of colour." ^ladame Rosenfels was not a woman 
 of colour at any time : at that moment less so than
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 157 
 
 usual ; but iii a second the blood returned to her 
 face with too great violence, and she became con- 
 scious of a very unusual blush upon her usually 
 pale clear face. 
 
 " Tell her to sit do^vn, and I will see her imme- 
 diately." 
 
 The letter was one of mere recommendation 
 from the lawyer who had been employed in Miss 
 Carloss's affairs when necessary. It mentioned the 
 arrival from India of a person who had inquired 
 her address, and, being no great proficient in our 
 language, had begged a letter in case of need. 
 
 And yet Madame Rosenfels felt very uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 The fii'm of Fleecehall and Shearham was a 
 most respectable firm. Fleecehall did the business : 
 Shearham was the man of pleasiure, and made 
 himself agreeable to the clients. He had once cast 
 his eyes on Madame Rosenfels. It was before he 
 knew the exact extent of her income and whence 
 she derived it. He had since been grateful for the 
 rejection, but remained a devoted admirer.
 
 158 THE BEAUCLEllUS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 jMadame went up-stalrs, and came down again 
 refreshed. Looking indeed more than herself : 
 when the " woman of coloui'" presented herself at 
 the door. 
 
 " Baba ! " The surprise on Madame's pai't was 
 well acted. 
 
 " Madame ! " Such were the exclamations ; and 
 then followed a series of natural questions, such as 
 might be expected between mistress and maid who 
 had not met for thirteen years. 
 
 ^'Baba, you are a little changed. You don't 
 look well." And she gave her a chair. 
 
 "Et Yous, Madame, and you so well." Then 
 the conversation continued in French, for Baba 
 was a French Indian : and had been living long in 
 Pondicherry with a French family: doubtless a 
 useful woman, who made a pillau out of as Httle as 
 most people, and dressed the young ladies' hair 
 equally well. " And my Httle girl, Madame ?" 
 
 " Yes — your little girl is become a great beauty ; 
 you shall see her. Ah! here she comes: Violet 
 dear: here's Niu'se Baba come all the way from
 
 A XEAV ACQUAIXTAXCE. 159 
 
 India to see you." Nurse Baba's features exliilDited 
 considerable surprise at something. 
 
 Violet Carloss was delighted to see her nurse of 
 whom she had heard not much : she knew that a 
 nm'se had come over -v^qth her and her little cousin ; 
 but that was all. She had foro;otten the cousin 
 and the nurse too. 
 
 Baba's conversation in the sen'ants' apartments 
 was in praise of Mss Carloss. Beyond that it was 
 difficult to get. She seemed mightily puzzled by 
 the name, and repeated " Violet ! " " Violet ! " to 
 herself several times over. "Par hasard," said 
 she, in very unintelligible English, "was it Miss 
 Marguerite." 
 
 Before Baba returned to town she had another 
 interview with Madame Rosenfels. Violet was 
 away from home dm'ing the time. 
 
 " And what are you going to do with yoiu'self — 
 stop in England ? " said Madame. 
 
 " It is so triste, Madame. And now I get old I 
 must go to France or India. I have friends in 
 both."
 
 160 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 " Certainly. It is tristc. Can I be of assistance 
 to you? I shall be delighted if I can find any 
 situation that would be of service to you on the 
 Continent, or in India. Here it is scarcely pro- 
 bable that I shall be able to serve you." 
 
 She was lavish of her thanks. " Madame was 
 always so kind." 
 
 "And Miss Marguerite? Shall I see her 
 again ? " inquired the woman. 
 
 " Margaret : ah ! nurse, you forget. Poor little 
 thing. We shall all see her again." 
 
 Madame was not a religious character ; but she 
 had her belief, and it was a creditable and conso- 
 latory one in this respect. So thought Baba. 
 
 "Ah! Miss Violet, of course, but " And 
 
 here ensued a pause, until the old Indian began 
 muttering the two names, as if balancing their 
 value. 
 
 "Baba! what are you talking about? Come 
 with me. I have something to show you in my 
 wardrobe. Margaret left a little present behind 
 for those who were kind to her in her last illness."
 
 A XEW ACQUAIXTAXCE. 161 
 
 Madame led the Indian, still exhibiting some 
 signs of astonishment, into a luxuriously furnished 
 bedroom. From a small chest of drawers, she 
 unlocked and drew out the bottom one of all. It 
 contained much female gear, ribbons, embroidery, 
 lappets of point lace, and other gauze-like and gos- 
 samer articles of adornment. From one corner 
 Madame drew forth several baby dresses rolled up 
 roughly, but of costly work and materials. On 
 each and all was marked the name of " Margaret." 
 
 "There, Baba, are the little frocks and caps; 
 and there's one with Brussels lace on it that we 
 have put by for you : you must take the mark out 
 when you have time." Baba looked pleased but 
 puzzled. " And there was a little present, too, to 
 be given to you, which will be still more useful, I 
 hope, and help you to get back to India." Saying 
 which, the graceful Madame Rosenfels slipped a 
 note into the hand of her old nurse, which sounded 
 crisper and looked less soiled than might have 
 been expected from the date of the legacy. 
 
 Baba was a French East Indian. Could she 
 
 VOL. I. :m
 
 162 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 contradict so clever and so excellent a woman as 
 Madame ? So slie went up to London from the 
 Lymmersfield station ; and it gave her an hour to 
 think what an old imbecile she had become in a 
 dozen years, before her friends met her and carried 
 her off from the curious gaze of the travelling 
 public.
 
 163 
 
 CELiPTER IX. 
 
 A PIC-XIC. 
 2s ow comes a calL that conquers all resistance. 
 
 COLLESS. 
 
 " "WhePwE ai'e you going, Beauclerc ? "' said 
 Pitt, einittiug a cloud of Cavendisli and bii'd's- 
 eye out of his moutli, on the morning before the 
 pic-nic, emerging from the greenhouse after break- 
 fast, where he had been, as he said, improving 
 the plants. 
 
 " I'm going to dimier at Ashdale, by train, to- 
 day ; and I shall meet you all at St. Hildas 
 Mount to-morrow. How do you iro "? 
 m2 
 
 ? ?»
 
 164 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 " Oil ! such a sell : Colville offered to share the 
 'bus with us, so of course we agreed ; and then he 
 let out that Violet Carloss was going in the pony- 
 chair." 
 
 " I don't see what difference that could make to 
 you ? " said Frank, doggedly. 
 
 " Don't you. Why, we only wanted to go for 
 the fun of going with her, you know." 
 
 " Really ; whose notion is that ? " 
 
 " Bentley's, to be sure. Didn't you know he's 
 tremendous sweet on her ? That's why he smells 
 so awfully of scent — jockey-club, I think it is : 
 and don't you see how particular he is about his 
 back hair ? He sits just before her and Madame 
 What's-her-name in church," said Pitt. 
 
 " But I thought he didn't know them." 
 
 "No more he does much. But she comes to 
 Colville's very often, and he's taken to going into 
 the drawing-room lately of an evening: so ^Irs. 
 Colville patronises him. He has just discovered 
 that he is exceedingly fond of Beethoven." 
 
 " And why don't you go into the drawing-room
 
 A Pic-xic. 165 
 
 too, instead of going up to that villanous tap at 
 the Fox and Hounds ? " 
 
 '' Oh ! hanfi- that ! there's nothinoj to do there 
 excepting to read, or hear the griffin play and 
 sing ; besides, I know all her songs." The Griffin 
 sang and played very well, not^\^thstanding. 
 
 " Where are you going now, Pitt ? I'm going 
 up here to get a dog-collar for Pixie." 
 
 "And I'm going to have some beer before 
 lecture." With that they parted : their roads 
 lying as widely apart as their inclinations. 
 
 If ever there was a mistake in the educational 
 system, it is in the necessity (for it is a necessity) 
 for private preparation for competitive exami- 
 nation. If Eton and Harrow do nothing more, 
 they do insist upon discipline : they do give autho- 
 rity for the punishment of faults : they practically 
 keep pipes and beer without the limits of disco- 
 very : there is no avowed impunity for them : and 
 they have some check upon a love of low company. 
 There are conscientious men in the world who 
 will look after the idlers entrusted to them ; who
 
 IGG 
 
 see a duty beyond the reigns of the kings of 
 England, or the solution of an equation. But it 
 requires a clever tactician to keep the twig straight 
 just under the circumstances and at the time it is 
 most given to bend. 
 
 Colville had had his fair share of experience, 
 and he found the cunning of the serpent as useful 
 as the innocence of the dove. 
 
 The morning of Wednesday, the — of July, 
 Avas as bright and lovely as mornings in July fre- 
 quently are. A curling vapour, through which 
 the sun's rays were penetrating, bespoke certain 
 heat. The dew hung yet upon the flowers, for 
 not a cloud had returned her radiating warmth to 
 the earth, when she poured it forth through the still 
 hours of the night. It bade fair to be a day for a 
 pic-nic, without alloy. 
 
 Some people dislike pic-nics. I do not venture to 
 give an opinion either way. They are provoldng 
 and provocative. Provoking in an English cli- 
 mate, as throwing a doubt over the certainty of 
 their fulfilment : provocative of love and indigos-
 
 A PIC-NIO. 167 
 
 tion ; both which states of being should be entered 
 upon with great consideration. I suit my views 
 to my company; and, as the father of a large 
 family, have plenty of exercise for my ingenuity. 
 
 Barrington could not endure them. " For a 
 man who could afford a Turkey carpet, a maho- 
 gany table, good claret, and an attentive butler, 
 to dine on wet grass or hot turf, wdtli half-flat 
 claret, after laying his own cloth, and uncorking 
 his own champagne, is preposterous — positively 
 preposterous, Clara ! " Lady Clara was of a 
 different opinion. She thought nothing so charm- 
 ing as a dinner at St. Hilda's Mount : true, it 
 w^as but six miles from Lymmersfield Park, and 
 she could have gone there every day; but then 
 she never did, excepting on these occasions. She 
 liked getting wet, by way of a change : ordi- 
 nary life was dry enough in all conscience. She 
 preferred her claret a little flat sometimesy and she 
 should have plenty of people to wait upon her. 
 Barrington, who was a good-looking, good-tem- 
 pered swell, ex-captain of the — Life Guards,
 
 168 
 
 Avould ride up in the cool of the day, if lie could 
 find it, and return to an eight o'clock dinner. 
 The vicAvs ^vere beautiful, and they meant to go 
 on the lake. 
 
 Lady Clara "svas like most -women -svho are 
 young and pretty : especially when they are so 
 unfortunate as to have no domestic troubles or 
 incumbrances. She liked pleasure ; admiration ; 
 ahandon : it was something different from the 
 Belgravian pattern of which she had just under- 
 gone six weeks' probation. Eotten Eow was charm- 
 ing then ; but her taste was pure enough to prefer 
 St. Hilda's now. 
 
 I find all men, of a certain age, something like 
 Barrington. Love-making, especially in other 
 people, gives us very little satisfaction. We have 
 most of us seen a fine country or two, and prefer 
 Leicestershire : and have had so many bad din- 
 ners that we are disinclined to add to the number. 
 A grey beard at a pic-nic ought to wag with asto- 
 nishment at finding itself there. 
 
 Of one }'oung lady the enjopnent was likely to
 
 A PIC-NIC. 169 
 
 be as unmistakable as it was pure. Violet Carloss 
 was coming out to-day. Her notion of the ma- 
 terial world was Lady Clara, on the top of St. 
 Hilda's Mount, making a salad, and thirty people 
 in charming costumes waiting to partake of it. 
 The background was grouped with blue sky, 
 water, trees, birds, and fishing-boats ; and the 
 middle distance with mail-phaetons, open ba- 
 rouches, and pony-carriages. Her notion of the 
 moral world was an universal philanthropy, which 
 diminished or increased irrationally towards cer- 
 tain persons without reference to anything but her 
 own free will. It should be observed that in this 
 moral thermometer the mercmy in Violet had 
 never yet reached freezing point, while it was 
 prepared to ascend to any height whatever. 
 
 Poor child ! how very happy she was by nature 
 intended to be ! She had somethino: to learn in 
 which dulness of comprehension is a great 
 blessino;. 
 
 She has to learn that the world is not all sun- 
 shine and flowers ; that woman can be trea-
 
 170 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 cherous, man self-interested ; tliat our best feelings 
 may be made the severest instruments of our tor- 
 ture : tliat hypocrisy is the homage that vice 
 pays to virtue : that the world is made up of 
 tinsel. She has to learn that the warmth of a 
 caress is no criterion of its honesty ; that heat on 
 the surface, like blood from the heart, leaves an 
 icicle within. To be sure the purchase of this 
 experience will be sweet enough : its possession — 
 bitter. Her lesson will be conned in a world of 
 appearances : and, on a path strewed with flowers, 
 poor Violet, like others, must pick up her thorns. 
 And then she has something more to discover : 
 that adversity has its merits — that she must be 
 evil thought of, or spoken of, when blameless ; 
 that she must suffer for the short-comino;s of 
 others ; and that " the fathers have eaten sour 
 grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge." 
 Then she will know, to her OAvn profit, tliat she 
 may look inwardly for consolation, and tliat she 
 will find it when her whole and absolute de- 
 pendence is upon God.
 
 A PIC-NIC. 171 
 
 Bj five o'clock tlie last carriage had reached St. 
 Hilda's Mount. 
 
 " And now what shall we do ? " said Lady 
 Clara, charmingly dressed, in the lightest of 
 summer fineiy? a,nd looking the picture of 
 English good humour and enjoyment. " What 
 shall we do ? Lunch first, or walk to the ruins, 
 or go on the water '? " 
 
 " Lunch first, Lady Clara, by all means : it 
 will give us an appetite for sight-seeing." Saying 
 which, the gallant Colonel Twigg, tin-owing his 
 rein to his servant, dismounted, and offered his 
 hand to her ladyship. She came down from a 
 well-appointed barouche; and her two sisters, 
 equally splendid, but more youthful in costume, 
 followed her. 
 
 " Violet, you must come and sit by me. Where's 
 Madame ? Not come ? Not come to my pic-nic ? 
 Well, we must do without her. And whr did you 
 come with ? " 
 
 ^•With IMrs. Colvllle. ^Madame Eosenfels is 
 not very well ; and said I was to say everything
 
 172 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 most kind to you for licr. She goes out so 
 seldom." The fact is, that Madame had refused 
 for both, originally ; but Had been over-persuaded 
 by her ladyship's eloquence : so she sent Violet 
 as a compromise. 
 
 Then the hampers were made to descend from 
 tlieir places on the carriage : and Captain Slow- 
 come turned up liis shirt-sleeves and commenced 
 a search in the straw. Glorious long-necked 
 bottles were extracted. Ice was discovered : a 
 piece of which, au naturel, Lady Sarah Slaughter- 
 man appropriated at once, staining her gloves and 
 spoiling her bonnet-strings. 
 
 " Sarah, dear ! " said Lady Clara, reprovingly. 
 
 " Can't help it, dear ; that carriage of yours is 
 like an oven. Just look at me. Captain Ashdale " 
 (that languid individual had just arrived) ; " don't 
 I look dreadful?" 
 
 " Terrible indeed. Lady Sarah. Apply to my 
 friend Boldover here ; he's the coolest hand I've 
 ever known." Lady Sarah looked up, and there 
 recognised an old acquaintance in the phaeton. 
 
