"LIBRARY OF THE U N IVER.SITY Of ILLINOIS 823 V743a v.l Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/arundeltaleoffre01vinc " u'^sfcyz/ ARUNDEL, A TALE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION BY SIR FRANCIS VINCENT, BART. IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 1840. LONDON : BLATCH AND LANPERT, PRINTERS, GROVE PLACE, BHOMPTON. 8£^ v.i •" ARUNDEL. CHAPTER I. "Come now, Arundel, I wish you would be a good fellow for once, and accompany me to Havant's ; you know I must go, and I should be sorry not to see as much of you as I can, on the last night of my stay here." It was early in the month of June, in the year 1789, that the speaker, Charles Hammond, and his friend Henry Arundel, were sitting together in the rooms of the latter, at College, Cambridge, of which they were both members. Hammond had just taken his degree, and was to leave college the next day ; while Arundel had to remain another six months before he couP VOL. I. B 2 ARUNDEL. obtain the same distinction. Living in the same part of England, Northumberland, beingnearly of the same age, and having entered the University at a short distance of time one from the other, an acquaintance, formed in boyhood, had speedily ripened into warm friendship, although nothing could be more dissimilar than their dispositions or prospects. Hammond, the son of one of the wealthiest Baronets in England, had been brought up in the midst of every luxury, and was accustomed to see every wish gratified as soon as formed; while his cheerful humour, and general desire to oblige, made him a favourite with every one who knew him. It is true that this last quality might seem, to a close observer, to proceed from an easiness of character, which made it almost impossible for him to say no to any application made to his benevolence, or to refuse a promise of assistance to any one who asked it of him; and he had more than once found himself placed in the awkward dilemma of being accused of deception, by persons to whom he had promised more than he could perform, but whom he had felt unwilling, in the first instance, to mortify by a positive refusal. But such accidents were rare ; and when they did occur, he was sure ARUNDEL. 3 to find no lack of defenders, who only looked to his motives, and professed to feel no doubt that he would grow wiser as he grew older. In point of fact, he was not a person any one could be long angry with ; and the conse- quence was, that with abilities of no common order, the best dispositions, and every worldly advantage, he stood a fair chance of making a very useless member of society. Arundel was the representative of one of the most ancient and distinguished families in the North of England, but the fortunes of bis house had not kept pace with their deserts. The vast estates they had once possessed, had been gradually diminishing through many generations, till at length the enormous accumulation of debt which weighed upon what still remained of the property, had induced the father of Henry Arundel to sell it, with the exception of one detached farm, worth about £300 a year, to which he retired with his wife and two children — Henry Arundel, and a daughter. Here he endeavoured to for- get the ancient fortunes of his family, in agri- cultural pursuits and the education of his son; whom he intended to bring up as the son of a wealthy yeoman, and in complete disregard of the pristine celebrity of his ancestors, being con- B*2 4 ARUNDEL. vinced that the greatest bar to our happiness is the wish to appear superior to that rank in life in which circumstances of birth or fortune have placed us. Mr. Arundel felt that he had still enough left to live happily, if contentedly ; and he was determined that, for many years at least, his son should remain in ignorance of those circumstances which might produce regret and discontent with his present lot. His wife did not submit to this decision, without many attempts to shake it. She felt confident that Henry was destined to be the restorer of the family; and she argued that it would be depriving him of all incentive, it would not be giving him a fair chance, unless he was early made acquaint- ed with the glories and splendour of the house of which she had settled in her own mind he was to be the second founder. It seemed therefore rather doubtful whether Mr. Arandel would have been able to carry his wishes into effect ; but a violent cold, of which he died after an ill- ness of three days, speedily resolved the ques- tion, and left Mrs. Arundel at full liberty to follow her own views on the subject. At first, she seemed inclined to respect the known wishes of her husband ; but when she looked on the fine intelligent countenance of her boy, who was now ARUNDEL. ten years old, or turned her complacent looks on the infantine beauty and silken locks of his sister, who was three years younger, she felt all her resolutions of moderation die away and give place to those ambitious prospects of future honours and wealth, in which mothers are so wont to indulge. Still, she determined, for the present at least, to preserve silence on the sub- ject ; and it was only when a sum of £S000 was left her unexpectedly by a distant relation, that she made up her mind to inform her son of his family history, and devote the proceeds of the recent legacy to giving him the best education the kingdom could afford, by way of facilitating his entrance into some honourable profession. Ac^ cordingly, on the day he completed his thirteenth year, his mother, in a long conversation, gave him a concise history of his family, beginning a few years previous to the conquest, and detail- ing its rise, decline, and fall, with the great- est accuracy, through each succeeding reign, to the present period ; she then expatiated upon the various obligations which devolved upon the descendant of such a long line of heroes, and concluded by saying, "Upon you, my dear Henry, and your future conduct it depends whether the Arundels are to b ARUNDEL. be restored to their place amongst the nobles of the land, or to be consigned to oblivion for ever." There were few boys upon whom such an appeal was likely to produce so much effect as upon Henry Arundel. His ardent and proud mind was well aided by an active, vigorous frame, and a strong constitution. The early education he had received from his father, was such as became one whose existence was to depend as much upon physical qualities as moral endow- ments ; and accustomed to do everything for himself, he felt, even at his early age, entirely independent of others, and confident in his own resources. As he grew up, this confidence in himself degenerated into something like contempt for the rest of the world, and a dogged adhe- rence to his own opinions. Fortunately, his natural good sense in a great measure averted the dangers to which otherwise an inexperienced young man of this character would have been exposed at his first entrance into life ; and as he considered himself consecrated to one special purpose, the restoration of his family, he early laid it down as a rule, to take no important step, without in the first instance considering whether it would be detrimental to that sole object of his ambition. ARUNDEL. In consequence of the resolution taken by Mrs. Arundel to give her son an education be- fitting his birth, he was, soon after the disclo- sure she had made him, sent through the various gradations of a private school and Eton, to Cambridge, where, as has been already stated, he was entered at college. In the prose- cution of her darling project, his mother had stopped at no personal sacrifices, and furnished him with a liberal allowance, that he might be enabled to keep the same society that his fore- fathers had done; but Arundel soon found out, that it was not necessary to run into extrava- gance in order to secure friendship — at least that of those with whom he wished to be inti- mate, and they were very few. He was aware that his mother and sister were deprived of many little luxuries of life to furnish forth his appoint- ments ; and he at once determined to live upon half his allowance, and devote the remainder of it to the education of his sister, of whom he was passionately fond. This he carried into effect; and soon found that the grateful affection of his family, and the esteem of his friends, amply in- demnified him for any sacrifices he might have made in so doing. He continued his studies at Cambridge with credit to himself; and although 8 ARUNDEL. he bad not a large personal acquaintance amongst his fellow students, he was tolerably popular with those whose society he frequented, though occasionally voted very odd. His most intimate friend was Hammond, with whom he had been in the same house at Eton, and who was his nearest neighbour in the country. Since Mr. Arundel's death, his widow had endea- voured to emerge from the complete solitude in which they had till then lived; and no sooner was this desire publicly known, than all those with whom the Arundels had formerly lived on terms of friendship and equality, evinced an anxious wish to renew their connexion with them, and shew them every attention in their power. In this way had Arundel very often passed weeks together, during the holidays, at Sir John Hammond's, who ap- peared desirous of cementing the friendship which existed between the two young men, and who probably felt that a friend of Arundel's stea- diness of character would be invaluable to one so liable to be blown about by every breath of fancy as his son. With this view it was, that he allowed Charles to be nearly as much at Rosedale, the name of Mrs. Arundel's cottage, as at his own house. I have thus endeavoured to give an insight into the characters of the two young men who have ARUNDEL. been introduced to the reader, and will now pro- ceed with the conversation with which the chapter opened. "Come now, Arundel," said his friend; "I wish you would be a good fellow for once, and accompany me to Havant's; you know I must go, and I should be sorry not to see as much of you as I can on the last night of my stay here." "You know why 1 will not go," replied Arundel; "Havant is probably by this time half drunk, and as I neither wish to imitate him, nor to quarrel with him, one of which is inevi- table, I shall stay at home; and I recommend you to do the same, seeing that you must be on the coach at five o'clock to-morrow morning ; and there is no necessity, that I am aware of, for your taking leave of a man you know little of and care for still less." " Why, as to that, I promised to look in for a minute; and there is always something going on at his rooms — singing and so forth, and I should like to see the old set once more; so if you po- sitively will not come, I will just go for a short time, and be back here to have an hour or two's talk with you, before we go to bed; so sans adieu ;" and so saying, Hammond took his cap and gown, and sallied forth to Lord Havant's, b5 10 ARUNDEL. with the intention of a speedy return. Arundel continued reading till past twelve o'clock, and then went to bed, feeling sorry that he should not have an opportunity of seeing his friend again for some months; and perhaps a little picqued that a drinking party had sufficient charms to make him forget an old friend ; how- ever, be that as it may, he went to sleep without troubling his head more on the subject, and was not a little surprised, at ten o'clock the next day, to see Hammond make his appearance, and ask him for some breakfast. Arundel expressed his astonishment at his being still in Cambridge, and immediately gave orders for preparing what he required ; but seeing that his friend, instead of answering him, preserved a moody silence, he quietly went on with what he was about, till the fit should leave him. At last he began. " I wish to God I had not left you last night for Havant's, where I got drunk, and made a fool of myself." il Nothing more probable;" was Arundel's quaint observation upon this promising exordium. " Yes; but this is serious, and I am come to you to ask your advice, or rather assistance. When I got there, I found them, as you said they would be, half drunk ; and as nothing is so ARUNDEL. 1 1 disagreeable as to be the only sober man in com- pany, I made all the play I could to come up with them, and at last succeeded. Price, who had come over from Newmarket, was there, as the devil would have it, and not the most sober of the set. He began attacking me in his usual bullying way ; and at last, being quite out of patience, I told him to keep his insolence for those who would put up with it, for that I would stand it no longer. To this he only replied that schoolboys were very apt to make use of expres- sions they did not know the value of, and ad- vised me to study Johnson's dictionary before I mixed with society, if I valued my safety. At this sneer I grew quite outrageous, and calling him an insolent puppy, asked him if he knew the value of that. He then changed his man- ner, and saying I should find whether he un^ derstood it or not in the morning, left the room, notwithstanding all the endeavours of Havant and the others to prevent it. You see my in- tended departure this morning was quite put a stop to; and half-an-hour ago, Havant called on me, with a message from Mr. Price, requiring an apology or satisfaction. The first you must acknowledge is quite out of the question ; and to tell you the truth, I shall not be sorry to shew 12 ARUNDEL. the gentleman that we are not the schoolboys he takes us for. Now what I want you to do, is to see Havant, and make the necessary arrange- ments." Arundel remained silent for some minutes, so much was he astonished at the statement he had just heard, and terrified at the possible conse- quences of this unfortunate dispute. Mr. Price was a gentleman of considerable property, near Newmarket, well known in the world, and con- sidered a remarkably good shot. It was impos- sible, under these circumstances, for a person in Hammond's situation, just about to be launched into society, to make an apology for the insult he had offered him, provoked as it had been by Mr. Price's impertinence. A duel therefore was unavoidable ; but if any thing should happen to his friend, or indeed to his antagonist — he to whom Sir John had in a manner trusted for his son's welfare, to be his second in a duel, perhaps a party to his death, or his accomplice in a homicide ; for though fully aware that the meeting now was inevitable, he knew equally well that in case of a fatal result, the blame would probably fall on him alone. On the other side, he saw the possibility of his own hopes in life being at once destroyed. ARUNDEL. 13 Duelling was the most grievous offence a student at the university could be guilty of; and were it known, immediate expulsion would be the inevi- table consequence. However, he did not hesi- tate a moment; he felt that if he refused to be Hammond's second, he would be compelled to put the business into the hands of some one who might be less anxious to bring matters to a peaceful termination : for he was not without a faint hope that Mr. Price might be induced to make some concession, which might pave the way for an apology on Hammond's part. When at length he broke silence, he said, " This is indeed a bad business ; but there is no help for it now, and I will therefore call at once on Havant, and make arrangements for your meeting as soon as possible, for these matters cannot be too quickly settled." " Certainly," replied his friend ; " and I must go home as soon as possible , for my father ex- pects me to-morrow night, and will be uneasy at my delay : so pray lose no time. Havant said he would stay at home till the afternoon ; you are sure, therefore, to find him, and I will remain here till you come back." Arundel found Lord Havant at his lodgings, and Mr. Price with him. (i Ah, Arundel ! " 14 ARUNDEL. cried his lordship ; " I see Hammond has lost no time, and I hope you have persuaded him to apologize for his ill temper." " That you must be aware is quite impossible/' replied Arundel ; " I am only come to settle the place and hour of meeting ; unless, indeed, Mr. Price will — " " Me ! " exclaimed Price; " why, did you ever hear of a man apologizing for being called an impertinent puppy? — that would be rather too good a joke." (l Why, certainly," said Arundel, half smiling; "the expression was not a very courteous one; but you should also recollect the provocation you gave." (i Not more than I have given fifty times be- fore, and no notice ever taken of it," replied Price. i( Hammond says he warned you to desist — " " I beg pardon for interrupting you," said Price ; " but if we talk for two hours the matter will only stand thus — Mr. Hammond has insulted me, I ask him to apologise or fight ; he refuses to do the first, so he must do the second. The best thing we can do, therefore, is to settle the pre- liminaries." This was soon done, and Arundel, with a ARUNDEL. 15 heavy heart, took his way homewards, not a little discomposed at the temper with which Mr. Price seemed animated. i( Well ! " cried Hammond, as the door opened, " when is it to be ? " r< Tomorrow morning, at five o'clock ; we are to meet at the second mile-stone on the London road, and take the first convenient spot we find." " Very well ; I shall now go home and make some little arrangements, and you must give me a sober quiet dinner at six." After their dinner was despatched, which was as silent and gloomy a one as can be well ima- gined, Hammond, who was by far the most cheerful of the two, endeavoured to open a conversation by some well founded and judicious remarks on the weather. Finding that this elicited no answer, he said, after a few minutes' silence, " Arundel, I have written two letters, which I must beg you to take charge of; one is to my father, and I have endeavoured to shield you from the possibility of misconstruction on account of my folly. I have detailed to him the whole affair, and am sure he will feel as I do, nothing but gratitude for the part you have borne in it. Believe me, I never felt the full value of your friendship till now, and what has 16 ARUNDEL. most weighed upon me lias been the chance of your suffering in consequence of my folly. The other letter you will deliver in person; in fact, I should not, under other circumstances, have mentioned it to you, but now you must know all. Do you not guess to whom the other letter is addressed ?" "No, indeed; some woman, I suppose; but I am in no humour to guess ; so if you mean me to know, you must speak out." i( Try — you will not ? — well, did it never occur to you, we might some day or other be con- nected by sqme yet nearer tie than that of friend- ship?" tf Good God ! Hammond ; what do you mean — my sister ? " « Even so." Arundel's blood flew to his very temples, while he endeavoured to say, as calmly as possible, — " May I ask why I was not judged worthy of this confidence before? — but no, you did me jus- tice ; you knew I should instantly have stopped an intercourse, which can only end in misery to one of the parties at least, and that, the one I am bound to protect. Hammond, you have deceived me — cruelly deceived me ; little did I think it would be through you I should see my ARUNDEL. 