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HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Tlie proudest of them all shall hear of it.' 
 
 N THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 1828. 
 
LONDON : 
 PKlNTKli BV S. AND R. BENTLEV, DORStT STREET. 
 
v./ 
 
 It may be proper to state that the follow- 
 ing work was originally written under the title 
 of " Al mack's," and before the Publication 
 of that popular Novel, in order to account 
 for any resemblance which may be discover- 
 able between the two productions; though 
 the author has endeavoured to obviate the 
 probability of such, by making some changes 
 in his scenes, familiar from observation, and 
 by purposely abstaining from the perusal of 
 the work which has so ably preceded him .in the 
 use of the title referred to. 
 
 It seems only farther necessary, to disclaim 
 all idea of personality in the following pages, 
 ,tha-. object intended having been to pourtray 
 manners, rather than individuals, and to con- 
 nect with real occurrences such sketches of cha- 
 racter, as might not prove wholly useless in 
 their tendency and application. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 At that period of the year, when the west- 
 ern part of the metropoUs again receives to its 
 bosom the gay and eager votaries of fashion — 
 when numerous well-packed and heavily-laden 
 equipages may be seen in continual succession 
 disgorging their contents in the vicinity of 
 the squares — when hotel-keepers, who, during 
 the dead season have been comparatively poor, 
 and consequently proportionably civil, now 
 commence the bustle of their business, and 
 with it the extent of their extortion and im- 
 pertinence — when the gentle nightingale, the 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 HEKBERT MILTON. 
 
 Pasta of the grove, and pirate cuckoo, the 
 Schinder wannes of the woods, enliven the dale 
 and woodland with their early notes — when the 
 first glad sunbeams of spring call from its win- 
 ter prison each tender bud and fragrant blossom, 
 robing the forest and the field in all the vigour 
 of virgin foliage and vegetation, having, at the 
 same time, the singular effect of scaring from 
 the country every individual who can afford 
 even a lodging in London; as if the sight 
 of bare hedges, leafless trees, and withered 
 herbage, alone possessed an^y picturesque beau- 
 ties, or offered any rural charms to their 
 eyes — when mothers and mantua-makers, alike 
 interested in the important operation of 
 match-making, (the principal occupation of all 
 classes at this conjunctive moment,) pass in 
 speculative review the list of youths who, 
 since last season, have attained the emancipa-- 
 tory and nubible age of twenty-one; the for- 
 mer mentally appropriating to their daughters 
 the actual possession, or future reversion of 
 coronets, bloody hands, or at least ample land- 
 
HEllBERT MILION. O 
 
 ed property; whilst the others content them- 
 selves with the prospect of furnishing lace 
 veils, costly dresses, and all the other momen- 
 tous ingredients of the Trousseau. — Splendid 
 and enchanting visions ! how often are ye form- 
 ed, and, alas ! how often do a few short months 
 dissipate the bright illusion, and destroy the 
 goodly and maternal dream ! — 
 
 At that gay period, when Peers, Meltonians, 
 or green peas, are neither ashamed, the one 
 to be seen or the other to be eaten in town — 
 when the celebration of anniversary dinners, 
 political meetings, and pious unions, cause the 
 walls of Freemasons' Hall to ring alternately 
 with the sounds of boisterous toasts, merry 
 songs, often-repeated and tedious speeches of 
 reform, or still more tedious and saintly hymns, 
 — when charity balls and charity concerts, 
 under the patronage of some fair decoys of 
 Fashion, extract from the pocket of the un- 
 wiUing beau his one pound one, and offer to 
 his eager sisters or cousins their only chance of 
 even inhaling the same air respired by the elect 
 B 2 
 
4 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 of the day — last sad resource of Almack's dis- 
 carded applicants; — when White's^bow-window, 
 once more crowded with its phalanx of critics, 
 obliges many a " would be,'' to prefer the 
 shady side of St. James-street, who has not 
 courage to encounter the passing sarcasms 
 ■which are shot from that fashionable battery, 
 with the effect and celerity of balls from Mr. 
 Perkins's steam-engine. — 
 
 Distressing moment ! when many an impor- 
 tant personage, who before Easter lounged in 
 all the ease and grandeur of a double Opera- 
 box, embosomed in his well-furred coat — now 
 yielding to increasing prices, descends to join the 
 common ten-and- sixpenny herd, who choke the 
 pit, contenting himself, like a fallen angel, with 
 sighing and looking up from the depths of the 
 black abyss upon the brilliant galaxy where 
 erst he himself appeared a conspicuous and 
 envied luminary ; or perhaps by way of re- 
 venge retires to the sea-side, for the benefit 
 of his wife's health, lets his house for the sea- 
 son at an extravagant price, and lives rent-free 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 5 
 
 for the remainder of the year. But I have 
 already extended my catalogue of whena to 
 an unnecessary length ; and as I conclude my 
 readers have by this time pretti/ well ascer- 
 tained the season of the year to which I allude, 
 and are anxious for me to commence ^my nar- 
 rative, I shall without farther delay enter upon 
 my subject. 
 
 At the period then to which I have referred, 
 in the year 18 — , a heavily laden post-chaise was 
 seen to ascend Berkeley Square, and at length 
 to draw up at the door of Mr. Thomas's Hotel. 
 From the outward appearance of the equipage, 
 its luggage, and attendant, there was every 
 reason to surmise that the traveller had lately 
 arrived from one of our Eastern possessions. 
 
 On the roof of the vehicle were fastened 
 sundry boxes, parcels, and packages, of fo- 
 reign and anomalous appearance ; at all events, 
 looking like any thing rather than the neatly- 
 polished cases and convenient imperials of 
 Messrs. Hudson ; and what man with any 
 taste or regard for his own comfort would either 
 
6 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 trust his coats or his boxes to the boots or 
 springs of any other coach-maker ? 
 
 A curiously-formed cage, in which an enor- 
 mous cockatoo dangled to and fro, was at- 
 tached to one of the front windows, whose 
 shrill sereams outnoised even the rumbling of 
 the wheels or clattering of the horses' hoofs. A 
 large yellow chest, which might on the, banks 
 of the Ganges have served as a load for a full- 
 toothed elephant, was secured behind ; whilst 
 a native servant — his head enveloped in the 
 ample folds of a snow-white turban, rings in 
 his ears not much inferior in size to a fourth- 
 form boy''s hoop, and the mark of caste on his 
 forehead — sat perched on the summit of two or 
 three portmanteaus in front, endeavouring, with 
 one hand grasping the bar and the other cling- 
 ing to the leather of a spring, to preserve his 
 equilibrium on this novel, and, to judge by 
 the distortion of his countenance, not very 
 agreeable palanquin, when every jolt or jostJe 
 threatened to dislodge some of his fine set of 
 
HERBERT illLTON. 7 
 
 teeth, or dislocate limbs which had very much 
 the curve and inclination of Saxon arches. 
 
 It was, however, evident, that the inmate of 
 the machine was not only a personage of some 
 wealth and importance, but that his arrival had 
 been anticipated, and preparations made for his 
 reception. 
 
 No sooner had the vehicle halted at the door 
 than two or three tall footmen, with more than 
 the usual proportion of powder, fringe, and 
 lace, headed by a man out of livery, having 
 the portly bearing of a butler or steward, and 
 followed by a string of waiters and porters, 
 rushed into the street, whilst the master of the 
 hotel and the very important personage his 
 wife, advanced as far as the landing-place, and, 
 without compromising their own dignity, pro- 
 ceeded to make their obeisance and offer their 
 welcome to the new comer as they ushered 
 him up-stairs to the suite of apartments pre- 
 pared for his occupation. 
 
 Upon the first landing-place, the stranger, 
 
8 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 who was a man rather advanced in years, but 
 of lofty carriage, dignified, and particularly 
 gentlemanlike though stern appearance, was 
 eagerly met by a still beautiful and interesting- 
 looking woman, many years younger than him- 
 self. 
 
 At the sight of this fair personage the 
 traveller extended his arms and quickened his 
 pace, which hitherto had expressed more of 
 Indian dignity and official solemnity, than any 
 of that warm-hearted English anxiety when one 
 is about to meet some dear loved object. A 
 moment, however, sufficed to lock the couple 
 in each other's arms. 
 
 *' My dearest Sir Herbert," — " My dearest 
 Laura," was heard mutually to escape their 
 lips as the door of the saloon closed upon them. 
 
 A tremendous uproar had, however, arisen 
 down-stairs in consequence of a quarrel between 
 Singee, the native servant, and one of the other 
 domestics. The former, accustomed for many 
 years to hold absolute control over the stran- 
 ger's household in India, and to superintend 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 9 
 
 the packing or unloading his master's elephants 
 and travelling equipage, felt extremely indig- 
 nant at the simultaneous rush made by the dif- 
 ferent assistants to remove into the house the 
 varied contents of the carriage, not only with- 
 out his orders, but even without the compli- 
 ment of a single salam. After rolling his dark 
 eyes with the look of a demon, and grinning 
 like an enraged tiger, he uttered a thousand 
 curses in his native tongue, now and then 
 breaking in with, " He Massa Gorormighty leab 
 him, Cackadoo up him Palakin ! Why for 
 debil, Gobernor no kick him, damn tiebs, at a 
 bottom up a stairs ? Och, Gorra ! Gorra no 
 touch him. Rajah Palaum ! ok a bite him 
 blood op a finger !" 
 
 The domestics, however, continued their 
 operations, utterly regardless of the poor man's 
 anger, and took no other notice of him than 
 now and then saying, " Here, catch hold, 
 Blacky !" as they handed out a parcel, which 
 of course added to his fury and their amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 b5 
 
30 IIliRBERT MiLtOK. 
 
 Singee had, however, borne all this hitherto, 
 without coming to any overt act of violence, 
 until he saw one of the footmen take possession 
 of his master's writing-case, which the faith- 
 ful native knew contained the traveller's most 
 valuable papers ; then losing all command of 
 himself, he roared out, " Houka, raskill, no 
 steal him, Srarbert pepper box !'' and then 
 feeling for his handjar, which was stuck 
 through the fold of a shawl girdle, he made 
 a rush at the servant, and would inevitably 
 have put an end to the man's farther servitude 
 in this world, had not his arm been fortunately 
 arrested, and the dagger wrenched from his 
 grasp by another domestic. 
 
 Deprived of his native weapon and bursting 
 with fury, Singee, who was a man of immense 
 muscular strength, now turned his rage against 
 the well-dressed and highly powdered foe who 
 had providentially saved his neck from the 
 gallows. In an instant he darted at the foot- 
 man, seized him by the waist with both his 
 arms, whilst he fastened like a bull-dog with 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 11 
 
 his teeth on the lacquey's well-studied tie ; and 
 then ensued a most terrific struggle between 
 them, which none of the by-standers at first 
 attempted to interrupt. 
 
 Whilst the two combatants were straining 
 every nerve for mastery, Rajah Palaum, who 
 was no other than a peculiarly scarce and rare 
 monkey of a large size, which the traveller in- 
 tended as a present to the King, and who had 
 hitherto remained a passive spectator, upon 
 seeing his friend and companion Singee in dan- 
 ger of having his lungs rendered useless by the 
 vice-Hke grasp of the brawny footman, after 
 showing his teeth, and gabbling a short decla- 
 ration of war, now sprung from his corner on 
 the back of the latter, and seizing the but-end 
 of the postilion's whip, commenced a tremen- 
 dous attack upon the bare and powdered head 
 of his friend's antagonist. Unable to resist 
 this fresh reinforcement, the footman began to 
 relax his efforts, whilst his foes redoubled 
 theirs ; and in an instant the two were seen 
 rolling and floundering in the kennel, where the 
 
12 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 two foreigners, unaccustomed to the mode of 
 British fighting, and utterly regardless of the 
 law of honour, which forbids striking a fallen 
 foe, continued to batter the vanquished enemy 
 without feeling or mercy ; and where I am 
 under the necessity of leaving them to the care 
 of the spectators whilst I proceed to render 
 some account of Sir Herbert and Lady Milton. 
 
 Sir Herbert Milton was the cadet of a junior 
 branch of an ancient and distinguished family 
 in the West of England. His father, who was 
 himself a younger son, and had a large family 
 to provide for, had been happy to accept for 
 his boy a writer ship at one of our Presidencies 
 in the East, in exchange, and as a sort of re- 
 muneration, for some important electioneering 
 services rendered to the member of a neigh- 
 bouring borough ; his two elder sons being 
 already provided for in the army, in which ser- 
 vice they both terminated a short and early 
 career. 
 
 Consequently, at the age of sixteen, with an 
 order for fifty pounds per annum on an agent 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 13 
 
 at in his pocket, the usual quantity of 
 
 shirts and stockings in his trunks, a Hberal al- 
 lowance of parental advice in his heart, and a 
 tolerable proportion of Hindo'stanee and Bonny- 
 castle in his head, the young Herbert was ship- 
 ped off for India, either to make his fortune or 
 die of bile, as Providence in its wisdom might 
 afterwards direct. 
 
 Next to the convenient assistance which that 
 very useful, healthy, and efficient colony of 
 Sierra Leone affords to the War Office and 
 Colonial Department, in disposing of and safe- 
 ly providing for a host of troublesome applicants, 
 who infest the Duke's levee, or that of the Pre- 
 sident of the Board of Control, there is nothing 
 that can be compared to a writer or cadetship 
 in India, for a father anxious to provide for an 
 enterprising son, especially if the station have 
 the advantage of being a little unhealthy ; for, 
 in that case, advancement and promotion are on 
 the one hand more rapid, and fortunes more 
 speedily amassed, whilst on the other, if the 
 jungle or any other fever should unfortunately 
 
14 HERBEKT MILTON. 
 
 prove fatal to the neophyte, a few tears, and a 
 black coat, save a wonderful deal of care, trou- 
 ble and expense. 
 
 Herbert Milton had been from his earliest 
 years a boy of cold, uncongenial, and reserved 
 disposition, coupled with the most firm, unbend- 
 ing resolution, and the most ardent desire for 
 improvement. His unwearied application to 
 his primer had early given great delight to the 
 village pedagogue entrusted with the commence- 
 ment of his literary pursuits ; indeed it might 
 have gladdened the heart of the worthy Mrs. 
 Barbauld herself, as much as his propensity to 
 economise his weekly pocket-money enchanted 
 that of his father, from whom he regularly, it 
 is true, asked for his gingerbread allowance, 
 but never spent it. There were, however, occa- 
 sions when he evinced the greatest liberality, 
 amounting to profusion : this trait, (which was 
 one of his leading characteristics through life,) 
 added to a spirit of chivalrous honour and inte- 
 grity, and an abhorrence of falsehood, excited 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 15 
 
 the surprise and admiration of every one from 
 his youngest days. 
 
 Indeed, to such a point did Milton carry this 
 high and noble sentiment of honour, that from 
 the period of his first introduction into the 
 world, until the moment of my introducing him 
 to the acquaintance of my readers, he was pro- 
 verbial for never having uttered an untruth, 
 even in jest, as well as for never having broken 
 a promise, however trifling and insignificant. 
 
 Many years had not passed over the head of 
 the young adventurer in India, ere his unwea- 
 ried attention to his duties, and his reputation 
 for punctuality and integrity, attracted the at- 
 tention, not only of the Government abroad, 
 but that of the Court of Directors at home. 
 For once, merit met with its reward ; and his 
 advancement and success were unusually rapid. 
 He was appointed to fill employments, in which, 
 had he followed the advice or example of his 
 co-employes, he might speedily have amassed 
 a colossal fortune, and converted the confi- 
 
1 6 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 dential situations he held into mines of 
 wealth —even as his predecessors had done 
 before him. 
 
 Possessing not alone the good opinion, but 
 the unbounded confidence of the Governor- 
 general, every opportunity was afforded him 
 of increasing his fortune, by means which has 
 hitherto been considered perfectly excusable. 
 But Mr. Milton's appointment, as a high pub- 
 lic servant, at once formed a new era, an abso- 
 lute revolution in the administration of affairs. 
 Instead of giving an indirect sanction, by wink- 
 ing at the common system of peculation, and 
 of rendering himself, whenever the occasion 
 offered, the ready medium of bribery, which 
 had so long been carried on with impunity 
 between the native chiefs and government 
 officers, he was resolved to strike at the root 
 of the evil, and if possible to put an end to 
 a custom so detrimental to the justice of the 
 laws, and so prejudicial to the interests of the 
 Company. 
 
 It was Mr. Milton's wish to give to our offi- 
 
HF.RBERT MILTON. 17 
 
 cial employments on the Indian Continent the 
 same character for integrity and probity which 
 they possess at home; — in short, to establish 
 for them a reputation far different from that 
 which they had hitherto merited and enjoyed ; 
 and it was to be expected, with such views of 
 reform, openly professed and acted up to, and 
 of which Mr. Milton gave the strictest example 
 in his own conduct — ;joined to the cold, and 
 unsocial manners which were natural to him, — 
 that he should become rather an object of fear 
 and respect, than of friendship and regard, 
 to the different gentlemen who formed the so- 
 ciety at the seat of Government. 
 
 His temperate and frugal habits, the spirit 
 of economy which he had so early imbibed, 
 and had continued to practise with the greatest 
 severity, together with his love of study and 
 taste for retirement, in a great measure secluded 
 him from the parties of amusement and diver- 
 sion, which most other residents were eager to 
 enjoy. 
 
 Wrapped in the duties of his station, and 
 
18 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 permitting himself little recreation, Mr. Milton 
 had hitherto remained a bachelor ; indeed, he 
 had allowed himself few opportunities of in- 
 dulging in the society of the other sex, who, 
 when they did meet, looked upon him, in des- 
 pite of a very handsome person, as a man sworn 
 to celibacy, and as utterly impenetrable as the 
 Fort of Bhurtphore — and consequently gave up 
 all idea of laying siege to the large fortune, 
 which, though untruly, he was said to have 
 accumulated. Having, however, nearly attain- 
 ed his fortieth year, Mr. Milton himself began 
 to consider, that if ever he intended to marry, 
 it was high time to look out for some fair per- 
 son who might take upon herself the Interesting 
 functions of scolding his servants, spending his 
 money, contradicting himself, and rearing half- 
 a-dozen children to assist in getting rid of his 
 savings. Casting his eyes over the contents of 
 the Indian female bazaar, Mr. Milton fixed his 
 choice (for even here the men are privileged to 
 throw the handkerchief) on Laura Crosbie, one 
 of the most beautiful and amiable creatures that 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 19 
 
 had ever been exported from the mother coun- 
 try for the speculative purpose of what is called 
 " hooking a Nabob." 
 
 There is something peculiarly characteristic 
 of the commercial spirit which pervades the 
 people of this country, in thus converting the 
 daughters of a family into mere articles of bar- 
 ter and exportation : it is strange to hear of 
 whole cargoes of these fair consignments, mi- 
 grating by every outward bound fleet, with a 
 view of seeking husbands and establishments 
 on the shores of Malabar, or the coast of Co- 
 romandel, where they are forwarded to the 
 care, and consigned to the disposal, of some 
 practised resident's wife, who herself had been 
 shipped oiF, landed, and put up for sale in a 
 similar manner, some years previous. On their 
 arrival at the destined mart, hundreds of eager 
 eyes await them, and they are quickly bargain- 
 ed and provided for according to their own 
 merits, or the bill of lading despatched by the 
 paternal merchant. 
 
 The success of these damsels is, however, 
 
20 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 rendered much more certain, and their hopes 
 of advantageous matches considerably height- 
 ened, if they possess good manners, a few accom- 
 plishments, and, above all, if they can claim con- 
 nection, though in a distant degree, with the 
 peerage, or if they happen to be niece or grand- 
 daughter to a baronet, or cousin-german to a 
 member of the lower House. What is called 
 good connection is the first of all requisites ; 
 and a young lady possessing this advantage, 
 may almost make her own selection, and even 
 go as far as to refuse one or two of the first 
 bidders. 
 
 Amongst these rare personages, this select 
 band, Miss Crosby, the daughter of an ancient 
 and respectable family in one of our most 
 beautiful midland counties, had the good for- 
 tune to be numbered ; and she had therefore 
 scarcely recovered from the effects of the voy- 
 age, or been introduced into the society of the 
 lady to whom she had been remitted, who was 
 the wife of the highest official personage, ere 
 she became an object of rivalry and admiration 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 21 
 
 amongst the gentlemen of the settlement, whose 
 legitimately or illegitimately acquired fortunes 
 permitted them to enter into the hymeneal mar- 
 ket. A short time convinced Mr. Milton, who 
 to the astonishment of every one now entered 
 more into society, that Miss Crosby was the 
 being of all others most calculated to ensure 
 his happiness ; whilst the young lady, on 
 her part, flattered at the idea of being the first 
 person who had ever been able to draw him 
 from his retirement, or excite any other passion 
 in his breast than the love of his official duties, 
 or perhaps from one of the motives hereafter 
 alluded to, appeared to receive his attentions 
 with satisfaction, and at length yielded to the 
 proposal conveyed to her through the lady of 
 Mr. Milton's chief. In less than six months, 
 then, after her landing in India, Laura Crosby 
 became the wife of Mr. Milton ; and although 
 the disparity in their years was considerable, 
 yet every possible happiness appeared likely 
 to be the result of their union. 
 