 " Major Boldover : now pray make yom'self
 
 A pic-xic. 173 
 
 useful. Come do"\^*ii and dress tlie salad. AYliere 
 did you come from ? " Boldover obeyed, and 
 answered, in one breath : 
 
 "I came from Ireland last nio;lit." Here the 
 Major ahghted from the phaeton, and, having 
 made a comprehensive sort of bow, seized a 
 cucumber in his left hand. "How can I cut it 
 Avithout 'ere a knife ? " said the Major, looking 
 
 round in despair : " and ^" But no one waited 
 
 for the conclusion. 
 
 "A knife? Here's a knife." And Major 
 Boldover was soon in the middle of his per- 
 formance, after a personal introduction to Lady 
 Clara. 
 
 "^ly dear Mrs. Coh-ille, give me the pepper," 
 said Lady Clara ; and she proceeded to assist the 
 Major. " Oh ! look at the wasps : I'm sure there's 
 a nest." 
 
 " AVhere's the gunpowder ? " said the Major, 
 dropping the rest of the cucumber. 
 
 " Gunpowder : what's the use of gunpowder ? " 
 
 " Blow up the nest." And all the 3'oung ladies 
 jumped up.
 
 174 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 "But there is none, unless you send to the 
 barracks at Portbridge." 
 
 "Then let's liave some boiling water. We'll 
 soon settle them." 
 
 " Let them settle themselves," said Frank Beau- 
 clerc. 
 
 Major Boldover looked up. " Very good : who 
 is that young man, Ashdale?" 
 
 " That's a cousin of mine. How do, Beauclerc ? 
 By Jove, where are you ? I didn't know you were 
 here." Then the two fraternised as cousins should 
 do, and they sat down together and had some 
 mutual confidences. 
 
 " So you are promised a vacancy in ours. 
 When's the exam. ? " inquired Frederick Ashdale, 
 who had come from the barracks. 
 
 "Next month." 
 
 "All right, I suppose? Because, you know, 
 they want a fellow to know something, I can tell 
 you. Arithmetic and all that sort of thing. I 
 was very nearly floored ; and they're deuced parti- 
 cular about the spelling."
 
 A pic-xic. 175 
 
 Frank tliouojlit he mio^lit do. 
 
 " Lady Clara, is the champagne iced yet ? " 
 
 " No, Fred ; all the ice has melted. Where's 
 the salt?" 
 
 " Here's the salt, my lady," said Bentley, in a 
 very modest tone of voice. He was not half the 
 man he appeared to be in the Fox and Hounds 
 tap, when he was chaffing the Ljinmersfield 
 butcher about the trotting pony. My lady and 
 her friends rather awed him. 
 
 " Lord Gorsehampton, may I trouble you to cut 
 that cherry tart ? Violet, you don't eat anything. 
 Mrs. Colville, I hope Violet hasn't been lunching 
 with you." Lady Clara did not wait for an answer, 
 but went on assiduously taking care of her guests. 
 
 " Walker, where's the clai'et?" That dignified 
 functionary condescended to look surprised. 
 
 " Please, my lady, I rather think — I'm afraid — 
 yes, my lady." Here Walker buried his head in all 
 parts of the barouche-, and at last admitted that 
 it had been forgotten. 
 
 The faces were blank of those who heard the
 
 176 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 announcement : but young Caradoc allayed all 
 apprehension by ordering his groom to unpack the 
 hamper behind him. Claret was produced in 
 abundance. 
 
 "Evelyn?" Miss Ashdale, a pretty girl in 
 golden bands and a white lace bonnet, looked up 
 from a flirtation with Cornet Rathbone. " When 
 is the Goodwood meethig ? Isn't it late this year ? " 
 
 "Yes, dear; it's a movable feast. It depends 
 upon Easter." 
 
 " Of course you go ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear. Papa has a horse entered. He ran 
 a very good trial ; only we don't talk about it, you 
 know." 
 
 Here the Barracks at Portbridge laughed so- 
 lemnly, and Major Boldover said : " Certainly not : 
 quite right. Miss Ashdale ; keep it among friends." 
 This was the Major's first introduction to that 
 young lady ; but people soon become intimate at a 
 pic-nic ; at least, people like Major Boldover. 
 
 It is not the quantity of the meat, but the 
 cheerfulness of the guests which make a feast, says
 
 A pic-xic. 177 
 
 somebody : and as the table was pretty well cleared, 
 the ladies began to move. The wasps had peace- 
 able possession of the viands, and Captain Ashdale 
 had began to fumble with his cigar-case, when 
 Barrington arrived. He was a tall, good-looking 
 man, and displayed to perfection the Newmarket 
 hack which he had ridden np the hill. 
 
 " Any claret-cup left?" said he, after the first 
 salutations. ^' There always is a little ;" so he drank, 
 and then spoke to Fred Ashdale. 
 
 "Isn't there a man of the name of Beauclerc 
 here? He's reading with Colville, and I want to 
 ask him to come to om' house." 
 
 " Yes, here he is : he's a cousin of mine. Beau- 
 clerc." Frank was close by, and he was soon in 
 conversation with Captain Barrington. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Montgomery, I'm so glad you came. 
 Is your sister here ?" 
 
 " She was a minute ago. They're gone towards 
 the cottage to order tea to be ready, when we come 
 back from the lake." 
 
 " The lake ? Have you got the boats ? That's 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 178 
 
 capital. Just take hold of my liack, Avill you ? " 
 and he surrendered his horse to one of the servants. 
 *^ Oh, Miss Carloss, I hear Madame wouldn't come ; 
 how sorry I am ! Lady Clara says she could have 
 given you a seat with her, if she had but known in 
 time." 
 
 " Thanks, Captain Barrington, it's very kind of 
 Lady Clara. Mrs. Colville brought me." 
 
 " And is Mr. Colville come ? It is not much in 
 his way." 
 
 " Yes, he's here somewhere." Colville had be- 
 taken himself to a cigar in a more retired corner of 
 the hill. 
 
 Having ascertained that tea was to be had in a 
 couple of hours, the ladies and gentlemen paired 
 off, as best they might. Violet fell to the lot of 
 Cornet Caradoc, and Frank Beauclerc took posses- 
 sion of Evelyn Ashdale. Barrington took charge 
 of old Lady Ashdale, who had chaperoned her 
 daughter, and in a few minutes they all met at one 
 of the numerous points of view to be found on St. 
 Hilda's Mount.
 
 A PIC-NIO. 179 
 
 The old ruined monastery at the foot of the hill, 
 near the water, was a picturesque object. It was a 
 complete ruin, but retaining internally the divisions 
 of kitchen, refectory, and the other component 
 parts of a large religious house. It was covered 
 with ivy, and the gnarled and twisted roots helped 
 to support the crumbling Avindows and delicate 
 tracery of the dormitories, which were easily dis- 
 cernible from the interior. Dick Tinteman, when 
 studyuig manfully against the adverse criticism 
 and invidious hanging of the Committee of the 
 R.A. Society, has rendered its beauties familiar 
 to all who saw that famous picture — and who did 
 not see it ? — known as " The Hand of Time." I am 
 under great obligations to Dick, and so is the 
 reader : he has saved us both a great deal of 
 trouble. 
 
 Of course some of Lady Clara's party had never 
 seen it before, so that it made an admirable point 
 after the splendid view from the top of the hill had 
 been duly eulogised. Xot that the one is to com- 
 pare in our opinion with the other. A fine view, 
 n2
 
 180 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 of vast extent, is a grand tiling. It appeals to the 
 best feelings. The works of nature extending 
 before us lift us from the earth, and we bless so 
 lavish a hand which has spread a feast to be en- 
 joyed by all. Dotted here and there are the works 
 of man : the churches, the hamlets, villages, towns, 
 for which the infinite framework of the great 
 Artist was designed. And we don't come down 
 again, as in daily life, to the sordid passions, the 
 hardships, the selfishness, of om- fellow-creatures : 
 we see his humble trusts, his honest labour, his in- 
 dustry, his heaven-born powers, and we thank God 
 that He has made us as near Him as we are. A 
 ruin ! a reverend history of a time gone by, good 
 or bad, as it may be. 
 
 Nature is the true object of antiquarian research. 
 Its hills, its glades, rocks, waterfalls, the teeming 
 earth, the silently flowing streams, these put to 
 the test the true value of antiquity. I wonder 
 how many thousands of years they took to form, 
 how many they have endured without perceptible 
 change, and how many they will yet serve to the
 
 A PIC-NIC. 181 
 
 liappinessj enjoyment, and necessities of the limnan 
 race. 
 
 " What an enormous place ! " said ^liss Mont- 
 gomery. " How charming to people it, dear Lady 
 Ashdale, with the tenants of '' 
 
 " Good HeaA'ens, my dear, \Yhat a famih' I " re- 
 plied the old lady. I think, by a little twinkle of 
 the eye. Lady Ashdale was not so obtuse as she 
 pretended to be : but the answer made Miss Mont- 
 gomery less poetical for the time. 
 
 " Who built this place, ^h\ Colville ? " inquired 
 Lady Ashdale. 
 
 " I don't know who built it, but I know who 
 despoiled it. Lady Ashdale." 
 
 "Do you, sh'? then be good enough to tell 
 us." 
 
 " An ancestor of Lord Ashdale. Is not St. Hilda's 
 vicarage in your gift, my lady?" 
 
 " In Lord Ashdale's it is. But I don't see what 
 that has to do with the old monasteiy." 
 
 " When Lord Ashdale's ancestor turned out the 
 monks, he got the great tithes, and we got a poor-
 
 182 
 
 law to supply the place of its" charities. This was 
 one of the largest." 
 
 " And therefore did tliQ most good," said the old 
 lady, stoutly. 
 
 " According to yoiu' ancestor's reading, it did 
 the most harm." 
 
 '' It kept the poor in bread and cheese, Mr. Col- 
 ville." 
 
 "And encom-aged them to beg for it, my lady : 
 but you ought not to defend the system." 
 
 While this discussion had been going on, the 
 couples had separated, or were improving the occa- 
 sion, each according to taste, capacity, or inclina- 
 tion ; which are different in different men. 
 
 " Rum old fellows, those monks, Miss Ashdale," 
 said Major Boldover. 
 
 " Scarcely the view I should take of them," 
 paid the young lady, with a rather satirical smile. 
 ]Miss Ashdale had been raised in Belgravia, and 
 admired Father Eustace, who approached that 
 condition of life as far as his judicious diocesan 
 would allow.
 
 A PIC-NIC. 183 
 
 " I say, Barrington, this must have been the 
 stable," said Caradoc, pointing to some iron rings 
 which had been driven into the wall. 
 
 '^ Oh ! those fellows never hunted, you may 
 depend upon it." 
 
 " Why not ? The whole place belonged to them : 
 and there were plenty of deer." 
 
 " Ask ^liss Carloss," says Captain Barrington ; 
 " she knows a great deal better than I do." 
 
 " Indeed, I don't know anything : I always ask 
 Madame. Here's ^Ir. Beauclerc ; perhaps he 
 knows." And they repeated the inquiiy : a 
 harmless but foolish one. Barrington joined her : 
 Caradoc was puzzled, and began to consider the 
 question rather seriously. 
 
 " Charming style ! " said a young gentleman, with 
 ■unexceptionable boots and a lisp, from the bar- 
 racks, pointing to a half-ruined window. " Wliat 
 a pity Cromwell and those sort of fellows destroyed 
 eveiything. Lady Emily." 
 
 Lady Emily, being only lately out of the school- 
 room, asked, "Which Cromwell?"
 
 184 THE EEAUCLEECS, FATHER AST) SON. 
 
 " Alia ! that's good : now you know you're 
 chaffing, Lady Emily." By this time, as the 
 ruins covered some acres, the company did the 
 same. The young ones seeming to discover much 
 beautiful tracery in out-of-the-way corners, cool 
 spots in retired nooks, and to be enthusiastically 
 devoted to the examination of botanical specimens 
 on the walls. Somebody, however, mentioned the 
 boats, and they began to stroll that way.
 
 185 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BOATING PAETY. 
 
 She floats upon the river — of his thought?. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 At that moment it became apparent that Lady 
 Clara and her company were not quite alone in the 
 rnins. A wayworn-looking figure, clad in a pair 
 of soldier's trousers and a frock-coat, and bearing 
 some marks of military character about him, 
 seemed to come from no one knew where. He 
 had been asleep in the chapel, and now, seeing so 
 many good-looking people around him, bethought 
 himself of the probability of taxing their liberality.
 
 186 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEK AND SON. 
 
 There was sometliing about the man that did not 
 look like ordinary pauperism. He blushed as he 
 touched his hat : and nothing but a sad and peti- 
 tioning expression of the face demanded an alms. 
 But who was to stop at a moment like this ? " An 
 old soldier, Miss Ashdale ; I'm too old a soldier 
 for that," said Colonel Twigg. " Cool sort of 
 hand that," said the Irish Major, who had just 
 come from a country where poverty assumes a 
 more commanding aspect, and demands your 
 purse at the end of a shillelagh. " How's a fellow 
 in lemon-coloured kids to get at a sixpence, I 
 should like to know ; at least not if they fit as they 
 should. Besides, this sort of thing is quite a tax. 
 I don't think the keepers ought to allow these men 
 about." • Yes ! it is a tax indeed that Heaven lays 
 upon all men, and good citizens of that country 
 will not refuse to pay it. 
 
 Barrington threw him sixpence, and then looked 
 very much ashamed of himself, and followed Lady 
 Clara towards the water. Violet Carloss was not 
 comfortable with her companion ; and as they
 
 THE BOATIXG PAKTY. 187 
 
 went on talking and laugbingj slie called Frank 
 Beauclerc to lier side. 
 
 "Frank, do me a favonr. Turn back to tlie 
 ruin. I have left sometking behind that I want to 
 look at ao;ain." 
 
 " Certainly. What's that ? " 
 
 " It's that old soldier : he said he had been in 
 India." 
 
 "Did he? I didn't hear him." And Frank 
 Beauclerc seemed as indifferent as the rest to the 
 fact, excepting that it belonged to Violet. 
 
 " Yes ! he did. I heard him talking about all 
 sorts of ^ bads.' You know all the Indian names 
 in the geography end in ' bad.' There's Hydrabad, 
 and Allahabad, and I don't know how man}^ I 
 want just to give him a shilling, and I daren't do it 
 with all those people — so don't you tell." 
 
 " Not I, Violet." Frank seemed to have fallen 
 into the Christian name very well, for a few weeks' 
 practice only. "Not I: but if you want to re- 
 lieve all the Indian impostors of the day, you 
 should have a tent on the steps of the Oriental
 
 188 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 in Ilanover-square. There a real Sepoy sweeps 
 the crossing, and a high-class Brahmin sells tame 
 adders at the door." 
 
 Violet Carloss had no objection to listen to her 
 conductor, if he only allowed her to do as she 
 liked; and as she did that, without any longer 
 conference than to know that the object of her 
 charity had been discharged from the Indian 
 army, and was making his way to Portbridge (so 
 he said, at least, and an old soldier's word is as 
 good as his bond ; in this case quite as good), she 
 did not detain him long. " Now, Violet, suppose 
 we go down to the boat." 
 
 "Violet," said the old soldier to himself. "I 
 knew a Violet once, a little Violet. It has found 
 a safer shelter and a better garden than any on 
 earth." Then he bethought him of following to 
 the lake. Mayhap he might be of service, bless 
 her sweet face, and earn another shilling or 
 two, too. 
 
 I cannot say that Violet had any of those ex- 
 traordinary presentiments of danger so common in
 
 THE BOATIXG PAKTT. 189 
 
 unreal life when she went clown to the water. It 
 wonld be ^^Tong to doubt those who assert that 
 they are common. Still, under the ch'cumstances, 
 why do they go ? Certainly Violet knew nothing 
 about what was to happen, or she woidd not have 
 gone. 
 