17 poor Ellen's happiness and peace of mind de- stroyed. However, it is now at an end : to- morrow I shall take care — oh, God ! Hammond, you have acted cruelly; — poor, poor Ellen!" and he dropped his head upon his hand, and sobbed violently; for his feelings, which had been over-excited all day, could no longer be restrained. There was something almost ludicrous in the amazement with which Hammond witnessed this burst of passion; he had anticipated some- thing so different ; and now to be accused of deceit and cruelty, where he had expected nothing but joyful congratulation, took him quite aback. At length he recovered the use of his speech, and in a trembling tone of voice, he asked what was the matter. " Answer me one question," said Arundel, who had recovered his composure in a great measure; " are you engaged?" " Why, no — yes ; — that is, I have engaged to ask my father's consent, as soon as I leave college." "Well," said Arundel ; "you have not acted candidly by me, and I think I may claim of you this much, that you will not mention it to your father till I have seen Ellen ; and farther, that 18 ARUNDEL. you will not seek to see her or to correspond with her, till my return to the north. Do you promise me this ? " iC Yes, I do," replied Hammond ; Ci with the exception of this letter, if it should be neces- sary ; or, if not, you will undertake to tell her, why I do not go to see her on my arrival, as she will expect.'' This Arundel agreed to; " And now," said Hammond, i( have the good- ness to tell me why you say I have deceived you, and acted cruelly. I am sure I did not say any- thing half so bad to Price." " I was wrong," replied Arundel, in a more friendly tone ; (i l should have said thoughtlessly. Do you think your father will ever consent to your marrying a girl without a farthing ? " " To be sure he will ; an Arundel too, one of the best families in England. Besides, you know I get my grandfather's property when I come of age, which is next year ; and the family estate is entailed on me." t; Stop," cried Arundel ; " recollect, that with- out your father's consent, you will never have mine, nor my mother's — that I can answer for ; and vrithout it Ellen, I am sure, will never marry you." " Are you in earnest ? " ARUNDEL. 19 " Quite so; — and now you had better go to bed. I will take care to call you in time." " Well, say you are not angry or annoyed." " I am not angry, certainly, and hope for the best ; so good night, and sleep well." Hammond went to bed, and was soon asleep. Not so Arundel ; the conversation he had just had, was not of a nature to sooth the agitation of his mind; even if the events of the next day were to end favourably, he foresaw an endless source of anxiety in Sir John Hammond's opposi- tion to his son's wishes; and should the result of the duel be fatal, which might very easily happen, he could look forward to nothing but ruin to him- self, and misery to all those connected with him. In such reflections as these the night passed away, and the day began to break before he had thought of taking any repose. An involuntary shudder came across him as he perceived the first rays of light breaking through his shutters. He proceeded to change his dress, and then went to awaken Hammond. He was soon ready. In a few minutes they had left the college, and were on their way to the appointed spot. No man, I believe, ever went for the first time to a meeting of this nature without some inward tremors; but whatever his feelings might be, 20 ARUNDEL. Hammond preserved a cheerful and steady coun- tenance, and endeavoured, but in vain, to raise the spirits of his friend. They soon came up to the place appointed for the rendezvous ; where in a few minutes they were joined by Lord Havant, who had come by another path. He informed them that Mr. Price was waiting with the pistols in a field, about two hundred paces distant, which seemed every way suited to their purpose. Thither they went together, and after an ineffectual attempt on the part of the seconds to arrange matters amicably, they pro- ceeded to measure the ground. In one corner of the field they perceived, to their annoyance, a labourer just beginning to plough ; but as they had no time to lose, for fear of interruption, Arundel went up to him, and begged him to keep out of the way. This he at first refused, with that surliness which appears to characterise the lower classes near Cambridge in their intercourse with the gownsmen ; but when he understood the ob- ject of the meeting, and the possibility of his falling a victim to the awkwardness of the com- batants, he exhibited considerable alacrity in removing himself to a place of safety. The two antagonists now took their ground ; and at a signal given by Lord Havant, they fired to- ARUNDEL. 21 gether, and both without effect. To Arundel's very agreeable surprise, Mr. Price came for- ward, and offering his hand to Hammond, said, " I have no hesitation now in saying that I am sorry that any remark of mine should have oc- casioned you any annoyance ; and I hope you will admit that I do not deserve the terms you applied to me." To this Hammond replied that they were used in the irritation of the moment, and after Mr. Price's handsome explanation, he could feel no hesitation in withdrawing them, and expressing his regret at having made use of them. " And now, then," said Price, " I hope we are all friends, and shall remain so. I saw you thought me very dry in my remarks yester- day, Mr. Arundel, and little disposed to be con- ciliatory ; but I could never have shown in Cam- bridge again, if I had let you have your own way ; though God knows no one would have regretted it more than myself had any accident happened to your friend. But all's well that ends well — so good bye ; " and so saying, he jumped into his gig, which was waiting for him, and was out of sight in a moment. The other young men returned together, and Hammond made instant preparations for his departure, 22 ARUNDEL. which took place that evening, after having re- iterated his promise to Arundel not to see his sister till they should meet again in the north. The next day Arundel, mindful of his promise, wrote the following letter to his sister : — i( My dearest Ellen. " It is needless to relate by what circum- stances Hammond was induced to inform me of your mutual attachment, and the engagement which has followed it. I confess it hurt me not a little to find that you should have had so little confidence in a brother, who, I had hoped, deserved nothing at your hands but affection ; one thing, however, is quite clear — you felt that this con- nection could never meet with my approbation, unless sanctioned by Sir John Hammond's knowledge and approval, and in that you judged rightly. However, I will not now enter further upon a subject which is of too great importance, and would demand too much time, to be consi- dered in a letter. That must be deferred till my return home ; but I write now, at Hammond's request, to inform you, that he has promised me not to see you or communicate with you, ARUNDEL. 23 directly or indirectly, till my return. Give my affectionate love to my mother, and believe me "Ever your affectionate, «H. A. "Cambridge, May 30, 1789." "P.S. If you think anything I have said in this letter too harsh, forgive me. I have had much to excite me lately, and hardly know what I write. At all events do me the justice to believe that my only anxiety is to secure your permanent happiness." This postscript Arundel broke open his etter to add, fearful of wounding the feelings of his sister by assuming too harsh and dictatorial a tone; but the more he considered the business, the less he liked it. In the first place, he anti- cipated the strongest opposition on the part of Hammond's father, and nothing would have in • duced him to consent to his Ellen's entering any family without the approbation of its head. In the next place, much as he liked Hammond, he was not blind to his defects ; and he was by no means sure that he was a person to whom he should wish to confide the happiness of one he loved. He felt that unless Ellen acquired a strong influence over him, and exerted it with 24 ARUNDEL. good sense and judgment, she would run the risk of being a very miserable woman, united to a man liable to be run away with by every im- pulse, and following every inclination which caprice might suggest to him. He had seen too little of his sister since she was quite a girl, to be able to form any correct opinion of her cha- racter; and it was, therefore, in his opinion, quite a toss up, whether this unfortunate engage- ment could, under any circumstances, turn out to her advantage. In addition to all this, there was yet another motive which was not the less strong that he did not avow it to himself — per- haps indeed, was not even aware of its nature. This was a feeling of morbid sensibility, or, to give it its right name, of jealousy, which is per- haps always inseparable from strong affection, and which made him ill brook any rival in the hearts of those he loved. The love he felt for his sister, was of that engrossing nature, which is not to be satisfied with any half return. Like most persons of deep feeling and powerful minds, he had thought it a duty he owed to him- self, to suppress any strong outward expressions of sensibility; but the current that runs smooth- est, is sometimes the deepest ; and so it was with Arundel. His bosom was a volcano that the ARUNDEL. 25 slightest accident might inflame. Hitherto he had not conceived the possibility of Ellen's divid- ing her affection with any one ; and when he was aware of the truth, it gave him a shock, as if he had been bereft of everything that made life dear to him. He loved and respected his mother, but she was not a person to excite any violent feeling of affection. Caring for little, if she had the latest novel and a comfortable fire, she was satisfied to know that her children were happy and in good health, and trusted to Pro- vidence to keep them so. The decision and powerful mind of her son had long since subju- gated her completely; and she found herself happy to have some one, to whom she could confide all her domestic grievances and leave the trouble of setting them to rights. Owing to these circumstances, Arundel had become a man before he ceased to be a boy ; and he found himself, while yet at school, the master of a family, who were accustomed to look up to him for advice and abide by his decisions on all oc- casions. It was therefore a mixture of wounded pride and chilled affection, added to the most melancholy forebodings of the fate of those he best loved, that took possession of his mind, when he found himself left alone after Hammond's vol. i. c 26 ARUNDEL. departure. However, he was not a person to give way long to vain repinings over what could not be helped ; and having made up his mind as to the course to be pursued on his return home, he endeavoured to banish the subject altogether from his thoughts. A few days brought him the following letter from his sister : " I cannot tell you, my dearest brother, how relieved I feel, at no longer having a secret from you ; believe me, it was no want of confidence in you, that induced either Charles or myself to conceal from you that which must necessarily in- terest you so deepl}\ It was his anxious wish to have his father's approbation, before he took any further step ; and seeing this, I could not do otherwise than comply with his request, not to mention it to you or my mother, till he had spoken to Sir John, which he was to do as soon as he had taken his degree. Indeed, the whole thing was so unexpected, that we were engaged almost without being aware of it. Dear Charles assured me, he never intended mentioning it, even to me, till he had his father's permission ; but I don't know how it happened — one evening when he was last here, it came from him by sur- prise, and I was too happy to be angry with ARUNDEL. 27 him, as I now see I ought to have been. But dear brother, do not be annoyed; and above all, do not be angry with him, for I assure you, it was his love for you that first made me like him. I wish you were once more at home — my mother's health is not what it was — she had a fit last Tuesday, and though Dr. Powis says it was merely weakness, and that no danger is to be apprehended, I feel very unhappy, and pass half my time in crying. She sends her best love, and desires me not to mention her illness, of which she makes light, for fear it should alarm you ; but I think you ought to know it, and have therefore ventured to disobey her. Even your own affectionate " Ellen." There was much in this letter to restore Arundel's peace of mind ; but the account of his mother's health alarmed and grieved him. He had seen, when he was last at home, that she was no longer as strong as she had been ; yet he was by no means prepared for any thing like se- rious illness; and he had hoped, that the return of spring and fine weather would have dissi- pated any slight indisposition. These hopes had now vanished; and he felt that at no distant c 2 28 ARUNDEL. period, he should probably have to mourn the loss of his sole remaining parent, and be his sister's only support and protection till she married. He was therefore most anxious to return home, in case of any sudden and fatal change in his mother's health ; but by so doing, he would be obliged to prolong his stay at the university for another six months, and that too, perhaps at the very time when he would be most wanted elsewhere. It did not appear either that there was any immediate cause for apprehension ; and all things considered, he thought he had better remain at Cambridge till he had taken his degree, when he would be completely his own master. This determination he communicated to his sister, begging her to inform him immediately, should any thing occur to make his immediate presence at home de- sirable. An accident, in itself apparently unimport- ant, destroyed all these plans, and completely changed Arundel's destiny. He was one day walking out with a small terrier he was very fond of, when a large mastiff, apparently belong- ing to a labouring man who was passing by in a cart, flew at the dog, and seemed determined to demolish him without ceremony. Arundel ARUNDEL. 29 called to the man, and desired him to take his dog off. To this request, the man not only paid no attention, but encouraged his dog to the attack. Arundel seeing there was no time to be lost, rushed to the rescue, and by a liberal use of a stick he held in his hand, compelled the aggressor to re- tire. His master, however, no sooner saw the defeat of his favourite, than he jumped out of his cart, and running to the spot, before Arundel was aware of his intention, hit him a severe blow on the head with the butt-end of his car- ter's whip. The first blow, we are told, is half the battle ; but in this case, the proverb failed, for Arundel, who was no mean proficient in the noble science of single stick, administered such severe chastisement to the ruffian, that in five minutes he was fain to cry out for mercy, which was immediately granted, with the advice to be more civil for the future. As Arundel was walking away, the fellow called out after him, " You have had the best of it to-day, but I will be even with you before long, master." To this threat Arundel paid no attention, and only re- solved never to leave his stick at home, in case of any future attack. But this man had a much safer, and more effectual method of obtaining 30 ARUNDEL. revenge ; lie was the very man who had wit- nessed the duel between Hammond and Price, and whom Arundel had desired to get out of the way on that occasion, although the latter had not recognised him again. He was fully aware of the light in which duelling was considered by the authorities of the University; and he now determined to denounce Arundel, as having been a party to so heinous an offence. Giving therefore his cart to some one to take home for him, he followed his unconscious enemy at a distance, and seeing him enter College, soon found out his name from the porter; he then made the best of his way to the Vice- Chan- cellor's, and having obtained an audience of him, told him all he knew concerning the duel, adding, that the only one of the parties he had recognised, was Mr. Arundel. The gentleman who held the situation of Vice- Chancellor that year, had arrived at the respon- sible situation of head of a college, merely by his family connexions ; and being aware of his total want of every other qualification, had determined to shine by the rigour of his administration. So flagrant a breach of college discipline, therefore, had but little chance of being leniently treated, and the great man forthwith resolved to make ARUNDEL. 