 In the course of three or four years the 
 
22 HEIIBERT MILTON. 
 
 marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Milton was rendered 
 still more happy by the birth of two cliildren : 
 the eldest a girl, who lived but to attain its 
 third year ; the second a boy, the hero of the 
 following narrative. From unremitting atten- 
 tion, during many months, to the care of the 
 little girl, who had been a weak and sickly 
 child from the period of its birth, and from 
 subsequent grief at its loss, combined with the 
 effects of climate and her second accouchement^ 
 the health of Mrs. Milton received so severe a 
 shock, and became affected to such a degree, 
 that the greatest apprehensions were entertain- 
 ed for her safety. It was therefore urgently 
 advised by the physicians, and strongly recom- 
 mended by Mr. Milton's friends, that measures 
 should be immediately adopted for her return 
 to Europe, as the only chance of saving her 
 life. 
 
 Painful as this alternative must have been 
 to both, Mr. Milton did not hesitate a moment 
 in submitting to the opinions of the medical 
 men, and was anxious to accompany her, but 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 found it impossible to do so without serious 
 loss, and the chance of marring for ever bis now 
 rapidly advancing career. 
 
 Every preparation being completed, which 
 could afford comfort or pleasure to Mrs. Mil- 
 ton during the voyage, and arrangements hav- 
 ing been made for her future establishment (in 
 England) on the most liberal footing, with a 
 sorrowful and almost breaking heart she bade 
 adieu to her husband and infant boy, whose 
 extreme delicacy rendered it impossible that 
 he should accompany her. 
 
 It was not until the departure of his beauti- 
 ful wife, — until he found himself alone with his 
 infant child, that he discovered how dear Mrs. 
 Milton was to him, and how necessary to his 
 happiness; while he felt in its full force all 
 the bitterness of her loss. His grief, it is 
 true, was not expressed in a violent manner, 
 but it was not the less deep and sincere. His 
 former inclination for seclusion now increased 
 to such a degree, that what was before a love 
 of retirement, now almost appeared converted 
 
24 HERBEET MILTON. 
 
 into misanthropy. Devoting himself to the 
 care of his child, who was also destined in a 
 short time to be taken from him, Mr. Milton 
 shut himself up as far as his official duties per- 
 mitted, and became almost inaccessible even to 
 his few friends. 
 
 Many months had not elapsed ere the young 
 Herbert, who had struggled on to his second 
 year, evinced such symptoms of debility, that 
 the only resource left was change of climate. 
 It was therefore determined that the infant 
 should be despatched forthwith to England. 
 To this also Mr. Milton was obliged to consent; 
 and when the child was taken away for embark- 
 ation, the grief he had felt at the departure 
 of his wife was renewed, and rendered doubly 
 painful by his being deprived of his only re- 
 maining comfort or consolation. 
 
 In the mean time Mrs. Milton, whose strength 
 gradually improved as she approached the 
 shores of her native land, arrived safely in 
 England, and was received with open arms by 
 her delighted parents and friends. Care, skil- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 9n 
 
 fill advice, and judicious treatment, quickly 
 wrought a favourable change, and restored her 
 constitution to its wonted tone. Indeed, so com- 
 pletely was she re-establishe(i, that she anxi- 
 ously looked forward to the idea of again pro- 
 ceeding to join her husband and child, or at 
 least to hear of their speedy return to Europe ; 
 a possibility which Mr. Milton, in his letters, 
 hinted might not be far distant. By the same 
 vessel, however, which conveyed the young 
 Herbert to England, Mr. Milton communicated 
 to his wife not only the anxiety he felt to be 
 again united to her, but declared his intention 
 of not delaying his stay in India beyond a 
 period of three or four years. He therefore 
 recommended her to renounce all idea of re- 
 turning to India, pointed out the system he 
 wished to be pursued with his boy, in the event 
 of his life being spared, and urged her to the 
 enjoyment of society and amusements, to which 
 she was entitled from her connections, her per- 
 sonal attractions, and the liberal allowance which 
 he had made for her establishment. Year after 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 year, however, rolled on, unforeseen delays oc- 
 curred, and circumstances arose which induced 
 him to procrastinate the period of his. return, 
 of which he still spoke, but with less eagerness. 
 Time, that admirable corrective for all passions, 
 griefs, or joys, not only softened his sorrows, 
 but habituated him more firmly to the secluded 
 and laborious life which he had adopted ; at 
 the same time, the many important affairs with 
 which he was intrusted, the multiplicity of bu- 
 siness, and with it the honour and credit which 
 fell to his share, (a baronetcy having been con- 
 ferred upon him,) in gratifying his ambition, 
 in a great measure not only diverted his mind 
 from those ties which otherwise would solely 
 have occupied his thoughts, but entirely ba- 
 nished from his' mind all idea of retiring from 
 public life; insomuch, that a period of more 
 than twenty years had elapsed between the de- 
 parture of Lady Milton from India, and that 
 of Sir Herberts return to his native country, 
 from which he had been absent upwards of 
 forty-five years. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. ST 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It is now time, having rendered some ac- 
 count of his parents, to introduce my hero 
 to my reader. I will not pursue his progress 
 from the top-spinning urchinry and diet of 
 the lower Greek, through the incipient des- 
 potism and miniature dandyism of the fifth 
 form, to the final majesty of the supreme and 
 liberty-giving sixth. Suffice it to say, that on 
 his transplantation to the land of his fore- 
 fathers, he grew as rapidly in grace, strength, 
 and beauty, as the heart of the tenderest and 
 most anxious mother could desire. 
 
 The preparatory process of his education 
 was intrusted to the charge, and rapidly ad- 
 c2 
 
28 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 vanced under the paternal care and profound 
 learning of a most pious and amiable indivi- 
 dual, who, at this present hour, sheds the 
 utmost lustre and dignity on one of the higher 
 offices of the church. The name of our hero, 
 carved in deep and well blacked letters, (by 
 the Cerberus of his time,) a few yards below 
 the right-hand side of Doctor Keates** desk in 
 the upper school, still gives a sufficient proof 
 that he was entitled to spring to the rescue at 
 tlie sound of the well-loved and never-forgotten 
 battle cry of " Floreat Etona.*" Having at- 
 tained the age of sixteen, a commission was 
 obtained for him in one of the regiments of 
 Guards. 
 
 Here I conclude it is necessary to give some 
 account of his person, which I shall do, not 
 merely from the most distinct recollection of 
 the features and form of Herbert Milton him- 
 self, but from a recent inspection of the beau- 
 tiful full-length portrait in the possession of 
 his family, which many of my readers may 
 have seen and admired in the Exhibition, as 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 29 
 
 one of the happiest and highly-finished pro- 
 ductions of the masterly president. He was 
 rather above the common stature in these de- 
 generate days : his person, though wrouglit in 
 the finest proportion, was more remarkable for 
 its grace and activity, than for its muscular 
 strength. His high forehead, and finely round- 
 ed head, was shaded by a redundancy of dark 
 brown hair, waving in natural curls, which 
 required not the assistance of the human comb 
 or the five fingers to raise it from the occiput, 
 but merely demanded the assistance of Mr. 
 Truefit's periodical scissors to check its luxu- 
 riance, whilst it disdained the fostering warmth 
 of the curling-irons, which now-a-days are so 
 constantly employed in converting the lank and 
 pendant thatch of our beaux' heads into the 
 best possible imitation of an Astrakan lamb's- 
 skin, or a pet poodle dog's frizly jerkin. 
 
 A pair of brilliant hazel eyes, and an open, 
 manly countenance, bespoke the candour and 
 integrity of a heart which through life was 
 alive to the finest sentiments of nature. His 
 
30 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 skill and success in all the manly games and 
 exercises so peculiar to our country, were, as 
 proverbial as his grace and gentlemanly man- 
 ner in the agile movements of the ball-room, 
 as well as his address in the more serious know- 
 ledge and use of arms ; a science, however, of 
 which Herbert never was known to take ad- 
 vantao-e, but in espousing the cause of the 
 weak, or in defending his own person, when 
 every other method of honourable adjustment 
 or conciliation had failed : an example wor- 
 thy of imitation by some of the spadassins of 
 the day, who, relying on their skill at hitting 
 an ace, snuffing a candle, or knocking over 
 half-a-score of poupees at Le Page's and Man- 
 ton's, not only exult in the number of affairs 
 they have had, or exhibit their pistols scored 
 with the mementos of their prowess, as country 
 cricketers mark their notches on a stick, or 
 gamekeepers their masters* shots in a battue; 
 but, in addition to this unnatural pride, seek 
 every opportunity they can meet with of put- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 31 
 
 ting into practice their odious and inhuman 
 accomplishment. 
 
 Herbert's taste for the fine arts, at first na- 
 tural, and afterwards matured by traveUing, 
 and, above all, that for inusic, aided by a fine, 
 clear, and mellow tenor, a true voce di petto, 
 for the sweetness of which he was more indebt- 
 ed to nature than art, rendered him a welcome 
 and most acceptable addition to the parties 
 fines of the most distinguished amateurs ; 
 whilst his good humour, absence of all con- 
 ceit and affectation, and, above all, his most 
 gentlemanly manners and handsome person, 
 caused him to be an object of general re- 
 cherche in the highest and best society. 
 
 No sooner was it buzzed about that he was 
 son of the handsome and fashionable Lady 
 Milton, not a scorpion^ (Anglice a younger 
 brother,) but the apparent heir of a large 
 fortune, than cards for dinners and parties 
 overflowed upon him. Fifty provident mam- 
 mas begged to be introduced to him, and 
 
S2 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 carefully inscribed his name, and, above all, 
 his prospects, in their tablets. 
 
 After due inquiry, this respectable band of 
 female Guerillas resolved to confine their at- 
 tacks to the suburbs of the young debutant, 
 merely giving him every encouragement to flirt 
 a little with their elder daughters, in order to 
 keep alive the acquaintance, until his years, 
 and those of some younger " bread and butter" 
 damsel, not yet escaped from the watch-tower 
 of the governess, might render their nearer 
 attacks more justifiable, and more productive. 
 The only son of a baronet, a peer eventually 
 perhaps, and that baronet a rich and old East 
 Indian, whose life the most enterprising Insu- 
 rance Office in London would not guarantee for 
 more than ele.en years, (bile, liver, climate, 
 and subsequent Bath waters included,) being 
 a lure which these speculative jackals never 
 can resist. It being looked upon with them, 
 in such cases, as much a matter of duty which 
 they owe to their families, to mark down and 
 transfix the young embryos of fashion in their 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 33 
 
 shells, as with Dorsetshire farmers to kill the 
 young rooks in their nests, or to convert the 
 produce of the old ones, during the process of 
 incubation, into plover's eggs for the London 
 markets. 
 
 It is needless to say, that, mth these advan- 
 tages, Herbert Milton'*s success in society was 
 complete ; and if I add, that his head wa&^a little 
 turned with the flattery and attention he met 
 with, no one can be surprised. Nothing had 
 been omitted by Lady Milton to render her son 
 not only one of the most accomplished men of 
 the age, but every care had been taken to im- 
 press upon his mind the purest sentiments of 
 morality and religion, and he had hitherto given 
 every reason to believe that these essential les- 
 sons had not been thrown away. 
 
 He left Eton with the reputation of high clas- 
 sical acquirements, and with a character for in- 
 tegrity and honour, not inferior to that of his 
 father; he was noted in his regiment for his 
 generosity and bravery ; in short, no young man 
 ever held a commission in the Guards with 
 c5 
 
34 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 brighter prospects of success, or was more ge- 
 nerally beloved by his comrades and esteemed by 
 his commanding officers. If Lady Milton had 
 every reason to feel satisfied with her son's pro- 
 gress in the world, she had still more reason to 
 be gratified with the reception he met with at 
 Court, and the remarks made upon him by his 
 venerable and revered Sovereign. As the beau- 
 tiful mother, leaning on the young soldier's arm, 
 approached the Royal Presence, the good old Mo- 
 narch, turning round to his illustrious consort, 
 observed with his usual kind and benevolent 
 manner, " Young Milton, young Milton, fine 
 recruit — a credit to the Guards — as handsome 
 as his mother, no doubt as good — highly spoken, 
 highly spoken of by his regiment ;" and then 
 addressing himself to Herbert, he added, " Glad 
 to see you, glad to see you, honour and charac- 
 ter hereditary in the family/' 
 
 There was something so flattering at such a 
 moment in the kindness of his Majesty, that 
 Lady Milton was for a time extremely affected, 
 and indeed coidd hardly command her feelings, 
 
HEKBERT MILTON. 35 
 
 as she gracefully knelt down to make her obei- 
 sance to the Royal pair ; and what mother, idoliz- 
 ing an only son, would not have betrayed some 
 emotion on such an occasion ? Who is there 
 that would not have felt gratified at the praise 
 proceeding from such a source ? I do not ad- 
 dress myself to those who with boasted affec- 
 tation pretend to despise, or disregard the influ- 
 ence of a Court, and if they do not openly en- 
 deavour to insult, at least refuse the decent ho- 
 mage due to their Sovereign, — a proof neither 
 of their sense, foresight, or consistency. Many 
 of these independents being the first to grasp 
 with eagerness any place or appointment which 
 they can procure for some member of their fa- 
 mily not yet provided for, and eventually be- 
 coming, in their own persons, the most assiduous 
 converts to courtiership — if their King, forget- 
 ting or despising their conduct, should com- 
 mand them to be invited to dinner, and their 
 wives and daughters to a ball or party '' frocks.'' 
 I speak not to such as these, who with abuse 
 on their tongues, and envy in their hearts, 
 
36 HERBERT MILTOK. 
 
 choose not to draw a distinction between the 
 man as a private individual and the man in- 
 vested with the arduous burthen inherent in his 
 illustrious and elevated situation ; who can make 
 no allowance for the weakness of human nature, 
 and for the errors and failings incidental to his 
 difficult position, often arising from the coun- 
 sels and representations of his servants, to whose 
 opinions he is often obliged to yield, in despite 
 of his own judgment or the dictates of his heart 
 and feelings. But I speak to those who do not, 
 in their condemnation of any public measure, 
 indiscriminately blind themselves to private and 
 domestic virtues, but, above all, I address my- 
 self to those whose hearts must still warm, 
 whose eyes must still gUsten, at the memory of 
 the venerable and virtuous Monarch, to whom 
 Lady Milton had the honour of presenting her 
 son. 
 
 It has fallen to my lot to be introduced, I 
 liave bent the knee and bowed the head, to most 
 of the crowned heads, the mightiest potentates 
 of the earth, I have seen them on occasions 
 
HERBERT MI.LTON. 3T 
 
 and at moments the most calculated to excite 
 the liveliest emotions and leave the strongest 
 impressions on the mind ; at the solemn and 
 awe-inspiring funeral, when arrayed in the garb 
 of humility and mourning, they have accompa- 
 nied to the silent tomb the mouldering bodies 
 or re-collected bones of their predecessors ; at 
 the gorgeous and splendid altar, when sur- 
 rounded by gold-clad ministers and treasure- 
 sparkling emblems of religion, they have first 
 received the sacred unction, or bent their brows 
 to accept the nuptial diadem; on the field of 
 war, amidst the thunder of battle, amidst 
 the horrors of carnage, and the devastation of 
 combat, when their presence has alone sufiiced 
 to excite with maddening enthusiasm the fury of 
 victorious columns, or their word to arrest the 
 retreat, and reanimate the courage of defeated 
 and broken hosts ; I have seen them in all the 
 splendour and magnificence of their Courts, in 
 all the brilliancy of dress and decorations, 
 amidst the glittering attributes of their power, 
 surrounded by honour, dignities, and grandeur ; 
 
DO HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the greatest, the most beautiful of the land 
 bending in homage before them ; I have seen 
 them under every circumstance most suited to 
 leave upon my memory the strongest traces of 
 their persons and their greatness — but of all, 
 nothing remains but a faint and indistinct re- 
 membrance, confused as the fading image of a 
 dream, or the recollection of some theatric pa- 
 geantry. Whereas, though years have rolled 
 away, though time with its engulphing power 
 has weakened and obscured the vigour of my 
 memory ; still those days of my boyhood are 
 fresh — still do I see before me, as if it were but 
 yesterday, the image of the good, the aged Mo- 
 narch, as, in his simple dress, and with unas- 
 suming appearance and modest retinue, he 
 stayed his hunter, in passing through the Col- 
 lege, to address some more fortunate and en- 
 vied schoolfellow. I see the benevolent smile, 
 and hear the hurried question, as he accosted 
 some of the numerous happy urchins, who with 
 dehghted faces and joyous hearts crowded the 
 low wall — above all^ the sounds still ring in my 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 39 
 
 ears of the heartfelt " Hurrah !" the deafening 
 shout, and earnest " God bless the King !" 
 roared and re-echoed from a host of loyal hearts. 
 I see the beam of pleasure which glanced across 
 the countenance of the venerable Prince, as, 
 gently raising his hat from his head, he heartily 
 returned the compliment, and whilst he uttered 
 a kind " God bless you all ! — be good boys — be 
 good boys, and I '11 ask for a holiday from the 
 Doctor," he then put his horse into a gallop, 
 and resumed the pleasures of the chase, appa- 
 rently well pleased with the genuine proof of 
 his infant subjects' love and loyalty. Brave 
 hearts ! how many of you since that period have 
 proved the sincerity of your attachment ! how 
 many of you since then have whitened with your 
 bones, and irrigated with your blood, the field of 
 honour ! how many of you have perished for the 
 glory of your King and Fatherland ! Honour 
 and peace to the virtuous ashes of the best of 
 kings, glory to the souls of the heroic dead. 
 
 At the end of two or three years, which had 
 been one succession of pleasure, an interruption 
 
40 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 took place in the amusements of Herbert, in con- 
 sequence of his regiment being ordered on foreign 
 service ; an event which was as ardently desired 
 by Herbert, as it was dreaded by Lady Milton. 
 My readers must pardon me if I take the 
 liberty of not following him on the Continent. 
 Every person is now well acquainted with the 
 gallant deeds of our brave armies : so much 
 has been said and written on the subject of 
 their campaigns, marches, bivouacs, and com- 
 bats, that it would be both tiresome and pre- 
 sumptuous to render this story a vehicle for 
 panegyric, either on the heroic troops, or enco- 
 mium on the mighty chief, who led them from 
 victory to victory, from the shores of the 
 Tagus to the palace of the Capets. It is not 
 my province to encroach upon the privileges of 
 the wide-margined, exceeding military, and ra- 
 ther somniferous quarto of the Knight of St. 
 Anne, or the more agreeable, though not less 
 soldierlike octavo of the author of " Recollec- 
 tions :" — besides there is not a glen, rivulet, 
 village, or petticoat, from the Pillars of Her- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 41 
 
 cules to the confines of the Don, which has not 
 been described by some military, clerical, or 
 medical tourist. To attempt a romantic de- 
 scription of battles, shells, positions, dead men, 
 horse patees, glory, and frozen fingers, after 
 Monsieur de Segur's terrific melodrame, which 
 congealed the very breath in one's nostrils, or 
 the inimitable retreat from Moscow of Astley, 
 would be as great a proof of rashness and im- 
 prudence as that very expedition itself. I shall 
 therefore merely state, that Herbert went 
 through the various campaigns with great 
 credit to himself, performed no particular act 
 of extraordinary valour, because it was difficult 
 for any officer to particularize himself when 
 all were equally brave — escaped even without 
 a wound, and at length returned home on his 
 promotion, once more to take his place amidst 
 the pleasures of fashionable life, and to be- 
 come himself the willing victim of a conquest, 
 of which he had already sown the seeds before 
 his departure from England. 
 
 A few months prior to Herbert Milton's pro- 
 
4!» HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ceeding with his battahon to join that small 
 but gallant army, which was afterwards des- 
 tined to plant their victorious banners on the 
 heights of Monmartre, he received orders to 
 proceed to Harwich on the most irksome and 
 painful service on which an officer or man of 
 feeling could be employed. His duty here con- 
 sisted in superintending with other officers the 
 landing from Walcheren, the immense numbers 
 of sick or rather dying men, whose aguish and 
 emaciated bodies already crowded the hospitals 
 almost to suffiacation, or in receiving those who 
 hourly arrived in whole detachments on the 
 quay, from that fatal and accursed swamp, 
 whose pestilential vapours had sent to a pre- 
 mature and unhonoured grave so many hun- 
 dreds of England's bravest and most chosen 
 soldiers. 
 
 Herbert, whose personal courage and disre- 
 gard for himself had always been conspicuous, 
 had the good fortune to escape infection ; and 
 by his kindness and humanity to those who fell, 
 and the little comforts and luxuries which he 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 4t3 
 
 procured for those who were lucky enough to 
 overcome the malady, he not only had the 
 mournful satisfaction to receive the last homely 
 blessing of many of the dying, but bound to 
 him for ever the hearts of the survivors. 
 
 When these brave fellows rejoined their re- 
 giments, they communicated to their comrades, 
 in terms of exaggerated gratitude, the kindness 
 of Captain Milton ; his name was handed from 
 one to another until it became familiar to every 
 man in the corps. At a future period, upon 
 service, it was almost a subject of contention 
 amongst these grateful fellows, to see who could 
 be the first to offer to him any httle assistance 
 in their power. After the longest and most 
 harassing marches, regardless of their own 
 misery and fatigue, they would eagerly proffer 
 their services to fetch water, hew wood, pitch 
 the tent, or construct the bivouac. When suf- 
 fering themselves fi-om thirst and hunger, the 
 old and hardy grenadiers, with a toss of the 
 shoulder and a hand thrust into their havre- 
 sac, would modestly come forward and offer 
 
44 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 to " his honour" their last mouthful of biscuit, 
 or the last contents of their canteens. Whilst 
 in the hour of battle the oldest veterans would 
 watch his eye and follow his movements with 
 the docility of children, but the courage of 
 hons. However hazardous the service, how- 
 ever tremendous or unequal the attempt, whe- 
 ther at the foot of the deadly breach, or amidst 
 the hurrah of the deafening and appalling 
 charge, where he led, all were forward; and 
 upon more occasions than one he owed, if not 
 his life, at least his liberty, to the self-devotion 
 of the men, who, upon every occasion of peril, 
 were ready to sacrifice their existence for his 
 safety. 
 