 There were two boats on the lake. One was a 
 good family tub : useful for elderly ladies or 
 timid young ones, and fisliiug parties. The other 
 was an outrigger, formerly the property of the 
 Honom'able Fred Ashdale, when he indulged in 
 condition and bhsters. He had not done so of 
 late years ; but the boat remained, a temptation to 
 the miwary, a delusion to the confident. 
 
 The hig- boat was soon manned : Colonel Twicr^r 
 was assiduous in handing in the ladies and in 
 takincr his own seat bv the side of Lady Clara 
 BaiTington. Colville's pupils were about to render 
 themselves useful as well as ornamental. Some 
 had escaped in quest of more delightful scenery, 
 under an enra^ement to meet at the cottage at 
 eight o'clock. Two or three young ladies still
 
 190 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATIIEU AND SON. 
 
 remained on the margin of tlie lake, and the 
 cavalieri serventi were offering their services to 
 give them, one at a time, a little row. "^lind 
 and sit quietly," said Fred Ashdale, " and there's 
 no danger." " The middle of the boat, Mss 
 Montgomery : don't step on one side, or you'll go 
 through." 
 
 " I don't like it at all," said that young lady, 
 looking at her crinoline, which was undoubtedly 
 beyond the capacity of a cranky outrigger. 
 
 "Let's have a turn alone first;" and Frank 
 Beauclerc took off his coat and seated himself 
 anudships, dropping his skulls lightly into the 
 water, after laying the boat's head from the shore. 
 
 After taking a sweep or two across the water, 
 Frank returned to the shore. Ladies are prover- 
 bially impatient, and his apparent confidence in 
 his own abilities furnished the same virtue in the 
 others. Miss Montgomery thought it would do. 
 Violet had no doubts, and Evelyn Ashdale had 
 been in it hundreds of times : but now she was 
 heavier, she knew. " Not much," says her brother.
 
 THE BOATING PARTY. 191 
 
 " Then you skull me, Fred." ^^ Nonsense ; Beau- 
 clerc skulls better than I do." The young lady 
 thought she might venture, if ^ir. Beauclerc was 
 quite certain it wouldn't capsize. ^Ii\ Beauclerc 
 was certain : at least, it depended on the lady. In 
 another minute Miss Ashdale was half across the 
 water, and after ten minutes or a quarter of an 
 hour she returned to shore, safe and sound. The 
 getting out was not so easy, but was accomplished 
 without even a wet footo 
 
 " Do you think I can go. Captain Ashdale ? " 
 Violet was not courageous : she hated bulls and 
 thunderstorms ; but that's excusable. IMust we 
 add that she preferred a carriage to riding, 
 excepting on a steady cob-like animal which was 
 more likely to tumble down than anything else in 
 the world? But Violet had an idea that she 
 should like to have a turn on the lake, and cer- 
 tainly quite as well with Frank Beauclerc as with 
 any one else. So she got in, not so cleverly as 
 Evelyn Ashdale ; she was less of a sailor, or any- 
 thing else, than tliat young lady, being yomiger.
 
 10:? THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 and entirely under petticoat government : but she 
 got in, after a little scream or two, and sat down. 
 " Only sit still, Violet," said Frank Beauclerc. 
 
 The weather had changed a little. The day 
 had been more than hot — sultry : and now there 
 was a little wind rising. Lord Portarlington 
 might have predicted a change within three days 
 without risk of his reputation. Away went 
 the wdierry, and in two or three minutes 
 Violet was reassured. They hailed the other 
 boat, pulled alongside, changed greetings, but 
 were prudent enough not to shake hands. The 
 large party was a merry one : there was a charm- 
 ing little song sweetly enough sung by Mrs. 
 Colville ; Lady Clara never did such a thing 
 without a piano. Colonel Twigg broke down in 
 ^^ Molly Carew^," but Major Boldover came to 
 tlie rescue with the "Low-backed Car;" so they 
 pulled one way supremely happy, and Frank 
 pulled the other, towards a pi'etty waterfall at 
 
 the lower end of the lake, equally so. 
 
 The voyage had been accomplished in safety.
 
 THE BOATING PAETT. 193 
 
 and they started to return. Frank had been on 
 the water often enough to know that an inland 
 lake is a treacherous sea, with any wind on. The 
 too cautious mariner hugs the shore : but in this 
 case his tactics were right. He pulled close 
 under the trees which here clothed the water's 
 edge. At one point he v/ould have to leave this 
 shelter and make for the landing-place across an 
 open arm of the lake. It was but a couple of 
 hundred yards more, and the comers were hailed 
 with shouts of "Tea and the cottage." As he 
 came from the shelter of the wooded bank, a 
 sharp and sudden squall caught Violet's parasol : 
 she always acted upon natui-al impulse, and that 
 impulse was to save it. In one moment she was 
 in the water, and, catching at the boat to save 
 herself, the cranky outrigger careened over, filled, 
 and went down. 
 
 Poor child ! The scream that was borne to the 
 shore reached the ears of those who were already 
 ascending the hill, while Frank, evading her 
 attempts to get hold of him, caught her in a 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 powerful gi'asp, and began swimming witli his 
 disengaged hand. As fast as we write, a boat was 
 being unchained from her moorings : at least it 
 seemed so to him. 
 
 "Still, Violet, still, for the love of Heaven! 
 The boat's coming ! Violet, Violet, for God's 
 sake quiet, and we are safe ! " But Violet strug- 
 gled with that fear that is unequalled in tliis 
 world ; the fear of death to the strong, the happy, 
 the young, the prosperous. But the boat was not 
 coming, and the shouts of "Break the chain," 
 "Here's the padlock," "Thekej^, the key— who 
 has the key ? " showed that all was not right. At 
 last she fainted ; and then Frank felt his task 
 lighter; but he prayed mentally for help, as he 
 made but little way with his burthen. 
 
 At that moment a dark form, without coat or 
 hat, was seen to emerge from the shore, at the 
 nearest point, and Avith powerful strokes to swim 
 towards the exhausted pair. Fresh and unem- 
 barrassed, it took him but a minute or two to 
 reach them, just as Frank was beginning to feel
 
 THE BOATING PARTY. 195 
 
 his strength go. " Hold on, sir, one more stroke 
 or two, while I get the other side of her/' At 
 that moment she shpped from Frank's gi-asp as 
 the new comer caught her beneath the arm, and 
 raised her face again above the surface. Fa- 
 vom-ed by the relief, and cheered by the manifest 
 capabUity of his friend, Frank made a few more 
 efforts, and, between them, they carried the inani- 
 mate form of poor Violet Carloss to the bank. 
 
 02
 
 196 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 violet's teustees. 
 
 Avarice is a weed that will grow in a barren soil. 
 
 Great was the consternation among the 
 dowagers, and the sympathy among the young : 
 but neither of them would have brought back life 
 to those pallid cheeks but for other remedies. 
 An old woman, who had no sympathy, had a 
 flannel petticoat, hot as the day had been ; and 
 the tea-kettle and blankets supplied other revivers. 
 The old soldier had nobly earned the reward 
 which was pressed upon him, and before he went 
 away only asked the name of the lady and gen-
 
 197 
 
 tleman he had helped to rescue. " Miss Carloss ! 
 He knew the family in India : and Mr. Beanclerc 
 too : he'd heard of him before :" and Frank gave 
 him his address, and told him the Colonel would 
 be glad to see him often, when he came home, 
 which he expected him to do some day, this year 
 or next. 
 
 "We owe you a couple of lives, my good 
 fellow : I couldn't have held on much longer, 
 and the boat never could have reached us in 
 time." 
 
 " Your honour', a big dog would a done it 
 better. Maybe I'll take cold : so I'll wish you 
 good evening, and the young lady too. I'll get 
 to Portbridge very well with the drop of drink 
 the gentlemen has given me." 
 
 So while they all ran backwards and forwards 
 in the cottage to wait upon Violet, the principal 
 actor disappeared from the scene. Modesty gives 
 great strength and beauty even to the absent, whilst 
 the vain we must have ever with us to be ad- 
 mired. Bacon says that it is as natm-al to die
 
 198 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATnEE AND SOX. 
 
 as to be born : very likely ; and a necessity 
 equally forced upon us. It is strange the most 
 important personage lias the least to say in 
 either matter. 
 
 Who that had seen Violet Carloss suspected 
 how near that Ijriglit, joyous, lifelike spirit was 
 to the cheerless grave. For days she lay be- 
 tween life and death at the cottao:e of Madame 
 Kosenfels. " The shock to her system had been 
 great," said our village Esculapius, with a pro- 
 fundity which alarmed us all. We were none of 
 us good enough ourselves to endorse the pious sen- 
 timent of that very worthy, but rather Calvinistic, 
 Mrs. Betel Crusher to her friend Mrs. Manning. 
 " Would Providence be pleased to take her 
 before she became the miserable thing that she 
 must be, now while she was comparatively inno- 
 cent ? " We did not think with these two ladies 
 upon that occasion, but prayed fervently that 
 He would restore her to us. But then we had 
 not three daughters like Mrs. Crusher, who 
 sought husbands from amono;st the eligible of
 
 violet's teustees. 199 
 
 Lymmersfield. Doubtless there were plenty there 
 who knew that nothing so natural, and so ine"v^- 
 table, as death could be designed as an evil ; but 
 we had our own selfish wishes upon the subject, 
 and preferred that it should come at a natural 
 time. Death in one so young, so healthful, so 
 beautiful, we regarded as neither natui'al nor ine- 
 vitable, but as an exceptional dispensation of 
 Providence ; and we prayed accordingly. Mes- 
 dames Crusher and Manning had taken a wrong 
 view of the case this time, and in the course of 
 a week or ten days Yiolet Carloss was herself 
 again. 
 
 Excepting in the way of gratitude, poui'ed out 
 in torrents of words, which seemed to be carried 
 dovm on the stream of her tears, she did not love 
 to talk about her accident. She shut her eyes 
 when it was casually mentioned, and most of her 
 neighbom's got to respect her fears. So in a few 
 months it came to be forgotten. "Frank," she 
 said, the day before he astonished Chelsea Hos- 
 pital and its wooden-legged pensioners with his
 
 200 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 learning, " I sliall never forget it, nor to thank 
 you for it. Two days after, when they thought I 
 might die, and told me how much better and 
 happier I should be out of this world, I felt more 
 than ever grateful to you for your brave struggles 
 for me. Ah ! if ever I see our poor soldier again, 
 what shall I do for him ? and you can't find his 
 address. Ah ! a life at sixteen is a great debt 
 to owe : but I'm glad I have it, and that I owe 
 it to you." 
 
 ^' But you are less my debtor than you think, 
 Violet. Your brother never told you that he had 
 done the same for me at Grammerton :" and then 
 he tried to relieve her sense of obligation by an 
 account of the battle of the punts in his school- 
 boy days. 
 
 " Never mind, Frank, it makes no difference 
 who saved your life : you saved mine, and I 
 never knew how dear it was to me till that 
 dreadful moment." 
 
 Here Violet tried to assume her usually defiant 
 tone, but she was unsuccessful. She put her hands
 
 violet's teustees. 201 
 
 up to shut out the painful vision, and the tears 
 tiickled slowly through her fingers. Frank got up 
 from his seat, and, as she held out a hand to him 
 to say good-bye, he stooped down and kissed her 
 forehead. He did not wait to see its effect, but 
 walked quickly out of the room. 
 
 Then came the business of the examination. 
 
 Bentley, and Standish, and Frank Beauclerc 
 represented the strength of the Lymmersfield 
 stable. They sat down outside the hall at Chel- 
 sea to compare notes imder the long porticos. 
 " Let's look at your Euclid paper, Standish :" and 
 that youth produced a rough draught of what he 
 had sent up to ]\Ir. Heavyside. He had proved 
 beyond all question than two sides of a triangle 
 were greater than the thhxl, but he had also given 
 his opinion at the end of the proof that "that 
 was absurd." Professor Heavyside not agreeing 
 with that view, nor indeed with some others, as 
 to the value of certain rectangles and squares, or 
 the mode of competing heights and distances 
 adopted by this gentleman, forgot to put his name
 
 202 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 do^ni in the list -svhicli was afterwards presented 
 to the British public through the valuable columns . 
 of the Times newspaper. As Bentley had confi- 
 dently stated that AVilliam Ruf us was Charles the 
 First's nephew, and that he had lost the battle of 
 Marston IMoor by his rashness, it is not wonderful 
 that his knowledge of English histoiy was called 
 in question by Professor Chepmell. He had 
 ^\Titten, it is true, an elaborate essay on Eoman 
 Law and Agrarian Outrage, which ought to have 
 given him the command of a squackon at least, 
 but the English failure was too palpable, besides 
 which he wrote ^' Triggernometry" as if it had 
 something to do with sport. 
 
 Frank sat on the benches outside, too, and com- 
 pared notes with the rest. He was not strong in 
 French, which had a decidedly Grammertonian 
 twang. The Welsh gentleman had been mani- 
 festly employed. 
 
 " What did you put for these derivations, Beau- 
 clerc?" 
 
 " Well, they rather floored me," said Frank, " to 
 tell you the truth."
 
 violet's trustees. 203 
 
 " So they did me," said Standish, evidently as- 
 tonished that he should have been floored by any- 
 thing, after such a careful preparation from the 
 modern school. " ^Yliat did you say ' grouse' 
 was derived from ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all," said Beauclerc ; '^ you didn't 
 think they meant ypvs (grus), because that's a 
 crane; and that's not much like a grouse, you 
 know. What did you put for that ? " 
 
 " Well, I was regularly floored, too ; would you 
 believe it ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you say so." 
 
 Standish was not good at a joke, so he continued, 
 " But the fellow next to me was a reo-ular clever 
 
 o 
 
 fellow : did everything, and no mistake. And, do 
 you know, he shoved his paper over to me just at 
 that very question, and pointed to that word ; and 
 then I saw ' grouse,' a ^loorish word ; so I copied 
 it, of course." 
 
 Here Frank went into a fit of laughter, and 
 even Bentley, not remarkable for a sense of hu- 
 mour, followed his example. "And I hope you
 
 204 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 thanked your neighbour for his valuable assist- 
 ance?" 
 
 " Yes, I did afterwards, and he seemed to be 
 rather annoyed." 
 
 "Wliy, what did he say?" 
 
 " Well, he wasn't very polite. He said, ^ What a 
 confounded idiot you must be ; we shall both be 
 shut out for copying. It's only a joke.' " 
 
 And so out of the three Colville had two of them 
 back again; and their fathers hoped they worked 
 hard, and that INIr. Colville Avould keep their noses 
 to the grindstone. At the same time, these judi- 
 cious parents sent them back with a very liberal 
 supply of money, and a very moderate supply of 
 advice ; the main article of the latter being not to 
 smoke too much. They also regretted that their 
 boys had not read much during the vacation, as 
 they had been obliged to give them some in- 
 dulgence in Scotland after their hard work in the 
 previous half-year. 
 
 One morning not long after these events (it Avas 
 in October), Madame Rosenfels and the Rev. 
 Harry Colville sat opposite to one another in the
 
 205 
 
 charming little room which Madame devoted to 
 her own studies in "The Cottage," as it was 
 called, at Lymmersfield. She looked much as 
 usual ; earnest, however, and clever, and remark- 
 ably well. There was a great deal of in- 
 tellect in her face, but of not a very high ^cha- 
 racter. It was not the intelHgence of refinement 
 or cultivation. She was not above small fascina- 
 tions, to which truly great or good women rarely 
 condescend. She twisted her rings, which were 
 numerous and handsome, and the clear veins 
 showed in a long and somewhat nervous hand, 
 which was of a sufficiently good colour. Her foot 
 hien cJiausse was very busy, and hung out its pe- 
 culiar lure. Those well-shod women have it some- 
 times hien forchu. Altogether there was so much 
 to fascinate that a good physiognomist would have 
 been on his guard. Harry CoMUe was not versed 
 in the wiles of the female boa constrictor. 
 