31 such an example of the offender or offenders, if he could succeed in discovering the others, as should strike terror into the hearts of all his subjects. The regularity of Arundel's conduct and his assiduity in his studies during his re- sidence at the University, which had won for him the friendship of some of his superiors and the esteem of all, weighed little on the pre- sent occasion ; but there was but one circum- stance, which, fortunately for him, was not with- out its due weight on the mind of his judge. Arundel was a man of good family ; could trace his ancestors for several hundred years, and had more quarterings in his coat of arms than half the peerage put together. These considerations effected what nothing else probably could have done; and Dr. H. accordingly determined to see Dr. Owen, the head of college, and beg him to mention the affair to Arundel, that he might be prepared with his defence, if he had any to make. Early the next morning, our hero received a message from Dr. Owen, intimating that he wished to see him as soon as possible. Accord- ingly, he hurried through his breakfast, and took his way to the Doctor's apartments, won- dering not a little as to what could have caused 32 ARUNDEL. such an untimely summons. He found Dr. Owen walking up and down the library, in great perplexity. The Doctor was a good- natured, portly old gentleman, a little pompous, as what head of a college is not? — particularly if unmarried ; but possessed of as kind a heart as ever beat in a human bosom : he was an excel- lent scholar, and had earned no little renown in his younger days, by a very erudite dissertation on the real birth-place of Homer; but of the affairs of real life, he was as ignorant as the un- born babe. He ruled his college with the mild authority of a patriarch of old ; and if any of those confided to his care distinguished them- selves in after life, he felt as much gratification as if they had been his own children ; while a legitimate vanity whispered to him, that perhaps it was to his tuition that their budding talents owed their full development, Arundel had ever been a special favourite with him; and he had frequently prophesied that he would add another brilliant star to the constellation of talents, w hi cn College had ushered into the world. The shock, therefore, that he had re- ceived, when informed of Arundel's delinquency, had quite unsettled his ideas. Duelling, he considered as little, if at all, better than delibe- ARUNDEL. 33 rate murder ; and when he found that the Vice- Chancellor was determined to expel the culprit from the University, — a decision he could not in his conscience blame, his kind heart made him mourn over the total ruin of the prospects of his favourite pupil, while he shuddered at the enormity of his guilt. It was therefore with feelings of sorrow and grief, not perhaps un- mixed with a slight feeling of fear, at putting himself so completely in the power of a person who had given proof of such blood-thirstiness, that he saw Arundel enter the room, saying, "that he had come in obedience to his summons, and waited to know the cause of it." The easy and unembarrassed manner in which he said this, evinced, in Dr. Owen's opinion, a cool in- difference, that could only belong to a being grown callous to all good feeling, and capable of any desperate attempt. Having, therefore, care- fully entrenched himself behind a large writing- table, he first shut a penknife which lay open on it, and put it in his pocket ; and having ascer- tained that the bell rope was within reach, he proceeded to address his astonished auditor, with a frown on his brows, which might have struck terror into the breast of the most hardened cri- minal, c 5 34 ARUNDEL. "Good God! young man/' said he; (i are you so totally lost to every sense of virtue, that your conscience has not told you the occasion of my sending for you?" At this exordium, Arun- del stared, and began to think the worthy Doc- tor had lost his senses; he however answered quietly, that certainly his conscience reproached him with nothing. The air of candour and in- nocence with which he said this, was so convin- cing, that the Doctor's mind instantly caught hold of another idea; and he began to think that the whole story was an invention, and that the Vice-Chancellor had been imposed upon. Delighted with this view of the subject, he came forth from his fortress, and taking Arundel by the hand, exclaimed, " My dear boy, I am delighted to hear you say so; what an old fool I was; and I must say, the Vice-Chancellor is not much better, to be- lieve such a terrible story, and make me believe it too." "Well, but my dear sir," said Arundel, iC what is this terrible accusation ?" (i Why, Dr. H. called upon me yesterday evening, just when I was in the middle of my after- dinner's nap— a habit I indulge in, inas- much as we have every reason to believe it to ARUNDEL. have been practised by the ancients, who cer- tainly understood whatever conduces to health much better than we do — and he told me, hor- resco referens, that he had received information, from what he considered to be good authority, that you had been lifting your hand against your fellow-creature ; in short, that you had been fighting a duel : but I might have known at the time that it was a pure calumny, and I will not lose a moment in writing him a note to say so." Arundel's surprise at this piece of intelligence, for a moment prevented his answering; but when he saw the Doctor turn to his desk, he cried out, " Hold, Dr. Owen ; it is not true that I have fought a duel ; but it is unfortunately too true, that I was a second in a duel a few days ago." This confirmation of the charge was too much for the poor man; and sinking into his chair, he said, " Oh, Mr. Arundel ! how I have been mistaken in you." i( I trust not, sir," replied Arundel; " at least if you will allow me to relate to you the circum- stances, I hope to convince you I am not so much to blame." Receiving no answer, he in- terpreted this silence into a permission to pro- ceed with his narrative, and he gave a full and 3G ARUNDEL. fair account of all the circumstances with which the reader is already acquainted, taking care however to mention no names, nor to give the slightest indication by which they might be guessed. M You see therefore, sir." said he, in conclu- sion, " I was no party to the quarrel, in which this unfortunate business originated; and I trust you will do me the justice to believe, that if I consented to be my friend's second, it was with the hope of preventing actual hostilities by my mediation." " Well," said Dr. Owen, « I am glad to find it is not quite so bad a business as it was repre- sented to be ; but you have grievously offended the laws of God, of your country, and what is of at least equal consequence, those of this Univer- sity. Oh ! Mr. Arundel, I am deeply grieved ; you, whom I always cited as a model for the young men of this age — you, for whom I felt the affection of a father, to have acted thus! How, sir, can I ever hold up my head again? My college will become a byeword, and a stumbling- block to this generation. And I grieve too for you, young man : are you aware of the conse- quences of your crime ? You will be expelled ; you will be expelled from the University, and ARUNDEL. 37 rendered incapable of entering the learned pro- fessions— so young, so much talent, and I must add, with this exception, so virtuous, and all lost — all thrown away." And the good old man covered his face and wept. Arundel was sensibly affected by this un- expected mark of interest. He drew near to him, and taking his hand, said, after a short silence : " I was fully aware of the risk I ran, and of the punishment to which I was liable; and now that it has overtaken me, I shall bear it with patience, and without repining ; but I con- fess, it would be a grievous addition to my punishment, if I was obliged to think that I had forfeited your esteem and good opinion. I hope that, even if you think me to blame in this in- stance, you will not allow one error to efface entirely the friendly feelings you once enter- tained for me." < ; No, my boy," replied the Doctor ; " I feel that is impossible. I even feel as if I loved you better at this moment than I ever did before, now that I know you will be thrown upon the world to struggle by yourself. You have been guilty of a great fault — may it be a lesson to you in after life ; — but who is perfect ? Nemo mor- talium omnibus horis sapit. I myself once gave 38 ARUNDEL. way to anger, so far as to give a severe beating to a hackney-coachman, who had purposely splashed my black silk stockings; but I was young, very young at that time, and since then, I have ever kept a strict guard over my passions. But this is talking idly ; we must consider what it is best for you to do. The Vice- Chancellor will expel you, to a certainty, and indeed I must confess with grief, that he cannot do otherwise. There would be an end to all subordination, were he to overlook such an offence against our laws. There is .but one course open for you, and that is, at once to take your name off the books, and leave Cambridge ; you will thus be spared the pain and disgrace of a public exposure. Doctor H. will take no further steps till to- morrow, in order to give you time to make the necessary arrangements. He also desires me to say, that as you must be aware of the enormity of the offence you have committed, he hopes you will make the only atonement in your power, and declare who were your accomplices." " My dear sir," said Arundel, " I am quite sure you have made the last proposal only in compliance with the wishes of Dr. H; as you must know, I cannot listen to it for a moment ; nor indeed would you advise me to do so. With ARUNDEL. 39 regard to the first, while I feel grateful for the motives that dictated it, I must also decline pro- fitting by it. Were I to leave Cambridge so near the period at which I had hoped to have taken my degree, every body would be aware that I could only have done so by compulsion, and malice would have full scope for its con- jectures and insinuations as to the cause. If I am publicly expelled, at all events, the reason will be made public ; and, thank God, it is not one which can affect my character as a man of honour, or as a gentleman." " Well," said the Doctor, " perhaps you are right ; at all events, the reasons you give are honourable to you ; but as nothing will be done to-day, think it over carefully, and let me know your determination this evening. I can see you no more — it would not become a person in my situation, to appear to take an interest in so heinous an offender ; but I will give you a letter of introduction to my brother, Serjeant Owen, in London, who is quite a man of the world, and may be of use to you — and if the best wishes of an old man can be of service to you, you have them. So now adieu ; God bless you ; and do not forget, you have a steady and affectionate friend in your old master." 40 ARUNDEL. Arundel squeezed the profferred hand, his heart too full for utterance, and was about to depart, when the Doctor stopped him, and said, iS By-the-bye, your departure is so very sudden that perhaps you may find yourself short of cash; if so, or if you have any little debts to settle, say so at once, and I shall be most happy to be your banker." Arundel assured him he was not likely to be under any embarrassment of that nature ; and having thanked him for all his past and present kindness, left the apartment. He soon had completed all his arrangements for a speedy departure, and waited with feverish anxiety for the morrow. Late in the evening, he sent a note to Dr. Owen, again thanking him, in the warmest and most grateful manner, for the interest he had shown him, and telling him that his determination to abide the Vice- Chan- cellor's sentence was unchanged. To this he received no answer; but shortly afterwards a servant brought him the promised letter of recommendation to Serjeant Owen. Next day the sentence of expulsion was pronounced against him ; and he endeavoured to leave Cam- bridge immediately, without taking leave of any of his friends ; but the news had no sooner got abroad than his rooms were crowded with young ARUNDEL. 41 men, who came to express their sympathy for his hard fate. Amongst the first of these was Lord Havant, who abused in no measured terms what he was pleased to call the injustice and tyranny of the Dons ; and it was with great difficulty that Arundel could prevent his rushing to the Vice- Chancellor's, acknowledging that he had also been an accomplice, and insisting upon sharing the same fate. At length he got away from all these warm- hearted, though not very judicious friends; and before six o'clock that evening was some miles on his way to London, which he determined to visit previous to his return home; as he felt the urgent necessity for his immediately adopting some line of life by which he might earn an honourable existence, without being a further burden to his mother and sister. How he was to break the mat- ter to them, was exceedingly embarrassing ; but after considerable deliberation, he contented him- self with writing to say that he was coming home in the course of the week for a few days; judging that the blow would be less severely felt if told by his own lips, and when he was himself pre- sent to suggest topics of consolation. He further took the precaution of giving the name of the hotel where he intended to lodge whilst in 42 ARUNDEL. London, that in case of necessity his sister might know where to write to him. The situ- ation in which he now found himself was suffi- cient to damp the spirits of any one ; but he had a strong confidence in himself, which nothing was capable of daunting; and he was, perhaps, not without a feeling of inward satisfaction when he reflected, that his fate in life now depended entirely upon himself; that if he was, indeed, destined to rescue his name from obscurity, the task must be accomplished by his own unaided energies, and in spite of the unfavourable auspices under which he was about to enter life. His first step, he determined, should be to call on Serjeant Owen ; though from anecdotes he had occasionally heard of him from his brother, he did not anticipate much assistance or advice in that quarter ; but being a perfect stranger in London, where he was literally without an ac- quaintance, he hoped at all events that the Serjeant might be the means of making him known to those who would be able and willing to forward his views. With this resolution he arrived in London late at night, and having taken up his quarters in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, he soon forgot in sleep his misfortunes and his hopes. CHAPTER II. At an early hour next morning, having care- fully inquired his way, Arundel started, with his letter of introduction in his pocket, for the Temple, which he reached without losing his way above five times ; and after a minute search he discovered Serjeant Owen's name painted on one of the doorposts in that ancient and celebrated seat of conviviality and learning. Having arrived at the chambers indicated by the aforesaid doorpost, and knocked at the door, he gained admittance after a considerable delay, occasioned apparently by the clerk who opened it having been occupied with his toilet. After surveying Arundel from head to foot, he asked him, in no civil tone of voice, what his business was at that hour of the morning? Arundel 44 ARUNDEL. gave hirn his card, which he desired him to deliver to his master, and to say that he had a letter for him from his brother, Dr. Owen. The man grumbled out that he was quite sure his master could see nobody then, but retired to deliver the message; and in a minute after, Arundel heard a loud voice calling him by name, and telling him to come in. This man- date he obeyed; and found himself in a square room, the furniture of which consisted in two or three chairs, and a large writing table covered with papers. Before the window, peering into a small piece of broken looking-glass, stood a short elderly man with a very red nose, with one side of his face well lathered, and his whole features twisted into one of those indescribable contortions which generally accompany the attempt to get rid of a very stubborn beard by means of a very blunt razor. The room itself was surrounded by bookcases, filled with vene- rable looking folios and quartos; the glass in the windows was of a light brown colour, so thoroughly was the dirt of years incorporated with it; while a coating of dust gave some- what of the same hue to every object in the room. The short gentleman with a red nose and lathered face, whom he rightly conjee- ARUNDEL. 45 tured to be Richard Owen, Esq., one of his Majesty's Serjeants, learned in the law, was too busily engaged to take any notice of his approach ; and he had, therefore, time to look around him, and marvel in silence at the dirt and disorder with which he was surrounded. The attire of the worthy proprietor himself was not the last thing that engaged his attention : — a dingy cotton nightcap, a shirt bearing evident marks of the snuff-taking propensities of the wearer, a pair of very shabby trowsers, which had once been black, a slipper on one foot, and a silk stocking on the other. At length, Mr. Serjeant Owen, having succeeded in stopping the hemorrhage of a pimple he had just be- headed, by means of some cobweb he had col- lected from the window, thought proper to break silence. " So you have brought me a letter from my brother. I think he need not have put me to the expense of eighteenpence for a double letter I received by the post half an hour ago; but that is just like him. I should not be surprised if he wrote to me again to-morrow to know if I had received the other two. So you have been frightening them all out of their wits at Cam- bridge ; thought they had got another Guy 46 ARUNDEL. Faux, I suppose. But what am I to do ? My brother wants me to turn bear-leader, but that won't suit me; I was never well licked into shape myself. Oh, yes, I see that is my brother's letter," as Arundel produced it from his pocket. " Well, I suppose I know as much from his first, as I shall from the second ; so just throw it into the fire-place, for I have no time to read two editions of the same work. However, I am glad to see you ; I see you think I ought to have said that long ago ; but never mind, better late than never; so just sit down while I finish dressing; you will find plenty here to amuse you in the mean time ;" and so saying, he pushed Arundel into a chair, stuffed a newspaper into his hands, and vanished into his bed-room ; where he was soon heard snorting and blowing like a grampus, as he repeatedly plunged his face into a basin of water. By the time Arundel had waded through the newspaper, he again made his appearance, looking rather more like a civilized being ; and coming up to his visiter, he shook him cordially by the hand, and said he was glad to see him. " And now," said he, " we must have some breakfast ; if you have not had one, you must be ready for it; and if you have had one, you must be ready for another — so pull the bell." And in ARUNDEL. 