 It occurred one day, as Herbert was stand- 
 ing on the beach, watching the arrival of the 
 boats as they conveyed to the shore fresh car- 
 goes of emaciated and ghastly wretches, that 
 his attention was particularly excited by the 
 appearance of a young and beautiful girl, ac- 
 companied by an elderly lady and an aged 
 man-servant. There was something so strik- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 45 
 
 ing in the graceful form and manner of the 
 younger female, so singular in her continued 
 presence at such a moment, as well as in her 
 remaining a spectator of the melancholy and 
 sickening scene which was passing around 
 them, that Herbert could not avoid feeling 
 some degree of curiosity to ascertain the mo- 
 tives of their remaining on the spot. It was 
 evident, from the deportment of the ladies, 
 that they were strangers ; and to j udge by 
 their countenances and the agitation of their 
 manner, duty, some painful duty, had drawn 
 them to the shore. Herbert observed that 
 they appeared to watch with deep anxiety the 
 arrival of the boats as they touched the strand; 
 and as the miserable objects were placed on 
 biers or bearers to convey them to the hos- 
 pitals, the old domestic was despatched by 
 them to examine the uniforms of the atten- 
 dants, or, if possible, perhaps to gain some 
 information respecting the person for whom it 
 was evident they were awaiting. 
 
 " Some poor creatures, most probably," said 
 
46 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Herbert to a brother officer, " who are expect- 
 ing the return of a father and a husband from 
 this wretched expedition." 
 
 " Some fiddlestick I" replied his compa- 
 nion : " I '11 bet you a rouleau, Herbert, that 
 the old one is no more acquainted with the 
 marriage ceremony than Saint Fiacre him- 
 self, and that the filly knows as much who 
 her father is as I can guess who will win the 
 Derby." 
 
 " I think I never saw so expressive a coun- 
 tenance, retorted Herbert, unmindful of his 
 companion's remark. " Poor creatures ! I wish 
 we could be of any service to them." 
 
 '• Oh ! oh !" exclaimed the other, " what 
 para servir usted. I'll soon settle that dif- 
 ficulty for you, my boy. Here, come along; 
 I'll introduce you. Why, bless your inno- 
 cence, I remember them perfectly. Not a 
 word about a maquerade at the Opera House ! 
 Do you understand, Herbert ?"" 
 
 " Why my comprehension is not quite so 
 dense," answered Milton, *' as not to under- 
 
HEllBERT MILTON. 47 
 
 stand your meaning ; but as your memory 
 and judgment do not always keep pace with 
 your modish assurance, I shall lake the liberty 
 of saying, in the first place, that you must 
 be mistaken; and in the next, of querying if 
 you could carry your impudence so far as to 
 go and address two ladies who are evidently 
 highly respectable ?" 
 
 '* D — n their respectability !" retorted the 
 officer ; " so much the better. My maxim 
 is, to use all my endeavours to make all women 
 so; and, upon my soul, I could never discover 
 any difference between them, whether wife or 
 widow or maid ; they are all alike, all per- 
 fect, until you hold them up to the light : and 
 as for that, I do not see why a woman who 
 happens to have half-a-dozen masters should 
 be a bit less respectable than a man who has 
 a dozen mistresses. I do not see what right 
 all the world have to exclaim against a poor 
 girl because Nature gave her a susceptible 
 heart, any more than their cutting a woman 
 because half-a-dozen old prigs in huge wigs 
 
48 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 decide that she repented having married her 
 husband and preferred some one else." 
 
 " If I thought you were serious, Sidney," 
 repHed Herbert, " I should be ashamed of 
 your acquaintance ; but, for the sake of con- 
 tradiction, I believe you would accuse yourself 
 of highway robbery or murder." 
 
 " Serious !" rejoined the other ; " I never 
 was more so in my life ; and, whatever you may 
 think of my modesty, I 'U soon put that of the 
 young tit there to the test." 
 
 " My dear Sidney," answered his friend, 
 " let me beg of you to consider what you are 
 about. It is evident that the object of the 
 lady's presence here is connected with this 
 dreadful service, and that they are women of 
 distinction, if not of rank : besides, if they 
 were even worse than you suppose, surely 
 this is neither a time nor place to interrupt 
 or insult them ; besides, Sidney, you know I 
 can be as obstinate as yourself; and 111 tell 
 you plainly, fair or foul, good or bad, I never 
 yet saw the man who dared to insult with im- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 49 
 
 punity a woman in my presence, and so now 
 do as you like,- though you will only oblige 
 me to apologize to the ladies for your conduct 
 in the first place, and the next to make good 
 my words with you." 
 
 Captain Sidney, who had the greatest regard 
 for Herbert, and, with all his show of profli- 
 gacy, was a kind-hearted, though a wild and 
 extravagant young man, had as little real in- 
 tention of annoying the fair strangers, as he 
 had of quarrelling with Herbert, whom, how- 
 ever, he took no small delight in tormenting, 
 and what he called " Orlandoing." Not satisfied 
 with his success in having already excited Her- 
 bert, he exclaimed, " Bravo, most perfect and 
 loyal Preux ! Why, I verily believe you would 
 not mind breaking a lance with the Knight of 
 Guyenne himself, though the horn hung at 
 his saddle-bow (ominous enough for a mar- 
 ried cavalier,) if he dared deny that the loosest 
 of Mrs. Fry''s collection from St. Giles's or 
 the Magdalen was not as tight-laced as Tita- 
 nia herself; or that the vilest rogue, who ever 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 learned the Moulinet from Jack Ketch, was 
 not as virtuous as Socrates !" 
 
 ^' Thank God, Sidney," answered Herbert, 
 " I am not such a disciple of that arch-ego- 
 tist La Rochefoucault, as you are, — since you 
 choose to make comparisons ; nor do I think 
 with Solomon on his throne, or Diogenes in 
 his tub, that a petticoat is but the emblem of 
 frailty, and that all mankind are housebreakers. 
 In fact, I wonder, with such sentiments of man- 
 kind in your heart, that you ever move without 
 a constable at your elbow, and a pistol in your 
 pocket. I would sooner fly the world and the 
 sex altogether, and turn hermit r 
 
 '^ Indeed, I love the world and the sex a great 
 deal too much, to think of abandoning them to 
 such sly sinners as you, Master Herbert. And as 
 for a hermitage ! imless indeed some little Ange- 
 licas came to keep me company, I should die of 
 the dismals in two hours. Besides, the horrors of 
 roots and the hmpid ! when I hate even a po- 
 tatoe, unless it is a la Maitre d'Hotel, and 
 always disguise the water for my very teeth 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 51 
 
 with a little veritable cognac. But, I say, 
 Herbert, if you are surprised at my trusting 
 myself without a police-officer and a pistol, I 
 am equally astonished at your attending our 
 profane parades, without a pocket-bible in your 
 hand, and a field-preacher at your elbow. But 
 look, Herbert! look at her foot! it's a bijou. 
 Oh, I cannot resist any longer.**' And then 
 quitting Herbert, pulling up his cravat, and 
 arranging his curls with his fingers, and hum- 
 ming the general, he pretended to put into 
 execution his threat of introducing himself to 
 the ladies. 
 
 Herbert now, however, laid his hand upon 
 his arm, and said very quietly, " Do you recol- 
 lect, Sidney, the battles I had at Eton with 
 long Sturton and big Marmaduke .''" 
 
 '* Well do I recollect,'"' replied his compa- 
 nion, stopping short on his march, "the most 
 immortal thrashing you gave those two insuf- 
 ferable bullies !" 
 
 " Well, then," answered* Herbert, '' you may 
 also remember the cause of our quarrel V 
 
 y. ..r ILL m^ 
 
52 Herbert milton. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! I see,**' rejoined his companion ; 
 " first the fable, then the moral. So, my slayer 
 of giants and protector of unfortunate fair 
 ones ! inasmuch as you thought proper to 
 commence your career by throwing your hand 
 as well as your glove in Sturton's eye, be- 
 cause he ran away in a frolic with little Miss 
 Cob, the old fellow's daughter, you would put 
 an end to mine for wishing to be the first to 
 introduce you to those ladies ; who, by the by, 
 you are dying to speak to yourself.*" 
 
 " You may put what construction you please 
 upon my motives," answered Herbert, who 
 began to feel himself a little irritated at the 
 resolution of his comrade, " but I can only 
 warn you that I am not a jot less quixotic than 
 I was at Eton ; and I am just as ready now to 
 break heads for any person whom I see de- 
 fenceless and insulted, as I was at Eton to 
 enter the lists for Betty Cob. However," 
 added he good-humoured ly, " I am a fool for 
 feeling vexed at your nonsense ; for, with all 
 
HERBERT MILTOX. 53- 
 
 your faults, Harry, I know you have a good 
 heart, and that you are incapable of an ungen- 
 tlemanly action/' 
 
 "' Ah !" as old Tasso says, ' con soave Hear 
 porgiamo gli orli del Faso,'^' answered Sidney. 
 '* Well, well, Herbert, though your talk sa- 
 vours more of the hatchet of war than the ca- 
 lumet of peace ; yet, as I love thee, with all 
 thy morality, passing well, and myself, with all 
 my wickedness, much more, I shall beg to de- 
 cHne having my ill-tempered interior visited 
 by your well-tempered Solingen, for the sake 
 of a long-nosed girl, whom to tell you the 
 truth, I ne'er set eyes on before ; — so take up 
 thy glove, brave knight, and give me your 
 valiant hand." 
 
 " Willingly, my dear Sidney,"' answered 
 Herbert. " You will find I am just as right 
 in my estimation of the character of those two 
 ladies, as I was in my opinion of yourself." 
 
 The friends now approached the landing- 
 place. Sidney continuing to ejaculate, " Oh, 
 
54 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 what a foot ! Oh, Herbert, what a taille svelte f 
 Hold me fast, or I shall run and throw myself 
 at her feet !" 
 
 During the latter part of their conversatioHj 
 several boats approached the shore, in one of 
 which were seated some soldiers of the regi- 
 ment, escorting sick men, — one of whom was 
 evidently an officer. On the arrival of this party, 
 the ladies, who had hitherto remained at some 
 distance from the crowd, now eagerly attempted 
 to approach the beach, and with the assistance 
 of the old servant endeavoured to press through 
 the soldiers, sailors, and boatmen, who v/ere 
 busily employed in their respective duties. 
 Upon addressing themselves to some of the 
 soldiers, whose nature it is not on any occasion 
 to show particular civility, but who were now 
 harassed and engaged in their present service, the 
 ladies received in reply a gruff " I don't know," 
 or a surly " Can't tell ;" accompanied with 
 " Come, come, Misses, by your leaf, stand back, 
 we baent here to stop answering questions;" 
 and before the fair strangers could retire, both 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 55 
 
 were nearly precipitated from the platform of 
 the quay into the sea, by a party of the soldiers 
 who suddenly advanced with a bier. Herbert 
 and Sidney, who had both approached close to 
 the spot, rapidly and providentially sprung for- 
 ward in time to rescue them. 
 
 Herbert, and his companion, who in reality 
 yielded nothing to the former in point of gal* 
 lantry, apologised to the ladies for the rude- 
 ness they had met with, and after rebuking the 
 soldiers for their brutality, proffered their as- 
 sistance. 
 
 " If there is any thing, in which we can 
 be of service to you," said Herbert, address- 
 ing the two trembling females — '' if my friend 
 and myself can be of the least use, pray com- 
 mand us." 
 
 *' Oh, Sir !"" rephed the elder lady, " my 
 young companion has been for some hours 
 awaiting the arrival of her father, (Herbert 
 cast a significant glance at Sidney,) who we 
 have ascertained is among the sick. Upon 
 seeing that uniform, we thought that our dear 
 
56 
 
 HEUBERT MILTON. 
 
 friend might have been among the unfortu- 
 nate people now landing." 
 
 " Madam/' replied Herbert, " if you will 
 have the kindness to retire from this disagree- 
 able spot, and if you will do us the honour to 
 communicate the name of the officer whom you 
 expect, we will immediately make every in- 
 quiry, and I have no doubt that in a few mi- 
 nutes we shall be enabled to ascertain all you 
 desire." 
 
 ' With a profusion of thanks from the elder 
 female, and a look of gratitude from the younger 
 lad}^, whom agitation and terror at her recent 
 alarm had almost rendered speechless, Herbert 
 was informed that the officer was Major Manby 
 of the regiment. 
 
 " Will you permit me, madam," said Her- 
 bert, addressing himself to the younger lady, 
 " in the event of the Major not being already 
 landed, which may perhaps be the case, to pro- 
 ceed on board the transports ? and should we 
 find him embarked in any one of those now at 
 
HERBERT MILTON. ^7 
 
 anchor, I shall be most happy in tendering the 
 assistance of myself and companion to convey 
 him to you." 
 
 " Indeed, Sir," rejoined Miss Manby, " I 
 feel ashamed at the idea of intruding upon 
 your kindness ; but my suspense is so dreadful, 
 my anxiety to receive some intelligence of my 
 poor father so agonizing, that I cannot hesi- 
 tate in accepting your obliging offer." 
 
 " Come, Sidney," exclaimed Herbert, " will 
 you call one of our sergeants to attend the 
 ladies, whilst I run down to order a boat ; and 
 if you. Miss Manby, will await our return, in 
 less than half an hour you shall receive every 
 information you can desire." 
 
 Sidney, who felt little inclination to separate 
 himself from the beautiful stranger, to whom 
 accident had introduced him, as he said, in 
 despite of Herbert, was now reluctantly obliged 
 to follow his friend. In a m.oment, an order! v 
 sergeant was desired to attend the ladies, and 
 in another the two officers were on the water. 
 D 5 
 
58 . HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Having visited several transports, they at last 
 discovered that on which Major Manby was 
 aboard. 
 
 On going below, they found the object 
 of their search, reduced by fever and ex- 
 haustion almost to a state of insensibility, his 
 malady having been aggravated by the effects 
 of the voyage, the impure air of the ves- 
 sel, the want of comforts, and the noise and 
 confusion incidental to that most miserable in- 
 vention, — a transport. 
 
 Upon consulting the medical officer as to 
 the expediency of removing the sufferer im- 
 mediately, Herbert was told that it signified 
 little whether the Major remained where he 
 was, or whether he was conveyed into the 
 town, there being little probability of his ul- 
 timate recovery. Upon finding, however, that 
 the officer's removal, though it might not re- 
 tard, could not, at all events, accelerate the 
 sad event, Herbert, with the assistance of his 
 friend, directed the poor Major to be carried 
 on deck, in his bed, and then, seeing him 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 59 
 
 carefully lowered into the boat, proceeded to 
 shore with his dying charge. 
 
 As they rowed towards the landing-place, 
 Sidney endeavoured to obtain some informa- 
 tion of the soldiers in attendance upon Major 
 Manby, both respecting him and the ladies 
 on shore ; but the men said, they knew nothing 
 about either, — they had only been two or three 
 days acting as nurses to " his honour," whose 
 servant, having caught the fever, had died be- 
 fore they entered the harbour. 
 
 No sooner did Miss Manby perceive the 
 return of the two officers, and discover by the 
 signs which Herbert made, that her father 
 was under his charge, than she rushed to 
 the water's edge, and, regardless of the sur- 
 rounding spectators, threw herself in a state 
 of frantic grief upon the bearer, on which 
 Herbert had placed the almost inanimate body 
 of the Major. At the sound of his daugh- 
 ter'^s voice, roused by the loud exclamations 
 of *' My father ! my dear father !" which the 
 sobbing girl wildly screamed out, the poor 
 
60 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 man, who had hitherto appeared unconscious 
 of every thing which was passing around him, 
 now opened his glazing eyes, and making an 
 effort to speak, though the words almost died 
 upon his lips, faintly articulated, " My poor 
 child !"' and then feebly clasping his daughter 
 in his arms, sunk back, to all appearance dead, 
 upon the shoulder of Herbert. At the sight 
 of this hasty but melancholy scene, even the 
 gay Sidney could hardly repress his tears ; 
 whilst Herbert, who was extremely affected, 
 could scarcely raise his eyes from the ground, to 
 ascertain if indeed the poor officer was no more. 
 Partly from the acuteness of his own feel- 
 ings, partly from delicacy to those of the beau- 
 tiful being who lay before him in a state of 
 complete insensibility, Herbert continued for 
 some moments perfectly silent, until he was 
 warned to proceed by the cries of the naval 
 officers, who were superintending the disem- 
 barkation, and who ordered the party which 
 was obstructing the passage, to clear the way. 
 Directing the men to proceed with the bearer. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 61 
 
 on which lay the body of both father and 
 child, and calling to some of his own regi- 
 ment to keep back the crowd which had col- 
 lected around them, Herbert continued to ad- 
 vance some distance with his charge, without 
 considering or thinking where they were to be 
 conveyed. A moment's reflection was how- 
 ever sufficient. " Sidney, my good fellow," 
 said he, " the Major breathes ; it is evident that 
 he has only swooned from exhaustion ; shall we 
 give up our lodgings and convey him there ? '' 
 
 '* How unnecessary to ask such a question," 
 replied his friend ; " of course. Forward, men, 
 to Captain Milton's quarter." 
 
 By this time, from the efforts of the elder 
 lady, and by the assistance of some by- 
 standers. Miss Manby had recovered from her 
 swoon; and as soon as she was able to com- 
 prehend that her father was still alive, Her- 
 bert ventured to propose to her the plan he 
 adopted of conveying the Major to his own 
 lodging. 
 
 *' Oh, Sir," replied the poor girl, " we can- 
 
6^ HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 not think of becoming such an inconvenience 
 to you. We have ah-eady engaged apartments 
 at the inn, therefore pray give directions for 
 my father's conveyance there." 
 
 After pointing out to Miss Manby and her 
 friend the inconvenience attending such an 
 arrangement, the former consented to his pro- 
 posal with the most grateful expressions of her 
 feelings for his kindness. 
 
 " If you will permit me, madam,"" said 
 Herbert, " I will hasten to the house ; and 
 by the time you arrive, every thing shall be 
 prepared for your father's reception ; in the 
 meantime, I will despatch an orderly for our 
 own medical officer, whose well-known skill 
 and ability you may rely on : and will you, 
 Sidney, have the kindness to go to the inn to 
 order Miss Manby's rooms to be prepared for 
 us, and direct the luggage of these ladies to 
 be carried to our lodging." 
 
 There was a delicacy in the latter part 
 of Herbert's directions which was not lost 
 upon Miss Manby ; and if a look of the most 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 63 
 
 expressive gratitude from the most beau- 
 tiful eyes in the world could repay a man for 
 an act of kindness, Herbert had no cause to be 
 dissatisfied ; and in the course of an hour the 
 poor patient was comfortably installed in Her- 
 bert's lodgings, and by the assistance of the 
 physician was so much restored, as to be 
 enabled to address a few words to his daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 After ordering that every possible comfort 
 and luxury which could be procured, should 
 be carried to the Major's lodgings, and re- 
 questing that he might be sent for at any mo- 
 ment, if assistance of any kind was required, 
 Herbert and his friend returned to the inn 16 
 discuss the events of the morning; v/here I 
 must for the present leave them, whilst I nar- 
 rate the events which brought the unfortunate 
 Major before my readers — circumstances so 
 intimately connected with the events of Her- 
 bert's life, that I must for a time request 
 their patience, whilst I recount the adven- 
 tures of the father and his child. 
 