 He was a very different person from his hostess. 
 He was plain enough. Some people wondered 
 how Bessie Frampton could have married so plain 
 a person, "and without a shilling too, my dear."
 
 206 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEE AND SON. 
 
 Bessie Frampton liked a companion, not a dummy ; 
 hence it came that she pleased herself in the matter. 
 Of dummies, young ladies, one is quite as good as 
 another, so take the one with the most gilt on it. 
 Harry Colville, however, had his ornamental side, 
 if you turned him round. Pie was a perfect gen- 
 tleman, always well dressed, cleanly and fresh- 
 looking, and delighting in those inestimable ad- 
 vantages, hands and feet. If you have them not, 
 don't try to make them ; that always fails. Adopt 
 the present " high-low" or " shooting-boot" fashion, 
 and go about without gloves. Where there is no 
 pretension, much will not be expected. Colville 
 was a clever man, too ; acute, and with an intellect 
 of a much higher order than that of ^ladame. He 
 never descended to cunning. He had plenty of 
 tact, too, and a manner acquu'ed in the best 
 society, from which his professional duties only de- 
 barred him during nine months of the year. There 
 was one thing, however, of which he knew nothing ; 
 that universal acquaintance with affairs, one's own 
 or other people's, which goes by the name of
 
 violet's trustees. 207 
 
 "business." He was no matcli for Madame in 
 this matter. 
 
 " Then, if I understand you rightly, you 
 thmk the money would be more profitably in- 
 vested in this building land than it is now; 
 and that it would add to Violet's comfort and your 
 own." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear ]Mi'. Cohille," and she laid that 
 very clever-looking but tenacious hand upon his 
 arm (I don't like it myself, I confess, when I in- 
 tend to oppose a lady's proposition), my dear Mr. 
 Cohdlle, for myself I have enough, and am well 
 satisfied ; but for Violet, both now and hereafter it 
 would be a great advantage to have six or seven 
 per cent, instead of three, which she is getting 
 now." She forgot to say anything of the security 
 of the Funds ; Colville knew as much about it as 
 he did about the exchange between Cairo and 
 London. Investing money had never been one of 
 his amusements. 
 
 " Certainly, there can be no doubt about it, 
 Madame. It's very thoughtful of you; and I
 
 208 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 suppose you have seen Shearham about it , for you 
 know it's not mucli in my way. Perhaps you 
 don't mind explaining which land it is you think 
 of buying ? " 
 
 " You know, Mr. Colville, that the value of 
 property has increased very much here." 
 
 " I believe so ;" and Colville then thought about 
 an article he was writing for the Temple Bar. 
 
 " And is still increasing/' added the lady with 
 some pertinacity. 
 
 " No doubt of it. I should think Lymmers- 
 field, from what I hear, is likely to be overun with 
 bricks and mortar." 
 
 " And that increases the value of property so 
 much," said ]\fadame again. 
 
 " It won't increase the value of mine, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 " Well, perhaps not, if you don't wish to sell. 
 But I hope you have no idea of leaving Lym- 
 mersfield. If you have, it will. You know the 
 Squire has sold the whole of the property except- 
 ing the Hall and the Park, which is to go when 
 the Barringtons' lease is out."
 
 violet's trustees. 209 
 
 " I've heard so ; and I'm sony for it. So pretty 
 a place near London ought not to be cut to pieces. 
 It's the only real country suburb left." 
 
 " Then I am afraid you won't like my project. I 
 should like to invest for Violet in some of that 
 land for building purposes. There could be no 
 risk, and the advantage to dear Violet would be 
 very great. But of course, if you don't wish 
 
 it " Madame put on an injm'ed face, and 
 
 played with her wedding-ring ; and was Colvdlle 
 the man to raise imaginary objections ? " She'll 
 really be a rich person in ten years' time, if she 
 sells out a few hundreds now." 
 
 " And what you want is my consent, I presume ? " 
 rejoined he, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Well, I — that is — Major Carloss's wishes were 
 that you should be always consulted, and, you 
 know, I wouldn't act Avithout doing what I be- 
 lieved to be right : so that I am glad to think you 
 do not disapprove." An assumption." 
 
 " No, oh, no ! of course not : anything that is 
 desu'able for Violet, why — naturally — only see 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 
 
 Shearham, and get the tiling put straight. So 
 you really think that Lymmersfield property is 
 likely to increase in value, Madame ? " 
 
 " I'm very glad I've a long lease of the cottage.'* 
 
 " And I'm very glad I bought my place when 
 
 I had the opportunity. And where are you going 
 
 this autumn ? " he was glad to escape f mother 
 
 money matters. 
 
 " Well ! I shall be off to Brighton," said Ma- 
 dame, whose spirits had w^onderfully recovered 
 themselves at the success of her negotiation. " The 
 leaves are all about, and this place is a little damp 
 at the fall of the year. You may judge of the in- 
 crease of property here : I've let my cottage for 
 the winter — mind, the winter — for six guineas a 
 week." Confirmation strong, thought he: so he 
 said: 
 
 " Have you really ? And when do you go ? " 
 " Next week — but we shall come to say good- 
 by — and I hope Mrs. Colville or Alice may be per- 
 suaded to come and stay with us, while you go for 
 your six weeks' hunting to Lord Wodecraft's."
 
 violet's teustees. 211 
 
 " That's very kind of you indeed, ]\Iadame. I 
 know tliey wouki like it very muck: but your 
 friend, the Griffin, has been a great absentee lately. 
 I've nobody to cut tlie newspaper or butter my 
 toast when ske's away. I tkougkt of borrowing 
 Violet." 
 
 " I kope ]Mr. Beauclerc is well ? " Madame now 
 was anxious to ckange tke subject. 
 
 " Very, wken I keard. He expects kis f atker in 
 England next year. My love to Violet, Madame.'* 
 And Colville took leave, witk kis mind wondering 
 wkat lie skould do witk tke New Zealanders, wkom 
 ke was endeavom'ing to put straigkt before tke 
 world in tke pages of Temple Bar. 
 
 Wkat Madame Eosenfels kad said of Lymmers- 
 lield was true. It was being skamefuUy built 
 over, and tke value of property was increasing 
 proportionately as its beauty decreased. Her pre- 
 sent object was to do as ske kad done before: to 
 buy witk Violet's money, and sell as tke market 
 got better, putting tke difference into ker own 
 pocket. Ske kad done so before, and found it 
 p2
 
 212 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 profitable : I suppose she had no idea, as a trustee, 
 that it was illegal. When, however, people meddle 
 with bricks and mortar, they never know where to 
 stop. Of one thing she was quite clear, at all 
 events ; that Violet was a valuable possession, and 
 Madame made up her mind that the longer she 
 could keep her the better. It required no great 
 intelligence to see that. 
 
 " There is safety in numbers," said she, as she 
 carried her off to Brighton in the beginning of the 
 fashionable season. "Anywhere out of easy reach 
 of Portbridge." 
 
 Colville returned home from his visit to touch up 
 the New Zealanders, and to pursue that ingenious 
 process of making silk purses out of swine's ears. 
 Having never formally undertaken to act as a 
 trustee with Madame, and having entrusted the 
 active exercise of the duty to herself and !Mr. 
 Shearham, he enjoyed a part of the moral respon- 
 sibility with some of the pleasures of interference. 
 His position in this respect was altogether anoma- 
 lous. Madame Kosenfels herself had almost besun
 
 violet's trustees. 213 
 
 to regard his counsel as an impertinence : but, like 
 many persons of mixed character, she was un- 
 willing to discard the mask of respectability which 
 attached to apparent honesty of pui'pose, so long as 
 her designs were not openly thwarted. The lady, 
 it viHl be seen, was essentially that which the gen- 
 tleman was not — a woman of business, of action, 
 of deliberate determination : and when years before 
 the old Eastbourne physician had offered a cranio- 
 logical opinion on her character, he had been 
 singularly appreciative of her talents. Colville 
 was a clever man : far cleverer as a man than Ma- 
 dame was as a woman: but he was deficient in 
 energy, unless pitted against men, upon subjects 
 which interested him. Hence his almost unin- 
 telligible acceptance of a position, which Madame 
 Rosenfels had made for him : that of sleeping 
 partner in a very bad business. The redeeming 
 part in it was one which he never considered ; his 
 legal freedom from responsibility. It was well for 
 Madame that !Mi's. Colville had not the manage- 
 ment of these affahs.
 
 214 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OUR VILLAGE. 
 
 Variety's the source of joy below. — Gay. 
 
 Lymmersfield had its parties, and very strong 
 ones they were — social, religious, and political. It 
 was the business of Hany Colville and his wife to 
 know everybody: so they did: not intimately, but 
 as a gentleman who occasionally did the duty in 
 the parish church, with a kind and neighbourly 
 feeling; which is better far than a familiarity, 
 which frequently breeds contempt. 
 
 Dufferling, the chairman of the Puffanblow 
 Railway Company, and a great man in the City,
 
 OUE VILLAGE. 215 
 
 but whose fame had never readied Lpnmersfield 
 till he came to live there, was a leader of one party. 
 He lived in a large white house, had a great lady 
 in many senses for a wife, and a numerous family 
 which appeared to be all feathers, black velvet, and 
 scarlet stocking, with plenty of hair. His want of 
 liberality impaired somewhat his popularity. He 
 took a large part in everything which cost him 
 nothing, and acted on a grand principle of getting 
 aU he could out of everybody. He was an im- 
 posing-lookmg person, with plenty of whisker, an 
 intelhgent baldness, and great severity of white 
 waistcoat. He had much heartiness of manner, 
 and tendered his advice and indeed assistance 
 at times. He parted freely enough with every- 
 thing but money. "Pay the fellow liberally, and 
 let him go," said he, always in reference to some- 
 body else's expenses; or, "I should be delighted 
 to subscribe, or do anything I could for the poor 
 fellow, but it's impossible to break through a prin- 
 ciple." His charity began at home, and stopped 
 there.
 
 216 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Plantagenet Twigg was one of his followers. 
 He called himself a general merchant, a City man, 
 being indeed a simple and prosperous maltster, and 
 to be seen any day in a crowded thoroughfare 
 near Leadenhall- street. There he indulged in 
 mighty speculations : sugars by the hogshead, 
 cigars by the hundred- weight, tallow by the cask, 
 and French wines by the brand : anything, in fact, 
 but malt. He had plenty of money, was a great 
 patron of Poole and Bartley, an authority on 
 hunting on a small scale ; was a generous, good- 
 natured, unrefined specimen of British industry, 
 and liked to dine at the great white house occa- 
 sionally, where he was allowed to meet the elite of 
 the village. Privately he has been heard to declare 
 that Dufferling was a screw, to which he prefixed 
 a weighty expletive. 
 
 There were half a dozen more of the same sort 
 who shared the same extensive hospitality. They 
 all kept broughams, and sympathised in a common 
 jealousy of Barrington. " Who the deuce was Bar- 
 rington, they should like to know; to give him-
 
 OUR VILLAGE. 217 
 
 self airs : just because he had marnecl an Eaii's 
 daughter?" 
 
 Then there were the jovial, devil-may-care 
 barristers, some with briefs, and some without : 
 all free and easy, laugh-compelling gentlemen 
 with plenty of whisker, but cleanly shorn chins. 
 They smoked together, and had their own jokes, 
 and dined in town, coming down by the late train, 
 who wouldn't have Dufferling at any price. In- 
 deed they much preferred Twigg, who had not 
 much to say about literature and the Saturday 
 Reviewj but opened his cigar-case to them as they 
 went up to chambers every morning. They dined 
 so well at their clubs and in tow^i, that they didn't 
 care for the fish and soup, and the badly cooked 
 entrees, and the joint, and the splendid plate which 
 they got down at Lymmersfield ; but knocked up 
 a chop dinner among themselves, and discussed 
 Gladstone's " Homer," and the Chancellor's Law 
 Reforms, and light French literature, and the 
 Rotten Row beauties, and the demi-monde in 
 general. They were a little h'regular at church,
 
 218 
 
 and cut splendid jokes on the mercantile brough- 
 ams and their occupants. 
 
 There was a strong religious party headed by 
 ^Ii\ Manning. He carried away the old women 
 and the unappropriated females, the curate, and 
 the respectable well-to-do gossips of the place. 
 They did much good too in their way. They 
 headed subscription lists with gigantic liberality 
 that astonished the Dufferling party, from whom 
 they demanded money, not principles. Their wives, 
 assisted by Mrs. Colville, did the Dorcas and 
 flannel-petticoat societies, and looked after the poor 
 women, who were said to be one too many for an 
 unmarried curate. They were good praiseworthy 
 people, and had their reward in the conscious rec- 
 titude of their own intentions and the ceaseless 
 ingratitude of their opponents. There is nothing 
 people hate so much as being reminded of tlieir 
 duties ; so they christened the worthy lawyer 
 the Solicitor-General. 
 
 Lymmersfield had, too, its gossiping shops. None 
 equalled the morning train to London-bridge.
 
 OUE VILLAGE. 
 
 219 
 
 "How are you, Dufferling? So Barrington 
 has lost a lot of money, I liear, by the Liverpool 
 Steeple-chase ? " So spoke Plantagenet Twigg, who 
 was bound to be posted m sport. 
 
 " I did hear something about it," says the chair- 
 man, exposmg his breast to the morning breeze, 
 for it was not the right thing to be behindliand 
 in intelhgence. 
 
 "Indeed? I hear he's likely to go," added Rum- 
 ford, of the War Office. 
 
 "Sad thing for Lady Clara: his horses are 
 going to Tattersall's next week." This was partly 
 true, as a detachment of screws was going to be 
 disposed of preparatory to a fresh instalment. 
 "As to Barrington, I always did think him a 
 gi-eat fool. Thinks a monstrous deal of him- 
 self." 
 
 "Xot so bad a fellow when you know him," 
 said young Potts, the distiller, ^vho had a shght 
 bowing acquaintance with him, engendered from 
 the sale of a barren Alderney, in which Barring- 
 ton's baihff had got so much the best of the
 
 220 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 bargain, that his master's heart was softened, and 
 he offered to take her back. 
 
 "Very extraordinary thing about Manning," 
 said Plantagenet. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" inquii'ed his neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 " He guaranteed the money for tlie repairs of 
 the church ; and he's nearly fifty pounds short. 
 They've sued him, and he'll have to pay." 
 
 " What's he going to do ? " says Potts : " he can 
 afford it, I suppose." 
 
 " He's going to have a subscription, and a 
 sermon, and that sort of thing, you know." 
 
 " That I shall set my face against, on principle," 
 says the Chairman of the Puffanblow Railway. 
 " I refused to subscribe at first, and it would be 
 impossible to give way now." Here he involuntarily 
 buttoned his pocket. 
 
 " But he don't want you to give way, Mr. Chair- 
 man ; he wants you to give money," said Potts. 
 
 "By Jove!" says Leader. "Come in here 
 Slasher ; how are you ? What do you think Blathe-
 
 OUR VILLAGE. 221 
 
 "vvicke says of tlie service, since the choir has been 
 established?" 
 
 " No idea what the learned Serjeant may have 
 perpetrated : nothing too bad for him." 
 