47 a few minutes they were both hard at work, discussing the merits of devilled kidney, cold ham, boiled eggs, &c. &c. When the Serjeant had taken off what he called the edge of his appetite, he turned to Arundel, and said, " Well, now I think it is time to tell me all about this Cambridge business; my brother has written to me in so pressing a manner, that, under any circumstances, my best advice and assistance should be at your service : but I tell you at once, T am something of a physiognomist, and like your looks, and any- thing I can do for you I will." To this Arundel made a suitable acknowledgment, and then gave a full account of all that had happened, and the complete annihilation of all his hopes and pros- pects which was the consequence of it. "Well, I must say," said the Serjeant, "I always thought them a pack of d d fools, but I never was more convinced of it than at this moment. However, there is no help for it now. I wish, by-the-bye, you had been the principal instead of the second ; it does a young man good to stand a shot or two. I dare say, however, that will come in good time ; but now, what are we to do for you ? You would want better interest than mine to get a commission in 48 ARUNDEL. the array, after what has passed ; the church is out of the question; the law is not to your liking; and you cannot engage in commerce without a capital. If I were in your place, I would go over to Paris ; the Revolution has made a glorious opening for young men of talent and education ; and there I can give you letters which may be of use to you ; that is, supposing you speak French, and are not opposed to the principles of the French Reformers; with these two requisites you will find every career open to you." Arundel assured him, with truth, that he was a tolerably good French scholar ; and added, that he had not had much opportunity of study- ing the details of the Revolution, but that it was impossible not to feel the deepest interest and sympathy for a nation struggling to recover their birthright and take their place amongst freemen. In fact, Arundel, like many other ardent spirits, had hailed with joy the meet- ing of the States General, which had then been assembled about two months; and from the firmness and dignity which the Tiers Etat had already manifested on several occasions, he augured well of their future proceedings, and thought them well qualified to become the rege- ARUNDEL. 49 nerators of their country. He had attentively watched the characters of all the political actors as they appeared upon the stage, and could not help wishing, that he had been so situated as to take a share in the struggle which was then commencing between the advocates of traditional despotism on the one hand, and those who were anxious to erect, on the ruins of the ancient re- gime, such a fabric as should secure the liberties and rights of the people, while at the same time the prerogatives of the crown were respected; for at that time the idea of a republic had few, if any, avowed adherents. With these feelings, it is not surprising that Arundel shouldhave embraced with pleasure the rather wild proposal of the worthy Serjeant. He felt that every career was closed against him in England, and that a new state of society, such as was commencing in France, offered the best chance of rapidly rising to dis- tinction and honours. The only circumstance that made him hesitate was the state of his mother's health, and he determined to run down to the north before he finally made up his mind on the subject. All this he expressed to Owen, who fully approved of it, and advised him to return home on the next day. " I will send my servant," said he, " to take your place in the VOL. I D 50 ARUNDEL. mail for to-morrow ; and in the mean time you cannot do better than pass the rest of the day with me. You shall come down with me to Westminster Hall, where I have a cause coming on to-day ; after which, we will dine quietly together ; and in the evening I will take you to a society composed of the friends and admirers of the French Revolution, where I have to pro- pose some resolutions, expressive of our sympathy with our friends at Paris." CHAPTER III. On the following evening, Arundel left town by the mail ; and late on the second day, arrived at the village which lay nearest to Rosedale ; where, having procured a man to carry his port- manteau, he started alone across the fields on foot. It was a lovely summer evening, and Arun- del paused from time to time, feelingly alive to the beauties of the scenery ; every feature of which recalled to him some pleasing recollection, some happy moment of his past life. But as he approached nearer home, an indescribable sad- ness weighed upon his heart, which might be taken for the foreboding of some heavy calamity. In vain he tried to struggle against it ; in vain he endeavoured to analyze its source. His mind refused to assist him. He felt like one deprived d2 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY J*2 ARUNDEL. of the intellectual part of his being; as if his soul was under the influence of some terrific nightmare, from which it struggled to free itself, but in vain. At length he arrived at the summit of a gentle acclivity, from whence, through a break in the trees, he could perceive the happy home of his boyhood. The hill on which he stood, sloped down gently for about half a mile, to a small river that flowed through the bottom ; beyond, on the right, stood the village church,, its modest tower just visible amongst the elms and oaks in which it lay embosomed. Behind this grove lay the village itself; though a few neat white cottages, on which played the rays of the setting sun, were all that could be seen of it. On the left were the cottage and farm, which formed Arundel's sole inheritance ; the garden and neatly kept lawn stretching down to the river, close to the bridge, which formed the sole communication between the high road and the village. Far beyond, the ground began to rise in well-wooded hills ; and the horizon was shut out by the extensive plan- tations of Arundel Castle, the vast and magnifi- cent pile which, for many centuries, had been the principal residence of the Arundel family ; but which, at the sale of the property by the ARUNDEL. 53 late Mr. Arundel, had passed with the estate into the hands of a Mr. Brown. This gen- tleman was understood to be nearly connected with a noble family; though little further was known of him than that he had accumulated a very large fortune in India. He had re- turned to England a few years before, but had speedily left it again for the Continent. It was said, his health compelled him to live abroad. Be this as it might, he had only been once at Arundel Castle, for a few days, since he had purchased it. In short, his whole conduct seemed to exhibit the caprices of a very wealthy and very whimsical individual; not the least proof of which was, that, although he appeared to have given up every idea of returning to England, he still kept up an immense establishment at the castle, and had every thing always ready for him, in case he should take it into his head to arrive at a moment's notice. Arundel, feeling the necessity of regaining as much composure as possible before he made his appearance before his mother, sat down upon the stump of a tree, and gazed upon the scene we have just described. But the thoughts that pressed upon his mind were not of a nature to restore him to tranquillity. He could not but 54 ARUNDEL. remember that all the wide extent of country which lay around him, had once belonged to his family ; and that the humble cottage before him, which was all he could call his own, had, in days of yore, been frequently bestowed upon some favourite and deserving retainer of the family, rent free, as a reward for past services. fc ' And here am I," thought he, "the descendant of those bold and powerful barons, who led their vassals to conquer on the fields of Cressy and Agincourt ; here am I, reduced to the necessity of exiling myself from my native land, in order to procure the means of subsistence. My blood flows as warmly, my courage is as undaunted as theirs ; but shall I ever have the opportunity of showing that I am not unworthy of my lineage ? At all events, I will not now disgrace it by un- worthy repinings. The founder of my race had probably to struggle with greater difficulties than those I am now surrounded with ; and to him was wanting the powerful incentive of having the honour of a long line of illustrious heroes to uphold. I will not prove weaker than he was ; and if I cannot restore the splendour of my house, I trust I shall never have to reproach myself with having tarnished its past honours." While such thoughts as these presented them- ARUNDEL. 55 selves in rapid succession to his mind, the even- ing was fast closing in ; yet still he lingered on the spot where he had first seated himself. He felt that sort of indefinite apprehension which is so apt to seize upon the imagination, when we are on the point of approaching those we love. He felt as if he had no courage for the interview which was awaiting him ; while, ever and anon, a small still voice seemed to urge him forwards. He could almost have imagined that some one was whispering in his ear, " Hasten, or you will be too late." The gloom of the approaching night seemed to have penetrated his soul. At last, unable to resist the agitation of his spirits, he started up, and rushed hastily down the hill. By the time he reached the bridge, every thing was enveloped in darkness, save one window of the cottage, which was lighted by a single candle. Hastily making his way to the en- trance, he found it fastened ; and, after some ineffectual attempts to find the bell, he deter- mined to walk round through the pleasure garden, to the windows of the drawing-room, which opened down to the ground, and which, at this season of the year, were generally left open till the inmates retired for the night. Through one of these he got into the room, which was 56 ARUNDEL. empty, and without a light. Not knowing what to make of this solitude, he groped his way to the bell, and rang it violently. In a few minutes the room was entered by a maid servant, whose face he did not recollect, bearing a light; but who no sooner caught a glimpse of him, than, letting the candle fall, she rushed out of the room again with a loud exclamation of terror. Provoked at her folly, Arundel again applied himself to the bell, and this time with success ; for the door opened, and a young lady, running up to him, and throwing her arms round his neck, exclaimed, "I knew it must be you, Henry." " Yes, my dear Ellen, it is I, sure enough," said Arundel, tenderly kissing her ; " whom was I taken for ? But what is the matter ?" seeing that she sunk into a chair almost fainting. " How is my mother ?" " Oh, thank God you are come !" said Ellen ; " though I hardly hoped you would have got my letter soon enough." " Letter ! — what letter? I received no letter from you ; it is almost accidental my being here to-day ; but what was the letter about; — how is my mother ?" " Oh, Henry," replied his sister, " 1 wrote ARUNDEL. 57 the day before yesterday; but you could not have had time to receive it. My mother has had another fit, and is very ill. It is only since this afternoon that she has recovered sufficiently to recognize me ; but I trust the happiness of having you here will be the best medicine for her." " Can I see her?" said Arundel, turning his head away, to conceal his emotion. " Dr. Powis is now here; he came about ten minutes before you. He is with her; and I think I had better consult him about it; as, perhaps, any violent emotion might be pre- judicial." " Do, dearest Ellen ; lose no time, I beg of you ; or rather, beg Dr. Powis to come and speak to me here." Ellen left the room, and in a few minutes Dr. Powis made his appearance. " Welcome back to Northumberland, my dear sir," said he, stretching out his hand. " I wish it had not been under such melancholy auspices; but still your arrival here is most fortunate." " Dr. Powis," said Arundel, ' ' let me know exactly what you think of my mother's state; and do not be afraid of shocking me. I am prepared for the worst, and can bear it." " My dear sir," said the Doctor, " nature has d5 53 ARUNDEL. many resources unknown to art; and your mother is far from being an old woman," " I understand you," said Arundel; " but still I wish to know how long you think my mother may yet have to live." " Really, you ask me a question it is not easy to answer; but I much fear it will not be long. If the medicines I have administered produce the effect they ought to do — and I grieve to say that as yet they have not produced the slightest — she may live for some days, perhaps weeks ; but, as it is, I doubt her living through the night." " So sudden, Dr. Powis !" and Arundel leant against the chimney-piece for support. " Come, my dear young gentleman," said the Doctor, who at bottom was a good -hearted man, though grown rather callous by his long pro- fessional practice, " you must endeavour to arm yourself with resignation, for the sake of Miss Ellen. Poor dear, she will feel the blow heavily indeed. She has not been in bed for two nights; and her health is not very strong just now. For some time past, something seems to have been preying upon her spirits; she is not the merry light-hearted girl she was when you were here last, Mr. Arundel." " Doctor," said Arundel, rousing himself ARUNDEL. 59 from the fit of abstraction in which he had been sunk during the last speech; "can I see my mother ? Will you undertake to break to her that I am in the house, and prepare her for see- ing me?" " Certainly ; I think it will do her good rather than otherwise. Have the goodness to wait here a few minutes ;" and so saying, he left the room ; and Arundel again sank into a gloomy reverie, from which he was soon roused by the entrance of Ellen, who came to conduct him to his mother's room. " I feel greater hopes," said she, " than I have done for some time. When Dr. Powis mentioned your name, the colour came into her cheeks; and she begged, in almost, a strong voice, that you might come directly." Arundel sighed heavily, as he followed his sister; for he was aware of the fatal truth ; and he had not courage to answer her. When they entered the room, he went silently to the side of the bed, and kneeling down, kissed his mother's hand. She had hardly strength to murmur his name ; but soon recovering from her emotion, she beg- ged to be left alone with her two children. On Dr. Powis and the nurse leaving the room, she said, in a stronger voice, " Come near me, my 60 ARUNDEL. children ; this is indeed a blessing. I hardly expected to have had you near me, Henry, when I die." " Oh, mother/' exclaimed Ellen, ie you will live yet many long years. Doctor Powis told me he hoped much from the original strength of your constitution." " My dear Ellen, Dr. Powis may deceive you and himself, but me he cannot. I feel the hand of death upon me ; and I thank God that it has no terrors for me. I did once hope to have been permitted to live to see my children restored to that rank in society they are entitled to ; but an all-wise God has ordained it otherwise ; and I can still say with sincerity, i His will be done.' His goodness is already more than I deserve, in permitting me to embrace my son once more before I die. Henry, I need not tell you to take care of your sister ; you will soon be her only protector ; the only being on earth to whom she can look for advice and assistance ; and you, Ellen, look up to him, as you would to a father, and take no important step in life without con- sulting him. My dear boy, you know the views I have always had for you; you are old enough to judge whether they are wise or not, and you will now act according to your own discretion. ARUNDEL. 61 I sometimes feel that, perhaps, I should not have departed from your dear father's plan. If I have acted wrong, my intentions were good ; I was proud of my children, and wished others to ad- mire them also. Embrace me, my children; few mothers can say, as I can, that their children have given them nothing but unalloyed happi- ness. And now leave me. I have sent for the clergyman, and hear him in the next room. I wish to be alone with him. I will see you to- morrow morning." They both threw themselves on their knees before the bed, and embraced her ; while Arun- del said, " My dearest mother, rest assured that whatever may happen, my first, my most anxious care, shall be for Ellen's happiness; my next, to carry all your known wishes into effect." Saying this, he raised up Ellen, who was almost insensible, and retired with her from the room. In the passage he found Dr. Powis, whom he beckoned to follow him; and having conducted his sister to her own room, he led the way to the garden. " Doctor Powis," said he, " my mother evidently wishes to spare us the sight of her last moments. I shall not leave the room, after the clergyman has retired, till" — he faltered a moment — " till all is over; 62 ARUNDEL. but I am most anxious that my sister should be spared this: you must order her to bed, and give her a sleeping potion. Will you undertake this ?" (i Indeed, I think it is the best thing that can be done," replied the Doctor; I feel convinced from the rapid change that has taken place in Mrs. Arundel, that she cannot last many hours ; and the shock would be too much for Miss Ellen to bear, worn out as she is by fatigue and un- easiness." Dr. Powis accordingly took his way to Miss Arundel's room, and knocking at the door, was alarmed at receiving no answer. He entered without further ceremony, and found that she had fainted away on the floor. Without loss of time, he summoned one of the maids to her assistance, and having easily restored anima- tion, he desired she might be undressed, and put to bed, while he went to prepare a draught for her. With this he soon returned, and having given it to her, while she appeared to be almost unconscious of what was passing, he had the satisfaction of seeing her in a few moments fall into a profound sleep. He then rejoined Arundel in the garden, and both of them returned into the house ; in a few mi- nutes, having seen the clergyman retire, they ARUNDEL. 