64 HERBERT MILTOX. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Majoe Manby, who was now in his fifty-fifth 
 year, had been a gentleman of moderate but inde- 
 pendent fortune, and claimed connexion with se- 
 veral distinguished and wealthy families. He had 
 been originally educated for the bar ; had gone 
 through all the brain-teazing squares, cubes, and 
 rhomboids of collegiate instruction ; he had wad- 
 ed through all the drudgery of chamber-study in 
 the Temple, and pored over Coke, Littleton, 
 Blackstone, and all the other mighty worthies of 
 the Robe, until his face, by dint of intense study 
 and reading, assumed the hue of a blank sheet 
 of parchment, and his eyes became as red and 
 bloodshot as the Sunday letters in Moore's Al- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 65 
 
 nianack. After passing his days in attending 
 behind the bar, to the never-ending, incompre- 
 hensible chicaneries of that frightful Chary bdis 
 of time, fortune, and health, the Court of 
 Chancery. After licking his lips at the silk 
 gowns of the senior counsel, and spending his 
 nights in digesting reports, and his moderate 
 allowance in following briefless circuits, he dis- 
 covered that he had neither taste or inclination 
 for the dry theories of his profession, nor suf- 
 ficient assurance, or too much modesty for the 
 practice of them. By the death of his father, 
 which occurred about this period, Mr. Manby 
 came into possession of a sum of money, the 
 amount of which was precisely the most dan- 
 gerous portion which can possibly be bequeath- 
 ed to a young man ; especially one who re- 
 quires no inducement to abandon a profes- 
 sion, whatever be his calling, for which he 
 feels distaste or aversion ; — I allude to that 
 very unsatisfactory ten or twelve thousand 
 pounds, on the one hand too much, on the 
 other too little, but which many a young be- 
 
66 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ginner in the world has considered quite suf- 
 ficient provision for his future life, and with 
 which he flatters himself he can enjoy all the 
 good things of this world, without the necessity 
 or drudgery of either reading, writing, plead- 
 ing, preaching, or fighting for his subsistence. 
 No sooner, therefore, had Mr. Manby, who was 
 precisely of this opinion, received the intelli- 
 gence of the event which placed at his disposal 
 the moderate income of about five hundred a 
 year, than he gave way at once to the invin- 
 cible dislike he had formed for his profession, 
 and in despite of the advice of his friends, who 
 urged him to continue at the bar, resigned all 
 future pretensions to the seat of his Honour the 
 Vice, or to the more splendid and still more 
 toilsome grandeur of the woolsack. Abandon- 
 ing his dull chambers in Garden-court, Temple, 
 he took leave of Lincoln's Inn, tore in a thou- 
 sand fragments the almanack on which Terms 
 were marked with long and broad black lines, 
 tossed his gown into the porter's face, and then 
 making a bonfire of his wig, which he had 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 67 
 
 christened " Ulema Pacha,'^ he bade adieu to 
 law, lawyers, clerks, briefs, and returns, and 
 wishing them all at the devil, sallied forth to 
 enjoy himself in all the fancied anticipation of 
 pleasure and independence. 
 
 A few years were consumed by the ci-devant 
 barrister, partly in travelling, partly in the most 
 consummate enjoyment of the dolce fa?' niente, 
 during which, in fits of ennui, (ennui, inevitable 
 persecutor of every individual who has neither 
 pursuit, occupation, or profession, let his station 
 in life be what it may,) he had wished himself 
 back at his chambers in the Temple, at least an 
 hundred times. During this period the beau- 
 ideal of domestic happiness had more than once 
 crossed his imagination : the enchanting dream 
 of being united to a lovely and amiable wife, 
 the father of two or three pretty children, the 
 master of a capital establishment, and if a good 
 cook and good shooting be added, of course 
 the fortunate possessor of many dear friends, 
 had often deceived his nightly slumbers — but he 
 awoke, alas ! to the conviction that five hundred 
 
Do HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 a year was not likely to be the medium of pro- 
 curing him the last mentioned ingredients of 
 happiness, though he might easily procure 
 himself the former portion of the composition, 
 and find his small fortune divided at his death 
 among a dozen children, in portions about as 
 small and unprofitable as minced veal. Chance, 
 however, was about to befriend him in a manner 
 he had no reason to anticipate. Being invited to 
 a party at the house of a friend in the country, 
 he there met with the sister of an eminent and 
 wealthy merchant, who had not long arrived 
 from the Continent, whither she had been sent 
 for the purpose of completing her education in a 
 convent ; where, in defiance of all the persecu- 
 tions, threats, inducements, and humbug which 
 were levelled against her, she continued firm 
 to her religious sentiments, and considerably dis- 
 appointed more than one pious individual, by 
 her determination to return to England as soon 
 as she attained her majority. 
 
 This epoch was arrived, and as, in addition to 
 considerable personal charms, great accomplish- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 69 
 
 ments, and most engaging manners, she was 
 mistress of fifty thousand pounds, it is natural 
 to suppose tliat she had already become a matter 
 of speculation to more than one city beau, 
 though hitherto without any success on their 
 part. The idea of an advantageous marriage 
 now for the first time seriously struck Mr. Man- 
 by ; it was the first time, that is to say, with 
 his eyes -svide open, and his senses perfectly 
 awake, that he thought it possible to realize the 
 fond object of his dreams. For a day or two, 
 (during which he lost no opportunity of mak- 
 ing himself agreeable to the fair citizen,) he 
 turned his projects over in his brain, and at last 
 communicated them to his friend, who not only 
 approved of his design, but promised every pos- 
 sible assistance. 
 
 " She is going to remain with us a month, 
 Edward," said his host, " and I see no reason 
 for your leaving us before that time ; and if 
 thirty days are not sufficient for you to carry 
 your plan into execution, a year, my good friend, 
 will be of no service to you. God bless you ! 
 
70 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Why I saw Lady Anne for the first time at the 
 beginning of one Almack''s subscription, and 
 before the third ticket was presented, we were 
 regularly affianced. It was like having our 
 banns called three times to little Colinet's best 
 set of waltzes, instead of being given out be- 
 tween the prayers and sermon in the church." 
 
 " Yes, Dropmore," replied Mr. Manby, " and 
 with all due honour and respect for your per- 
 son, I suppose if you neither had asked or been 
 " asked,*" you might have thrown the hand- 
 kerchief and been snapped up in less time than it 
 takes to play an overture ; for you had twenty 
 thousand a year, and Lady Anne was the young- 
 est daughter of a poor nobleman." 
 
 " Come Manby," rejoined his friend, " you 
 are rather severe upon my merits ; but the fact 
 is, you are right. I saw myself hunted like a 
 wild beast by half a score of speculating mo- 
 thers, and as Lady Anne's mamma bored me 
 less than any other, why I married her to 
 protect me from farther plague, and a very 
 happy fellow I am ; and may you be as fortu- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 71 
 
 nate : J'ai tire le Gros Lot, and should recom- 
 mend all my friends to follow my example. A 
 short courtship gives one more time and sub- 
 ject for conversation after marriage, than ex- 
 hausting all one's topics of small-talk before- 
 hand." 
 
 " But joking apart, Dropmore, I think Miss 
 Brixton is a most delia;htful girl P 
 
 " And I assure you that you think her for- 
 tune will amply repay you for the loss of a silk 
 gown," retorted Mr. Dropmore ; " well, all I can 
 say, my friend, is that I wish you ' Gluck zu,* and 
 it shall not be my fault if you do not succeed."' 
 
 He had soon the happiness of making a very 
 sensible impression on the heart of the fair and 
 amiable object of his views. In due time these 
 first tender impressions gradually ripened into 
 a more serious and durable attachment ; and, 
 as Miss Brixton's sentiments increased in full 
 proportion to her admirer's attentions, his first 
 proposal, which was fairly and honourably made 
 through Lady Anne Dropmore, was accepted 
 with equal candour and satisfaction by the 
 
72 HEBBEET MILTON. 
 
 young lady. In the course of a few weeks, 
 and in despite of the obstacles thrown in their 
 way by her brother, as it appeared afterwards 
 from the worst motives. Miss Brixton conti- 
 nued as firm in her resolve, as she had pre- 
 viously been stedfast to her religion, and placed 
 her fortune and the destinies of her future life 
 at the disposal of her lover. 
 
 Four or five years were passed by Mr. Manby 
 and his charming wife, who had borne him one 
 son, in the realization of all that domestic hap- 
 piness and conjugal felicity which had formed 
 the beau-ideal of hh former thoughts and hopes. 
 In possession of a moderate yet respectable in- 
 come, which permitted him to enjoy all the 
 comforts and most of the luxuries of life, and 
 above all, to indulge himself in constantly re- 
 ceiving at his house the society of agreeable and 
 well-informed friends, the greatest of all plea- 
 sures to a man of rational mind. Beloved by 
 the neighbouring nobility and gentry, whose 
 residences were contiguous to the beautiful vil- 
 lage which he had chosen as his abode in 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 73 
 
 the country, respected by the middling classes, 
 the idol of his own establishment, and adored 
 by the poor, who were the certain objects of 
 his unostentatious benevolence, he felt that he 
 had not a wish or thought ungratified. But 
 these halcyon days were unfortunately not des- 
 tined to be of long duration, for a series of ca- 
 lamities following in quick succession, first de- 
 prived him by an afflicting accident of his only 
 child, and afterward of the greater portion of 
 his property, owing to the failure of Mrs. Man- 
 by's brother, in whose extensive mercantile con- 
 cern it had been suffered to remain ; events 
 which compelled him to reduce his establish- 
 ment, and to remove to a more secluded si- 
 tuation. 
 
 Scarcely had Mr. and Mrs. Man by establish- 
 ed themselves in their economical retirement, 
 when a letter from their amiable and attached 
 friend, Lord Lymington, conveyed to Mr. 
 Manby, in the kindest and most flattering man 
 ner, the offer of a situation of considerable 
 trust and emolument at one of our Presidencies 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 in the East. This they could not, under their 
 present circumstances, long hesitate in accept- 
 ing ; and being furnished with letters of intro- 
 duction to many distinguished individuals, and 
 among others, to Sir Herbert, from Lady Mil- 
 ton, in less than six months they had bade adieu 
 to the white cliffs of their " Fatherland," and 
 with prosperous winds were advancing towards 
 the place of their future abode. 
 
 Little occurred to interrupt the monotony of 
 their voyage, until one morning the captain 
 was aroused by the lieutenant of the watch an- 
 nouncing a distant sail, which, on nearing, prov- 
 ed to be a boat containing part of the crew of 
 an Indiaman, who had escaped from the vessel 
 soon after it had taken fire, and whose mise- 
 rable condition was increased in interest, by the 
 discovery of its containing a female infant, 
 which had been almost miraculously preserved 
 by the humane attention of a sailor, who yet 
 survived to relate its story. 
 
 Every assistance was immediately afforded to 
 the almost exhausted sufferers, and Mrs. Man- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 7S 
 
 by, whose maternal feelings were strongly 
 excited towards the helpless infant, instantly 
 took charge of it, observing, from the re- 
 mains of its dress, which had evidently been 
 of the most costly kind, as well as from a gold 
 locket bearing the initials E. M., that it must 
 have belonged to wealthy parents ; she was 
 happy to gather from the narrative given by 
 the sailor to the captain, the following account 
 of its rescue. 
 
 He stated, that as one of the Indiaman's 
 boats, with the passengers on board, had over- 
 turned, he and his companions rowed to the 
 spot, but from the distance they were at, and 
 from the sea running so high, they had only 
 been able to save a few of the poor creatures. 
 He added, " Your honour, the black woman 
 who seemed to have charge of the child, re- 
 mained waterlogged from the moment we haul- 
 ed her aboard, and slipped her cable the first 
 night; and as the little craft was adrift, I 
 thought I 'd try and take her in tow myself, 
 seeing as how as her convoy had parted com- 
 E 2 
 
76 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 pany. So I rolled her up, your honour, in my 
 watch-coat, and covering her with a piece of sail- 
 cloth, stowed her snugly away in a small empty 
 cask, what happened to be hove aboard. Well, 
 your honour, there I kept her afloat, by wetting 
 bits of biscuit in the water what I squeezed 
 from a blanket, and by giving her every now 
 and then a fleabite of grog. Then d' ye see, 
 your honour, as my shipmates were capsized, 
 why I took a part of their rigging before they 
 were thrown overboard, until I laid in sufficient 
 stock to caulk my little messmate till her seams 
 were as tight as your honour's ship." 
 
 In this manner the brave fellow had pro- 
 longed the child's existence, and indeed ap- 
 peared so attached to it, that it required all 
 the influence of the captain to induce him to 
 renounce his claim. " Well," said he, after 
 twitching up his trowsers with his elbows, turn- 
 ing the quid in his cheek, which protruded like 
 a camel's haunch, and twisting the remnant of an 
 old cloth hat in his hand, " since your honour 
 be'ant pleased to give judgment in favour of 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 77 
 
 the salvors, mayhap, if I may be so bold, you 
 won't have no objection to give me a birth 
 aboard the frigate, and make me your honour's 
 coxswain, if so be as there *s a vacancy, by way 
 of double head-money." 
 
 " Double head-money !" replied the captain ; 
 "what do you mean by that, my good fellow ?^* 
 
 " Why,"" retorted the seaman, with a know- 
 ing leer of his eye, "mayhap, your honour 
 don't remember one Bob Painter, what stowed 
 your honour under his hatches, when you got 
 a shot in your bows, and the Dons had laid 
 open your bulwarks, and were carrying you 
 off a prize, the night when the boats of the 
 little 'Wiper' cut out the Spanish frigates 
 from under the batteries in Wigo harbour. 
 But, splice me ! how should your honour have 
 a thought upon such an old weather-beaten hulk 
 as I am, when you was but a bit of a swab of 
 a reefer then ! Howsomever,*' added the brave 
 tar, jirking up his shoulders, and giving a sort 
 of mechanical clinch to his broad brawny hands, 
 " you sarved it out like the boatswain himself; 
 
78 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 and who was it but your honour and I what 
 cleared the Don''s forecastle, afore they could 
 chop quids ?" 
 
 The captain, who had stared with a mixture 
 of surprise and pleasure at this curious dis- 
 covery of his old shipmate and preserver, was 
 about to reply, when the old sailor again broke 
 out with — '* Oh ! your honour, you may in- 
 deed look all no-how, for after twenty years' 
 sarvice, and my last three weeks' voyage, why 
 I arn't no more like Bob Painter what was 
 boatswain's mate in the 'Wiper,' nor a d — d 
 French Mounseer 's like a British man o' war's 
 man." 
 
 The captain, who indeed was thunder- 
 struck at the extraordinary providence which 
 had, in a certain measure, rendered him the 
 saviour of his former preserver, was not back- 
 ward in recognizing poor Bob, and with great 
 kindness shaking him by the hand, made the 
 brave fellow happy by acceding to his humble 
 petition. The condescension of the comman- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 79 
 
 der had the effect of bringing the tears into the 
 hardy seaman's weather-worn cheeks ; however, 
 as soon as he recovered his momentary emotion, 
 he said, " Well, I always thought your honour 
 would pay oiF my reckoning some day or otljer ; 
 I only saved your honour from a taste of 
 the d — d Spanish bilboes, and now you have 
 saved me from being grub for the sharks. It 
 is my turn now ; and, please God as we meet 
 with an opportunity, though I arn't had no 
 practice since I've been swabbing in the mer- 
 chant's service, like a lubber as 1 was, your 
 honour shall see that old Bob arn't forgot how 
 to lead on the boarders." 
 
 On arriving in India, and taking possession 
 of his office, Mr. Manby endeavoured by every 
 possible means to discover some intelligence re- 
 specting the relatives of the infant, to the care 
 of which Mrs. Manby had so kindly devoted 
 herself, but in vain ; nor could they obtain the 
 shghtest information tending in any way to 
 interfere with their final determination of re- 
 
80 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 garding her as their own fondly cherished 
 and adopted child, under the name of Emily 
 Manby. 
 
 Having delivered their introductory letters, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Manby were delighted to receive 
 from Sir Herbert Milton the most decided 
 proofs of attachment and regard ; and continuing 
 for several years in the honourable discharge 
 of his official duties, Mr. Manby had at length 
 the gratification of finding himself in a situa^ 
 tion of comparative opulence, and in the enjoy- 
 ment of the most pleasing prospects, until a 
 circumstance occurred, the consequences of 
 which proved most painful and disastrous. 
 
 Mr. Manby's office requiring the aid of nu- 
 merous assistants, it became necessary to com- 
 mit the different receipts to the care of several 
 persons, Mr. Manby, however, reserving to his 
 own custody the coffers containing the largest 
 sums. It was in these, precisely, that a large 
 deficit was discovered, and as no one but Mr. 
 Manby had access to them, a suspicion of the 
 most dreadful kind, in which his superior. Sir 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 81 
 
 Herbert Milton, appeared but too readily to 
 join, fell on Mr. Manby. This was a stroke 
 almost too heavy to be endured, either by Mr. 
 or Mrs. Manby, and in fact, the latter sunk 
 under it, having died from a fever produced by 
 her agitated feelings^ a short time after. 
 
 Torn by a grief too violent to be controlled, 
 Mr. Manby referred his case to the Board of 
 Directors, and took his passage, with his adopt- 
 ed child, who had now reached her eighth year, 
 for England ; where he had scarcely arrived 
 and commenced his statements, when dispatches 
 were received, announcing the real delinquents 
 having, unable to bear the recollection of the 
 misery he had occasioned, confessed his guilt, 
 and with his own hand terminated his exist- 
 ence. 
 
 During, however, the investigation of Mr. 
 Manby*s case at the India House, some over- 
 zealous and most intemperate friends amongst 
 the proprietors, persuaded him to address a 
 statement of his case to the Court. This 
 statement contained, amongst other things, a 
 E 5 
 
82 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 violent diatribe against Sir Herbert Milton, 
 and even hinted that the Baronet himself was 
 in some measure connected with the robbery, 
 and that he had suddenly ordered an inspec- 
 tion of the treasure, merely with a view of 
 fixing upon a victim, already marked out by 
 him for destruction, and upon whom the cul- 
 pability must rest, without the chance of his 
 being able to defend himself. 
 
 Smarting under all the bitterness of his situ- 
 ation, conscious of his innocence, and almost 
 maddened by his sufferings, in an evil mo- 
 ment Mr. Manby's good sense and moderation 
 forsook him. Yielding to the pernicious ad- 
 vice of his injudicious supporters, he acqui- 
 esced in their intemperate proposal ; and a 
 memorial of his case was made public. This 
 highly-improper composition was known to 
 have proceeded from the pen, not of Mr. 
 Man by, but of a proprietor, whose violence 
 and intemperance were proverbial, not alone 
 at the meetings of the General Courts, but 
 alike in commercial, political, and private life ; 
 
HERBERT BllLTON. 83 
 
 and who had ah'eady induced other individuals, 
 whose real or supposed grievances brought 
 them in contact with the Directors, to adopt 
 measures equally reprehensible, and generally 
 more fatal to themselves. 
 
 Sir Herbert Milton, of course, received a copy 
 of this Memorial, which, with a dignity be- 
 coming his rank and character, he treated with 
 contempt, nor did he condescend to make an 
 answer. But whatever might have been his 
 previous grounds for coolness towards Mr. 
 Manby, Sir Herbert's hatred to his very 
 name now became irreconcilable, and ended 
 but with his death. 
 
 Mr. Manby was not the only person who 
 regretted having listened to the advice of evil 
 counsellors ; but it was now too late to repent : 
 and as the public at home were pretty well 
 acquainted with the source from whence arose 
 the improper remarks on Sir Herbert, Mr. 
 Manby also hoped that the Baronet would 
 eventually make allowances for his peculiar 
 and existing situation. 
 
84 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Determining to devote the remainder of his 
 existence and fortune to the care and educa- 
 tion of his adopted child, Mr. Manby accepted 
 the oiFer made to him by the Court of Direc- 
 tors, of retiring upon a pension, as the idea of 
 returning to India, although triumphant, was 
 now too painful for his feelings. 
 
 It was Mr. Manby 's desire, in the event of 
 his meeting with a person who united all the 
 different qualities which he considered re- 
 quisite for a governess, that she should be 
 regarded as not alone the instructress, but 
 the friend and companion of Emily. He con- 
 sidered, that the best plan to render the go- 
 verness respectable in the eyes of the pupil, 
 was, that she should be treated with every 
 degree of deference by himself and his house- 
 hold ; and, that there could be no better 
 method of attaching the governess to the pupil, 
 than by rendering the position of the former 
 as happy as possible, and by behaving to her 
 himself with the greatest kindness and ur- 
 banity. At the houses of many of his friends, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 85 
 
 he had frequently been much hurt at seeing 
 the manner in which ladies in this temper- 
 trying situation were treated. After being 
 confined all day to that horrid den of fools'- 
 caps, tears, sulks, Logier's systems, back- 
 boards, and dumb-bells, called " the school- 
 room,"" subject, not alone to the densities, 
 ill-humour, and caprices of three or four 
 misses, but to the contradiction and eternal 
 interference of mammas ; after having de- 
 voured an uncomfortable meal at one o'clock 
 with the children, amidst kicks, screams, boiled 
 mutton, toast-and-water, and other proofs, both 
 of fraternal love and parental frugality ; after 
 drinking weak bohea at six with the same 
 horde of infantine Cossacks, the poor woman 
 generally retires to her bed, worn out and ex- 
 hausted, with the pleasing prospect {par dessus 
 le marche) of recommencing the same process 
 on the following day. Sometimes, indeed, the 
 mistress of the mansion would, after dinner, 
 send up to Mademoiselle, or Miss, saying she 
 might come down to tea ; an invitation, by-the- 
 
86 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 by, not to be disobeyed. Upon the appear- 
 ance of the victim, (who, if ill-dressed, was 
 told she really might make herself decent ; 
 and if decent, was sure to be rebuked for dress- 
 ing as if she were going to a ball,) she was 
 generally received by the lady with cold, for- 
 mal, and haughty civility ; and by the master, 
 disturbed at his whist, with a " Pray, Miss 
 What-d'ye-call-'em, do not make such a noise.'' 
 The unfortunate creature then usually slunk 
 into some cold corner, where, without being 
 farther noticed, she took up a book, or sat 
 shivering without daring to speak a word, un- 
 less, perhaps, she ventured an occasional whis- 
 per to one of her eleves. At her entrance 
 no one rises, no one offers a chair, nor does a 
 single man remove his back from the fire, or 
 quit the comfortable " elbow" by the chimney- 
 side, as if the poor woman were a Russian 
 settler, habituated to twelve degrees below zero, 
 and as little accustomed to a chair as Ibrahim 
 Pacha himself. 
 