 " Wliy ! Young Banks, the carpenter, leads the 
 choir : so he calls him Banks and Brays." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Meddell, I assure you that's the 
 fact. Violet Carloss, poor girl, is quite off her 
 head : and Madame Eosenfels is gone to consult 
 Dr. Sutherland." Thus spoke our old acquaint- 
 ance, Mrs. Betel Crusher. 
 
 " Ah ! that comes of their pic-nics and water 
 parties : I said so, all along. What could they 
 expect ? And what's become of LIr. Beauclerc ? I 
 recollect him so high." Here the lady put out a 
 small umbrella. "I'm sure I always gave him 
 credit for being a very steady young man." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't blame him so much, I'm sure. 
 But there's ^ir. Colville, he knows no more of the 
 world than a baby : just see how they've brought 
 up their own daughter, going all over the country 
 by herself, and painting signs, and I don't know
 
 222 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 what. And that Madame, as they call her. Ah ! 
 I've no patience with your Madames, indeed ;" and 
 here Mrs. Boxer, the widow of the late respected 
 Boxer, F.C.S. and M.D., of Lymmersfield, in- 
 dulged in sundry nods and winks to her neigh- 
 bours, and sighed deeply. 
 
 Mrs. Boxer was one of the kindest-hearted 
 women alive, and would have taken Violet Carloss 
 to her bosom at a moment's notice ; but the at- 
 mosphere of the train was redolent of scandal, 
 and she couldn't resist. 
 
 In the mean time, Violet and Madame were en- 
 joying themselves exceedingly by the seaside. 
 
 The trade of the place, too, was an euphemism 
 for robbery : two hundred per cent, on all goods ; 
 and good behaviour and prompt payment required 
 to get what you wanted at all. Lymmersfield was 
 a close borough, and lacked contesting. 
 
 Lymmersfield stood on a hill ; and at the top of 
 the hill was a grand public. Its proprietor called 
 it the hotel, as indeed it had been long time ago, 
 when at least fifty coaches changed horses in the 
 village, and as many pairs of posters were wanted
 
 OUK VILLAGE. 223 
 
 to convey the aristocracy down the Portbridge 
 road. But the mighty were fallen. It provided 
 three horses and two flys, and, having a cantan- 
 kerous sort of landlord, was altogether at a dis- 
 count. It was nearly unfrequented. 
 
 Its great institution was the tap ; and here the 
 butcher's son, the young corn-chandler (a great 
 authority on the doings of the Ring, and an uncom- 
 promising studier of the Sporting Life)^ jomig 
 joiners engaged on job, and the local vet., with their 
 associates, met every evening for the discussion of 
 village news. Nor was it always confined to these. 
 It would have been a gratifying sight to Pater- 
 familias who encourao^es smokino; at home, as a 
 harmless amusement, or winks at it as a necessary 
 evil, to have looked in upon the company at odd 
 times, on which the student-life of England re- 
 cruited exhausted nature. 
 
 " How did you get out, Stan dish ? " said Bentley, 
 who wore a billycock hat very much on one side, 
 and a short-waisted duckhunter, with a small cane 
 in one pocket. 
 
 " Colville thinks I'm in the garden." Colville
 
 224 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 did not, and was only waiting an opportunity to 
 tell that gentleman that he should decline giving 
 him a testimonial to the Horse Guards, unless he 
 was more particular in the company he kept. " I 
 got over the wall, and I shall go back the same 
 way," added he. 
 
 "Hallo! Gorsehampton ; how did you get 
 here?" 
 
 " I had leave to go up to town," said his Lord- 
 ship ; " and I've never been home." 
 
 "Well, then, stop and have a pipe," said Pitt, 
 who had just joined them. 
 
 " No : I promised to be home at eight, and it's 
 very near that noAv." His Lordship had some regard 
 for his word. " Hallo ! what's this ? Beauclerc 
 
 gazetted to the Hussars. Has any fellow 
 
 heard from him ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Pitt, " I have : I'm going to Maid- 
 stone on Saturday to dine and sleep : he says he's 
 veiy jolly. Did you expect him to get through so 
 high, Bentley ? " 
 
 "No. I knew he was safe enough — at least,
 
 OUR VILLAGE. 225 
 
 Colville said so, but five tliousand and one takes a 
 deal of o;ettin£][;. I wonder where the one comes 
 from?" 
 
 ^' It must be a curiously close computation — one 
 fellow got through by one run, one mark, I mean 
 — closish sha\mig. Eighteen hundred and one." 
 
 " Better than no shaving at all," said Pitt. This 
 was rather an inconsiderate remark of Mr. Pitt's, 
 seeing that it was addressed to an unsuccessful 
 competitor. " Isn't Beauclerc coming here to see 
 us, or is he too great a swell now ? " 
 
 " I wonder he hasn't been to see Violet Carloss 
 since he got tlu'ough." 
 
 "If he's going to Maidstone, he won't think 
 much more about Lymmersfield. Jolly place 
 Maidstone is, I can tell you. My brother was 
 quartered there for I don't know how long. Lots 
 of fun, -vdsiting, and dining, and hunting, and 
 dancing, and all that." 
 
 " So I should think," said Gorsehampton. 
 " We've all heard of the Kentish hops." As no 
 one had ever heard of the produce of that county, 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 220 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 the joke would have fallen quite flat, but for the 
 arrival of the butcher's boy, who heard it in the 
 midst of the enjoyment of a glass of ale which he 
 had called for. He burst out laughing, dispersing 
 his beer pretty freely over the floor ; and wiping 
 his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he said : 
 
 " Danged if that ain't good now, Bentley ; I call 
 that first chop, I do." 
 
 " Well, that's a subject you ought to know some- 
 thing about," replied Bentley, looking very sulky 
 at the freedom of his young associate. 
 
 "Who the devil's that?" said his Lordship, 
 rather astonished that a stranger should have taken 
 the liberty of applauding a joke of his. 
 
 '^ Oh ! it's only that fool. Suet : he's always here 
 making a row." 
 
 "Is he?" said the young Earl, taking up his 
 hat and walking straight out of the room. It was 
 his first visit to the taproom of the Fox and 
 Hounds, and he took care that it was the last. 
 
 " That's a blackguard place," said his Lordship, 
 when his companions returned home, very unfit
 
 OUR VILLAGE. 227 
 
 for the historical lecture which they professed to 
 attend in the study from nine to ten. '* That's a 
 blackguard place, and, if I were you fellows, I 
 wouldn't go any more. I know Coh-ille hates it, 
 and wouldn't stand it if he was to catch us. It's 
 all veiy well smoking a pipe and having a glass of 
 beer, but I can't stand young Suet and Mac- 
 grane, with his long jaw about Nobby Hall and 
 the Nigger. I wouldn't go there any more, if I 
 were you fellows, dashed if I would." And as 
 his opinion was worth something, the tap for a 
 time went out of fashion, and the village festivities 
 were not enlivened by the presence of the sons 
 of two [Masters of Fox-hounds, of a Member 
 of Parliament, and the nephew of a Cabinet 
 Minister. 
 
 Distinguishing justly between village life and 
 low life, and having no taste for the latter, I shall 
 decline entering upon its characteristics any further, 
 as exhibited by the mixed company of the Fox and 
 Hounds of Lymmersfield, Frank Beauclerc had 
 other ideas of pleasure and of duty, and without 
 q2
 
 228 
 
 being a model pi^pil, was satisfied with the position 
 and society wliich education and accident had en- 
 tailed upon him. I do not think his industry was 
 equal to the structure of a great name or a large 
 fortune : but there was a consistency about him, 
 joined to an elasticity of intellect, which would 
 have kept him from falHng below his level. Of one 
 thing you might be quite certain, that he never 
 w^ould have risen by unworthy means. Nature 
 had made him a gentleman, and education had 
 completed the work by making him a Christian. 
 The practical result of birth and training in Lord 
 Gorsehampton was the same ; but with a difference. 
 As long as the circumstances of the case were easy 
 and ordinary, practically the two men would have 
 stood on equal ground in the eyes of the world. 
 In strong temptation the latter might have failed ; 
 the former would have assuredly conquered. There 
 was something to back a sense of hic^li truth in 
 Frank, which would give him unflinching deter- 
 mination in difficulties, and a superiority to defeat. 
 IIow many fathers send their sous to Eton or
 
 OUE VILLAGE. 229 
 
 Harrow to become gentlemen ? I wonder at tlieir 
 notion of the word. A few, wlio would have been 
 such without it, strengthen their position by tact 
 and worldly knowledge, good manners, and facile 
 scholarship. A vast majority mistake fast living 
 for savoir fairs, and low life for independence of 
 character. 
 
 But Frank Beauclerc was gone, and his mantle 
 had fallen on Lord Gorsehampton's shoulders. 
 He had a host of Ahabs to practise upon. 
 
 ^' 1 say, Gorsehampton, Beauclerc's gazetted to 
 the Hussars." 
 
 " How do you know ? Have you had a letter ? " 
 said his Lordship. 
 
 " No : I saw it in the paper, up at the Fox." 
 [N.B.— This was the short for the sign of the 
 aforesaid public-house.] 
 
 " Where's the regiment ? " 
 
 " At Maidstone. He got through rather well." 
 
 " Do you know why '? because, if not, I'll tell 
 you." It will be perceived that this young aristo- 
 crat was tolerably free spoken. " Because he pre-
 
 2oO THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 ferred reading at home to smoking and drinking 
 at the village pubHc: and if you're wise, Pitt, 
 you'll do the same." 
 
 Pitt reflected : and reflection is very valuable 
 and very rare at his time of hfe. We haven't 
 much to do with him or his companions ^^hen 
 Frank is once launched into Hfe, but we may as 
 well say that he was just one of that numerous 
 class who, being but slightly impressed by precept, 
 has the more to learn from example. "I can't 
 understand the pleasures of talking to young Suet 
 and Macgrane, with his eternal nonsense about the 
 ^hodds' on this ^'orse,' and the ^hodds' on the 
 other. He never puts the ' hodds ' on the proper 
 shoulders. If I were you fellows, I wouldn't go 
 there any more." 
 
 The young delinquents w^erc more successful at 
 their next examination.
 
 231 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JUST JOINED. 
 
 "We are but warriors for a working day. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 In times of peace tlie lives of young cavalry 
 officers do not differ much from one another. A 
 little duty, which our colonels expect to have well 
 done ; a good mess ; a general welcome in the 
 county, which is of course due to their moral and 
 intellectual superiority over any other branch of 
 the service ; an unquestioned right to a moustache, 
 which of late years has been shared with Govern- 
 ment clerks, ambitious curates, all the Infantry, 
 and most of the Volunteers, make life pleasant as
 
 232 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 well as ornamental. The dress is becoming, and 
 particularly useful in a ball-room, where it is cal- 
 culated to keep off intruders in a crowd, and to 
 make great emplopiient for the underpaid and 
 overworked milliners' girls — a debt to that class of 
 the fair sex which is fairly due from gentlemen 
 who are said to have such eminent success among 
 them. The hunting-field is recommended, indeed 
 insisted upon, by the press, as the one great school for 
 cavalry officers : and France is at all times pointed 
 to as an illustrious example of its infallibility. 
 Character is developed by the matutinal and post- 
 prandial cigar ; a judgment for claret is cultivated ; 
 steeple-chasing gives a tone to the stomach for the 
 steward's ordinary, and a dignified contempt for 
 cold water in cold blood; while not only a taste 
 for, but a quickness in, calculation is attained by 
 constant attendance on the race-course, and an 
 unchecked confidence in laying or taking the odds. 
 These are a few of the agrcmens which assume the 
 position of duties in a crack cavalry corps; and 
 Frank Beauclerc was not slow to profit by them.
 
 JUST JOINED. 233 
 
 But ^Ye must do Frank justice. He was no 
 coward, but lie was not a man to take a header 
 without first ascertaining the depth of the water 
 and his own capabiHty for swimming. Neither 
 had he that obhquity of moral vision which pre- 
 tends to see virtue in vice, because it comes with a 
 gilded exterior. He knew the real value of most 
 things, seen even through the refracted rays of 
 pleasm-e and enthusiasm. He became a great 
 favourite in his regiment : in fact, the most popu- 
 lar man that had joined since poor Flatman, who 
 was killed in a run from Balleycasey Castle. To 
 be sure, there's a great deal of ill-directed ardour 
 in popularity. The British public, or the officers of 
 a regiment, follow a cry as staunchly as a pack of 
 hounds score to the cry of one leader, and some- 
 times have to be whipped off hare. It is very 
 fickle too, and somewhat vulgar. There is a glare, 
 and a heat, and a crowd about the movements of 
 a popular man, which either oppress and restrain 
 him in following the bent of his own tastes, or 
 urge him to an unnatui'al anticipation of the tastes
 
 23-4 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON 
 
 of liis pursuers. In fact, like the fox, who is 
 taking the lead for safety and to avoid the pressui'e 
 of the crowd behind, he seems to be playing the 
 same game ; when, all the time, he is^conscious of 
 a danger which is being forced upon him, hazard- 
 ously and unfortunately. Popular men should be 
 leniently criticised : they are not their own masters. 
 Like drunkards, they are acting under a pressure 
 of circumstances ; but, unlike them, they are not 
 even responsible for the cause. Only one out of 
 a thousand is allowed to lead from beginning to 
 end. Poor Flatman ! He spent all his money in 
 the cause, all his time, and a great deal of his 
 health, and killed himself in support of the pres- 
 tige of the Hussars with the Balleycasey 
 
 Hounds. The unpopular man who applauds him- 
 self at home is at least as fortunate as this. ' 
 
 Frank's popularity, however, was not of this 
 kind : it was of a better class altogether. By the 
 time he had left the depot and had been with his 
 regiment a twelvemonth or more, he had acquired 
 a character, as well as a popularity, which did as
 
 JUST JOINED. 235 
 
 mucli good to others as to himself. He was more 
 hke the leading hound than the fox : and he gave 
 a good healthy tone to the regimental subalterns, 
 ■which acted indirectly upon those who were of 
 loncrer service and hio;her orade. 
 
 o on 
 
 " That's a promising young officer, ]\Iajor, that 
 Frank Beauclerc. I don't know when we've had 
 such a good-looking, active youngster join us. 
 Certainly not since I've had the regiment." 
 
 " Indeed he is. Colonel," said Major Steadiman, 
 a Scotch gentleman who had gained his present 
 position from the ranks by transcendent courage 
 and an undeviating course of honourable duty, not 
 without a necessary economy for which his coun- 
 trymen are considered famous. " Indeed he is, a 
 vara extra-a-ordinarv youno; mon : a leetle inclined 
 to be gay, to be sure " 
 
 " Come, Major, I think you're a leetle inclined 
 to be hypercritical," said the Colonel. 
 
 The Major did not quite understand what that 
 was, but proceeded to defend his position. 
 
 "Na doubt. Colonel, the callant's as fine a
 
 236 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 looking soldier-like mon as ever put foot into stir- 
 rup ; but lie's ower fond of hunting his chargers ; 
 and I'm told — mind, I don't speak of my own 
 knowledge — that both his hacks can race." 
 
 "Well, it's difficult for a youngster, with 
 money, to live in a regiment like this without 
 some taste for horseflesh : it's part of his profession. 
 Major ; besides, he's no gambler even in that ; he 
 never puts on above a tenner, and that with a 
 brother-officer. We were young ourselves once." 
 
 The Colonel asserted this with an eye to a 
 moral juvenility, in which, it should be remarked, 
 the Major had never had any part. " I'm no 
 speaking against the young mon. Colonel; he's 
 the smartest officer and the best rider we liave in 
 the corps, and he's the vara quickest and steadiest 
 coachman I ever sat behind : but I'm no friend 
 to the Turf, Colonel." 
 