63 went into the room where Mrs. Arundel lay. Both were shocked at the change, which in so short a time had taken place in her appear- ance — she was evidently dying. Still she had strength enough left to say, ' My son, I wished to spare you this; where is Ellen?' Arundel hastened to assure her she was in a sound sleep, and that strict orders had been given on no account to disturb her. Mrs. Arundel made an attempt to speak, but could only utter some in- articulate sounds. She then sank into a dose, which lasted nearly an hour, at the expiration of which she started up, and exclaiming, " Bless you, my children" — expired without a struggle. When Arundel was aware that all was over, he burst into a paroxysm of tears, and kneeling down by the bed, remained for some time in silent prayer, before he suffered himself to be led away by Dr. Powis, who told him that he would take charge of every thing that remained to be done ; and would remain in the house till after Miss Arundel should awake. Arundel thanked him by a squeeze of the hand, and re- tired to the solitude of his own room. Here he remained in deep and solemn reflection for many hours, without an attempt at repose. The new duties that had devolved upon him, and the con- 64 ARUNDEL. sideration of the best way to provide for their execution, occupied his most anxious thoughts. His sister was now entirely dependant upon him. It was impossible for him to think of leaving her alone with her grief; yet he saw the great inconvenience of taking her with him to France, at a time when that country was on the eve of a revolution, in which he was preparing to take an active part. On the other hand, he was convinced of the necessity of removing her from a spot where every thing would serve to recall to her her recent loss, and keep fresh in her mind the recollection of Hammond, which he was bent upon effacing, if possible. At length, he decided that his best plan would be to take her with him, and place her in some convent in or near Paris, where he could see her every day, and where, at the same time, she would be under the protection of those of her own sex, and secure from the consequence of any popular violence or riot. While he was yet busied with these thoughts, the sun had risen, and the morn- ing was already far advanced, when he heard a knock at the door, and Ellen herself made her appearance. " I have sent Mary," she said, (i to see if we can go to my mother yet ; but how is this — you have not been in bed yourself?" ARUNDEL, 65 " My own Ellen," returned Arundel, " have you seen Dr. Powis this morning ? " " I saw him walking in the garden, as I came down stairs ; what does he say of mama ? " " Ellen, my dearest Ellen, you must collect all your fortitude ; you will see your mother no more." Miss Arundel instantly comprehended the fatal truth, and bursting into tears, she ex- claimed : " Oh ! Henry, this was cruel of you, to deprive me of my mother's last blessing — did she not think of me, and ask for me ?'' " It gave her comfort in her last moments," replied her brother, "to know that you were asleep, after all your fatigues and exhaustion ; and the last words she uttered were, to invoke a blessing upon both her children." At this moment, Dr. Powis entered the room : " Miss Ellen," said he, " I am very angry with you ; I do not allow my patients to quit their rooms without my permission." " Would to God I had never gone into it, and then I might have soothed my mother's last mo- ments," was the reply. " My dear, good young lady, you have sus- tained a grievous loss ; but you should be thank- ful for what is still left you," said the Doctor : " and it may be some consolation to you to 66 ARUNDEL. know that Mrs. Arundel's last moments were without pain ; and as far as mortals can judge, without a thought to embitter them. And now, Mr. Arundel, if you will but consider me as a sincere, though humble friend, you will allow me instantly to take Miss Arundel home with me in my gig, and will follow yourself in the course of the day. Mrs. Powis will do all she can to make you comfortable, and a little change of scene and air will do both of you good." Arundel's first feeling was that of offended pride, at its being supposed that he would put himself under such an obligation to a country apothecary ; it lasted but a moment, and soon gave way to the impulse of his better nature. " My dear sir," said he, taking the Doctor cor- dially by the hand ; " most gratefully do I ac- cept your kind offer, as far as regards my sister, at least ; for as for me, I have so much to do, that my time will be fully occupied for some days to come ; in addition to which, I will not leave the house in which my mother is, solely to the care of servants." " Oh Henry !" cried Miss Arundel, " do not send me from you; my duty retains me here, quite as much as it does you." " Ellen, it is better for both of us, that you ARUNDEL. 67 should go," said her brother ; " I will come over and see you every day : it is the first request I have made you — do not refuse me." Ellen re- luctantly acquiesced, and it was settled that Dr. Powis, who had some patients to visit at a considerable distance, should call on his return in the evening, to take his future guest with him. Miss Arundel had retired to make the ne- cessary preparations for her absence, and her brother was occupied in his own room, when a gentleman on horseback rode hastily up to the house, and having alighted, insisted, in spite of the opposition of the servants, on seeing Arun- del. It proved to be Sir John Hammond. As soon as he had entered the room, he said, " My dear Arundel, I only heard yesterday of your mother's illness, and to-day on my way here to make enquiries, I met Dr. Powis, who communicated to me the melancholy news of her death, and your own arrival. I cannot tell you, how much 1 was shocked by it — so young too ; she could not have been more than forty-five. However, 1 trust you will allow me to consider myself as an old friend, and as such I beg you will make use of me in any way you think fit. I should also tell you, that Charles received this morning a letter from Lord Havant, informing 68 ARUNDEL. him of all that has happened at Cambridge since he left it. Of course he had not before men- tioned his folly to me ; but on the receipt of this letter, he confessed it all to me. I never can express sufficiently how truly grateful I feel for the manly and friendly part you acted ; nor my deep regret, at the unfortunate consequences my son's imprudence has entailed upon you. I must, however, do Charles the justice to say that he is perfectly miserable, and that he has al- ready written to the Vice-Chancellor a letter containing a history of the whole transaction. But all this we must discuss at some other time ; what I want you to do now, is to bring your sis- ter over to Hammond Place, and make it your home for the present." How bitterly did Arundel regret that delicacy and honour combined to make him refuse a pro- posal, which, under any other circumstances, would have been the very thing he could have wished. As it was, he was compelled to decline it, which he did in an embarrassed manner, alleging as an excuse, the promise they were under to Dr. Powis. "Oh!" said Sir John, "if that is all, you may make your mind quite easy ; Dr. Powis told me that he was to carry off Miss Arundel, ARUNDEL. 69 but when I expressed a similar determination, he at once, and with great propriety, waved his claim in my favour. No, no, Mrs. Powis is the best person in the world, I believe, in her way ; but she is not a proper chaperon for Miss Arun- del. Your father chose to cut us all, when he sold Arundel Castle ; but he could not make us forget the friendship and high regard we all had for him ; and it shall never be said that his chil- dren wanted a home, while I have a roof over my head." When Arundel saw him so determined on carrying his point, which was urged in so friendly and delicate a manner that he could not persist in his refusal without giving just offence, he resolved at once to tell his visitor the motives of his determination; and after a short silence, he said, " Sir John, the very kind man- ner in which you have pressed this matter, com- pels me to tell you why I cannot accept it. Circumstances have lately brought to my know- ledge the fact that an attachment exists between your son and my sister ; had I been earlier ac- quainted with it, I should have done my utmost to stop so disproportionate a connexion, before it had gone to the extent it has — as it is, you you will now understand why your house is the 70 ARUNDEL. very last place that can afford a home to Ellen." " Do you mean to say that you were only aware of this lately ?" said Sir John. 6i I only knew it on the evening previous to your son's duel. I trust, Sir John, you will do me the justice to believe that I would never for a moment have sanctioned an enlargement en- tered into without your knowledge. Miss Arun- del herself," added he, rather proudly, " whatever might be her feelings in a moment of excitement, would never consent to steal into a family with- out the knowledge of its principal members." " By heaven," exclaimed Sir John, " you are a noble fellow ; I partly suspected this, though I had no idea it had gone so far, for I think you talked of an engagement ; but my good sir, do not think I should have had the blindness to encourage my son in living inti- mately in the society of a beautiful and accom- plished young woman, if the connexion had been one that I was likely to disapprove." " How !" cried Arundel, ie does it meet your approbation ?" "Ay, that it does; and I thank heaven for giving me such a daughter : so now I suppose you will no longer make any objections to my plan of taking you both home with me, where we can talk over our future proceedings at leisure." ARUNDEL. 71 c * Sir John," said Arundel, hardly able to speak from emotion ; " you have made me a happier man than I ever hoped to be again. My darling Ellen will be, I hope, as happy as she deserves to be, and Charles too. I am afraid you will think me very ungrateful in starting anything like an objection, after your kindness ; but I confess, I should like to see the marriage itself deferred for some time. Ellen is only seventeen, and Charles is but three years older: and I must say, I should like him to become a little steadier than he is at present, before he marries my sister. " My dear Arundel," said Sir John, " we will talk over all these things at leisure ; of course, under present circumstauces, it is need- less to say that an immediate union is out of the question. Miss Arundel certainly cannot marry for the next six months; but if you will believe me, great as may be the inconveniences attending early marriages, they are not to be compared to those attending long engagements. The position of both parties is, in a manner, the reverse of that which they will respect- ively occupy in after life. The lady commands, the gentleman obeys; and when this state of things has lasted for any length of time, it is no easy matter to restore them again to their natu- 7*2 ARUNDEL. ral state ; for although no woman of sense, who respects her husband and herself, will ever wish to domineer, and no man of spirit would submit to it, yet the precise limits to which authority may fairly be extended on the one hand, and obedience expected on the other, are so ill- de- fined, that it requires very often great tact and management to adjust the balance; and this diffi- culty is naturally increased when the parties have been for a long time playing directly the contrary parts. Lovers, too, are naturally living in a state of complete deception and hypocrisy, in most cases probably quite unintentionally ; but where there exists a strong desire to please, there must also necessarily exist a strong anxiety to keep one's faults in the back ground, and ex- hibit only the most pleasing parts of one's cha- racter. Half the unhappiness that exists in married life is, I believe, to be attributed to the discoveries that are constantly making of the great difference of dispositions before and after marriage. Then come accusations of deception, very unfairly — for, as I before said, the fraud was an involuntary one, and inherent in human nature ; accusations are followed by recrimina- tions and all the misery and bitterness of mar- ried strife, merely because the lovers expected ARUNDEL. 73 to marry angels, and find out that they are united to human beings like themselves." " I cannot say I have made these matters my study," said Arundel, half smiling; " but surely, a woman has a better chance of becoming thoroughly acquainted with a man's disposition, by a long and intimate intercourse with him, than if she has only known him a short time ; and there is always the chance that the long habit of keeping a strict guard over ourselves may eradicate, or at least diminish, any evil pro- pensity of our nature." " I grant that, where there are any strong passions or positively vicious inclinations," re- joined Sir John, " they will probably occasion- ally force themselves into notice in the course of a long intimacy ; but how seldom is this the case. Ninety-nine young men out of a hun- dred, are free from any positive vice ; even if the seed of evil exists, it generally takes years to develope it; and it is only when vice has become a confirmed habit, that it exhibits itself in strong colours. What chance has a girl of knowing how a man spends his time, when he is absent from her society? How, for instance, can Miss Arundel know that Charles is not a gambler — violent in his temper — tyrannical to VOL, I. E 74 ARUNDEL. his inferiors — addicted to women or the plea- sures of the table ? Why, even I, with much better means of information, cannot be sure on all these points ; though I believe him to be free from them, as confirmed vices. She cannot know, as I do, that he once lost a considerable sum at Newmarket — that he had a horse there, running under another man's name — that he was by no means the most sober man at Cam- bridge — that just before he left Eton, he fancied himself in love with a very worthless woman — and that only last year he had to pay ten pounds for breaking his servant's head. You seem surprised at the accuracy of my informa- tion. A father is too anxious not to take care to be kept au courant of his son's follies. Now do you suppose that if any one were to tell all this to Miss Arundel, she would believe one word of it ? No, she fancies she knows Charles too well, to allow that he could be capable of such enormities, as she would think them. We think them follies of youth; and though as* a father I cannot approve of them, I cannot con- sider them as proofs of a vicious disposition. I believe him to be wild and thoughtless, but I trust he has good principles, I know him to have an excellent heart, and I believe there is ARUNDEL. 75 no better way of confirming his principles, and putting a stop to his thoughtlessness, than by marrying him to a beautiful and sensible girl, to whom he is attached, and by whom his affection is returned." " My dear sir," exclaimed Arundel, " I am sure you do Charles no more than justice. Were I not as sure of his principles and honourable nature as I am of my own, nothing would tempt me to confide my sister's happiness to his keep- ing." "I am sure you would not," said Sir John ; "and without any compliment, I always felt your friendship a guarantee for his principles. Be- lieve me when I say, that there is no man, whether old or young, for whom I feel greater esteem than I do for you, my young friend ; for I have watched your conduct through life, as carefully as my son's. But I merely wished to show you, how little a long courtship has to do with knowledge of character. I speak not of women who live in the world ; they probably could obtain an accurate knowledge of all the proceedings of all their acquaintance, if they wished it ; but they would find the life of one the life of all, with some trifling exceptions ; and what we unsophisticated country folks call vice, e 2 76 ARUNDEL. would probably be treated as a matter hardly deserving of reproof. There is besides some feeling in such women, which certainly makes them pleased rather than otherwise with the at- tentions of men of notorious profligacy; whether it is the vanity of enchaining the conqueror or the more meritorious motive of converting the sinner that animates them, I will not undertake to determine ; but so it is." " Well, but surely," said Arundel, Ci women are not guilty of this deception ; they can have no vice to conceal, or but very seldom." " Men certainly have better opportunities of judging of women, than women have of judging of men," replied Sir John ; " seeing them, as we have frequent opportunities of doing, in the bosoms of their families ; but even there, one is not safe : if the match is a good one, the mem- bers of the family play into each other's hand, to keep up the delusion ; and it is not vice alone that makes unhappiness in marriage. What think you of temper, for example ?" " Well, my dear sir," said Arundel, " it is lucky Charles and Ellen have not heard your declamation ; it is enough to frighten any one from the holy estate." " Not so," replied Sir John ; " I hold marriage ARUNDEL. 77 to be the great link of society, and as such, entitled to all our respect and reverence. All I have said only amounts to this, — that like all other conditions through which we pass, it is liable to disappointment, from which no previous observations can secure us." " If one did not know how happily you and Lady Hammond live together, we might almost fancy you were complaining of your own fate," observed Arundel. (i I imagine," replied Sir John, " that no one possessed of feelings of delicacy, would ever allude to his own family, unless he could do so in terms of praise and approbation. Lady Ham- mond is an excellent woman in every respect; and I can conscientiously say, that I believe few married people have ever lived so happily and well together, as we have done; and yet per- haps, you could have no stronger instance of the truth of what 1 have advanced. You know, Lady Hammond and myself were first cousins ; and as both our families were exceedingly de- sirous of seeing the two properties united, we were absolutely brought up together, and our intimacy encouraged by every possible means ; so that it was natural to suppose that we should know every turn and bent of each other's dispo- 78 ARUNDEL. sition. Soon after I attained my majority, we married, and were, I really believe, as much in love with each other as any two people ever were. Well, I assure you, it was three or four years before we were thoroughly comfortable and happy together, before we had learnt each other's ways, and knew how to make those little mutual concessions, which are so necessary to happiness, and yet are perhaps more difficult to make than important sacrifices. But come, while I have been, lecturing here, I have let half the day slip away — I shall return home imme- diately, communicate to Lady Hammond what has passed, lecture Charles, and send the car- riage in time to bring you and your sister to dinner. We are quite alone, so you will have nothing to interfere with you ; and if you prefer it, you can live in complete privacy. So now adieu for the present — of course you will prepare your sister to be received by a father and mother, who will make no distinction between her and their other children." « Oh Sir John!" said Arundel, seizing his hand; "you must think me very ungrateful, very insensible to all your goodness, but I have no words to thank you ; my heart is too full of such conflicting emotions." ARUNDEL. 