 The plan pursued by Mr. Manby had the 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 87 
 
 happiest results. The regard of both gover- 
 ness and pupil for each other became mutual. 
 The confidence of the former in Emily was 
 equal to her affection, whilst the regard of the 
 latter by degrees ripened into the sentiments 
 of a child for a beloved parent. Nor was it 
 less gratifying to Mr. Manby to see that the 
 progress Emily made under her respectable 
 instructress, promised in due time to render 
 her talents and accomplishments, and above 
 all the purity and rectitude of her mind, not 
 inferior to the graces and beauty of her person. 
 It was about this period that Mr. Manby 
 received a note one morning from his bankers, 
 requesting he would do them the favour of 
 calling at their house at his earliest conve- 
 nience, as they had business of importance to 
 communicate. He had been the victim of so 
 many misfortunes, his nerves had received such 
 repeated shocks, that he was again fearful of 
 some new disaster, therefore he attended the 
 summons of his friends almost in trembling. 
 Upon his arrival, his surprise and curiosity 
 
88 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 were excited to the utmost degree ; one of 
 the partners of the house placing before him 
 a letter received that morning, which con- 
 tained ten thousand pounds. 
 
 The anonymous and munificent writer of the 
 letter, directed that this sum should be imme- 
 diately vested in the funds in the name of 
 two trustees, for the whole and sole use of 
 the child called Emily Manby, to be paid to 
 her upon her attaining her twenty-first year ; 
 and in the event of her demise before that 
 period, the above sum was to be presented to 
 the guardians of the Orphan Asylum, for the 
 benefit of that Society. A third of the inte- 
 rest of this sum was directed to be paid by half- 
 yearly instalments to Mr. Manby, for the pur- 
 pose of the child's education. The writer far- 
 ther entreated two of the partners to take upon 
 themselves the office of trustees, and entreated 
 them to see the wishes of the donor strictly 
 carried into eff'ect. The letter ended by say- 
 ing that all attempts at discovery would be 
 fruitless, that the writer being rich and child- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. bv 
 
 less, he had chosen to please himself in the 
 disposal of this sum. The hand-writing of 
 this letter was unknown to every one in the 
 house ; and although every effort was employed 
 for the purpose of detecting the writer, no clue 
 whatever could be obtained. 
 
 This munificent addition to the fortune 
 which it would eventually be in Mr. Manby's 
 power to bequeath to Emily, relieved his mind 
 from much of his future anxiety respecting 
 her, as, in despite of any misfortune which 
 might still befall him, she would be not only 
 independent, but comparatively rich. For a 
 time he had imagined that his friend Drop- 
 more, or the Earl, might have been the writer 
 of the letter, and the kind benefactor of his 
 adopted child ; but both Lord Lymington and 
 Mr. Dropmore solemnly and positively denied 
 all connexion with it. 
 
 Lord Lymington, the friend to whom Mr. 
 Manby was indebted for his appointment in 
 India, had not- diminished his kindness to him 
 on his return, nor for one moment doubted 
 
90 HERBEIIT JIILTON. 
 
 his perfect innocence of the disgraceful charge 
 brought against him. Indeed, such was the 
 high opinion and esteem of that worthy noble- 
 man for his friend, that he not only consulted 
 his opinion on many important political subjects, 
 but farther proposed to bring him into Par- 
 liament, and to insure him an official situation 
 in one of the ministerial departments at home. 
 These offers were, however, declined by Mr. 
 Manby, though at the same time he was 
 obliged to yield upon another point, which 
 came almost as a command from the highest 
 source. 
 
 His Majesty, who had heard, through the 
 medium of Lord Lymington, Mr. Manby's 
 history, graciously expressed his intention of 
 promoting him, in the event of his exchang- 
 ing on full pay. The exchange was soon 
 effected, and in the course of a few weeks 
 Captain Manby found himself gazetted to a 
 
 Majority in the Regiment, from which, 
 
 however, he obtained six months'* leave of ab- 
 sence. It was hinted to him, at the same time, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 9l 
 
 by his noble patron, that if he served a few 
 months with the corps, at the expiration of 
 that period he would be farther promoted, 
 and then, having obtained the rank of lieute- 
 nant-colonel, he might again retire on half- 
 pay. It had been his determination to take 
 this latter step at all events, as he felt most 
 unwilling to be separated from Emily, and 
 had moreover, at his age, not the slightest 
 relish for the vicissitudes and wanderings of 
 a soldier's life. 
 
 Emily had now attained her seventeenth 
 year, and was about to make her appearance 
 in the world, under the auspices of Lady Ly- 
 mington, and her sister, Lady Anne Dropmore. 
 Lady Lymington, not less attached to the 
 Manby's than the Earl himself, had kindly 
 undertaken to present Emily at Court, and 
 to act as her chaperon in the gay world. The 
 reception Emily met with on her presentation 
 to their Majesties, was sufficient to have turned 
 the head of a less modest and sensible girl. 
 
 Her happiness was now complete, and it re- 
 
92 HERBERT MILTOM. 
 
 mained uninterrupted, until Major Manby an- 
 nounced that he was about to quit her for a 
 short period, his regiment being ordered to 
 join the grand expedition then forming for a 
 descent in the Scheldt. An order for every 
 officer to join his regiment forthwith, obliged 
 Major Manby to make his immediate prepa- 
 rations for hastening to his corps ; and, however 
 reluctant he might have been to quit England, 
 of course at such a moment his honour for- 
 bade all idea of his retiring on half-pay, at 
 least for the present. 
 
 The intended expedition, which was com- 
 posed of the elite of the British army, pro- 
 mised the most glorious and speedy results to 
 the arms of his country. Flattering himself 
 with the hope of sharing in the glory, which 
 not he alone, but all England, had anticipated 
 from this magnificent armament, he bade adieu 
 with cheerfulness to his darling Emily. How 
 fatally, alas ! were his hopes, as well as those 
 of his country, in a short period wrecked and 
 annihilated. The disgraceful and unhappy 
 
HERBERT xMILTON. 93 
 
 results of that expedition are known, too well 
 known ! to the world. It remains only to 
 say, that ere the Major had been three weeks 
 amongst the Flemish Polders, he was attack- 
 ed by the dreadful fever of the country. A 
 slight convalescence was followed by a more 
 severe relapse ; and, as the only prospect of 
 saving his life, he was ordered to be embarked 
 for England. Intelligence of his illness, and 
 of his intended return, had been forwarded 
 to his foster child, who arrived at Harwich, 
 accompanied by her friend and governess, Mrs. 
 Walden, and a faithful servant, on the even- 
 ing prior to that on which she had been first 
 seen by Herbert and his friend. 
 
9i HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Without farther apology for the length 
 to which the foregoing episode has been ex- 
 tended, I shall now return to Herbert, whom 
 we left with his friend Sidney, enjoying the 
 delight which always arises from the perform- 
 ance of a good action. Herbert received a 
 message from his medical friend, informing 
 him that the Major had passed an extremely 
 restless night ; that the fever had returned 
 with redoubled violence ; and that the symp- 
 toms were of such an unfavourable nature as 
 to preclude all possibility of the patient's re- 
 covery, which distressing intelligence it now 
 
HERBEllT MILTON. 95 
 
 became Herbert's painful duty to communi- 
 cate. 
 
 On receiving this afflicting intimation, for 
 which Mrs. Walden was in part prepared by 
 her own painful fears, she informed Herbert, 
 that during the night Major Manby had re- 
 peatedly spoken of his kindness and attention, 
 in terms of the utmost gratitude; and that, 
 although his name, when he had discovered it, 
 
 naturally affected him • 
 
 Here she was interrupted by Herbert, who 
 exclaimed, " My name ! Good God ! Can it"" 
 be possible? Is this the Major Manby of 
 whose misfortunes I have heard so much, and 
 whose enmity to my father was so openly de- 
 clared ?'^ 
 
 " The same. Sir," answered Mrs. Walden, 
 who had imbibed all the prejudices of her 
 friend ; " the same, and it is thus that Pro- 
 vidence has thrown you. Sir, in the path of 
 the man who was so unjustly persecuted by 
 your father, that you might in some measure 
 
96 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 atone, by your humane conduct, for the in- 
 juries Major Manby sustained at his hands. 
 It is, perhaps, ordained by the Almighty, that 
 the last moments of the persecuted shall be 
 soothed and consoled by the tears of the perse- 
 cutor''s only child ; and Heaven forbid ! Captain 
 Milton, that your humanity should draw upon 
 you the vengeance of your father !" 
 
 " Madam," replied Herbert, hurt at the in- 
 sinuations against his parent, " whatever might 
 have been the reasons for my father's enmity 
 to Major Manby, of which even my mother 
 is utterly ignorant, you do him the utmost 
 injustice in supposing that he would rejoice 
 in the sorrow of an enemy. Sir Herbert Mil- 
 ton, madam, may have been a severe judge, 
 but his justice, his generosity, and honour, 
 never have been questioned." 
 
 " Forgive me. Captain Milton,'^ replied Mrs. 
 Walden, " forgive me if the warmth of my 
 regard, and my remembrance of Major Man- 
 by's sufferings, should for an instant have in- 
 duced me to utter a single syllable which could 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 97 
 
 hurt your feelings. Oh, believe me, Sir, 
 we all feel, deeply feel, your unparalleled kind- 
 ness." And Mrs. Walden concluded by request- 
 ing him to communicate to Major Manby the 
 painful intelligence, to which he immediately 
 consented. 
 
 On entering his apartment, Herbert found 
 Major Manby in a state of extreme exhaustion, 
 apparently awaiting, with calm resignation, the 
 period of his approaching dissolution. Seeing, 
 however, Herbert, he made a last effort to 
 express his gratitude for the kindness he had 
 shown him, and to inform him of his having 
 left to his beloved Emily whatever he possess- 
 ed ; adding, as he took a ring from his own 
 finger, which he placed on Herbert's, his ear- 
 nest request that he would convey to Sir 
 Herbert his entire forgiveness for all the mi- 
 sery he had occasioned him. 
 
 Before the close of the evem'ng. Major Man- 
 by had ceased to breathe ; and when the first 
 bursts of grief on the part of Emily and Mrs 
 Walden had in some degree subsided, arrange- 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
93 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ments were made, with the aid of Major Man- 
 by's solicitor, for the funeral, which was per- 
 formed with mihtary honours, the solemnity 
 of which made a deep impression on the sen- 
 sitive feehngs of the afflicted Miss Manby. 
 
 After having assisted in the discharge of 
 these last duties towards the remains of Major 
 Manby, Herbert felt httle inchnation to enjoy 
 the pleasures of a large dinner, to which Sidney 
 and himself had been invited by the officers 
 of the Legion in garrison at Harwich. Her- 
 bert begged his friend to make his excuses to 
 the mess, on the plea of illness. *' Illness 1 
 By George ! Herbert, that won't do ;" said 
 Sidney: " what ' dores do Coracao,'' as the 
 Valerosos have it. They '11 smoke you, to a 
 certainty, Berty ; but never mind — though, 
 of course, I comprehend — I '11 swear, if you 
 like, not only that you are ill, but that you 
 are as dead as the Major, and as all the Capu- 
 lets into the bargain. But, I say, Herbert, you 
 are going to work betimes ! What, not give her 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 99 
 
 a moment to tie up her hair, and put on a little 
 rouge ?" 
 
 " I really do not understand what you are 
 aiming at, Sidney/' replied Herbert ; " but, 
 if you allude to Miss Manby, I shall merely 
 observe that your jest is excessively out of sea- 
 son ; so good bye to you." 
 
 Herbert had already reached the door, when 
 his comrade, whose sang-froid was imperturb- 
 able, and whose greatest delight was in tor- 
 menting his friend, again attacked him, with 
 " Come, Herbert, I say, don't be angry. 
 Surely, you '11 agree with me in one thing, — 
 she 's a devilish fine girl. Somewhat grena- 
 dier! sh ; but, on my word ! I never saw a back 
 more prettily camhre^ nor a head better set on 
 a fine pair of shoulders : that is to say, from the 
 glance I got of it when the hood fell off, by 
 accident, of course. Ay, que Donayre .'" 
 
 " Well,'' answered Herbert, " and what 
 should induce you to imagine that it was not 
 accidental, since you lay a stress on the word ?"' 
 F 2 
 
100 HEBBEBT MILTON. 
 
 ** Doubt, my good fellow !'' rejoined the other, 
 '* I never doubt in such cases. I am too good 
 a Christian to think that events ever occur by 
 haphazard, in this world, — but I say, old 
 man, do not frown so grimly, and look so 
 dismal ! Why, Herbert, you only want a 
 label to make you twin-brother to a black 
 dose." 
 
 " For God's sake ! my dear Sidney," an- 
 swered Herbert, do not let loose that tongue 
 of your's, which requires no laxative to ridicule 
 every soul you meet ; friend or foe, it matters 
 not which. You make a mockery of every 
 action, every sentiment, which is not in perfect 
 accordance with your ideas of fashion. If 
 Lady Dossington, or Lady Alderney, or any 
 of your patterns, as you call them, had been in 
 Miss Manby's place, you would have been on 
 your knees, and prayed more audibly than the 
 clerk.'' 
 
 " Amen,'' was the only reply Sidney made to 
 this remark. 
 
 ** And so say I," continued Herbert ; *' but as 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 101 
 
 you never felt sorrow yourself, how can you 
 judge of it mothers?" 
 
 " Begging your pardon," retorted Sidney, 
 " I am an admirable judge of grief and loss ; 
 for when Featherby and I were floored at the 
 Leger, I lost 3000/., and he his wits into the 
 bargain, and I assure you our hearts and our 
 banks were nearly breaking together ; but, joking 
 aside, Herbert, for I am going to be very seri- 
 ous'^ . 
 
 " If you intend being reasonable," answered 
 Herbert, " I will remain ; if not, I must leave 
 you, for at present I do not feel disposed to 
 merriment ; yet, to see you for a moment without 
 a jest on your tongue, a sneer on your lips, is 
 something so unusual, that it is worth staying 
 for." 
 
 " Well, then, most grave Signor," retorted 
 his incorrigible comrade, " I'll tell you fairly : 
 that my ^opinion of Miss Manby would have 
 been more in unison with your own, had she 
 not made such an exhibition of her sorrow : 
 there was something, you must allow, which 
 
102 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 looked, merely looked, like affectation in her 
 
 display/' 
 " Affectation !*" answered Herbert ; " I could 
 
 see nothing affected in the natural and heart- 
 breaking grief which the poor girl showed at 
 the loss of her unfortunate parent." 
 
 ** Come, come, Herbert," rejoined his friend, 
 
 " confess that there was a small soupgon^-which sa- 
 voured of theatrical exhibition ; it put me in 
 mind of the death-scene in a melodrame. Lit- 
 tle Miss Kelly would have given her head and 
 shoulders for the scene of the hood." 
 
 " What right," retorted Herbert, ^^ have 
 you to judge Miss Manby's conduct, in a man- 
 ner that, were there any foundation for it, would 
 render her more than despicable ? How can you, 
 Sidney, who care for no human being but your- 
 self, and never felt any sorrow or annoyance, 
 except at the loss of a race or a heavy stake at 
 Macao ; how can you pretend to enter into the 
 feelings of a child, deprived for ever of the only 
 being in existence in whom were centered all 
 her joys and hopes in this world ?" 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 103 
 
 " Which you intend she shall transfer to you, 
 eh 'n''^ observed Sidney, " but you are right, most 
 reverend father, in one thing. I have had small 
 practice, thank God ! in proceedings of this na- 
 ture, having been saved the trouble of all these 
 sorrows ; inasmuch as my father died ere I was 
 able to walk, and my mother followed his example 
 before I could speak, leaving me sole heir to what- 
 ever timber little Reuben and the rest of his 
 tribe still permit to flourish on the family acres ; 
 and as I was the only one of ' that ilk,' and 
 consequently horridly spoiled by my aunt, and 
 allowed to run riot by my guardians, you must 
 make some allowance for my ignorance in all 
 such lachrymatory matters, and attribute it to 
 the want of a proper field to exercise upon." 
 
 " Since you have no feelings yourself, which, 
 I do not believe, Sidney," replied Herbert, " it 
 is no excuse for your accusing all the rest of 
 mankind with affectation, because they happen 
 to shed a few tears, or evince that natural grief 
 to which your heart has ever been a stranger." 
 
 " For the matter of that, Berty," answered 
 
104 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 his companion, I care not who weeps, providing 
 I may laugh. Mgritudinem laudare, as my jolly 
 old tutor used to say, is but slow work ; but 
 seriously, I think we manage these things bet- 
 ter in London. You know, no decent creatures 
 could think of exposing themselves in that 
 sort of way : conceive the horror of being seen 
 paddling up St. James's Street, au beau milieu 
 of all Mr. M'Adam's mud purees, Mith a long 
 black cloak, red eyes, and a white pocket-hand- 
 kerchief, blubbering like a lower schoolboy, 
 on being fagged at cricket. You can \ do it, 
 my good fellow, without becoming an absolute 
 Paria ; you would be blackballed at every club 
 in town, or get the name of the Sentimental Un- 
 dertaker, or Dismal Dandy, or Black Job, or 
 some such never-dying nickname. It ''s all very 
 fine moralizing, my respectable proser ; but one 
 cannot live in the world and fly against custom 
 and fashion."" 
 
 " Fashion !" rejoined Herbert : " thank God f 
 I am not one of those, who, in despite of every 
 tie, in defiance of common decency, will ever 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 105 
 
 render myself a slave to fashion or custom — a 
 custom, above all, which bids one almost con- 
 sign the last moments of the death-bed to an 
 act of cowardice and desertion, or a fashion 
 which directs one to fly from the still-warm 
 body of one's friends or parents, whilst yet the 
 falling lip, the distended jaw, and glassy eye, 
 are still quivering in the grasp of death ; and 
 ere yet the once active limbs and fond arms 
 which have so often pressed you in tenderness 
 to their hearts, are enchained and fixed for 
 ever in the marble stiffness of eternity ; a cus- 
 tom," continued Herbert, " which bids one 
 yield unto mercenary hands the performance of 
 those sacred duties, which are dear even to the 
 bosom of the untutored savage !" 
 
 Sidney, who had been beating his foot all 
 this time against the ground, turning up his 
 eyes, and expressing every possible symptom of 
 impatience, now exclaimed, " Tout fa est bien 
 beau, superbe meme; but as I am neither a Chero- 
 kee, Pawnie, or Kickaway, I have no relish for 
 horrid sights, and disgusting one's self with dying 
 F 5 
 
106 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 groans, death rattles, skulls, and marrow-bones ; 
 though, to be sure, I once made an uncommon 
 pleasant party to see the people hung at New- 
 gate, and got a capital place ; but then, you 
 know, every body does that. As for your natural 
 deaths, I think it is much better to leave all that 
 to the nurses and people ; and then, if you give 
 the defunct a splendid funeral, why, what the 
 deuce more can the most exigeant corpse in 
 Christendom require ?" 
 
 Herbert, disgusted with the levity of his 
 companion exclaimed, " A splendid funeral ! 
 and do you sincerely think that is sufficient ? 
 Does the pageantry of the gorgeous procession, 
 which attends to its home of nothingness 
 the remnants of the dead, with its crowd of 
 grinning, drunken mutes, its nodding forest 
 of plumes, which, waving in the winds, dance 
 over the hearse as if in mockery of its senseless 
 burthen; do the gaudy banners, and escut- 
 cheons, emblazoned with all the pomp of he- 
 raldry, awaken a feeling of sorrow in the hearts 
 of the spectators r* Does the line of mourning 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 107 
 
 coaches, filled with the physicians, servants, or 
 solicitors of the deceased, who, like wreckers on 
 the Cornish coast, are revelling in the spoils 
 which they have plundered from the coffers of 
 their late client ; docs the endless file of splen- 
 did, yet empty equipages, empty as the sorrow 
 which directed them to follow in the train ; 
 does this, for a moment, chasten the soul, or 
 excite emotions in the heart ? No ! The sim- 
 ple tear of the villager, as he follows to the 
 humble church-yard the still more humble cof- 
 fin of his wife or friend, must be more accept- 
 able to the Deity, more gratifying to the spirit 
 of the departed, more impressive on the minds 
 of the assistants, than all the noisy pomp and 
 grandeur of the former." 
 
 " ' A very good song, and very well sung,' " 
 exclaimed Sidney with the greatest coolness, 
 though, during this apostrophe of Herbert's, he 
 had been clinking his spurs, and beating time 
 with his hands, with the most consummate ridi- 
 cule and mock attention, — " an admirable ex- 
 tempore^ composed during a six weeks'* sojourn 
 
108 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 in the hospitals, ' Milton'^s Conversion of the 
 Heathen;' but as I am too wicked to be worth 
 having such excellent morahty thrown away 
 upon me, I shall go and dress for dinner.'' 
 
 " You are, I fear, incorrigible," replied Her- 
 bert : — though, in fact, Sidney, I do not be- 
 lieve you are half such a reprobate as you wish 
 to appear." 
 
 " I'faith," retorted his comrade, " I must 
 first become worse, to be made better ; that is 
 to say, imprimis, be a horrid sinner, before I 
 commence being a saint, which I believe is the 
 usual routine ; though, upon my honour, Berty, 
 I think there is none of that humbug in you 
 which one generally meets with in your over- 
 righteous people ; I believe you perfectly sin- 
 cere in all you say ; and he who says you are 
 not the best fellow in Christendom, in despite 
 of your little spice of goodness, why he lies, 
 that's all ;" and then, without waiting for Her- 
 bert's reply, he walked out of the room, whis- 
 tling variations to the Dead March in Saul. 
 