 "Nor I, Major; I've seen too much of it. 
 Lien do begin, as you say, with their tenners " (not 
 that the Major had said so, for he would have 
 called it a " ten-purid note"), " and go on, like
 
 JUST JOINED. 237 
 
 bricks and mortar, till tliey never know wliere to 
 stop. But I don't think Frank Beauclerc is 
 likely to commit himself in that way." 
 
 " Maybe not : but it's ill playing wi' edged 
 tools. There's no gentleman of my acqueentance 
 that has raised himself by assorting wi' bad com- 
 pany ; and a great many that have brought 
 mickle grief to themselves and their families." 
 
 " I'm told he's a capital billiard-player. That's 
 a more dangerous accomplishment than the other, 
 to my mind," said the Colonel. 
 
 "I never see a young gentleman knocking 
 about the balls, as they call it, in a public room, 
 without thinking him a fool, and premising that 
 he will become a knave, if Providence has only 
 given him brains for the situation." 
 
 "Frank Beauclerc doesn't want them, at all 
 events : let's hope he may use them to another 
 purpose. Major. Here's his health." And the 
 jolly Colonel drained a glass of sheriy and pushed 
 the bottle to his companion. " One more glass." 
 
 "I remember his father weel in India. He
 
 238 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 was as like liim as twa peas ; but younger- 
 looking and not so steady. He'd one great 
 fault, Colonel. He never said * no.' He was 
 a mighty favourite with us all. Everybody 
 loved him ; and when he married, there wasn't 
 a woman out there that wasn't ready to break 
 her heart." 
 
 " I've heard he was not very happy in his 
 choice," said Colonel Hoplight. 
 
 "I never heard that he replaced the first Mrs. 
 Beauclerc wi' a second, and it's no gude sign 
 that, Colonel." 
 
 "No, but there was some curious story about 
 him and some lady up in the country." 
 
 " Yes, there was : wdien he was up in the hills 
 — but that was after his wife's death some length 
 of time — and nobody ever knew the rights o' the 
 story. The ladies in Calcutta — that's them he 
 didn't pay much attention to — were vara wroth 
 for a time ; but when he came back they re- 
 ceived him wi' all the honours. Ye see then he 
 was a widower, and his uncle had died in the
 
 JUST JOINED. 239 
 
 mean time. He opened a great ball at Cal- 
 cutta wi' the Judge-Advo Gate's lady, and that 
 put the whole matter right : but I hear he didn't 
 marry Sir Joseph Parchment's daughter after 
 all." 
 
 The stalwart Major here rose, and, wishing the 
 Colonel a good evening, retired to his quarters ; 
 while the Colonel himself, lighting a cigar, after 
 exchanging his coat for a smoking- jacket, pro- 
 ceeded to look over his book on the Grand 
 Military, in which his pet cornet and one of 
 his captains were engaged. As he appreciated 
 Frank's forbearance in the betting-ring, we hope 
 he found his account satisfactory, and not too 
 hea^y. 
 
 " Hallo ! Beauclerc, what are you going to do 
 to-morrow ? " said the junior lieutenant. 
 
 " Nothing at all," said Frank, meaning that he 
 had no particular engagement that need prevent 
 him from joining any agreeable amusement pro- 
 posed to him. 
 
 " Then, by Jove ! old fellow, I wish you'd take 
 my duty ; I want to go to Leamington ; and we're
 
 240 THE BEAUCLEKCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 ordered to Brighton next week : I shant have 
 another chance." 
 
 " Ordered to Brighton : what's that for ? " 
 ^' To reheve the Fifteenth. Capital quarters : 
 lots of balls ; and the season's just at its height. 
 All the Jews and Jewesses gone last month, 
 and the swells coming in." The speaker was 
 Lieutenant the Honourable Tom Dashwood — a 
 fair, tall, decidedly languid youth, with unexcep- 
 tionable hands and feet, and a very delicately- 
 formed nose. Just the thing for Leamington, 
 where he made the trottoir to resound with his 
 boots, and the clubs with his brilliant conversa- 
 tion. Tom Dashwood was a great lady-killer : 
 indeed, time and women were his great victims, 
 so that Brighton suited him to a turn. Nobody 
 knew how Tom got rid of his money, but he was 
 always dreadfully hard up. 
 
 " The Jews and Jewesses gone ? " replied Beau- 
 clerc — " that's a bad look out for you : you could 
 kill two birds with one stone, Tom. What a 
 thing it would be to put up at the Three Balls : 
 what would Lord Tremencourt say ? "
 
 JUST JOIXED. • 241 
 
 " Oh! you're always chaffing a fellow. Will you 
 take my duty to-morrow ? " 
 
 ^' I believe you're after no good, Dashwood ; 
 tell us all about it. There's a woman at the bottom 
 of it/' said Frank, laughing. " AYho is it ? " 
 
 ^' Ah ! I'm not going to tell you, old fellow : 
 you'll be going over yourself. Will you take my 
 turn to-morrow ? Come, tell me that." 
 
 " Well, I will if you'll tell me her name," said 
 Frank, still laughing ; when in came Charlie 
 Ivyder. He had joined but a short time, and had 
 already exhibited symptoms of pace which, whether 
 in the field or elsewhere, is sure to end in irrief. 
 Charlie had all the characteristics of a spoilt 
 child. He had blue eyes, long eyelashes, curly 
 air, a good nose, slightly retrousse, laughing mouth, 
 and a neat figure : was about five feet six, and a 
 general professor. In fact, he was bidding fair for 
 the popularity which Flatman had enjoyed, and 
 which Beauclerc despised : and he really would 
 have stood a good chance had he been only four 
 inches taller. We forgot to say that it was after 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 :>42 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 luncheon, and that the mess-room was deserted ; 
 so Charlie warmed himself in a gentlemanly man- 
 ner, while the winter's sun stole in a quiet sickly 
 Avay in at the windows of the dull, ill-furnished 
 apartment. It lighted up a portrait of General 
 Sir John Moore at Corunua. 
 
 " Who is it you're talking about, Beauclerc : 
 the woman at Leamington? Ah! isn't she a 
 stunner, that's all! She can give Miss Moss a 
 stone and a half, and w^alk in." 
 
 "You're improving, Charlie," said Lieutenant 
 Dashwood ; wdiile Frank looked at the two in 
 silence, and wondered whether her ^lajesty had 
 not a hard bargain in both of them. 
 
 " Ah ! you're not much of a Leamington 
 man, Beauclerc: but I can tell you that Violet 
 Carloss isn't to be sneezed at. Forty thousand 
 down, and such a stepper ; isn't she, Dashwood ? " 
 
 It would be difficult to say which blushed the 
 deeper : Beauclerc or Dashwood. Charlie Kyder 
 then began a catalogue raisonnee of her charms, 
 which Beauclerc thought right to interrupt by in-
 
 JUST JOIXED. 213 
 
 forming them of liis previous acquaintance ^vitli 
 lier. Xot very long aftenvards they separated, 
 and as Frank went towards the stables he began to 
 reflect upon the name of the girl whom he had 
 scarcely seen since he joined, but whose image had 
 been rarely absent from his thoughts. 
 
 Beauclerc had been but seldom to Lymmersfield. 
 Without any intention of appearing indifferent, 
 he acknowledged to himself that his visits to his 
 old tutor had not been as frequent as they ought 
 to have been. The visit or two that he had paid 
 had been short and unsatisfactory, and on each 
 occasion Violet and Madame had been absent the 
 greater part of the time. He was not vain, or he 
 might have wondered that they should ha^'e sought 
 so little to improve his auspiciously begun ac- 
 quaintance. Violet Carloss, he thought, was not 
 likely to become enamoured of the petits soins of 
 Tom Dashwood; but he felt a strong inclination 
 to see for himself. As to Charlie Ryder, he, at all 
 events, was completely out of the hunt. It was 
 astonishing, however, how little he felt disposed to 
 e2
 
 244 
 
 gather information from either the one or the 
 other. 
 
 Violet Carloss had thouglit of Frank as a girl of 
 lier temperament was likely to think of the man to 
 whom she owed so lastino; an oblif2;ation. Madame 
 Rosenfels, it is true, had done her utmost to efface 
 the impression. She talked but little of him her- 
 self, and avoided the Colvilles as far as she could 
 do so. She was rather afraid of Mrs. Colville's 
 honesty, and havinfj i^ot Colville's si2;nature to the 
 completion of her purchase, was not particularly 
 anxious for closer inquiries into the success of her 
 speculation. It had not turned out well as yet ; and 
 the buIldinfT mania was less rife than it had been. 
 
 o 
 
 ^Ir. Alderman Smithers, the wholesale purchaser, 
 had informed Mr. Shearham that he was not pre- 
 pared to take any more lots at three hundred 
 pounds an acre. Madame Kosenfels had burnt 
 her fingers. 
 
 She seemed restless, too, and not so careful of her 
 w^ard's matrimonial interests as she should have 
 been. She eschewed eligible /7a?'^/5; and when the
 
 JUST JOIXED. 245 
 
 Honourable Tom DashwoocI demonstrated beyond 
 a doubt his admiration for Violet, she determined 
 upon beating a retreat from the Spa. 
 
 Three days later, Frank Beauclerc found that 
 his horse, whose turn it was to go to Mitford 
 AVood, wanted rest. Pie wanted none himself, 
 so he made his way to Leamington. Not 
 having ventured upon any inquiries from Tom 
 Dashwood or Charlie Eyder, he turned himself 
 over to the intelligence of the postmaster. 
 
 " Do you know the address of a lady of the 
 name of Rosenfels?" 
 
 The master referred to his memoranda, and in- 
 formed him that she was sta^-ing at 104, The 
 Parade. So Frank sought the Parade, and found 
 a very handsome jeAveller's shop. Having knocked 
 at the private door, he was answered by a slipshod 
 maid, not by any means belonging to Madame 
 Rosenfels's establishment. 
 
 " Is Madame Rosenfels staying here ? " said 
 Frank, looking at a deserted staii'case with the 
 carpets up.
 
 246 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHEE AND SOX. 
 
 " Please, sir, she and the young lady went 
 away the day before yesterday." 
 
 " And where are their letters to be sent to : 
 have they left no address?" Frank was rather 
 surprised at the quickness of the move, as Tom 
 Dashwood was in utter ignorance of any such 
 intention. 
 
 " They talked about going somewhere to the 
 seaside ; but I'll go and ask, sir, if you'll step in a 
 minute." Frank stepped in a minute, while the 
 girl was heard in colloquy A\dth Mrs. Furnival, 
 whom she addressed by name, in the lower regions. 
 "Please, sir, this is the card as she left with 
 missus." Frank took it, and read in Violet's hand- 
 writing, ''• The Cottage, Lymmersfield." 
 
 " Then they're gone home ! " said he to himself. 
 It was astonishing how annoyed he was ; and how 
 the girl's image haunted him. Surely, he could not 
 be in love. I don't think he put the question to 
 himself in so homely a way as that. 
 
 He was walking down the Parade when he met 
 with an old acquaintance coming up. A quick
 
 JUST JOIXED. 247 
 
 and a good-looking liorse ^Yas always an attraction 
 to Frank ; so wliile staring at the mud-bespattered 
 rider, he heard himself addressed by name, and 
 recognised his friend Bentley. 
 
 Bentley assured him that they had had a first-rate 
 thing, and that Ryder of " his" had gone splen- 
 didly. ^ye killed only three miles from here, and 
 he's waiting for the train now, to put his liorse on." 
 
 " Confound the fellow," thought Frank ; " now 
 he'll tell that ass Dashwood that I've been here all 
 day." 
 
 " What are you going to do, Beaucler 
 
 c 'i 
 
 ? " 
 
 " I was on my way to the train." 
 
 " Oh I never mind about Ryder. Come home 
 and dine with me." 
 
 " I can't dress ; I've no clothes." 
 
 " Never mind about that. There's nobody 
 coming but Fairfax." 
 
 " What time can I get away ? I must be in 
 barracks to-night." 
 
 " There's a late train at ten thirty to Coventry. 
 That will do for you. When Tve left my horse,
 
 248 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 we'll go to tlie club for an hour or two, and we can 
 dine at half-past six. Fairfax is sure to be there, 
 and we'll tell him of the alteration." 
 
 Fairfax was there, and they told him of the 
 alteration. 
 
 All young men seem to have a taste for what Is 
 called a little dinner ; a potage, sole au gratin, or 
 truites au capres (when you can get them), salmi 
 de perdrix, canard aux olives, chapon, ccrevisses, 
 with some trifle of cabinet pudding, and creme a la 
 vanille ; all very good in their way. I confess I 
 like the taste, if it is not talked about. There's 
 a refinement in the thing, especially since we have 
 cut our gross joints, and have taken to diners a la 
 Eusse. Of course I do not prefer a gourmand ; 'I 
 like only an epicure ; and the superintendence of 
 such matters should be left to the mistress and the 
 cook. I would as soon see a man hopelessly drunk, 
 as hear him talk about eatino". 
 
 o 
 
 Bentley was a sub in a marching regiment, at 
 which dignity he had arrived with some difficulty, 
 lie was not by any means at the top of the tree
 
 JUST JOINED. 249 
 
 either ; still he thought it desirable to cultivate an 
 acquaintance with made dishes, and he could 
 scarcely have had a better opportunity than at the 
 pastrycook's shop, over which he resided. Had he 
 had a natural taste for this sort of thing, he might 
 have attained to a knowledge of culinary smells. 
 The odours wdiich were wafted from below to the 
 ensign's quarters, if not always pleasant, w-ere ap- 
 petising and various. Mr. Oldham supplied half 
 Leamington with dinners and suppers ; and if he 
 couldn't do for an ensign and his friends, it was a 
 pity. 
 
 But Ensign Bentley was not to be put off with 
 rechauffes. " Crambe repetita" was not to his taste- 
 He was out to see the world ; and metaphorically 
 he still wore his hat slightly on one side, and carried 
 a little cane in the pocket of his lounging-coat. 
 He had almost forgotten his own neighbourhood, 
 where his father kept a moderate pack of hounds in 
 a difficult country, somewhere in the West of 
 England ; and had condescended to come to Lea- 
 mington at that excellent sportsman's expense, who
 
 250 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATIIETl AXD SOX. 
 
 found him two liorses, and desired him to see liow 
 they did tliino:s in the Midland Counties. Ensirrn 
 Bentlev, or the " Captain," as the maids called the 
 young man at home, had a very good opinion of 
 himself ; indeed, he was a great card at Lea- 
 mington amonoj tlic ladies, at the Reo;ent, over the 
 billiard-table, and across a counter; so that the 
 dinner to which Frank Beauclerc had victimised 
 himself was not so bad as might have been ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Fairfax had been in a drao-oon reo;iment : was of 
 a certain age : had long sold out ; but retained a 
 cheerful bowing or hail-fellow-well-met sort of ac- 
 quaintance with the whole of the British Army. If 
 he had any better dinner or company in prospect 
 than that of Bentley, he would not have been 
 there ; as it was, his virtue was rewarded by 
 meeting Frank Beauclerc, whom he already knew 
 and esteemed ; and the good opinion of such a 
 valuable public servant ought to have been highly 
 flattering to our hero. 
 
 " What do youjdrink, Beauclerc ? " said Bentley,
 
 JUST JOINED . 251 
 
 with tlie aplomb of a general officer on a volunteer 
 review-day. 
 
 '' Claret, if you please. Just put it before tlie 
 fire a moment." He did so. 
 
 Fairfax was warming his in his hand. 
 
 ^' What brought you to this place, Bentley? I 
 thought you were bound to whip in to youi' go- 
 vernor, if you got leave," said Frank. 
 