79 " I do not want your thanks, my dear boy, nor do you owe me any; on the contrary, we must thank Miss Arundel for taking charge of my scapegrace of a son." Arundel assured him that his sister would be ready to depart at the hour named ; but excused himself for the same reasons he had given Dr. Powis. Sir John could not but approve his con- duct ; and it was finally settled, that Arundel should remain at Rosedale till the funeral was over, when he would remove to Hammond Place; and satisfied with this arrangement, the worthy baronet took his departure. Arundel had now to undertake a task which puzzled him not a little ; and that was, to break to his sister all that had passed in such a way as to spare her any violent emotion, which she was ill able to bear. He went slowly up to the room which had been always known as Miss Ellen's boudoir, revolving in his mind how to begin. When he went in, he was quite alarmed at the state of nervous anxiety in which he found her ; she had seen Sir John ride up to the house, and from the length of his visit, and his not asking to see her, had conjectured, that she and Charles must have been the subject of conversation ; while, from what she felt to be an 80 ARUNDEL. uncivil neglect, she augured nothing good. She was looking out of window, watching Sir John, as he rode fast away ; but upon hearing her brother enter the room, she flew to him, and ex- claimed : iC Oh Henry ! tell me all ; I can bear anything but this dreadful suspense." " My dearest sister," said he, (i compose your- self; I have no bad news for you :" and seeing her incredulous look, he felt the best way would be to tell her exactly how matters stood. Be- ginning therefore from the commencement, he stated to her the whole conversation, as far as regarded herself and Charles Hammond. When she understood that Sir John gave his consent to their marriage, the sudden revulsion of feeling was too much for her, and she sunk into a chair in a fit of hysterical crying. This however did not last long — the first words she uttered were, " Oh that my mother had lived to give me her blessing this day ; how have I de- served so much happiness? Oh Henry, what can you think of me, when you hear me talking of happiness at such a moment? — how selfish I must appear to you !" and she again burst into tears. Arundel endeavoured to soothe her, and at last succeeded; though it was a long time before he could persuade her to go to Lady ARUNDEL. 81 Hammond's that evening. At length she yield- ed, on Arundel's promising to accompany her, with the understanding that he should return in an hour or two to sleep at Rosedale. E O CHAPTER IV. In the meantime, Sir John returned as fast as his horse could carry him to his own house, and proceeeded, without loss of time, to inform his wife of all that had happened, and the arrange- ments that he had made. Lady Hammond was, as Sir John had truly said, an excellent person in every sense of the word; she had been very handsome, and was still a most pleasing looking matronly woman. Without being clever, she had a sufficient stock of plain good sense for all the purposes of life. She looked up to her hus- band with pride and affection, and was firmly convinced that whatever he said or did was right ; and as she had brought up all her child- ren with the same notions, Sir John had the ARUNDEL. 83 happiness of enjoying that most rare of all repu- tations, that of being " a prophet in his own country." After all, if a woman wishes to enjoy a quiet, peaceable life, it is by no means a bad calculation to set up her husband as a sort of oracle, whose decisions are to be considered as immutable as the laws of the Medes and Per- sians. Sir John says this, or Sir John thinks that, is a very convenient mode of putting an end to a discussion or enforcing a command; and I earnestly advise all married ladies to give it their serious consideration. The plea- santest way of reigning, after all, is by throwing all responsibility on the shoulders of some one else. To proceed with our story. Lady Hammond had been all along aware of the probability of her son's becoming attached to Miss Arundel; and, though she had at first insinuated some- thing about Charles doing better with his fortune and expectations, yet when she found that her husband had set his heart upon the plan, she instantly withdrew her opposition, and was pre- pared to receive Ellen with all the affection of her warm heart. She felt, too, a good deal shocked at the sudden death of Mrs. Arundel. They had been friends in early youth; and 84 ARUNDEL. although the latter had never of late years been upon intimate terms with any of her neighbours, and had refused all the numerous invitations to Hammond Place, yet she had always seemed pleased when they did meet, and had shown a great partiality for Charles Ham- mond, whose intimacy with her son she had en- couraged by all the means in her power. No one hears with indifference of the death of an acquaintance of the same age with one's-self ; and Lady Hammond's thoughts reverted with a sigh to the time when Mrs. Arundel and herself had appeared, for the first time, as brides and rival beauties at the county balls. The time that had elapsed since that period had passed swiftly, and how differently had it fared with the two friends. The one, deprived of her fortune and her hus- band early in life, had sunk into a premature grave, after a continual struggle, if not with absolute poverty, at least with narrow circum- stances. The other had continued growing in prosperity and honours, and as yet scarcely felt the rude touch of time. She could not help asking herself how she had deserved so different a lot ; and these thoughts gradually softened down into compassion for the unprotected state of the daughter of her early friend ; while she ARUNDEL. 85 felt happy in the thought that the task of soft- ening her affliction was thus as it were to be en- trusted to one of her family. Under the inspi- ration of these feelings, she told Sir John that she would go herself to fetch Ellen, that she might feel more at her ease on her arrival at Hammond Place; and then declaring that the girls ought to be told of the footing on which Miss Arundel stood with regard to their brother, she departed in quest of them. As soon as she had left the room, Sir John sent to tell his son that he wished to see him, and endeavoured to persuade himself that he ought to be very angry with him ; for, although he had no objection to his falling in love with Miss Arundel, and indeed had done all he could to encourage his attachment, he was by no means pleased to find that Charles had entered into a positive engagement without consulting him ; although, from motives of delicacy, he had said nothing on the subject to Arundel. He had rather arbitrary ideas of paternal authority, and felt that Charles had shown a want of confi- dence in him, which he had neither deserved nor expected. " Charles," said he, when his son entered the room, " I have just returned from Rosedale, 86 ARUNDEL. where I found our friends in the greatest afflic- tion. Poor Mrs. Arundel died last night." " Good God ! sir, how shocking !" cried his son. " I had no idea she was so ill. Dear Mrs. Arundel, I shall never forget her goodness to me;" and Charles tried to hide the tears which trickled down his face, as he called to mind a thousand acts of kindness he had re- ceived at her hands; he felt, moreover, that his never having called at Rosedale since his return, which his promise to Arundel had effec- tually prevented, must have struck his old friend as being very ungrateful. Then his thoughts took another turn, iC And how is El — Miss Arundel? — how does she bear it?" " Miss Arundel," said Sir John, " is of course in great affliction ; but most fortunately, or rather most providentially, her brother arrived last niofht from London, in time to close his mo- ther's eyes. So far she is not unprotected. Of course you conclude that my first impulse was to beg them to come over to Hammond Place, (Charles began to look rather foolish,) that they might no longer have before their eyes scenes which could only serve to keep alive their afflic- tion ; and great, I confess, was my sorrow — I ARUNDEL. 87 may say indignation — to find that your conduct had deprived them of that resource." (i My conduct, sir !" exclaimed his son. " Yes, Charles, yours; your clandestine en- gagement with Miss Arundel compelled her brother to decline my offer. He is the very soul of honour, and would not consent to let his sister inhabit my house, while she was under an engagement to the son without the approbation, or even knowledge, of the father." " Oh my father !" exclaimed Charles, " I have acted very foolishly — very ill ; but not so much so, I hope, as you appear to think. I promised Ellen to ask for your consent so soon as I took my degree ; but when Arundel found it out, he made me give my word of honour to take no further steps till he had seen his sister ; I had hopes — I felt sure you must love her, as everybody else does ; but as all that is over, you shall see, sir, that if I have been wrong, I know how to repair it. I will leave Hammond Place directly. Send to say they may come here with- out fear ; I will promise to see Ellen no more, but do not let them be without a home. Poor Ellen ! — what a situation ; no woman near her, and her mother dead in the house ; and Henry, too ! first I have ruined him, and now I deprive 88 AUUNDEL. him of your friendship. For God's sake, sir, send directly !— they will not find me here when they arrive." Sir John was too much pleased with the good feeling his son evinced, though not a little amused hy his wrongheadedness, to interrupt him, till he had fairly spoken himself out of breath. He then said, " I think, Charles, I have always shown myself an affectionate father; and I do not see why you should imagine I am now going to assume a new character. If you had had a little more confidence in me, you would have saved yourself, and those you love, considerable anxiety. However, you need not be just yet in such a violent hurry to run away. I have had a long conversation with your friend Arundel; and the result of it is, that Miss Arundel will consent to come this evening to this house, of which I trust she will one day or other be the mistress, though I confess I am in no hurry to see that day arrive." Charles, hardly daring to trust his ears at this unhoped-for confirmation of his happiness, seized his father's hand ; and, kissing it, proceeded to give vent to his joy in a thousand extravagant unconnected exclamations. At length his father obtained a moment's silence. ARUNDEL. 89 " Arundel/' said Sir John, " from a very proper feeling of delicacy, will not leave Rose- dale till after the funeral is over. His sister, no doubt, will be so much fatigued and agitated with the various emotions to which she has been exposed, that it would be cruel to subject her to anything more this evening; and therefore I think you cannot give her a better proof of your affection and reasonableness than by going over and sleeping at Rosedale. Henry is quite alone, and probably the presence of a friend will be a real comfort to him." Charles gulped down, as well as he could, the vexation this proposal caused him ; for what man, and a young man too, would not feel vexed at being obliged to postpone seeing his mistress for twenty-four hours, even were the object to comfort his dearest friend. He con- sented, however, with a tolerably good grace. " Well, then," said his father, " you shall start on horseback an hour after the carriage, and go across the fields, so that you will run no risk of meeting Miss Arundel ; and I will ride part of the way with you, as I want to charge you with a commission for your friend." In the meantime the hours past on at Rose- dale ; and a short time before the carriage was 90 ARUNDEL. expected, Ellen begged her brother to accom- pany her to her mother's room, that she might once more look on the parent she had so tenderly loved. He tried to dissuade her; but finding her bent upon it, they both entered the room together. Mrs. Arundel's illness had been so short, and the latter part of it so free from pain, that her features retained, even in death, the character of placid benevolence that had distin- guished them during life. An indifferent ob- server would have thought she slept, so little was she changed. Her children reverently ap- proached the bed in which she lay, and, kneeling down together, continued for some time in silent and earnest prayer. What soothes the mourner more than the idea that the departed spirit is not indifferent to the weal or woe of those it loved on earth ? at least so felt Ellen, as, burst- ing into a passion of tears, she threw herself on the bed, and called upon her mother to look down upon her and bless her. Henry's entrea- ties at length prevailed on her to calm herself, and, pressing one long kiss on the cold lips, she left the room. In a few minutes, the Ham- mond carriage arrived ; and, to Ellen's surprise and embarrassment, Lady Hammond alighted from it. ARUNDEL. 91 " I am come to fetch my daughter," said she, " to the home which I trust she will always consider her own. My dear Ellen, you have lost your best friend ; but you have many left, who will endeavour to replace her." Ellen was so overwhelmed with this reception, that she could hardly articulate a few words in reply. Arundel came to her relief. " This is such unexpected kindness, that you must allow Ellen to show her gratitude in deeds, not words. Ellen, you had better not keep Lady Hammond waiting, as it is late. You do not now want me to go with you — so I shall wish you, not good bye, but good night, for I will come over early to-morrow and see you." Poor Ellen, hardly knowing what she did, suffered him to lead her to the carriage, followed by Lady Hammond; and they were soon on their way from Rosedale. Arundel returned to his room, and endeavoured to occupy his mind by looking over the different books and accounts : which were, as usual, after any continued absence on his part, in consider- able disorder, when he was roused by a ring at the door bell, and in walked Charles Hammond. " Arundel, my dear friend," said he, " will you give me a bed and a dinner, for I mean to spend the evening with you ?" 92 ARUNDEL. " This is kind, indeed, Charles; I can fully appreciate the sacrifice, but I am not selfish enough to accept it." " Nay, I must not take more credit for it than I deserve ; my father first suggested it to me, for he thinks Ellen will be too much fatigued to see any one to-night, so he sent me over to keep you company. How is she ?" " Why," replied Arundel, " I hope a day or two's rest will set her up again ; for, to say truth, she wants it." " I am sure I do not wonder at it; and you, my dear Henry, how do you feel ? Do you for- give me for being the cause of your expulsion ? If you do, it is more than I can myself." " There is nothing to forgive," replied Arundel. " I knew the risk I ran, and I volun- tarily stood the chance ; and after all, I only did for you what you would have done for me." " Tell me, Arundel ; your poor mother must have thought it very unkind in me never to have called on her, so good as she was to me ; did she not say so ?" Arundel satisfied him on this head ; and soon after dinner was announced, which passed over in silence. When the servant left the room, Hammond began fidgetting about on his chair, ARUNDEL. 93 evidently wishing to speak, and not very well knowing how to begin. Arundel was at first too much absorbed in thought to pay attention to him ; but at length, observing his uneasiness, he said, w Come, out with it, Charles; I know your ways of old." " Well, then," said Charles, " I have a mes- sage to you from my father. You cannot think how grieved he is at your expulsion from Cam- bridge, knowing, as he does, how completely it ruins your prospects in every way. I need not add how entirely I agree with him in this feeling. He desires me to say that as his son has been the cause of such a misfortune, his son is bound to repair it as much as possible ; that if you wish to diminish his regret in any degree, and I must add my remorse, for I have felt it more than I can describe — indeed, I believe if I had killed you out shooting, I should not have been so much grieved. (" Thank you," said Arundel.) No, you need not say thank me in that manner. I know what you mean ; but where was I ? Oh ! my father authorizes me to say that he hopes you will allow me so far to repair the mischief I have done, as to consent to divide with me my grandfather's property ; stop — hear me out before you speak; that, you know, is two thousand 94 ARUNDEL. pounds a year — one thousand a year a-piece, till he can obtain for you some place of equal value; and he proposes, if agreeable to you, to try to get you a secretaryship to some embassy ; and when you have once got your foot on the ladder, you are certain of rising to the head of your profession. He thinks that your expulsion will not affect you in that career ; and besides you know his two seats in parliament give him a cer- tain influence; or, if you prefer it, he will at once settle one thousand pounds a year on you ; and if you feel you can support ministers gene- rally, he will bring you unshackled into parlia- ment as soon as you are of age." 4S I am sure," replied Arundel, Ci I need not tell you how sensible I am of your father's kind- ness; and be assured that I am not the less grateful for his offer, that I decline it altogether. I have enough to live upon ; and even if I had not, my principles would not allow me to eat the bread of dependence, so long as I have it in my power to provide for my subsistence. The diplomatic profession is one for which I have always felt the greatest aversion. Nor, to tell you the truth, would I consent to accept any favour from the present government, whose poli- tical system I entirely disapprove. The same ARUNDEL. 