 On the morning subsequent to the funeral. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 109 
 
 Miss Manby and her friend left Harwich, 
 and proceeded immediately to Park-lane, 
 where it was necessary that they should be 
 present, with the solicitors and trustees, at the 
 opening of the will. By this document, which 
 appeared to have been written immediately 
 prior to Major Manby 's departure for Flan- 
 ders, Miss Manby became heiress to the whole 
 of her late foster-father's property ; which, 
 added to the sum presented to her by her 
 anonymous friend, would, upon her attaining 
 her twenty- first year, place her in possession 
 of an income exceeding two thousand pounds 
 per annum. The testator also directed an an- 
 nuity of two hundred pounds to be paid to 
 Mrs. Walden ; and earnestly intreated her to 
 continue to reside with Emily as her friend 
 and adviser, and strictly enjoined the latter 
 to continue to treat Mrs. Walden as a mother. 
 For the first time, Emily was made acquainted 
 with the secret of her not being related to Mr. 
 Manby ; a circumstance which had been con- 
 cealed from her by the Major even to the 
 
110 HERBERT MTLTON. 
 
 last moment. This discovery, though of course 
 it gave rise to the most painful sensations 
 in her mind, yet only served to increase 
 her aiFection for the memory of the excellent 
 man who had so bountifully provided for her. 
 Were her parents and relations all dead ? Had 
 she no connexions still living ? Had all her 
 kindred perished by the fatal accident which 
 gave her to Mr. Manby's care ? These were 
 questions which agitated her mind perpetually. 
 She thought, if there yet remained any of her 
 relations in existence, that now, at least, when 
 she was rich and independent, there could be 
 no cause for concealing themselves. Self-in- 
 terest, whatever it might have done before, 
 could not now prevent them from coming for- 
 ward. That she was of respectable parents, 
 and probably people of fortune, was evident 
 from the relics which were still preserved 
 amongst Mr. Manby''s papers at his solicitor's ; 
 but who they were, or what was even her real 
 name, continued a mystery, which it was im- 
 possible to unravel. She felt, indeed, ashamed 
 
HERBERT MILTON. Ill 
 
 of bearing a name to which she had no title ; 
 and could hardly be persuaded by her trustees. 
 Lord Lymington and Mr. Dropmore, to re- 
 tain possession of the house and fortune which 
 had been bequeathed to her by her beloved 
 foster-father. 
 
 Before their departure from Harwich, Her- 
 bert Milton wrote a few lines to Mrs. Walden ; 
 to inquire after the health of Miss Manby ; 
 excused himself from calling, lest he should 
 intrude upon their sorrows, and concluded by 
 expressing his hopes that Miss Manby would 
 permit him to renew their acquaintance at some 
 future period, and that she would not allow 
 her dislike to Sir Herbert to influence her 
 feelings in regard to himself. To this note 
 he received a very flattering answer ; and from 
 this period he began to cherish that feeling 
 which had been so suddenly awakened from 
 the first time he had seen Miss Manby. A 
 few weeks more, and Herbert was relieved 
 from the disagreeable service which had re- 
 quired his presence at Harwich, and he found 
 
112 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 himself once more immersed in all the gaieties 
 of London, from which he had been absent 
 from the period of Miss Manby's first intro- 
 duction. It was soon observed, however, that 
 Captain Milton was not so fond of dancing 
 or going out as usual; that he looked more 
 melancholy ; in fact, something must have hap- 
 pened thus to have deprived him of his former 
 gaiety. " Herbert Milton 's horridly in love 
 with somebody!" said one woman. " He looks 
 as if he were going to be married !" exclaimed 
 another. " Who to ?" eagerly demanded an 
 interested third. " He has lost a large sum 
 at Watier's," said one man. " I wish I had 
 won it !" added another. " I know he has 
 been raising money,'** continued a third. But 
 as the first could never detect him flirting, or 
 even paying more attention to one than to ano- 
 ther, they of course settled that he must have 
 some low attachment ; whilst the latter, who 
 never could convict him of play, at once de- 
 cided that he was either writing a book, or 
 that he bad been bitten by the Saints. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 113 
 
 Herbert, however, completely put all their 
 curiosity to the rack, by keeping them in the 
 same state of ignorance as he was in himself. 
 He felt, it was true, less pleasure in society ; 
 he was become more indifferent for the din- 
 ners and parties which, as usual, were shower- 
 ed upon him, yet he was unable precisely to 
 account for this change in his inclinations. 
 He could not, howeve.', attempt to deceive 
 himself as to the degree of interest he felt 
 in the fair orphan, though he had no idea 
 to what an extent those feelings had taken 
 root in his heart ; nor, indeed, was it until he 
 had proceeded on foreign service, that he dis- 
 covered that he was sincerely and devotedly 
 attached to her. He had hoped, before he left 
 England, that his penchant for Miss Manby 
 was known only to himself ; he might, in some 
 measure, perhaps, have betrayed it in his man- 
 aer to her, on one of the few occasions which 
 he had of seeing her in Park-lane; but he 
 trusted that the world, and, above all, Lady 
 Milton, were utterly unconscious of the real 
 
114 
 
 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 state of his mind; yet he felt himself rather 
 taken by surprise, when, upon meeting Sidney 
 and his cousin Alfred Milton one morning on 
 horseback in Grosvenor- square, the former 
 accosted him by saying, — " Rather a quaint- 
 ish nag of yours. Master Herbert. What the 
 deuce always makes him turn sharp down to 
 the left when Grosvenor-o^ate stares him in the 
 face ? Apropos^ so yoS^r little damsel of Har- 
 wich, is no more or less than the Miss Manby, 
 who has been all the thing this spring; and 
 they say she is to marry Lord Henry Thursby 
 as soon as she gets rid of her weepers. By 
 George ! old man, we shall have ' slugs in a 
 sawpit' before long ; but if ever you do fight, 
 Herbert, as I know you can split a bullet, use 
 my pistols ; as pretty a pair of Staudenmeyer's 
 as ever helped a man to six boards and two 
 little ones, as Biirger calls it : I '11 back them 
 for a pony against any Manton's or Kuchen- 
 reiter's in England." 
 
 By this time they had arrived at Grosvenor- 
 gate, when, to the no small annoyance of 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 115 
 
 Herbert, and the aniusement of his cousin 
 and Sidney, the hack he rode turned sharp 
 round, and before Herbert could pull him up, 
 had cantered at least fifty yards down Park- 
 lane ; where, for the present, I shall leave the 
 one party laughing loud enough to bring Mr. 
 Fozard from his attentions to his equestrian 
 pupils, and the other sawing away at the 
 mouth of his astonished horse ; which, from 
 his diurnal canter in the same direction, had 
 naturally expected the usual hint from Her- 
 bert's spurs on his arrival at the corner of the 
 street. 
 
116 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Among my readers there may probably be 
 found some few of those mature ball-going in- 
 dividuals, who have attained that mellow pe- 
 riod of existence, when inflexible joints, dila- 
 pidated legs, and exuberant ankles, warn them 
 that it is high time to confine their amusements 
 in a ball-room to the simple gratification of 
 their eyes or ears, nor longer to expose their 
 stiff gambadoes in the evolutions of the dance. 
 Many of these, probably, there are, who, for 
 more than a third of a century, have danced 
 with every "new thing" as it was offered to 
 the best bidder on the grand exchange of 
 Fashion, until, in its turn, it had become as 
 
HEEBEET MILTON. 11 T 
 
 stale as themselves, or was swept off the boards 
 by death, marriage, or the spirit of grace. 
 Of these, many must have been witnesses to 
 the last expiring sigh of Ranelagh, and as- 
 sisted at the first coming to light of the modern 
 Almack's — Almack's " t/w second liC issue of 
 the marriage of the well-powdered and sub- 
 stantial Willis, with the brick-and-mortar re- 
 lic of the defunct worthy of that name. Poor 
 souls ! deeply do I sympathise with them if 
 they are reduced to the enjoyment of that 
 enviable, that flattering distinction, which is 
 in fact tantamount to a lettre de cachet to 
 Terpsichore's Bastille, or, at all events, is an 
 open announcement of their inoffensive decay — 
 I mean the pleasing compliment uttered by 
 some fair creature, who, with great apparent 
 naivete, says, — " Oh, Sir John, you are so good- 
 natured, and I know you do not dance, do let 
 me say I am engaged to you, if a bore asks 
 me to waltz." Enviable lot ! where one finds 
 himself with more nominal partners at one 
 moment than half the young men in an hour. 
 
118 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 where half-a-dozen pretty innocent mouths are 
 fibbing through thick and through thin on the 
 strength of one's infirmities, and from which 
 one derives no other advantage than the ne- 
 cessity of helping them out in their fable, 
 or, perhaps, the pleasure of bringing a duel 
 on one's shoulders ; for I have known more 
 than one rejected youth become extremely 
 troublesome on these occasions, and endeavour 
 to revenge themselves on their fair refusers, 
 by venting their anger on the worn-out hack 
 who is saddled with these phantom engage- 
 ments, and who must, at all events, either 
 fight, lie, sit down, or beg pardon. I address 
 myself more particularly to this respectable 
 band of " Captain Sentrys," because, in the 
 first place, they have more time on their hands, 
 or rather on their feet, to walk about and make 
 their observations at balls, and are more at lei- 
 sure to take strict notice of the charms or de- 
 fects of the various fair personages who crowd, 
 what the Morning Post calls, "the Nobility's 
 grand assembly at Willis's Rooms ;" where, in 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 119 
 
 the olden time, they have paraded a minuet 
 with the grandmothers, walked country dances 
 with the mammas, and are now reduced to the 
 simple criticism of the daughters, as they whisk 
 round the room in a waltz, or shde through a 
 Franfaise, 
 
 I now, therefore, challenge any of these cri- 
 tical worthies to declare, if either in the golden 
 period of their youth, or the more leaden epoch 
 of their maturity, they ever saw a more lovely 
 being than the protegee of Lady Lymington, 
 or if ever they witnessed more decided admira- 
 tion amongst the men, or more undisguised 
 envy among the women, than that created by 
 Emily Manby upon her first appearance at 
 Almack's. Never were more exclamations ut- 
 tered of "Who can that be with Lady Ly- 
 mington ? — Nobody one knows ! — One of her 
 nieces ? — Oh dear no ! some country protegee of 
 old papa Lymington — Do you know she 's ra- 
 ther good-looking. — Too tall. — Charming foot ! 
 — Horrid shoe !— Sweet trimming ! — Too scan- 
 ty. — What a pretty dress ! — Affectation of sim- 
 
120 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 plicity. — Expressive countenance. — Too tragic. 
 — But look, my dear, do you know, I do not 
 think she is so very plain. — Lord Henry is just 
 going to dance with her — It's very funny ! — 
 Well ! I declare. Colonel Acton is talking to 
 her ! really she is rather handsome ! — How 
 strange ! the Duke of Buxton is being intro- 
 duced ; she must be somebody ! — He has asked 
 her to all his parties ! — How very fine her 
 figure is ! what beautiful eyes ! — -Oh ! she must 
 be some foreigner of rank : I shall go and ask 
 Lady Lymington to bring her to my ball !" 
 
 These and a hundred more observations were 
 made on the blushing Emily as she was led to 
 the dance, and placed in the set by the gay, 
 handsome, and recherche Lord Henry Thursby, 
 whom all the mothers coveted for his fortune, 
 and most of the girls a little for his person, and 
 a great deal for his estates ; whilst the kind- 
 hearted Lady Lymington, delighted at the 
 effect produced by her young friend, placed 
 herself on one of the sofas to enjoy the plea- 
 sure of witnessing Emily's successful debut iu 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 121 
 
 the dance, where she acquitted herself in a 
 manner that might have made her instructress, 
 the graceful Bigotini, some\vhat jealous. 
 
 It has ever been such an established rule in 
 all works of this nature, to give a species of 
 portrait of the heroine, that I cannot find it in 
 ray heart to deviate from the acknowledged 
 custom ; but if the pencil of our first painter 
 failed in giving to his canvass the grace, sensi- 
 bility, and animation of the original, I trust 
 some indulgence will be granted to me, if I 
 produce but a feeble outline of the beautiful 
 Emily. If there was any fault in the appear- 
 ance of Miss Manby, it was in her stature, 
 which was certainly a little above the common 
 height of the fair persons around her, yet this 
 trifling excess was completely neutralized by 
 the inimitable contour of her figure, and the 
 matchless roundness and just proportions of 
 her form. Her hair, which was of the finest 
 texture and most glossy black, shaded v/ith 
 its rich and luxuriant masses a complexion 
 which vied in clearness and brilliancy with tliC 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
12^ HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 purest crystal ; her eyes were lighter, much 
 lighter than her hair, though of a dark and 
 brilliant hazel, with that soft and tender ex- 
 pression which Leonardo da Vinci has given to 
 the Belle Feronniere, and were fringed with 
 long and silken lashes, which almost united at 
 their extremities; whilst two eyebrows, traced 
 as it were with a fine pencil, curved in gentle 
 arches above them. Her profile had more resem- 
 blance to that of the effeminate Antinous, than 
 to the bust of any nymph or goddess which I can 
 remember, though the formal outline was broken 
 by a slight indenture at the base of the fore- 
 head. Her ear was remarkable not only for its 
 delicacy, but for being set on with that peculiar 
 grace which is rarely to be met with, save in 
 ancient gems or intaglios, which is generally the 
 characteristic of the finest antique heads. Her 
 mouth was small ; and her smile disclosed a set 
 of teeth, whose whiteness and regularity, had 
 they been more in fashion, might have sent 
 poor Waite, naughty Waite, to a much poorer 
 and perhaps more premature grave. Her left 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 123 
 
 cheek was indented with one of those little 
 wells, those " pozzetti che forma un dolce riso in 
 bella guancia,^'' so prettily described by Petrarch 
 or Guarini, I forget which. The form of her 
 head and neck was peculiar, and from its posi- 
 tion on her shoulders, gave to lier appearance 
 that blood-like look, which one could only com- 
 pare to the gaze of the race-horse, or the noble 
 erectness of the deer when suddenly aroused 
 from his lair. Add to this, a bust slightly in- 
 clined to embonpoint^ an arm that might have 
 served as a model for that of Canova's Hebe, 
 the most delicate and beautiful hand, and a foot 
 which did not yield in perfection to that of the 
 Princess Pauline herself, and you may form 
 some idea of what Emily Manby was in her 
 eighteenth year, when first presented by Lady 
 Lymington in the fashionable world. To many 
 this portrait may appear too highly coloured 
 and exaggerated; but I can assure them, if I 
 have erred, that it has not been on the side cf 
 flattery. 
 
 Not only the personal charms, but the gen- 
 G 2 
 
1^4 HERBERT MILTOK. 
 
 tleness and unaffected manners of Lady Ly- 
 mington's protegee^ became the theme of gene^ 
 ral praise, and attracted the attention not only 
 of all the young men, but, in despite of jea- 
 lousy, constrained the women also to avow that 
 Emily was a charming creature. The enco- 
 miums and assiduities of half-a-dozen particu- 
 lar men, -.vho are, in fact, almost the arbiters 
 of all young ladies'* destinies in the highest cir« 
 cles, are quite sufficient to bring any young 
 woman into fashion, and to establish her on the 
 very pinnacle of fashionable glory. The exam- 
 ple of such a select jury, who are themselves 
 the chosen deputies of fashion, is sure to be 
 followed by their admirers or imitators, and 
 inevitably entrains the opinions of all the rest 
 of tlie London world ; for who would dare to 
 find a spot or discover a blemish in any young 
 lady, whom a few of the crack members of 
 White's have condescended to notice by their 
 praise or attentions ? 
 
 The Countess of Lymington, who was no 
 longer young, but still retained all the vivacity 
 
HEr.BEUT MILTON. 1^5 
 
 and gaiety of her youth, in addition to the 
 most dignified and gra<?,eful manners, used often 
 to rally Emily upon her success in the world. 
 " Really, my dear," said the Countess to 
 Emily, one night at the Opera, " some kind 
 fairy must have taken me this season under her 
 special protection, and gifted me with the power 
 of attracting the youth and fashion of London 
 about my person. I have sat in this box for 
 half-a-dozen years, and have rarely had my 
 attention diverted from the music by visitors, 
 unless, iiideed, seme old lords and beaux 
 passes took pity upon me, or perhaps wanted a 
 good place to scj the ballet themselve?. But 
 now we are crowded almost to inconvenience by 
 all the smart men in tov/n ; whilst one hedrs 
 nothing else in the passages but ' Box-keeper, 
 which is Lady Lymington's ?^ or * Box-keeper, 
 open Lady Lymington's box.' And then, my 
 dear, we have a continued battery of glasses 
 directed at us from the pit." 
 
 Emily could only blush, and half serious, 
 half smiling, reply to her kind protectress — 
 
126 HEUBERT MILTON. 
 
 *' My dear Lady Lymington, I know little of 
 the world, but I am aware that it will fly in 
 crowds to see a new melo-drame or spectacle of 
 any kind, which, after a short season, when its 
 novelty is past, is cast away and forgotten for 
 ever; whilst, year after year, it will return 
 with renovated delight and pleasure, to the 
 good, the beautiful, and noble works, which for 
 ages to come will continue to amuse and in- 
 struct." 
 
 " Yes," replied Lady Lymington, not dis- 
 pleased with Emily's compliment, " the works 
 you allude to grow more valuable from their 
 age ; even a musty parchment cover and tatter- 
 ed frontispiece, add merit to them in the eye 
 of an amateur ; but this is not the case with 
 us poor women ; youth, novelty, and smart 
 dresses, are absolutely necessary for us. When 
 once these horrid v/riokles make their appear- 
 ance, adieu to admirers ; for now-a-days, we do 
 not meet with those amiable Counts de Niver- 
 nois, who could appear to feel as much affection 
 for my grey hairs, as their royal master might 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 127 
 
 have expresed for your raven locks : but," con- 
 tinued the Countess, laughing, '' I should much 
 like to know how this marvellous change has 
 been effected ? What is the reason, that had I 
 now as many arms as Briareus, I should still 
 require more to occupy all those that are ])ro- 
 jected for my acceptance when I go to my car- 
 riage ; whereas, last year, I was generally oblig- 
 ed to trust to the assistance of my footmen to 
 carry me through the crowd; now, the lungs 
 not only of all Mr. Ebers's people, but those 
 of half the young men in town, are exerted in 
 calling my servants ? I am certainly grown 
 very seductive, or else the cunning personages 
 are making love to me, in order to obtain more 
 easy access to you ; but, I shall disappoint 
 them all, my dear, as I intend to reserve you 
 for myself.'' 
 
 There was more meant in the latter re- 
 mark of Lady Lymington than Emily could 
 understand ; and, indeed, she felt so confused 
 and grateful to her kind friend, that she paid 
 little attention to an observation which mi£]jht 
 
128 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 have awakened hopes and expectations in the 
 mind of most young girls, of a very flattering 
 and agreeable nature — hopes which, in the 
 present instance, were not entirely in the power 
 of Emily to realize. 
 
 The affection and kindness of Lady Lyming- 
 ton for her young friend had indeed been strong- 
 ly marked from the period of her first arrival in 
 England ; and, if possible, these attentions were 
 increased after the death of Major Manby, 
 Emily becoming almost a constant visitor and 
 resident in St. James's Square. In fact, Lady 
 Lymington, from her affection for Miss Manby, 
 had long fondly cherished the hope of bringing 
 about an union between her young friend and her 
 Ladyship's second son, Lord Henry Thursby, 
 whose marked attentions to Miss Manby were 
 becoming every day more evident. 
 
 In the mean time, Herbert, whose attachment 
 for Emily had been gradually increasing from 
 the period of their first interview at Harwich, 
 watched with extreme anxiety the assiduities of 
 Lord Henry Thursby, and even doubted the 
 
HERBERT ailLTON. 129 
 
 possibility of his attaining the object for which 
 he had ventured to hope ; while Emily, on her 
 part, evidently appeared, notwithstanding, to 
 manifest stronger feelings towards Herbert than 
 could easily be accounted for, even by tht? 
 kind attentions he had shown to her during the 
 distressing circumstances of her late severe 
 affliction. 
 
 Of all the young women Lady Milton had 
 ever met, Emily was essentially the person 
 whom she would have preferred as a daughter- 
 in-law, had Herbert been independent of his 
 father, or had she herself sufficient influence 
 over her husband to soften his resentment, or 
 obtain his sanction ; but she dreaded the un- 
 bending nature of the Baronet, and the antici- 
 pation of his displeasure made her tremble for 
 the effects of the disappointment on the mind 
 of her son. 
 
 It was at this period tliat Herbert received 
 
 orders to hold himself in readiness for foreign 
 
 service, an event wliich Lady Milton hoped 
 
 would drive all remembrance of Emily from 
 
 G 5 
 
130 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 his mind, and thus prevent the possibiHty of a 
 rupture with his father. 
 