 " Oh ! no man alive could stand that comitry. 
 Besides, the governor took to mounting me on the 
 servants' horses at last. Impossible to stand that, 
 you know." 
 
 " I suppose not ; there's a great difference be- 
 tween the value of a good huntsman and an ensign 
 in the Hundred and Ninety-first." Bentley had an 
 idea he was beino; chaffed, but he onlv lauo-hed and 
 helped himself to the claret. 
 
 " And who is there here ? " said Frank, again. 
 " Any one I know ? " 
 
 ^' Let's see : there's General Blazer and the 
 girls, and Fred Bubbleton and old Sir Patrick 
 Macfussell and his niece. You recollect the ]Mac-
 
 252 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 fussells, Bcauclerc? tliey had that liousc on the 
 Portbridge road, on the right-hand side out of 
 Lymmersfield." Frank looked oblivious. He 
 hadn't got to his point yet ; but he drank on in 
 hope of doing so. 
 
 " Don't you recollect they used to sit just in 
 front of the Mannings in church ; a girl with red 
 eyes and brown hair — no — I mean brown eyes 
 and red hair?" No; Frank had forgotten her; 
 such beauty had not made an impression, or he 
 was preoccupied. At last it came. 
 
 " Oh ! and, Beauclerc, who do you. think w^as at 
 the hospital ball the other night ? Why, Violet 
 Carloss and ^Madame Rosenfels." 
 
 " Keally : and what had she to say for her- 
 self ?" 
 
 " Why, she asked after our fellows, you know. 
 I think she mentioned you." Frank felt savage. 
 "No, now I think of it, I remember she did 
 not." Frank thought this a bad sign ; in reality it 
 Avas a good one. But then he was inexperienced 
 in the ways [of woman. " But Fairfax can tell
 
 JUST JOINED. 253 
 
 YOU more about her than I can. He danced half a 
 dozen times with her while she was here ; it's 
 more in his way;" and here the junior ensign 
 spread out his feet before the fire, and assumed a 
 man-of-the-world sort of look, which suited re- 
 markably ill with short light hair of the regulation 
 cut, and the smallest soiipcon of down on his upper 
 lip. Frank turned to Fairfax, who said : 
 
 " What ! do you know the Carloss ? By Jove, 
 what a beautiful girl ! What eyelashes they are, 
 to be sure. What an odd thing, too, we were 
 talking about your fellows ; she knows Tom Dash- 
 wood and Charlie Ryder, and one or two others. 
 The old woman kept a pretty sharp look-out; 
 wouldn't have 'em at any price, I can tell you. 
 That fellow Dashwood was going it tremendously." 
 
 ^'Was he? Not a bad fellow, Dashwood!" 
 Frank was forced to say something. 
 
 " No ; and he'll be old Tremencourt's heir ; I 
 shouldn't wonder if there's something up in that 
 quarter. She'd never be such a fool as to refuse 
 him. She shut up young Lionel Cotton, the Man-
 
 25-4 TUE BEAUCLEIICS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Chester swell, most splendidly. He was awfully 
 sweet on lier : and he thinks nobody can say ' no ' 
 to eighteen thousand a year." Beauclerc was 
 getting interested. 
 
 "Ah! how was that?" Frank lit a cigar, and 
 smoked rather savagely. 
 
 " Well, he's a way of staring, you know ; I don't 
 think he means anything, but he's a deuce of a 
 fellow to stare, you know." 
 
 " Confound his impudence," said Frank, biting 
 the end of one of Mr. Carlin's very best regalias, 
 at four guineas a pound. 
 
 " Ah ! he's not a bad fellow, though ; but, I sup- 
 pose, she didn't like it, and said, ^I hope you'll 
 know me again, Mr. Cotton.' Deuced cool, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Eather so,'^ said Bentley. Frank said nothing : 
 but he knew pretty well how she would have saiel 
 it, unless she was much altered. 
 
 " So Cotton said, ^ I'm sure I may ask the same 
 question, Miss Carloss ? ' " 
 
 " Did he ? I wish I'd been behind him."
 
 JUST JOINED. 255 
 
 " Yes he did ; and what do you tliink she said ? 
 "Why, she said, ' Yes, Mr. Cotton, and I'll answer 
 it. I hope you'll be so much improved in your 
 manners that I shan't know you at all.' Cotton 
 shut up for an hour or two. But I think it's a 
 pretty clear case with Tom Dashwood.*' 
 
 The conversation then took a general turn. 
 Fairfax was very communicative, and tolerably well 
 up in Leamington scandals. Frank was not sorry 
 when the time came to wish them good night : 
 which he did in the middle of an interestino' narra- 
 
 o 
 
 tive of '^ unefemme compiise^^ a foreign Marchioness 
 who was supposed to be pining from an unrequited 
 attachment to ^Ii\ Fairfax himself. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning he went on 
 leave for fom' or five days, and by dinner-time he 
 was at Lymmersfield : a sudden recognition of his 
 obligations towards his old tutor and his tutor's 
 wife sucro-ested the visit before his chanire of 
 
 CO o 
 
 quarters. 
 
 They were delighted to see him — who ever was 
 not ? — and he dined heartily on something plainer
 
 25G THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 but not less excellent than Salmi aux jierdrir 
 and cliampagne ! lie did ample justice to the 
 South Down mutton and Burgundy, which his old 
 tutor put before him. lie had asked after pretty 
 nearly everybody in the village, but he had not yet 
 mustered courage to inquire for Violet. 
 
 " Why shouldn't IT' thought he : but he never 
 did. At last Colville left the room ; and while 
 Mrs. Colville worked away at an antimacassar, he 
 ventured to inquire for her. ^len are always 
 bolder with women on such subjects. 
 
 " I thought you'd forgotten her quite, Frank. 
 It's such a time since you were here." 
 
 " Forgotten her ; oh no ! Certainly not that 
 
 — only — only — you see — I " here he stuck 
 
 fast, and Mrs. Colville did not come to the rescue. 
 She continued her crochet-work, and looked pro- 
 vokingly quiet and handsome. She thought Frank 
 was capricious, and it disappointed her. 
 
 " I suppose I shall see her to-morrow," added he, 
 making the remark in as common-place a tone of 
 voice as he well could. 
 
 " I suppose not, Frank. They came home
 
 JUST JOINED. 257 
 
 tlie day before yesterday, and went to Brighton 
 this afternoon. Madame has let her house 
 ao'ain." 
 
 "Brio-hton !" Then the mischief was out : and 
 they were gone down at Tom Dashwood's sugges- 
 tion. He forgot that Tom didn't know the route 
 the ]ast time he coukl have seen her. It wasn't 
 out till the day after. He swallowed his tea spas- 
 modically : and then befian to think with a book 
 before him. Four daj's in this confounded place 
 without her ! 
 
 The next day he borrowed Colville's hack. I 
 am not romantic myself, but I can formve Frank 
 for haying ridden round the bank of the lake from 
 which he had helped to rescue poor Violet. Surely 
 she couldn't have forgotten him ! 
 
 And what did Frank in his solitary ride? 
 Well, he thought not very kindly of that ass 
 Dashwood. Then he wondered whether it would 
 not have been as well that the waters of the lake 
 had closed over them both for ever. But he was 
 just enough to know that this world is not so rich in 
 
 YOL. I. S
 
 258 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 loveliness and innocence as to have easily spared 
 Violet. " To die old is only to separate for a short 
 time; to be separated young is to die indeed." 
 Frank was half a sentimentalist, for which I like 
 him : but he was a man of action, too, for wliicli I 
 like him still better. There and then he deter- 
 mined to play out the game, and to go with his 
 regiment to Brighton. 
 
 In the mean time dinner awaited him at Lym- 
 mersfield. Heaven knows, he cared nothing about 
 dinner that day. But Mrs. Colville was a friend in 
 need, and it was a comfort to have some one to 
 whom to open his heart : and when she saw the 
 wound, surely she could pour in oil and wine. 
 
 " Frank, you're not happy," said that lady after 
 dinner on that day, when Colville had retired 
 to his study. " Can I be of any service to 
 you?" 
 
 Indeed she could, of the greatest, and he told 
 her so. 
 
 " Mrs. Colville, you think me very odd, I dare 
 say?"
 
 JUST JOINED. 259 
 
 '^ iSTot at all. Only as capricious as other people, 
 whicli I did not think yon." 
 
 " Then help me out of a difficulty. I've been 
 to the lake at St. Hilda's." 
 
 " So I should have guessed, and a less far-sighted 
 person might have done so." 
 
 '' Indeed, why so ? " and Frank looked eagerly 
 for a solution which would have saved him an ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " Because I saw Harry's pony's legs were adorned 
 with the red clay peculiar to that district." This 
 was scarcely the answer he expected. 
 
 " Now you're laughing at me." 
 
 ^'And do you not deserve it? Yiolet Carloss 
 has been round that lake fifty times to your once. 
 Now you must make a confidante of me." 
 
 "Ah ! you guess my secret, I see." 
 
 " It ought to be no secret, unless she shares it 
 with you. I can't tell how that may be." Was 
 this not justifiable fishing under the circum- 
 stances ? 
 
 " You know, Tve had so few opportunities." 
 s 2
 
 260 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 "Opportunities are made by sensible men. 
 There ! don't go," for Frank exhibited some signs 
 of retreating. And before Colville rejoined them, 
 he made up his mind to go to Brighton. Women 
 are the best doctors for heart-complaint.
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 A TEAXSPLANTATION. 
 
 Coelum, non auimiim, mutant qui trans mare currmit.— HoR. 
 
 EvEEAED Beaucleec, tlie father of Frank, was 
 a remarkable-looking man at the time ^ve speak of. 
 He was remarkably handsome in the first place. 
 He was pale, without being sallow, which latter 
 many of our Indian officers and civilians are after 
 a lengthened sojourn in that climate. He was 
 scarcely to be called dark. His hair was brown 
 and unchanged in colour. His eyes were gi'ey, but 
 the length and colour of the lashes gave them a 
 depth and earnestness which they might otherwise
 
 262 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 have wanted. His nose was straight and well 
 formed, and his moutli ratlier full, but with hand- 
 some and regular teeth, which he showed when he 
 smiled. He wore a long and drooping moustache, 
 without beard ; and his whiskers were thin and 
 straight in line, but wavy and silken in substance. 
 In fact, his face had that clean European look 
 which was successfully achieved by cavalry officers 
 of a past date. He was slight and tall, fully six 
 feet high : but his shoulders were broad and flat, 
 and his figure sloped gracefully down, triangularly, 
 to his feet, giving his flanks that unmistakable 
 promise of joint activity and strength so peculiarly 
 English. He was really forty-five years of age, 
 with an appearance at least ten years younger. 
 
 He often smiled, whether to show his teeth or 
 his disposition I cannot tell : probably, from both 
 causes. His friends had rarely seen him out of 
 temper, his acquaintances never. 
 
 To physiognomists his face was pre-eminently 
 that of one who never said ^' No " to himself or 
 others. He was self-indulgent, and facile of tem-
 
 A TEAXSPLAXTATIOX. 263 
 
 per; a not unfrequent combination, though, at first 
 sight, somewhat anomalous. There was talent, 
 too, in his broad white forehead, and coui'age ; 
 but it was rather the courage of impulse and 
 physique than that of stern self-reliance and high 
 principle. Generous he was, for it w^as painful to 
 him to be otherwise : and he was not indifferent to 
 the reputation which is acquired by occasional 
 great sacrifices at the expense of many petty negli- 
 gences of that virtue. 
 
 It is a great thing to be able to say '' No " in 
 the right place. It entails a victory over self, 
 which is far greater than a victory over many 
 cities. Colonel Beauclerc had never attained to 
 that degree of generalship. He had had his mo- 
 ments of good resolution, but had always capitulated 
 when the enemy presented himself in a specious 
 form. He vs'as too fond of treating resolution, and 
 his resolution never rejected the bribe. 
 
 It must not be inferred from this that Everard 
 Beauclerc Avas a dishonourable man. Nothinc; of 
 the sort. He would have fought a duel, had it lain
 
 264 THE LEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 in his way, as Falstaff would have picked up 
 honour. He could not have said, "No." He 
 would have paid a debt, if he had stripped himself 
 of his last farthing, for he could not have said 
 "No." But then the creditor must have pre- 
 sented himself as the first claimant, or the farthiuL^ 
 would have gone in charity or a cheroot. He 
 would not have defrauded his neighbour of a 
 pleasure, an appointment, a rupee ; but he would 
 not have been equally particular about his wife : 
 always provided that she was handsome, weak, 
 and had fallen in his way. He could scarcely be 
 called actively vicious ; for he never jumped the 
 rails which hedges in virtue while the ordinary 
 road was open to him and equally pleasant. This 
 disposition gives a man false notions of honour 
 and honesty, and the world is apt to endorse the 
 bill which he draws upon it at sight. 
 
 He had been brought up in a school calculated 
 to encourage, or rather not to restrain, the vices of 
 a haughty and chivalrous temperament, not to 
 stimulate its virtues. He had been taught to 
 make the world his idol. Like manv men of
 
 A TEAXSPLAXTATIOX. 265 
 
 naturally good feelings, lie worslii2:)ped it with a 
 divided worship — the worship rather of habit than 
 of heart. I think if he had been blessed with a 
 snnb nose, bad teeth, and a large stomach, and 
 had been early marked with the small-pox, he 
 would have been a crood man. As it was, he was 
 a singularly popular one, with faults that never 
 impeded his advancement. 
 
 When he was young, religion in schools meant 
 one of two things : a lofty aspiration beyond the 
 intelligence of boyhood, and quite impracticable 
 amongst its duties and its pleasures ; or an ultra- 
 asceticism sure to be condemned and kicked at 
 by high spirits and fashionable scholarship. The 
 consequence was a moderate indifference, which 
 laucrhed at nothino- and cared for nothinor. It 
 pervaded masters as well as boys ; and all that 
 was good and great vacillated between a Pericles 
 and a Plato. He went to church and said his 
 prayers to please his mother ; but his firmest 
 belief was in his talent for short whist and his 
 high connexions. 
 
 Frank was, in many respects, like his father ;
 
 2GG 
 
 but that blank paper, of Avliicli philosophers speak, 
 had been early impressed in a better school. He 
 had had the opportunity of learning that boys 
 should be honourable from some higher motive 
 than high birth ; that there were more kinds of 
 courage than one, and more principles of action 
 tlian position in society. lie had been tauglit 
 tliis from his earliest years, and had seen it acted 
 upon by Dr. Armstrong and those in whom lie 
 reposed confidence. The curse of former pubhc 
 education in fashionable society was this : that 
 men became good in spite of false premises, or 
 taxed all their energies only to become great. 
 
 Everard Beauclerc sat in the verandah of a 
 handsome house in that city of palaces, Calcutta. 
 It was detached, built of brick, and stuccoed. It 
 looked towards the north. It was not hot, but the 
 air was soft and mild, and the Colonel smoked his 
 cheroot and thought of many things. The ground 
 story was unused, and he occasionally listened to 
 hear the sound of wheels which miglit enter the 
 spacious porte cochere beneath the pillared porcli
 
 A TEAXSPLANTATIOK. 
 
 267 
 
 and covered yard, which belonged to the base- 
 ment of his house. He watched the craft on the 
 river, here a rapid stream of a mile broad, with 
 the steamers paddling up to the quay. The busy 
 hum of voices came to him with the soft sea 
 breeze, and the sounds of the life that passed to 
 and fro on the ^^Coui'se" was borne to him with 
 a pleasant murmur. 
 