95 reason of course would prevent my accepting the offer of a seat in parliament upon the terms you mention, had I the least wish to do so ; but I have not. I have my way to make in the world, and a parliamentary existence requires the undi- vided attention of any one who embraces it with the conscientious determination to do his duty. In my opinion, a man ought to be thoroughly independent in his circumstances before he aspires to a seat in parliament, or he will find it extremely difficult to place himself above the suspicion of interested motives; and a public man, like Caesar's wife, ought not even to be suspected. Now I have not these qualifications ; I am very poor, and my whole time is already devoted to another purpose, which absorbs all my thoughts, and demands all my energies. Be- sides, do you think me so selfish as to accept a a seat in parliament, which I know has been kept for you ; and knowing, too, with what pride and impatience Sir John is looking forward to the time which is to give a second Chatham to Eng- land, in your person ? And now, as this is rather a painful topic to me, and I have given you not only a refusal, but the reasons for that refusal, which must prove to you that my mind is quite made up on the subject ; let me beg of 96 ARUNDEL. you to drop it for ever, as no circumstances can alter my determination." Hammond knew his friend too well to attempt to reason him out of his resolution, although he thought he pushed his delicacy to an absurd extent ; and he could not help saying, " I think you over fastidious; but I shall not press the matter further : only I must say that you indulge your pride and overstrained delicacy without any regard to the feelings of your friends. My father I know will be much hurt; I will not speak now of myself; but recollect that the very essence of friendship, such as I had hoped ours was, consists as much in knowing how to be obliged as in obliging. There is little generosity in the determination you evince, to keep me so immensely your debtor." " My dear Charles," replied Arundel, " you are now talking like a child ; the only obligation you are under to me, is that once I was your second in a duel, an act involving no great stretch of friendship. The circumstances resulting from that act, being quite accidental and unforeseen, can certainly not be said to increase the obliga- tion, and therefore have nothing to do with the question. The case therefore stands thus. — I gave you a very ordinary proof of friendship, for ARUNDEL. 97 which you propose to give me a pecuniary re- compense. To this I have one very simple answer. — I do not sell my friendship. But enough of this style of argument. If ever I want as- sistance of a pecuniary or any other nature, you know full well there is no man on earth to whom I would apply sooner than to you ; and if you still persist in thinking yourself my debtor, as you are pleased to express it, I will point out a way in which you can not only cancel the debt, but return the obligation a hundred fold, and that is, by making my sister happy." A warm squeeze of the hand was the reply, and a silence of some minutes ensued. At length Hammond said, " Well, what do you mean to do ? — and what is this wonderful object to which you have devoted yourself?" " I have not arranged my plans sufficiently yet to enter into a full explanation; but you shall know all before long." With this answer Hammond was obliged to content himself, and soon after the two young men separated for the night. The next day, soon after breakfast, they rode over to Hammond Place, and found all the fa- mily assembled in the drawing-room, with the exception of Ellen, who was in her own room, VOL. I. f 98 ARUNDEL. and who sent to beg her brother to come up stairs, as soon as she heard of his arrival. He found her much better in looks and spirits than he could have expected, and more resembling the Ellen of former days than he had seen her since her return. He looked at her for some minutes with pride and pleasure ; and certainly it did not require the partial eye of a brother to find out that she was worthy of admiration. Her beauty was of that sort which seems peculiar to the daughters of the north. The soft melting blue eyes — the fair silken ringlets parting over a fore- head whiter than alabaster — the pure transparent skin, just tinged with the most delicate carnation, all proclaimed her of British birth; while her slender figure, cast in the most perfect mould of symmetry, somewhat perhaps above the common height of woman, possessed a dignity and grace that seemed to attest the purity of her blood, and the antiquity of her lineage. " I am so glad to see you," said she, address- ing her brother. " I want you to go down stairs with me ; I am almost afraid to go down alone. They are really too kind to me. I should feel more comfortable if they would not always be studying what is to make me so. They seem to think of nothing but me ; and I am not quite ARUNDEL. 99 used to it yet ;" and after a pause, she added, " Is Charles come back with you ?" " That is a question I need not answer ; if you will turn your head, you may see him walk- ing with Sir John in the flower garden. If you want to get over the awkwardness of a first meeting, you cannot have a better opportunity. Put on your bonnet, and we will go and meet them by accident" Ellen made no answer, but was ready in a minute ; and on the two parties meeting, Sir John took Arundel by the arm, and the two lovers were left by themselves. " Ellen, my Ellen," began Charles ; when he was interrupted by Miss Arundel, who said, " Charles, I am very glad to have this oppor- tunity of speaking to you alone. I wished to explain to you what you must already feel — that for the present, I cannot allow you to make any allusion to our situation. I am too unhappy — too miserable to think of anything but that my poor mother — Oh Charles ! you would not wish it yourself; you know how she loved you ; do not add to my affliction by using language which my present situation forbids me to listen to. Promise me you will only treat me as one of your sisters." f2 100 ARUNDEL. " I will do anything you wish," said Charles, with a look that contrasted strangely with his words ; " but surely my duty, my privilege is to share your afflictions as I would your pleasures, and alleviate your sorrows as I would add to your happiness. Nay, I have done, do not leave me ;" as he fancied he saw Miss Arundel disposed to withdraw her arm from his ; " only tell me you were not angry with me for running away last night." " How could I be angry with what was so con- siderate, so dear of you. You could not have pleased me more than by your kindness to poor Henry. It made me very melancholy to leave him all alone, till Lady Hammond told me you were going over to him ; so far from being angry, or even annoyed, it made me " and conceives himself more than repaid by the expectation of calling the daugh- ter, * my daughter-in-law ;"' and here the Count stopped to take breath ; he soon, however, re- sumed. " And now that we are come to our journey's end, we had better settle what we shall do after your visit. Of course I shall w T ait to bring you back ;" but this Arundel would by no means permit. i( Well then, my carriage will call for you at your hotel, to bring you to dinner. After that we will go to the opera, and then you must come and sup with me and a few friends, male and female, at a small house I have in the Faubourg du Roule." To all this Arundel assented, and in a few minutes more the carriage stopped at the door of the embassy. Having thanked his new friend, he shook hands with him and entered the hotel. He was most graciously received by the Ambas- ARUNDEL. 143 sador, Lord A — ,who asked a thousand questions after his old friend, Sir John Hammond. * I had the pleasure of knowing your father, Mr. Arun- del," continued he, "at college, though we quite lost sight of each other afterwards, which I much regretted. I am delighted, therefore, to make the acquaintance of his son. Have you any friends here ?" Arundel told him that the only two persons he knew as yet, were Mons. Martin, and his son, and mentioned the engagements he had made for the evening. "Well," said Lord A — — , "you could not have had two better acquaintance in their way. The father is one of the most respectable bankers in Paris, and I know several very generous and kind actions of his doing. The son has the cha- racter of being a great roue, but I believe, is not without good feeling and a high sense of honour. I do not know much of him ; and sup- pers at a petite mat son, are, as you may suppose, rather out of my line. No man, however, I should think, is better qualified to act as guide to a new comer ; whether you will ever wish him to be more than a common acquaintance, you will be better able to decide when you know more of him. If you wish to be introduced into the society of the Court, and the haute noblesse, 144 ARUNDEL. I shall be most happy to offer you my good offices. I am going to-morrow evening to Ver- sailles, and if it suits you to go with me, I will take you in my carriage, and present you." This offer Arundel gratefully accepted, and after a few minutes further conversation, took his leave. On quitting the hotel of the embassy, Arun- del sauntered about Paris, to wile away the hours till dinner time. It was the latter end of Sep- tember when he arrived, and the city was in a state of perpetual excitement and agitation. One day there were rumours of attempts to carry off the king and royal family ; on the next, it was ascertained that fresh detachments of troops had arrived at Versailles, to reinforce the already numerous army stationed in and about that town. A scarcity of provisions too, at this time, pressed severely upon the lower orders ; and every day complaints were made, of convoys intercepted and grain sent out of the kingdom. In vain the National Assembly had sent a deputation to Paris to res- tore calm. That body itself no longer possessed the undivided confidence of the nation which it had hitherto enjoyed. The union of the three estates, had infused into the assembly the ele- ARUNDEL. 145 ments of discord. It was evident that many members of the privileged orders sought to em- barrass and retard the adjustment of the most vital questions, by every means in their power ; and it was well known that all the partisans of the ancien regime, and those attached to the Royal family, scrupled not to avow their convic- tion, that a reaction was approaching, which would restore the king to unlimited power, and place those whom they considered as his ene- mies at his feet. The Parisians, too, began to be exceedingly dissatisfied with the despotic authority exercised over them by the Commune. A decree that body had lately issued against the press, was considered as a violation of one of the most important rights of freemen, and the frequent recurrence of periods of famine was attributed to their incapacity or malversation. The people, in short, felt that it would require their utmost vigilance and determination to pre- serve them from the yoke of a municipal oligar- chy, after having freed themselves from that of an absolute Sovereign. All their grievances were set forth and commented upon at every moment in the public streets by itinerant orators ; and Arundel fell in with several groups listening to the most violent declamations, accompanied VOL. I. H 146 ARUNDEL. by threats of vengeance on all suspected of being the authors of their miseries. The Queen and the Comte d'Artois were particularly de- nounced as traitors to the nation, and Arundel was more than once disgusted with the furious language of the speakers, and astonished at the applause which they elicited from the audience. He did not consider how difficult it is for a nation suddenly emancipated from the shackles which have pressed on them for centuries, to restrain their newly obtained liberty within due bounds. Licentiousness is the natural offspring of restrictions, as ferocity and a desire of ven- geance are of oppression. In the course of his perambulations, he ar- rived at the Palais Royal, and here it seemed as if the whole of that immense garden had been con- verted into an arena for political discussion. He approached one group, which a very young man was addressing from a table. His countenance was that of one inspired; his language eloquent, and even not devoid of classical elegance, while occasionally his impassioned ideas seem to burst forth in words of flame. Arundel listened to him with great attention, and thought he had never heard any one who seemed so deeply con- vinced of the truth of the cause he was advocat- ARUNDEL. 147 mg, and this conviction evidently forced itself upon his auditors. Arundel himself felt his breath come thicker, his blood flowed more rapidly in his veins, as he listened to these ani- mated appeals. He asked a man who was stand- ing near him, the name of the young orator. "Camille Desmoulins" was the answer, — "the most patriotic, the most sincere of all our young writers." Arundel turned homewards reflecting deeply on what he had seen and heard. He could now understand how the spirit was raised that took the Bastille ; he felt that a people, led by men animated by such a deep enthusiastic devotion to their cause as that evinced by Camille Des- moulins, could achieve anything ; but what most astonished him, was to see that not the commonest precautions were taken by the autho- rities, or the slightest attempt made to arrest these violent and audacious instigators to revolt. He could not help thinking in his heart, that a government manifesting such utter indifference to these rude assaults, or such complete want of power to put them down, was foredoomed to des- truction. His mind still occupied with these thoughts, he again found himself in the Chaussee d'Antin. h 2 148 ARUNDEL. The dinner party was strictly a family one, con- sisting merely of Mons. and Mme. Martin, the Count, and himself, but the dinner itself was of the most exquisite kind. The science of one of the first artists in France had been lavished upon it ; the wines were excellent, the plate magnificent, while the number of the attendants and the richness of their liveries seemed rather calculated for the establishment of a prince, than for that of a private individual, however wealthy. i( I hope," said Mme. Martin — a good sort of elderly woman — ei that my husband properly apologised to you for the liberty he took in ask- ing you to a mere family party." " Indeed, my dear Madame," replied Arundel, " I felt as an act of the greatest kindness, his not thinking it necessary to treat me with cere- mony. I am tempted to forget that I am a mere stranger, though I almost fancy myself in fairy land in the midst of such splendour and magni- ficence. I am sure none of our bankers or merchants could compete with it." 1 ( No," interrupted Martin, (i they are too wise. The gold and silver, that glitter on my furniture and sideboard, would be safely stowed away in their coffers. This sort of profusion ARUNDEL. 149 would injure their credit, or at all events be of no use to it; but here it is necessary to support mine ; were I to reduce the number of my ser- vants, or suppress an entree in my bill of fare, all Paris would know it next day, and my affairs would be considered to be in a precarious situa- tion. We have not yet learnt the folly of trust- ing to appearances; show and effect go a great way. with us." "I hope, Mr. Arundel," said the Count, "you have passed your time agreeably since we parted." Arundel told him how he had been occupied, and could not forbear expressing his astonishment at the impunity with which the grossest attacks against the Queen and the high- est personages in the kingdom were accom- panied. (i Yes," said Mons. Martin, with a sigh, ' i it is very well known by whom these attacks are encouraged and paid for ; and it is easy to see that the object is to bring everything that is good and great to a level with the low and vicious. We want a few more men like the Prince de Lambesc, to put a stop to these foul- mouthed slanderers. However, every body, but the lowest rabble and their instigators, 150 ARUNDEL. does justice to the virtues and courage of the Queen." The Comte de Beauvoisin, notwithstanding his daily resolutions to avoid political discussions with his father, could not refrain from say- ing :— ft No one can feel greater disgust than I do, at all the misrepresentations of which the Queen is the victim; but we should not forget with whom they originated. It was the high noblesse that first began these attacks against her, and lost no opportunity of inveighing at what they called the scandalous levities of her con- duct. It was the nobility, who jealous of her system of favouritism, first encouraged scandal to fix upon her name. Why, Mr. Arundel, you will hardly believe me, when I tell you, that I have heard stories told and couplets recited in the salons of the very highest society, of which Marie Antoinette and her supposed lovers were the subjects, so replete with coarse ribaldry and indelicacy, that I doubt whether the commonest woman in the streets could have repeated them without blushing. We all recollect the affair of the Cardinal de Rohan and the diamond neck- lace. I have no hesitation in declaring my belief, not only that the Queen was innocent, ARUNDEL. 