 The moment at length arrived when it was 
 necessary for Herbert to proceed with his bat- 
 talion to the place of embarkation. For some 
 days prior to his departure, he had sum- 
 moned sufficient courage to abstain from visit- 
 ing in Park-lane, wisely considering that the 
 agitation of his mind might have led him to 
 commit himself by avowing his sentiments, an 
 avowal which he imagined could only have the 
 effect of distressing Emily, and by revealing 
 the truth to himself, drive from his heart that 
 hope to which it still clung, in despite of the 
 dictates of reason and circumstances. To leave 
 London, however, without either speaking or 
 writing to Mrs. Walden or Miss Manby, was 
 more than he could bring himself to consent 
 to ; he therefore chose the latter. After, 
 however, writing a dozen notes, some of which 
 he found too long, others too laconic, some too 
 formal, and others too sentimental ; after pacing 
 up and down his room for an hour, and re- 
 
HERBERT MILTOX. 131 
 
 copying what be had ah-eady torn, he at last 
 abandoned all hope of being able to produce 
 «ny thing which exactly suited his purpose ; 
 and as the time had now arrived within a few 
 minutes for the assembly of his battalion on 
 the parade at the Horse Guards, he again em- 
 braced his disconsolate mother, and, in despite 
 of all his resolutions, found himself once more 
 in the presence of Emily. 
 
 Fearful of avowing his sentiments, he hastily 
 bid Miss Manby and Mrs. Walden adieu, with 
 a voice almost inarticulate from emotion, and 
 springing on his horse, and putting the animal 
 to its utmost speed, endeavoured for a moment 
 to dissipate his grief by the rapidity of his 
 motion, nor did he slacken his pace, until his 
 progress was impeded by the crowds which 
 were assembling to witness the departure of 
 the troops. And shortly after, amidst the sobs 
 and tears of their relatives, the brave men 
 commenced their march towards the Spanish 
 frontier. 
 
 It was not until the last sound of Herbert's 
 
132 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 footsteps had died upon her ear ; it was not 
 until she had the conviction of his being gone, 
 perhaps for ever, that Emily discovered to its 
 full extent, how intensely her heart was inte- 
 rested in his welfare, and how completely her 
 own existence was interwoven with that of the 
 young soldier. Now, however, the truth rushed 
 upon her mind in all its verity ; and giving way 
 to the force of those feelings which she had 
 hitherto endeavoured to repress, and, indeed, 
 of whose extent she had been until now igno- 
 rant, she burst into tears, and throwing her 
 arms round the neck of Mrs. Walden, confess- 
 ed to her indulgent companion the real state of 
 her sentiments. 
 
 Aware of the insuperable objection which 
 would in all probability exist in the breast of 
 Sir Herbert Milton to their union, Mrs. Wal- 
 den endeavoured, by every means in her power, 
 to prevail on Emily to discountenance the idea, 
 and to receive in their true character the at- 
 tentions of Lord Henry Thursby, the real 
 nature of which she now, for the first time. 
 
iiERBEiiT ain/roN. 133 
 
 thought it necessary distinctly to communicate, 
 but in vain ; no argument, no statement of the 
 probable consequences, corJd induce Emily to 
 remove Herbert from lier view as the object 
 of her lasting attachment ; nor did she after- 
 wards hesitate, when conversing with Lady 
 Lymington on the subject, to make known to 
 her Lad3'ship the real state of her feelings, and 
 firmly, yet gratefully, to decline the honour 
 intended her, in the union proposed between 
 herself and her Ladyship's elegant and ac- 
 complished ?on. Lord Henry Thursby. 
 
134 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Notwithstanding the mystery with which 
 Herbert Milton had endeavoured to envelope 
 his attachment for Emily, in despite of his de- 
 termined secrecy, and the coolness with which 
 he had constantly repulsed every effort on the 
 part of Sidney to dive into his thoughts, the 
 latter was not long before he discovered the 
 real situation of Herbert's mind ; and with the 
 usual ardour and good-nature of his disposi- 
 tion, he resolved to lend Herbert every assist- 
 ance in his power, during the absence of the 
 former in Spain. 
 
 Scarcely had Lord Henry Thursby's refusal 
 by Emily been made known, than Sidney com- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 135 
 
 municated the whole circumstance to his friend, 
 accompanying this intelligence with a few re- 
 marks upon the prol3able motives which had 
 induced Miss Manby to reject a marriage so 
 brilliant : adding to his letter the following 
 postscript: — "I have hitherto, Master Her- 
 bert, been making advances on your account ; 
 but, let me tell you, it is a very dangerous ser- 
 vice ; and as I feel a wonderful propensity to 
 fall in love myself, I hereby give you fair and 
 honourable warning, that unless you declare 
 your intentions, and throw off the mask, I shall 
 look upon myself as freely entitled to carry 
 on the siege for my own particular profit and 
 advantage." 
 
 Won by the frankness and friendship with 
 which Sidney had repaid his own reserve and 
 distrust, and perhaps feeling that his inte- 
 rest might be materially advanced, by se- 
 curing the co-operation of such an active and 
 kind-hearted ally as Sidney, as well as the 
 conviction he felt of the inutility of farther 
 attempting to mislead his friend, Herbert no 
 
136 HERBERT BlILTON, 
 
 longer delayed opening his whole heart to 
 him ; earnestly intreating him to consider 
 this confession as sacred and inviolable ; and 
 urging him, out of delicacy to Miss Manby, 
 and regard for him, not to divulge his secret 
 to any human being. 
 
 Pleased with this mark of Herbert's confi- 
 dence, and furnished, as it were, with full 
 powers, Sidney not only lost no time in exert- 
 ing himself, but showed much more skill, deli- 
 cacy, and management in the cause he had 
 undertaken, than could possibly have been ex- 
 pected from one so wild and thoughtless : but, 
 as we before observed, he had an excellent 
 hearts and was sincerely attached to Herbert ; 
 in whose behalf, he said, he thought he could 
 even sacrifice a Newmarket meeting. 
 
 For the purpose of better ascertaining the 
 nature of Emily's sentiments, Sidney called 
 more frequently in Park-lane, threw himself, 
 whenever the occasion presented itself, in her 
 way, and lost no opportunity of conversing 
 with her in society, when the expiration of 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 187 
 
 her mourning for Major Manby permitted her 
 once more to participate in the amusements 
 of the world ; where, however, she appeared 
 much more rarely, and evidently with much 
 Jess inclination or enjoyment, than formerly. 
 
 At first, Sidney contented himself with mere- 
 ly mentioning Herbert's name, as if accidentally; 
 but, at the same time, he failed not to scru- 
 tinize every look, every expression of Emily's 
 features. At one time, he spoke of his absent 
 friend with all the enthusiasm of the warmest 
 attachment, and then he observed that the 
 countenance of Emily beamed with pleasure 
 and satisfaction. At another, he pretended 
 to criticise, or rather quiz in a good-natured 
 manner, some of those little foibles, to which 
 Herbert, in common with others, was more or 
 less subject; and these remarks, he plainly 
 saw, were received with evident displeasure. 
 Then, again, he would endeavour to retrieve 
 his error, by touching a more agreeable chord, 
 and recounting some deed of kindness — some 
 act of charity performed by Herbert, unknown 
 
138 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 to all but himself, and the objects of his bounty. 
 The tear which ghstened in Emily's eye, the 
 animation of her beautiful countenance, glow- 
 ing with the blush arising from the emotion 
 of her own thoughts, sufficiently proved the 
 interest she took in the recital of these anec- 
 dotes. 
 
 Sidney would often talk to her of the army 
 in the Peninsula ; and, by way of probing her 
 feelings, would dwell upon the dangers, the 
 miseries, and hardships, to which both officers 
 and men were exposed, until he was warn- 
 ed to desist, by the agitation of his fair au- 
 ditress ; then he would change the subject, 
 and describe the pleasures with which they 
 were sometimes repaid for their sufferings ; 
 the balls, the f^tes, and gaieties which were 
 offered them by the natives ; nor did he omit 
 to mention the fascinations of the Spanish la- 
 dies, the raptures in which all the officers spoke 
 of them, and the numbers of English whose 
 hearts had been enthralled, and whose con- 
 stancy had given way to the charms of the 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 139 
 
 dark-eyed daughters of Iberia. When this 
 last subject was touched upon, the wary charge- 
 d'affaires carefully noted down the little marks 
 of uneasiness, and even jealousy, evinced by 
 Emily. In short, Sidney was enabled, in due 
 time, to forward such satisfactory reports to 
 Herbert, as afforded the latter, without vanity, 
 just reasons to hope that he had excited more 
 than a common interest in the heart of Miss 
 Manby. 
 
 Herbert now thought that he might ven- 
 ture to put into execution his intention of writ- 
 ing to Mrs. Walden, merely a letter of common 
 civility ; a plan which he had long projected, 
 but had been prevented from adopting by his 
 ignorance of Emily''s sentiments. 
 
 His letter, though addressed to Mrs. Wal- 
 den, was evidently intended for the perusal 
 of her young friend ; and while he most stu- 
 diously avoided making any declaration of his 
 real sentiments, he yet ventured to say, that 
 one of the greatest pleasures he looked forward 
 to, on his return to his native land, was that 
 
140 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 of seeing Mrs. Walden and Miss Manbj/ again. 
 He touched upon every subject which he 
 thought could interest or amuse Emily. With 
 some degree of art, and, perhaps, not with- 
 out doing violence to his conscience, he ex- 
 pressed his disappointment at the vaunted 
 beauty of the Spanish damsels; an opinion 
 which, he took care to observe, differed, as it 
 did, in fact, from that of almost all his brother- 
 officers. He dwelt, however, v/ith rapture on 
 the magnificence of the Spanish scenery, the 
 grandeur of the mountains, the fertility of the 
 plains, and the picturesque variety of the cos- 
 tumes. He spoke, with the greatest admira- 
 tion, of the richness of the literature, the 
 majesty of the language, and the charms of 
 the national music. Then he observed the 
 contrast between the spirit, inteUigence, and 
 activity of the Spaniards of olden times, and 
 the apathy and indolence of its present race 
 of inhabitants, to avail themselves of the mani- 
 fold benefits which nature has conferred, with 
 lavish hand, upon that lovely, unhappy land, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 141 
 
 where man, alone, seems unworthy and indif- 
 ferent to the blessings of Providence. 
 
 He described with enthusiasm, those glorious 
 days when her numerous and invincible fleets 
 triumphantly swept the surface of the ocean, 
 and carried the terror of her name to the re- 
 motest quarters of the globe ; when the genius 
 of her statesmen, the talents of her generals, 
 and the unrivalled discipline of her soldiers, 
 laid' Europe trembling at her feet ; when the 
 burning desert and frozen glacier, or the dan- 
 gers of unknown and distant seas, presented 
 feeble barriers to the enterprise and ardour of 
 her adventurous subjects, by whom- vast and 
 hitherto unheard-of regions were explored and 
 conquered, and new and inexhaustible mines 
 of wealth, power, and prosperity, poured into 
 the bosom of the mother- country. He called 
 to mind that epoch when the banner of Spain 
 floated in almost universal and proud domi- 
 nion; when the immortal compositions of her 
 artists, the brilliant and varied productions of 
 her literary men, the splendour and politeness 
 
142 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 of her courtiers, and the purity of her idiom, 
 rendered her as admirable in the school of 
 arts, science, and politeness, as she was for- 
 midable in the field and terrible on the ocean. 
 Herbert compared all this with her present 
 abject and fallen state: — arts, science, litera- 
 ture, military and political glory, had fled 
 before the demons of ignorance and supersti- 
 tion ; and from being in a measure mistress and 
 lawgiver of almost the whole civilized world, 
 she was now become the prey of a faithless and 
 cowardly monarch, and the degraded victim 
 of a crafty, avaricious, and fanatic priesthood. 
 
 To make amends, however, for all this tire- 
 some tirade, Herbert inclosed in his letter some 
 of the most beautiful specimens of Spanish airs 
 and Portuguese Modinhas ; and he was not a 
 little pleased to hear, in due time, that Emily 
 was taking infinite pains to learn the Spanish 
 language, and that the music he had trans- 
 mitted was the endless subject of her study and 
 amusement. Herbert, however, was still more 
 delighted to receive an answer from Mrs. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 143 
 
 Walden ; and his heart bounded when the 
 drum-major of his regiment, with his usual 
 formahty and unbending stiffness, addressed 
 him with that kind of freedom which his long 
 services induced some of the senior officers to 
 suffer, and which the youngsters encouraged 
 from the quaintness of the man. 
 
 " A litter for your honour, Captain Milton. 
 One shiUing and too pence. A lady''s hand. 
 Hope your honour is not going to be married. 
 Them weddings has robbed the regiment of 
 many a good officer !'* And then raising his 
 hand to his gold-laced hat, he turned to the 
 right-about, and marched off with his cane 
 towards another party of officers, and left 
 Herbert to meditate upon the epistle, which, 
 before he attempted to read, he turned over 
 in every direction, to see if by chance Emi- 
 ly's name, or, perhaps, her handwriting, ap- 
 peared in any part of it. This answer pro- 
 duced, as might be anticipated, another letter 
 from Herbert ; and in due time a regular cor- 
 respondence was established. 
 
IM HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 A battle having at length taken place, Her- 
 bert's name appeared in the Gazette as suc- 
 cessor to a company in his regiment, caused 
 by the death of an officer who had fallen in 
 the affair: and his immediate return to Eng- 
 land, in consequence of this event, when 
 announced to Emily, filled her heart with 
 joy; though Mrs. Walden could not avoid 
 looking upon this return with dread, as she 
 foresaw the crisis must now arrive which 
 must decide for ever the happiness or misery 
 of Emily. 
 
 As soon as Herbert received the intelligence 
 of his promotion, accompanied by an order to 
 return forthwith to the head-quarters of his 
 regiment, he made preparations for his de- 
 parture ; but however delighted he might 
 have been at the idea of again revisiting his 
 native land, and of again being united to those 
 who were dearest to him in existence, yet he 
 could not quit his brave companions in arms, 
 who were still destined to perform so many 
 glorious exploits, (and many of whom he might 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 145 
 
 never see again,) without a deep sensation of 
 regret. 
 
 It was not without the utmost emotion that 
 he entered the cabinet of the great chieftain, 
 whose kindness to himself had been particu- 
 larly marked. In vain he endeavoured to give 
 utterance to the feelings of gratitude which he 
 wished to express; and as the hero extended 
 his hand to bid adieu to the young soldier, 
 the thrill which it imparted to the whole frame 
 of the latter seemed to animate his soul with 
 a portion of that immortal fire which flowed 
 in the veins of the conqueror himself. Had 
 not the image of Emily swept before his sight, 
 he would have renounced home, friends, and 
 promotion, rather than quit the commander 
 whom he almost worshipped. 
 
 Herbert had ever felt the same enthusiastic 
 admiration for the man before whom he stood, 
 which, fortunately for England, animated the 
 breasts of the lowest soldier in her small but 
 valiant host. 
 
 The few campaigns Herbert had made, had 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 
 
 HKRBERT MILTON. 
 
 taught him how to esthnate the chief, who 
 himself so well understood how to appreciate 
 the rising merits, and reward the courage and 
 devotion of the young warriors under his com- 
 mand. Disdaining the ordinary trammels which 
 had, generally speaking, enthralled the minds 
 and impeded the actions of former British com- 
 manders, the hero at once burst through the 
 shackles of antiquated systems, and mathemat- 
 ical technicalities, and, above all, had shown 
 himself indifferent to the pretensions of favour, 
 interest, and fortune. Promptitude and deci- 
 sion marked his commands, and victory his 
 progress. With an equal hand and unerring 
 judgment, rewards were bestowed on the young- 
 est subaltern, when his bravery attracted the 
 notice of his superiors ; whilst punishment was 
 meted to the highest in authority, when mis- 
 conduct or incapacity called for censure or 
 disgrace. Disregarding the absurd pretensions 
 of parade-tacticians, and orderly-room heroes, 
 whose pens had alone given proofs of their mi- 
 litary existence, whilst their virgin swords had 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 417 
 
 slumbered in their scabbards ; he founded, as 
 it were, a new practical military school, and 
 formed for his country an army, such as Eng- 
 land never had hitherto possessed ; an army, 
 which not only gave daily proofs upon the 
 enemy, of their commander's skill and con- 
 summate judgment, but which enabled him to 
 throw himself in security upon his couch, with 
 the gratifying feeling, that the confidence be- 
 tween it and himself was mutual and well- 
 deserved ; and that he had but to rise and 
 give the signal for the onset, and the victory 
 was his own, however unequal the numbers, 
 arduous the service, or disadvantageous the cir- 
 cumstances.* 
 
 * It may not be inappropriate to record an anec- 
 dote, communicated by an officer of high rank, which, 
 had the subject of it occurred in the French army, would 
 probably have furnished a trait as worthy of the pencil 
 of the inimitable Horace Vernet, as it is deserving 
 of the illustrious days of his classic namesake. " Late 
 on the evening of the battle of Albhuera," (it is the 
 General who speaks,) "'I ,rode forward to examine the 
 positions occupied by the enemy during this murderous 
 conflict. On passing a hillock, where a British l^rigade 
 H 2 
 
148 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Herbert had now reached Lisbon, on his 
 way to England, where he determined to 
 
 had charged and driven from the field a battery of 
 the enemy's gunS; 1 perceived four bodies lying sepa- 
 rate from, and considerably in advance of, the remain- 
 ing slain. Three were French, and the fourth a pri- 
 vate of the Third Foot. It was evident that a deadly 
 and mortal struggle had taken place between these men, 
 which had ended in the death of the whole. Observing, 
 however, by the convulsive movements of the English 
 soldier, that life was not yet extinct, I dismounted, 
 and raising the poor fellow, poured a small portion of 
 spirits down his throat, and then, imagining that he 
 might recover, and that he was only exhausted from 
 loss of blood, I directed my attendants to place him 
 on a horse, and convey him to the bivouac. The 
 poor fellow, who had not entirely lost the use of his 
 senses or voice, now raised himself a little, opened 
 his eyes, stared wildly about him for a moment, and 
 then fixed an inquiring look on me, and said, " It 's 
 of no use, your honour, it 's of no use to move me, 
 I am a dead man !" Then, clenching his teeth, and 
 casting a ghastly and triumphant look on the other 
 bodies, he added, " but there lie three for one." We 
 were still proceeding to lift him on the horse, when 
 he again exclaimed, " Leave me, leave me to die quiet- 
 ly, your honour ! but first tell me, who won the bat- 
 tle ?'"* • " We, to be sure," was my reply. Then, start- 
 ing upon his legs, with a violent and almost supernatu- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 149 
 
 remain a short time, in order to await the 
 sailing of a ship-of-war, in which it was 
 his intention to embark. When returning 
 one night, with two other officers from a late 
 party at Janellas Verdes, the palace of the 
 British Ambassador, which was at a consi- 
 derable distance from their hotel, Herbert re- 
 marked that they were followed by three in- 
 dividuals, who appeared studiously to track 
 their movements. In proportion as the officers 
 accelerated or relaxed their pace, or whenever 
 they stopped to look around, they perceived 
 that they were imitated by their pursuers, who 
 also carefully kept their persons concealed be- 
 neath the shade of the houses, or the projecting 
 porticos of the numerous churches. The first 
 impulse of the friends, who were in uniform, 
 and consequently armed, was at once to turn 
 
 ral effort^ he huzzaed, or rather shrieked aloud, " Thank 
 God ! England ! England ! the Old BuiFs for ever !'' and 
 then hounding three or four yards, as if he had re- 
 ceived a shot through his heart, he rolled over,''and fell 
 dead beneath the horse's feet." 
 