 At present he waited for his friend Mr. Finney, 
 the junior partner in a great banking firm in 
 Calcutta. He arrived at last; an hour after his 
 time. The flush of business was upon his brow 
 as he stepped out of his carriage and came 
 up-stairs. 
 
 '^ My dear Colonel, I am come in person to an- 
 swer your note, as I told you I would." 
 
 Mr. Finney's person was not such as one would 
 have desired especially to have come. However, 
 here he was, and as the business was important, 
 and the Colonel merely offered him a seat in the 
 verandah and a cheroot, we need say no more 
 about it.
 
 2G8 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATEER AND SON. 
 
 " Thank yon, Finney ; it's very good of yon to 
 come. I really feel qnite a lassitude. I suppose 
 it's this confounded climate." 
 
 *^Xo one ought to be less hard upon it than 
 you. You look as young as you did twenty 
 years ago." 
 
 Finney was a cunning-looking person, small- 
 eyed, long-nosed, with a serpent-like figure that 
 might have penetrated and coiled itself round the 
 profoundest depths of a man's heart. His object 
 at present was to fascinate : it was his worst 
 point. So he smoked the Colonel's cheroot, notwith- 
 standing that it made him a little uncomfortable. 
 
 " Do I really, Finney? I don't feel so." 
 
 '' You do, indeed. The climate agrees with you 
 wonderfully. You ought to stop out here and 
 become a millionnaire." 
 
 " A mummy you mean, my good fellow. Xo, 
 
 no : I've arranged my affairs, and, as I said, I 
 
 must realise. I've put the business into Sharker and 
 
 Flint's hands, and they must see me through it." 
 
 Sharker and Flint were just the people that
 
 A TFiAXSPLAXTATIOX. 269 
 
 !Mr. Finiiev did not care to reco^'iiise in the 
 Colonel's affairs just tlien. 
 
 '- You mio'lit be a millionnaire a few vears 
 lience, Beauclerc — a millionnaire, and still a young 
 man." Finney rubbed his nose thoughtfully. 
 
 ^' A millionnaii'e ^Yithout a liver is not so good 
 as a goose with one." 
 
 '•And after all," continued the financier, ap- 
 pearing to commune with himself, but aloud, 
 " what a pittance in England is a few thousands 
 a year to a man of such taste, such refinementj 
 
 such capabilities for enjoyment, such " 
 
 '' That's just the reason. I want to go while I 
 have those capabilities of enjoyment, and not when 
 I'm dried up, worn out, and miserable. Besides, 
 you're such a nabob, my dear Finney. \Miat's 
 your idea of a pittance ? You bankers must have 
 had a fine time of it." 
 
 " Indeed we have ; and that's why I should 
 recommend you to think twice before you draw 
 your money out of the Anglo-Banian Bank. One 
 hundred and fifty-three thousand pounds will be
 
 270 THE BEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 found to be something less than one million one 
 hundred and fifty-three thousand rupees." 
 
 " Let's call it a hundred and fifty." 
 
 '' Let's call it what it is. Your friends Sharker 
 and Flint will, I can tell you." 
 
 " Well, it's enough to live upon, at all events." 
 
 ''• Not as you live. Let me see. At three per 
 cent., with the funds at par, that will l)e just 
 four thousand " 
 
 " There, never mind that : have another che- 
 root." 
 
 ^' On no account ; no, thank you," said Finney, 
 who was more at home with his Colenso than his 
 tobacco ; ^' on no account. But, as I was saying, 
 four thousand five hundred a year is no great 
 income to begin upon in England. To be 
 sure, there's your uncle's estate, which may be 
 worth " 
 
 '' The Jews have had the best -oart of it lonir 
 ago. It's let on a lease, or I'd go and live at the 
 place myself, and take the hounds." 
 
 "Take the hounds!" said old Finney, with
 
 A TEAXSPLAXTATION. 271 
 
 a Stare, his own profligacy lying qnite in a dif- 
 ferent direction to dogs and horses. 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? I suppose I'm not so infirm 
 vet as not to be able to ride." 
 
 "Oh! it's not the riding, it's the money I'm 
 thinking of." 
 
 "You don't mean to say that a man with a 
 hmuked and fifty thousand pounds and a place in 
 the country, which must produce something, can't 
 be master of a pack of fox-hounds ? " 
 
 "I know nothing about hounds; but I should 
 think not, when he only gets three per cent, for it. 
 We've allowed you seven, and you have contrived 
 occasionally to overdraw." 
 
 There is no denying the facts of Mr. Finne}', 
 nor the extravagance of the Colonel's hfe, who 
 would have managed to spend any sum of money 
 that could be placed at his disposal. In a capital 
 remarkable for its luxuries and waste, Everard 
 Beauclerc was running the wealthiest Europeans 
 or natives close for first place. 
 
 The Colonel understood the position in which
 
 272 THE EEAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 Finney's statistics liad placed him, and meditated, 
 proba-bly as much as ho ever had meditated, al)oiit 
 money matters. Mr. Finney pushed his advances. 
 " And you give up your appointment, too, and 
 retire upon half-pay ? " 
 
 ^' Of course ;" and tlie Colonel pulled his mous- 
 tache into his mouth, and held the end of it 
 between his lips, with him an unfailing sign of 
 profundity. 
 
 " Why not leave the money, if you must go, 
 and draw upon us for your income at sight ? 
 Nothing easier : a thing done every day." 
 
 '^ Do you remember me when I first married : 
 three or four and twenty years ago ? I was very 
 young, and married imprudently, people said. 
 They said so in England : but I didn t think so. 
 Well ! I had thirty thousand pounds then, only — 
 it wasn't much, to be sure — but it was all ; and it 
 was in the hands of one of your great houses : 
 Snatchem's. I didn't get much of it back, as you 
 may suppose." 
 
 " Three shillings in the pound," said Finney,
 
 A TRANSPLANTATION. 273 
 
 with a pious ejaculation on the wickedness of 
 mankind m general and bankers in particular. 
 " After all, they were but adventurers from Liver- 
 pool or Manchester." 
 
 " I did not ask what they were ; but I woke one 
 fine morning, and went out shooting with Jennyns 
 and Goldicott. They didn't know that I had any- 
 thing to do Tvith it ; but mentioned the failure at 
 luncheon. It was only for two millions three hun- 
 dred thousand. That was a trifle after Alexander's, 
 you know." 
 
 "What did you do?" said old Finney, wonder- 
 ino; in liis own mind what his friend would do if 
 he had just now such a pleasant piece of intelli- 
 gence to announce. 
 
 " WeU ! it rather upset me, and I missed the 
 first small deer after tiffin ; but it made me dread- 
 fully savage ; and in the afternoon I shot a tiger, 
 and won fom-teen hundred of Bungalow at ecarte. 
 One can't do much with fom^teen hundred ; but 
 it's better than nothing." 
 
 ]\Ir. Finney thought it was. " Those were awk- 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 
 
 ward times for young men. Tlie merchants and 
 bankers were most improvident, reckless in their 
 way of trading. They speculated in all sorts of 
 things." 
 
 "Speculated!" said Beauclerc, regarding the 
 loss at a distance as rather a joke, "I believe you ; 
 I don't know what I was not a holder of. Indigo, 
 silk, cotton, raw sugars — what the d — 1 are tliey ? — 
 and monkey-skins ; and then down they came upon 
 us. I don't think Snatchem was much the worse 
 for it. He sold his race-horses ; but he continued 
 to live and give dinners, much as usual. I 
 remember his horses, for I bought one of 'em 
 myself : ^ a thorough-bred one, by the King of 
 Oude.' " 
 
 Finney opened his eyes at this very singular 
 mode of retrenchment. "I gave a hundred so- 
 vereigns for him, and won the Nizam's Cup, worth 
 at least two thousand rupees, and about twenty 
 thousand more in bets ; so that spec answered 
 better than raw sugar and monkeys' tails, you 
 see."
 
 A TRANSPLANTATION. 275 
 
 " Yours has been a curious life, Colonel. How- 
 ever, you're pretty safe now." 
 
 " By Jove ! I hope so. When my uncle died a 
 few years after, it quite set me up. Ah ! poor dear 
 Florence : she didn't live to see it. I've had some 
 lucky coups since then. And you think I could 
 do best by leaving the money in your hands ? " 
 
 "My dear Colonel, what's the difference be- 
 tween four thousand five hundi'ed and ten thou- 
 sand five hunch'ed ? " 
 
 " Well, you know best, I dare say. It's a good 
 deal of money, as you say." 
 
 " And as safe as the Bank of England." 
 
 " That's just what they said of Alexander's — and 
 of Snatchem — and the rest of them — but they all 
 came to grief." 
 
 " But what a different state of things ! Look at 
 the lives they led! the extravagance, the immo- 
 rahty, the insane speculation, the gambling " 
 
 " Very likely, Finney ; but you don't mean to 
 say there are no more cakes and ale because 
 Snatchem's gone, and you stand?"
 
 276 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 " There was a general demoralisation of Indian 
 society at tlie time you speak of, shocking to con- 
 template ;" and the banker looked piously horiified. 
 Everard Beauclerc seemed rather entertained, and 
 replied : 
 
 " Yes ! to be sure tliere "was : they were no 
 worse than their creditors, at all events, in those 
 respects, you know. To be sure, they added robbery 
 to their abnegation of the rest of the Decalogue ; 
 but then it was on a grand scale ; and the Bank- 
 ruptcy Court, like society, pardons vice on a large 
 scale with a magnanimity she never uses towards 
 minor infirmities. Poor old Snatchem ! I'm glad 
 he went on again. His son's one of the aides-de- 
 camp at Government House." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Colonel Beauclerc, you make a 
 joke of everjrthing ; you always did ; but in those 
 days we lived over a volcano, and when it burst 
 it spread ruin far and wide. Think of the widow 
 and orphan ^" 
 
 " And of the unhappy subaltern, who got nothing 
 out of it but a hundred-guinea screw " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! it's no use talking to you now : we
 
 A TEANSPLANTATION. 277 
 
 must have this matter over seriously another time. 
 If we can set you up in England with ten thou- 
 sand a year, Colonel, with your opportunities you 
 may be anything. You may have all the packs 
 of dogs in Newmarket, and your boy — bless 
 my heart! — ^you may return him for the county. 
 Think of that: young Frank, member for the 
 county." 
 
 This was a chord to which the Colonel always 
 responded. " Well, I suppose it would be a great 
 advantage. I think nothing more need be done 
 in the matter till I see Sharker and Flint." 
 
 "D — n Sharker and Flint," said the pious 
 banker as he went down-stairs, and met Captain 
 Jennyns coming up. 
 
 " So you really mean going next month, Beau- 
 clerc, do you ? " said the Captain. 
 
 " Well ! you see, I had made up my mind, 
 but " 
 
 " So you had three years ago, when your boy 
 was first gazetted. It's more than an even bet you 
 don't go now." And the Captain stroked his 
 moustache.
 
 278 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATIIEK AND SOX. 
 
 " Indeed I must. I mean to go ; but I want 
 to settle some money matters. Tliere's old Finney ; 
 'pon my soul, I think that fellow's a rascal with 
 that Anglo-Banian bank of his : he's been here, 
 and I've given my lawyers orders to get my account 
 out of his hand, and put everything straight be- 
 tween us." 
 
 When Jennyns heard of Mr. Finney's visit and 
 the Anslo-Banian Bank, his face turned a shade 
 paler than usual ; and he blew a prolonged whistle. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter now ? " said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " If it's not impertinent, old fellow, may I ask 
 what you consider the amount of your property of 
 one sort or another in that concern ? " 
 
 " Yes, you may, Charlie. I've just heard, one 
 hundred and fifty-three thousand pounds some 
 shillings ; and what the devil to do with the odd 
 three thousand I'm sure I can't tell." 
 
 " Don't let that trouble you ; come with me." 
 They were soon in the Captain's carriage, and 
 driving along the Course, where nods and signs of 
 recognition gi-eeted them constantly.
 
 A TRANSPLANTATION. 279 
 
 " The sooner you're out of this concern the 
 better for you, Beauclerc. Sharker and Flint are 
 bad enough ; but that's a harbour of refuge com- 
 pared to the Anglo-Banian business." 
 
 " I've ordered Sharker to get the affair wound 
 up a month ago." The Colonel did not say that he 
 had just been about rescinding the order. That 
 sort of reticence was so like him. 
 
 " We'll stir up old Sharker at once, then. I don't 
 like your Anglo-Indian friends. Report just now 
 doesn't speak highly of them." 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to say " 
 
 '' I don't mean to sa}' anything ; but we'll go 
 and see how matters stand ;'' and they were soon in 
 the office of Messrs. Sharker and Flint. Sharker 
 Avas enjoying himself in the cool of the day. Flint 
 was at home. A sharp, hard-featured little man, 
 who looked a match for any number of cavalry 
 officers, and a banker into the bargain. 
 
 " Well, Flint, what have you done about my 
 business ? " 
 
 " What, Mr. Finney and the banking concern if 
 Why, he's just gone; came here to rescind the
 
 280 THE BEAUCLERCS, FATHER AND SON. 
 
 order for transmission to England ; but we want 
 your signatui'e to the power of attorney, before 
 w^e can do anything." Finney had lost no time. 
 
 " How soon can the business be settled ? " said 
 Jennyns, who was a good-looking, wiry sort of 
 man, with a quick imperious manner, highly au- 
 thoritative wdien backed by money and right. 
 
 " As soon as the Colonel likes ; now, if he pleases ; 
 but if he's going to rescind the order, it doesn't 
 signify. No importance at all. We'll stop the 
 proceedings, and the thing can stand over till the 
 next board day." 
 
 " Let's have the papers, and di'aw out the form. 
 The Colonel has made up his mind, so we'll sign 
 at once." Mr. Flint went to a strong-box, whence 
 he drew forth the lengthiest document on record, 
 which he proceeded to read. Having finished, he 
 produced a pen and ink, and, pointing to a favoured 
 spot, desired the Colonel to sign, seal, and deliver. 
 
 In half an hour the Colonel and his friend were 
 on their way back. The business was to be con- 
 cluded by that time to-morrow ; and when Captain
 
 A TEANSPLANTATIOX. 281 
 
 Jennyns shook hands with his friend, he feU as if 
 he had done a good day's work. 
 
 '' You're safe enough now, Beauclerc ; and 
 about the time you get yoiu' first dividend from 
 the Bank of England, you'll read of the failure of a 
 few more Indian houses, and our friend Finney's 
 will be among the first of them." 
 
 " You don't mean that ? " replied Beauclerc, look- 
 ing remarkably blue. His friend did mean it, 
 and the Colonel's sleep that night w^as not so whole- 
 some as it was six weeks later, when the proper 
 course had been adopted, and the transmission of 
 one hundred and fifty thousand pounds into English 
 securities was un fait accompli. 
 
 We may as well finisli up Finney and the 
 Anglo-Banian Company at once. Their failure 
 took place within the twelve months. The Colonel's 
 withdrawal was the first stone wdiich hit the win- 
 dows of a dilapidated house. They carried on, 
 however, for some time. At length Finney be- 
 came supernaturally pious, and his coadjutors more 
 luxurious and immoral than usual. A great crash 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 282 THE r.EAUCLEECS, FATHER AND SOX. 
 
 came. Half a dozen houses divided the loss of 
 about fifteen millions between them. Widows 
 and orphans wept, and went into servitude ; subal- 
 terns and old general officers cursed and drank 
 saniraree, and beo;an life afrain. Finnev forswore 
 champagne and the pleasures of the table for six 
 months; and the confiding public divided five 
 shillings in the pound among them. It would 
 have made a hole in the hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRIKIED BY C. wniTING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STllAND.
 
 
 
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