151 but perfectly ignorant, of the disgraceful intrigue by which a weak, unprincipled and ambitious priest sought to win her favour. The nobility, however, set the example of making use of this unfortunate event to mortify her. The Queen, who had a personal dislike to the Cardinal, and was naturally indignant at having her name mixed up in such a dirty, swindling transaction, took a more active part in the proceedings which ensued, than in my opinion she ought to have done. It was inconsistent with the dignity of her situation ; still it was natural, and therefore excusable. Well, the aristocracy, and, at their instigation, every class of society, took part with the Cardinal and against her, and openly tes- tified, even in the apartments at Versailles, the joy they felt at the Cardinal's acquittal, which was considered as her condemnation. They now defend her and abuse her calumniators as vehe- mently as they previously attacked her, because they begin to find out that the rights of the absolute monarch and the privileges of a feudal aristocracy must sink or swim together. They were her first and bitterest enemies, and yet it appears to me very doubtful whether they will not do her more harm now with their selfish mis- 152 ARUNDEL. chievous counsels, than they did formerly by their libels and their calumnies." " Certainly, Mons. le Comte," said his father, " no one would imagine that you were a mem- ber of the nobility, whose character you take so much pains to blacken." " And do you think, my dear father," rejoined the Count, " they consider me as such ? No— they borrow my money, ride my horses, eat my dinners — in short, they make every use they pos- sibly can of me, and yet I shall never be any- thing but a parvenu, the son of Martin the banker; forgive me the expression — it is not mine, — I have overheard it twenty times. It was only yesterday that the Marquis de Ponthieu said in his sneering way, ' Well, my dear Count, you do not look so very awkward with a sword, con- sidering how short a time you have had a right to wear one !'" iC And what answer did you make to such an insolent speech?" said Arundel. "I told him I did not know how I wore one, but that if he wished to know how I could use one, I was at his service." « My dear child," cried Mme. Martin, « how could you be so imprudent? Suppose he had thought you serious, and taken you at your word." ARUNDEL. 153 The Count smiled with a peculiar expression, which was apparently unnoticed, except by Arun- del. " Well !" said the old gentleman, " I begin to regret the money I paid for the estate of Beauvoisin. You seem to despise the title, and the property will never return one per cent." " I do not regret it, though," said the Count; " there is one privilege attached to nobility in France, which I value next to my existence." « And that is? — " said Arundel — i( Do you remember, father/' continued the Count, " three years ago, when this very Mar- quis de Ponthieu gave me a lash across the face for not getting out of the way of his phaeton fast enough, and when I called on him for satisfac- tion for so gross, so unprovoked an outrage, he told me in the most quiet, impertinent man- ner possible, that he should have the greatest pleasure in giving it me, if he were not ap- prehensive of falling under the displeasure of Nos Seigneurs les Marechaux de France, if he measured swords with a roturier. I am a rotu- rier no longer, and the proudest noble in France, were it the brother of the King himself, could not refuse to meet me." h 5 154 ARUNDEL. (i Oh ! Mons. Martin," cried the good lady at the top of the table, " how could you run him into such danger? Surely you did not know that he might fight anybody he liked, when he became a Count; you shall not stir out, Adolphe, till you promise me never to use this horrible privilege." " I promise you, dearest mother, I have no present intention of using it," replied de Beauvoisin. " But do you mean to say," said Arundel, greatly interested in the story he had just heard, " that you got no redress for such an atrocious affront ?" " My father," replied de Beauvoisin, "brought an action against him ; but he is a great friend of the Comte d'Artois — scandal says that he is what is generally called l'ami du Prince, and so he got a lettre de cachet, prohibiting all further proceedings, and that is all the satisfaction the laws of my country on the one hand, and the privileges of the nobility on the other, afforded me." " I acknowledge, my son," said the old banker, " you were grievously wronged in that business ; but still you should not allow the injury inflicted ARUNDEL. 155 by one, to be brought forward as evidence against a whole class." " Perhaps you are right, father; but if you will allow us to have coffee, I will carry off Mr. Arun- del, as I dare say he will like to see the whole of an opera for the first time." Mons. Martin returned his thanks in a set speech to Mr. Arundel for the honour he had done him, and hoped he would not think he was taking too great a liberty in begging him to remember, that he would always find a place at his table, whenever he would do him the honour to avail himself of it. Arundel thanked the warm hearted, though somewhat formal old man, for his kindness, and having taken leave of Madame, followed the Count to his carriage. " I suspect," said Arundel, when they were seated, il your debt to the Marquis is dis- charged." " Ah ! say you so ? — you are a shrewd obser- ver. Why yes, I believe he has as pretty a coup d'epee, through his sword arm, as a man need wish for. I have been waiting for the opportunity for some time, but he knew it, and kept a guard over himself. Not that he is a coward, I believe, but he does not like unnecessary fighting; at last he could bottle 156 ARUNDEL. up his sarcastic temper no longer. I do believe he would have had a fit of apoplexy, if he had tried to do so. However, he has had a good lesson, which will probably last him some time." CHAPTER VI. Arundel was delighted with the opera and the ballet; he had been so little in the way of theatrical representations in England, that the French scene burst upon him in all its splen- dour, without the disadvantage of former recol- lections. He was disagreeably roused from his state of enchantment., by the falling of the cur- tain, and the summons of the Count to leave the theatre. At first he wished to go home, but de Beauvoisin assured him that he had asked some friends to supper, on purpose to meet him, and he felt he could no longer refuse without rudeness. He wished also to see Parisian society in all its shapes ; and, at that time, the petits soupers still formed too remarkable a fea- ture of it to be omitted, and he accordingly sub- 158 ARUNDEL. mitted himself to de Beauvoisin's guidance. As they rolled along, his friend gave him some account of the persons he was to meet. et We shall only be ten," said he. Ci I hate large parties at supper — they destroy the feeling of intimacy which makes the great charm of this sort of society. Fortunately, too, I quarrelled with my last mistress two days ago, and not having yet replaced her, I am as much fete by the ladies of her class, as I was by those of the upper ranks of society, when it was known that I was the heir to some millions, and that my fa- ther wished to see me married." " The comparison is not very nattering at all events to the last," observed Arundel. iC Flattering or not," replied his companion, "it is just; there is but little difference in my opinion, between a marriage like the one I am about to make, for instance, and the connexion one forms with a Duthe or a Fayal, except that the first is unfortunately permanent, and the last only continues during one's bon plaisir. The one is prostitution sanctioned by the laws, and the other by the police. But do not mistake me, and think I am speaking of marriage in general when I talk thus; I am only alluding to our mariages de convenance, when a young lady (or ARUNDEL. 159 a parent for her) sells her person to a man she has very likely never even seen, and obtains in return, what she probably values most on earth, a good establishment, handsome equipage, and magnificent diamonds. Now the ladies to whom you will be introduced to-night, do all this, it is true ; but at all events they have not the hypo- crisy to shelter their ambition or cupidity under the sanction of religion. No, no, you will find no hypocrisy at my house to-night." " That I make no doubt of," said Arundel, laughing; "but you were good enough to promise me a description of the persons I am to meet." 11 Ah, true, so I did ; well, in the first place, you will see the Comte de Tilly, who, though not yet thirty, I believe, has exhausted every plea- sure, and nearly ruined his constitution and fortune at the same time ; which, as he himself observes, is a fortunate combination; for what is the use of health without money, or money without health. However, putting women on one side, to whom I believe he has not always behaved like a che- valier sans reproche, he is a man of honour in the strictest sense of the word, and at any time would rather fight than eat his breakfast. " Next we shall have the Marquis de Genlis, and Mdlle Duthe, from whom he is at the 160 ARUNDEL. present moment inseparable, though I fancy that liaison will not last much longer, for by all ac- counts she has cut deep already into the forests of Genlis, and no one knows better than Duthe when it is time to change masters ; she has the credit of having ruined more men, old and young, noble and financial, than any other ten women in Paris put together ; but then she is so beau- tiful, so clever* so much the fashion, that it is quite a pleasure to be ruined by her — she does every thing with so much grace ; and when at length the last louis d'or is spent, she dismisses you in a manner that makes you still more in love with her than ever. Oh, she is a delightful, dangerous creature — take care of her. " Then we have Mme. Beauvilliers, the mistress of the Marquis de Fenelon (he, I am sorry to say, cannot come, as he is obliged to be in at- tendance at Versailles) ; and a certain Made- moiselle Adeline, who belongs to the Italian theatre, and on whom, to tell you the truth, I have cast the eye of affection, in defiance of the tenth commandment, for she is living with Veime- ranges, the Director of the Posts, immensely rich, and a very good fellow ; he will also sup with us, as will a certain Chevalier de Poix. Who he is exactly, I cannot tell you, for I believe ARUNDEL. 161 that nobody knows, further than that he is a Chevalier de St. Louis, rather old, though with all the vivacity of youth, and is to be found in the very best society. I have indeed heard it hinted, that his birth-place was the pare aux cerfs. Now that he can no longer carry on the w r ar on his own account, he seems to have estab- lished himself as a sort of master of the cere- monies in all our petites maisons, and so well does he play his part, that no supper is reckoned perfect without him. The last I have to intro- duce to your notice, is a charming Hebe-looking thing, Mile. Coralie by name. She has not long been at Paris, and is under the protection of an old banker of the name of Berthout, who lets her do just what she pleases, though report says she has been much more faithful to him than his sixty years deserve, or have a right to ex- pect." By this time the carriage stopped before a small house in the Faubourg du Roule, the door of which, opened by some invisible agent, ad- mitted the two friends into one of the most en- chanting abodes that the most determined votary of luxury and refinement could boast of. The house itself was small, but seemed perfectly adapted to the purposes for which it was in- 162 ARUNDEL. tended. The most exquisite taste was every- where discernible, and every thing that could captivate the senses was scattered through the apartments with an unsparing hand. Delicious perfumes filled the air, while the rare exotics which supplied them captivated the eye by the brilliancy of their tints. A soft mellowed light pervaded the rooms, penetrating into the re- motest corners, without fatiguing the sight by a glare which would have been little in unison with the rest of the scene. The Count had hardly time to do the honours of his house, and explain its various merits to his friend, before the rest of the company arrived in rapid succession. Arundel was successively pre- sented to them all, and although the short sketches of each which his friend had given him, had by no means prepossessed him in their favour, he soon found himself unable to resist the contagion of their animated conversation and lively repartee. Indeed he was not a little surprised to remark the decency and ban ton which was observed by all present, except, indeed, the antiquated Che- valier de St. Louis, whose jests and stories, drawn from the school of the Due de Richelieu, and savouring of the libertinism of the Regency, exposed him to the raillery of those on whom he ARUNDEL. 163 inflicted them. This he bore with consummate good humour, and seemed to enjoy the united attacks of which he was the object. After this sort of conversation had lasted about half an hour, the Marquis de Genlis, who to his other accomplishments added that of being a most determined gambler, exclaimed, " But why should we waste our time in this idle manner ? Let us have a little faro till supper is ready ; — what say you, de Beauvoisin ? — if you have no objection I will hold the bank." This proposal was unanimously applauded, and cards were soon procured. " Only recollect," said de Beauvoisin, " I am not fond of play, and therefore I hope you will not ask to continue after supper ; nothing spoils society so much as knowing that play, or as you would call it, business, is waiting for us." " Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so," said Mile. Coralie ; " I play because every body else does, but I confess I hate it ; do you like it, Monsieur Arundel ? " "That is a question I hardly can answer," replied our hero ; " for to tell you the truth, I never tried, and have no wish to learn, if I may be excused." " Of course you can do as you please," said 164 ARUNDEL the Count ; " but take my advice, and instead of sitting in a corner by yourself, which you will find dull enough, risk ten louis under the tuition of Coralie ; if you win, so much the better ; if not, stop, and you will not have done much harm. To tell jou the truth," addded he, in a whisper, " I hate play, but de Genlis is so fond of it, as indeed are most of the rest, that I could not say no; so you will oblige me by complying for half an hour, when supper will be ready." Thus pressed, Arundel thought it would look churlish if he did not join the rest, and he seated himself by his fair instructress, who willingly undertook the task of initiating him into the mysteries of the game. After various fluctua- tions of fortune, Arundel found himself, when supper was announced, a winner of upwards of two hundred louis. " It is fortunate for me, Monsieur Arundel," said the Marquis, " that you confined yourself to such moderate stakes, or you would have broken the bank ; as it is, I have no reason to complain, for I win nearly two thousand louis." " And of me too you win nearly five hun- dred," exclaimed Mile. Duthe. " That is too bad, I declare." ft Yes, indeed," chimed in Mile. Adeline, ARUNDEL. 165 " the Marquis is very imgallant to-night ; he has ruined all of us unfortunate women." " Except me,"' said Coralie. " I have shared in my pupil's good fortune." iC He is a most fortunate man to have such a teacher, fair Coralie," drawled out. the Che- valier. iC I wish you would take me under your tuition." " Oh ! you know, by your own account," replied she, "you were so irresistible in your youth from your charms, that, with all your experience added to them, you must be too dangerous a man at present. I will have nothing to say to you." " Nay," rejoined the Chevalier, " you are too hard upon me ; you must not judge a man too severely by what falls from his own lips." " That I can easily believe," retorted Coralie. The rest laughed, and the Count, taking advan- tage of the pause, conducted them into the supper -room. " You must be my cavalier," said Coralie to Arundel, " as we seem to be the greatest stran- gers here." " Were you never here before, then ?" said Arundel, offering her his arm to lead her to the supper-table, and seating himself next her. P No, never ; if I had been, I suppose I shoula 166 ARUNDEL. have had the pleasure of making your acquaint- ance sooner." iC No, indeed ; I have only been twenty-four hours in Paris, for the first time in my life." " Is it possible ? — you speak French so well, and are so aimable, that I fancied you had passed all your life in Paris. I assure you that you deserve to be a Frenchman." The compliment, for as such it was meant, was an unlucky one, for what Englishman is there worthy of the name, who could change the denomination for that of any other nation under the sun ? — at least so thought Arundel, as he coldly replied that he was perfectly satisfied with being what he was. There was something in the words and the tone in which they were uttered, which made Coralie look up at him. " Why you are not angry," said she (i at my silly speech ? Do you not know we think it the greatest compliment we can pay a stranger, to tell him he is almost a French- man ? I dare say now in England you would think it very flattering to a foreigner, to tell him he was almost an Englishman ; come, be honest, and confess the truth." Arundel smiled, as he answered, " I believe you are right; at all events, I am sure was wrong to feel — I will not say — angry, that would be too ARUNDEL. 167 strong a word, but piqued at what you said. Forgive me, and I will endeavour to offend no more." e ■ You will be very wrong if you do, for though I know I very often say thoughtless things, I never mean to annoy any one." " Not even the Chevalier ? " " Oh ! the tiresome old man — he deserves it. He is eternally pestering me with his declarations of love." "Have you so hard a heart, then?" said Arundel. " Why, I should think any heart under seventy years of age would be hard to such a decrepit old roue, who can do nothing but talk about his achievements some forty years ago. But come, you are too young, and too — in short you are too young to be my father confessor." The supper was excellent, and the wines ad- mirable. By degrees, as the champagne did its duty, the conversation became more animated, and gradually assumed a freer tone. " By-the-bye, Coralie," cried Veimeranges, from the other side of the table, " do you know that you were very near attaining the distin- guished honor of being transferred to the Comte de Lauraguais ? He offered Berthout his cook, 168 ARUNDEL. Barigouille, the first artist in France, in ex- change for you, and Berthout had — what shall we say ? — the good taste to refuse the offer." te The Count took a very useless trouble," ex- claimed Coralie, colouring with indignation ; "does he think I am to be made an object of sale, without my consent?" " Well, I am sure," said de Genlis, laughing, (i you ought to be very much obliged to him, in the first place for setting Berthout's affection in so strong a light — for believe me, the temptation was great — and in the next place, for putting you in a passion, which is exceedingly becoming to you." i( Why, you odious wretch !" exclaimed Mile. Duthe, '"'you do not mean to say that you would have accepted such an offer? I would never speak to you again, if I thought you capable of it."