150 TTElirfiTlT'mLT-ON. 
 
 upon the men, and either to insist upon their 
 proceeding before them, or force them to 
 explain their motives for following in this sus- 
 picious manner; but as the fellows contented 
 themselves with keeping at a distance, and as 
 they had shown no decided symptoms of com- 
 mitting any act of hostility, the officers forbore 
 to interrupt them ; contenting themselves with 
 preserving the middle of the streets, and closely 
 watching the movements of these suspicious 
 persons. In due time, the gentlemen reached 
 the Praca de Soudre^ in which was situated 
 their hotel, and as the men who had followed 
 them to this spot, continued their progress 
 towards the Arsenal, without taking any far- 
 ther notice of them, they mutually rallied each 
 other at the folly of their apprehensions, and 
 were now inclined to admit that it was impos- 
 sible the fellows could have entertained an}'^ 
 sinister intentions against them. The party 
 felt the more ashamed of their suspicions, when 
 they considered that such an event as an open 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 151 
 
 attack upon British officers in the streets, was 
 not only unusual, but unheard of ; and in this 
 instance there was still less probability of such 
 an outrage being meditated, as they were uncon- 
 scious of having given offence, and had not 
 been long enough in Lisbon to have excited 
 any personal animosity against them. The 
 idea of a common robbery was out of the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 The night was calm and sultry, and of that 
 peculiar clearness and brilliancy which is only 
 to be met with in southern climates, where, in 
 fact, the transition from the meridian glory of 
 the sun to the tranquil loveliness of the night, 
 appears to have been produced by the suspen- 
 sion of a magic curtain of the purest ultrama- 
 rine before the rays of the mighty luminary, 
 rather than by its total disappearance beneath 
 the horizon. Herbert, who felt httle inclina- 
 tion to retire to rest, directed his servant to place 
 his writing materials on the table, and after dis- 
 missing him, drew his chair near the open win- 
 
152 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 dowj and occupied himself in making some ad- 
 ditions to his journal. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, he had heard 
 the splashing of oars, the grating of a boat as 
 it touched the shore, then the sound of foot- 
 steps, and voices as if conversing in a whisper 
 beneath his window ; but of this . he took no 
 notice, though his attention was much excited 
 by the uneasiness and singular irritation of his 
 favourite dog. This noble animal was of that 
 scarce and beautiful breed of mastiffs, or blood- 
 hounds, which is sometimes, though rarely, to be 
 met with in the Sierra Morena, and other south- 
 ern parts of Spain. They are said to be descen- 
 dants of that ferocious race, which were train- 
 ed and employed by the old Spaniards for the 
 purpose of hunting down and exterminating 
 the original inhabitants of their newly acquired 
 American possessions, and were at a later pe- 
 riod made use of by the planters in Cuba and 
 other islands of the Spanish Main, to track the 
 Maroons, or runaway slaves, who had escaped 
 from the dreadful tyranny of their masters, and 
 
HERBERT MILTON.' 153 
 
 secreted themselves in the fastnesses of the 
 woods or mountains. The beautiful and saga- 
 cious beast (who was Herbert's constant com- 
 panion, and of whose vigilance and courage he 
 had already had ample proofs) no sooner heard 
 the noises beneath the window, than he uttered 
 a long and low growl, then raised himself on 
 his fore-legs, and bristled up the hair of his 
 back, whilst, from the shade by which he 
 was enveloped, his eyes seemed gleaming with 
 fire. With violent symptoms of anger and irri- 
 tation the huge animal rushed into the balcony, 
 where for a while he snuffed the air, moaned, 
 growled and scraped the floor ; then he came 
 to Herbert's side, placed his paws on his 
 knees, licked his hands, and looked with almost 
 human expression in his master's face ; he then 
 ran to the different doors of the room, again 
 snuffed, scented, and scratched, and with in- 
 creasing uneasiness again returned, wagging his 
 tail, to Herbert's side. To humour his favourite, 
 Herbert took up his candle, opened the doors, 
 and examined every corner of his own room, as 
 h5 
 
154 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 well as the adjoining apartment. Nothing, how- 
 ever, appearing to warrant the extraordinary 
 proceeding of his four-footed friend, Herbert 
 fastened the doors, and endeavoured to coax 
 his dumb favourite to rest, by spreading his 
 cloak on the floor, and by addressing to him the 
 usual caresses of " Come, old man ! Majo ! 
 Chucho querido ! down !"" but in vain ; the ani- 
 mal only wagged his tail, rubbed his nose against 
 his master's hand, and then obstinately placed 
 himself in the balcony, where he continued 
 growling, whining, and bristling his back, until 
 Herbert, tired with his interruption, called him 
 into the adjoining room, bolted the door, and 
 angrily ordered him to be quiet, which command 
 the noble beast appeared to have obeyed, after 
 pawing the lock of the door several times, and 
 expressing his anger by a succession of growls, 
 whines, and sharp barkings. More than an 
 hour had elapsed, and as the greatest stillness 
 reigned in the hotel, and the reflection of the 
 lights on the river had gradually died away 
 as they were successively extinguished in the 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 155 
 
 house, he prepared to retire to rest ; still, how- 
 ever, attracted by the beauty of the night, Her- 
 bert remained for some time leaning on the bal- 
 cony, in silent admiration of the lovely scene 
 which lay before him. 
 
 At his feet, and within a stone's throw, the 
 golden Tagus, on whose surface the starry map 
 of heaven was reflected by myriads of dancing 
 and glittering spangles, flashed its rippling ed- 
 dies in monotonous succession against the walls 
 of the quay. On the right as far as the eye 
 could span, hundreds of vessels shot upwards 
 towards the heavens the dark outlines of their 
 masts, like some bleak forest of larch disrobed 
 of its foliage ; whilst the Tower of Belem rear- 
 ing its black battlements above the tide, either 
 frowned in solemn and clouded majesty, or 
 glistened for a moment as the rays of the moon 
 glanced on its bristling cannon, or lighted the 
 angles of its turrets. 
 
 In the centre of the stream, the indistinct 
 and sombre masses of the ships of war, as they 
 rode quietly and sluggishly at anchor on the 
 
156 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 bosom of the current, appeared like some huge 
 monsters of the deep reposing on the flood. 
 
 On the opposite side, the shores of Almada, 
 with their craggy steeps and vine-clad banks, 
 its summit crowned with villages and quintas, 
 its groves of orange, myrtle, and pomegranate, 
 — cast its dark shades across the river in a thou- 
 sand fantastic and varying forms, and filled the 
 air with the fragrance of its flowers. 
 
 On the left, the grey and formal bastions of 
 the Castle rose in majestic grandeur above the 
 slumbering city ; whose thousand steeples, mi- 
 narets, and spires, glittered like pyramids of 
 pure silver through the veil of night. Before 
 him extended the broad and splendid bay, across 
 whose dark blue waters, unbroken by a single 
 wave, the moon cast her light in one long, un- 
 divided, and brilliant stream, from the very 
 strand of Aldea Gallega to the wall of the 
 city. The tranquillity and stillness of the night 
 was unbroken, save by the casual apparition of 
 some Blankanese boat as it rapidly descended 
 the river on its course to the fishing-ground. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 157 
 
 or by the monotonous though not unpleasing 
 chant of the fishermen, as they rose and sunk 
 to their oars. 
 
 Herbert was on the point of retiring from 
 the window, when his attention was attracted 
 by the shadow of two figures which were emerg- 
 ing from beneath the shade of a wall, at a short 
 distance to the left of the hotel. He imme- 
 diately perceived that one was a strong and 
 gigantic-looking man, who appeared to be 
 dragging after him a female, and, from what 
 he could discover, not a woman of an inferior 
 class. 
 
 A moment sufficed for Herbert to distinguish, 
 by the faint cries and intreaties of the woman, 
 and the ferocious threats of the man, that rob- 
 bery or murder was the object of the latter; 
 and he plainly perceived that it was the ruffian's 
 intention to force his victim down to the mar- 
 gin of the stream, and, having accomplished his 
 purpose, to cast her body into the tide. The 
 situation was admirably adapted for a deed of 
 this dreadful nature, being one of those secluded 
 
158 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 issues, or rather passages, sloping down to the 
 Tagus, constructed in by-streets, for the con- 
 venience of the muleteers and carmen to water 
 their mules and oxen ; being enclosed on one 
 side by the lofty and blank walls of a convent, 
 and by the masonry of the quay on the other, 
 whilst scarcely a single house or window, save 
 that of Herbert's chamber, overlooked the 
 spot. 
 
 To see a woman in danger, or ill-treat-ed, and 
 to fly to her rescue formed but one act in 
 the mind of Herbert. It was evident no time 
 should be lost : springing, therefore, from the 
 window, he seized his sabre, rushed down the 
 stairs, tore open the door of the house, ringing 
 the house-bell at the same moment, and then 
 flying round the corner, in another instant he 
 was at the head of the slope. When he ap- 
 peared, the ruffian, who had already dragged 
 his victim to the very brink of the river, re- 
 laxed his hold, and, drawing his sword, awaited 
 Herbert's approach ; whilst the female, to whose 
 rescue Herbert had hastened, no sooner per- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 159 
 
 ceived herself at liberty, than she fled past 
 him with the speed of a deer, and, without 
 even thanking her preserver, disappeared in an 
 instant. 
 
 Not satisfied, however, with having provi- 
 dentially snatched this woman from the very 
 jaws of death, Herbert determined to seize the 
 ruffian himself, and then to deliver him to the 
 police : for this purpose he continued advanc- 
 ing ; and desiring the fellow to throw down his 
 sword, commanded him instantly to surrender. 
 To this the villain made no reply but by ut- 
 tering one of those hissing noises so familiar to 
 every one who has visited Lisbon, and in an 
 instant Herbert saw two other men rapidly 
 emerge from the shade of a buttress. 
 
 Our gallant countryman immediately per- 
 ceived that his rashness and imprudence had 
 drawn him into one of those guei-apatis, into 
 which he heard (but did not believe) that 
 other British officers had fallen. The precipi- 
 tate flight of the woman, the sudden and pre- 
 concerted appearance of the two men, left no 
 
160 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 doubt upon his mind of the fact ; and although 
 he condemned his own folly, there was now no 
 time for repentance, and he determined at once 
 to make a desperate push to secure his retreat, 
 or at all events to sell his life as dearly as pos- 
 sible, if the ruffians should attempt to interrupt 
 his progress, or have the audacity to attack 
 him. 
 
 Before he had time to secure the cord of his 
 sabre firmly round his wrist, all doubts of the in- 
 tentions of the villains were put an end to by 
 their hastily advancing towards him, headed by 
 the tallest and most ferocious of the three, who, 
 with a pistol in one hand and a long rapier in 
 the other, was already within a few feet of his 
 person. With the decision and promptitude of 
 lightning, and with the strength and activity of 
 a tiger, Herbert sprung forward upon the fore- 
 most ruffian, and before he had time to dis- 
 charge his weapon, it had already flown into 
 the Tagus, dashed from his grasp by a stroke 
 of Herbert's sabre ; whilst, at the same time, 
 a tremendous blow from the left hand of the 
 
HERBERT MILTON 161 
 
 latter, laid the wretch prostrate and senseless on 
 the pavement. 
 
 Herbert"'s coolness and undaunted courage 
 were only to be rivalled by his perfect skill in 
 the use of all offensive and defensive weapons ; 
 and most fortunate was it for him at this tre- 
 mendous moment that he possessed these advan- 
 tages in the highest degree, for never had a man 
 more urgent necessity for the employment of 
 his valour. Undaunted by the fall of their 
 comrade, the two remaining bravoes, who were 
 armed with a long knife in the left, and a sword 
 in the right hand, advanced with still greater 
 impetuosity, and commenced a most furious 
 and simultaneous assault upon Herbert, who 
 had placed his back against the wall of the 
 quay, and continued to parry their blows with 
 consummate coolness and dexterity. It was evi- 
 dent that the two villains were perfect masters 
 of their weapons; and therefore Milton saw 
 that his only chance of victory was by conti- 
 nuing to act upon the defensive, and to preserve 
 his strength until a favourable moment should 
 
162 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 present itself of wounding or disarming one of 
 his assailants, and then of making his escape 
 from the other. 
 
 This unequal contest had already continued 
 for some minutes, when Herbert, who had re- 
 ceived three slight wounds from the swords of 
 his adversaries, felt that it was time to make a 
 violent effort, or the loss of blood, which flow- 
 ed from his arm and thigh, might render him 
 too weak to offer farther resistance. Being 
 himself in the shade, and his opponents being 
 exposed to the full rays of the moon, he was 
 the better enabled to watch their countenances, 
 and to evade or parry their blows. Seizing the 
 instant when the eye of one of the ruffians ap- 
 peared to be diverted to some object upon the 
 wall, Herbert sprung in, and with well-directed 
 aim almost severed the villain's sword-arm from 
 his shoulder, whilst the weapon it wielded fell 
 harmless to the ground ; then, observing that 
 .both his antagonists had retreated two or three 
 steps, Herbert collected his remaining strength, 
 and was about to make an effort to rush by 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 163 
 
 them towards the hotel, when he found himself 
 suddenly pinioned as it were, and pulled back 
 towards the wall, by what he quickly discover- 
 ed to be a rope cast over him from the parapet 
 of the quay. His situation was now, indeed, 
 truly critical, and it appeared as if nothing but 
 the immediate intervention of Providence could 
 rescue him. By a violent exertion he contrived, 
 however, to liberate his right arm, and still in 
 some measure he was enabled to defend himself 
 with his sword, but every effort to disengage 
 the rest of his person was fruitless. These 
 vain exertions, however, could not last long; 
 his violent struggles, caused the blood to 
 flow more rapidly from his wounds ; whilst 
 at the same time he felt the treacherous noose 
 tightening every instant round his person, and 
 his strength and courage proportionately de- 
 creasing. 
 
 With mixed sensations of rage, despair, and 
 horror, he saw the moment was fast approach- • 
 ing when he must yield himself an unresisting 
 prey to the mercy, or rather blood-thirsty inten- 
 
164 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 tions, of his ruffianly assassins. His mother — 
 Emily — his friends — life, with all its gay and 
 happy prospects — death, a degrading, horrible 
 death, swam before his eyes ; — above all, a pang 
 of repentance at the rashness which had drawn 
 him into the power of these ruffians, caused his 
 heart to beat with extreme agony and bitter- 
 ness. Every moment he was becoming weaker ; 
 the blood from the wound on his forehead 
 trickled into his eyes, and dimmed his sight ; 
 the point of his sword, which he had hitherto 
 held so as to guard his person, now gradually 
 sunk towards the ground ; already one of the 
 ruffians had rushed in upon him with his knife, 
 and he felt the cold steel penetrate his flesh ; all 
 appeared lost, his head became dizzy, his eyes 
 were swimming in the faintness of death ; the 
 gleam of the moon shone upon the knife of the 
 assassin, lifted to renew the stroke — when sud- 
 denly the noose which bound him was relaxed, 
 and he reeled forward and fell upon his knee 
 at the foot of the villain, whose blow not only 
 missed its aim, but, by the violence with which 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 165 
 
 it was driven, the knife itself was shivered to 
 fragments against the wall. He then heard a 
 rushing noise, accompanied by a sharp, deep, 
 growl ; then followed a curse, a struggle, a 
 groan, and the noise of a body falling ; and "wip- 
 ing the blood from his eyes and disengaging his 
 hand, he saw his faithful dog immovably fixed 
 on the throat of his assassin, whom the noble 
 animal had hurled prostrate to the ground, and 
 held down, wdth his mouth and claws, as secure- 
 ly as if he were impanelled in a vice. In the 
 mean time, a female voice was heard exclaim- 
 ing in Spanish, " Fly, fly, Perez ! to the boat 
 for your life ! Here come English !'' distant 
 cries of " Milton, Milton, speak ! Where are 
 you?" struck his ear; and he saw the third 
 ruffian, accompanied by a woman, rush by him 
 towards the river, spring into a skiff, and then 
 disappear. 
 
 In a few seconds, several officers arrived to 
 the assistance of their brave countryman, whom 
 they found extended on the pavement, sense- 
 less and faint from loss of blood. Whilst 
 
166 
 
 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 some of the party occupied themselves in re- 
 moving Herbert to his apartment, others pro- 
 ceeded to secure the two ruffians, one of whom 
 still remained apparently motionless from the 
 blow he had received, whilst the other was 
 vainly endeavouring to extricate himself from 
 the grasp of the blood-hound: indeed, it re- 
 quired the united efforts of the whole party 
 to disengage the villain, whose throat and 
 breast were dreadfully lacerated by the teeth 
 and claws of the faithful animal. 
 
 Though the brave young officer had lost 
 much blood, and was at first extremely faint, 
 he quipkly recovered sufficient strength to be 
 enabled to recount the circumstances which 
 had so nearly proved fatal to him ; and, as may 
 be well imagined, his gallantry and heroism be- 
 came the theme of general praise and admira- 
 tion. At the same time, he was informed that 
 he owed his eventual safety to his dog, who 
 bad now taken his station near his master's 
 bed, and could not be induced to quit his side 
 for a moment. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 167 
 
 It appeared that Herbert had no sooner 
 rushed down-stairs, leaving the animal fastened 
 in the adjoining room, ere the courageous beast 
 commenced howling and barking most furious- 
 ly ; and, in his eagerness to accompany his 
 master, had overthrown tables and chairs, and, 
 in short, created such a disturbance that the 
 whole house was speedily aroused, and many 
 of the officers hastened to the spot. Upon 
 finding Herbert's door open, the scabbard of 
 his sword in the passage, and upon observ- 
 ing that the dog was no sooner liberated than 
 he rushed down-stairs and flew after his mas- 
 ter, the officers concluded something extra- 
 ordinary must have occurred, and immediately 
 salHed forth in pursuit of the animal, when 
 they arrived, just in time to rescue their 
 friend. 
 
 Upon a careful examination of Herbert's 
 wounds, they were declared to be trifling ; 
 even that which he had received from the 
 knife of one of the ruffians, had fortunately 
 only cut through the outward flesh of his left 
 
168 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 arm, and glanced across his ribs. In short, 
 in a few days he was enabled to attend the 
 first examination of the captured bravoes, — 
 the affair having been taken up with infinitely 
 more promptitude and decision than was at 
 all usual with the Portuguese authorities. 
 
 During the hurried and fearful moments of 
 Herbert's struggle with his cowardly assailants, 
 he had been much struck by the singular re- 
 semblance between the features of one of the 
 wretches, and those of a Spanish servant whom 
 he had dismissed from his service a few months 
 previous. But he had heard of the man's 
 being in England, and indeed, the fearful ne- 
 cessity of watching their movements and par- 
 rying their blows, had left him no time to 
 make comparisons, or observe more nearly 
 the villain's countenance. His suspicions were, 
 however, not only revived but confirmed by 
 the deposition of the prisoners, who, upon 
 being promised that their lives should be 
 spared, at once made every necessary con- 
 fession, and, farther, gave every assistance 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 169 
 
 which could aid in the detection of their con- 
 federate. 
 
 By their confessions, the mystery was cleared 
 up; and it was evident to Herbert, that re- 
 venge for having been driven from his ser- 
 vice (the reasons for which will be explained 
 hereafter) had excited the monster to seek 
 his late master'^s life. The prisoners, in answer 
 to the questions put to them, stated that they 
 were natives of Xeres, in Andalusia ; that they 
 were by profession bull-fighters, and had quit- 
 ted, or rather fled from Seville, in consequence 
 of a disagreement with the police ; they had 
 only been a few days in Lisbon, whither they 
 had come to obtain employment, or exhibit 
 themselves in the Arena. 
 
 They added, that they were totally unac- 
 quainted with the Colonel, and bore him no 
 malice ; but that they were met one evening 
 at a wine-house, by an individual named Anto- 
 nio Perez, commonly called El Zcrro, whom 
 they had formerly known as a Majo at Seville, 
 and who, they understood, had been some 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 years in the service of the English. After 
 treating them to several quartillos of wine, 
 and showing them a pocket-full of money, 
 Perez proposed to them to lend him their as- 
 sistance in dispatching an Englishman, for 
 which service they were to receive a thou- 
 sand reals each. They had accepted the offer, 
 and received their instructions how to act. 
 
 During several days they had followed the 
 Colonel on his return home, but were unable 
 to attack him, either from his being in the 
 company of other officers, or from the number 
 of persons still in the streets. Five or six 
 times they had endeavoured to entice him 
 from his apartment by the same scheme which 
 had so fully succeeded on the night of the 
 ambassador'*s party, and in which the mistress 
 of Ferez, who was a Gitana, performed so dan- 
 gerous a part. They had traced him from 
 the house of the ambassador, and having 
 mounted the parapet of the quay, observed 
 he was employed in writing : and as Perez, 
 who planned the scheme, well knew his for- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 171 
 
 mer master's gallantry would cause him to 
 descend to the assistance of any woman in 
 danger, he adopted the measures already de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The villains added, that the mistress of 
 Perez, who had been in South America, pro- 
 posed throwing a noose, or la^o, over the head 
 of the victim, should his bravery and weU- 
 known skill prove too much for the united 
 efforts of the party ; and that it was their in- 
 tention to carry out the body of their mur- 
 dered victim in a boat, and to have sunk it 
 in the Tagus. 
 
 Notwithstanding a most active and minute 
 search by the police, assisted by the disclo- 
 sures of the prisoners, every attempt to arrest 
 Perez and his paramour proved abortive ; and 
 it was soon discovered that they had both 
 escaped on board a vessel which had sailed 
 from Setubal for Val Paraiso. The usual 
 forms having been gone through, the two pri- 
 soners were condemned to perpetual labour in 
 the gallies, and to be branded on the forehead. 
 I 2 
 
172 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Delighted as Herbert must have naturally 
 felt, and thankful as he was to Providence 
 for having rescued his life from such imminent 
 peril, still the circumstance left a deep and 
 lasting impression on his heart, and caused 
 him a degree of uneasiness which he could not 
 control or account for. The base ingratitude 
 and treachery of the villain Perez, whilst it 
 excited the utmost disgust and indignation, 
 gave rise to the most painful and contradic- 
 tory surmises in Herbert's mind. He could 
 scarcely believe that the man whom he had 
 saved from the pains of an ignominious punish- 
 ment, to whom, during four years, he had 
 shown the utmost liberality, and treated 
 with unbounded confidence, could thus basely 
 repay liis generosity, or carry his spirit of 
 unholy vengeance so far as to return to Lis- 
 bon purposely to seek the life of his bene- 
 factor. 
 
 If this man Perez was the agent of another, 
 who could be his employer ? Herbert was un- 
 conscious of having wilfully offended any hu- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 173 
 
 man being : he had caused no quarrels, had 
 formed no female liaisons in the country, conse- 
 quently could have no rivals, and was not aware 
 that he had a single enemy in the world. 
 
 The whole affair appeared to be involved in 
 an impenetrable mystery, and he endeavoured to 
 calm the anxiety of his thoughts, by attribu- 
 ting the whole matter to the infernal design of 
 Perez. 
 
 For many years prior to Herbert's departure 
 from England, Perez had been employed as 
 valet de chamhre to his cousin, Alfred Milton ; 
 and when the former was about to leave Lon- 
 don with his regiment, Alfred hinted to him 
 this man might be of great use in the Peninsula, 
 not only from his knowledge of the language, 
 but from his activity, talents, and moreover 
 from his being an excellent cook ; no trifling 
 recommendation (let it be said) to a campaign- 
 ing servant. In short, Alfred kindly offered 
 to transfer the fellow's services to his cousin, 
 and Herbert gladly accepted the proposal. 
 During nearly four years, Perez continued to 
 
174 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 give the greatest satisfaction to his master ; and 
 although he had observed that the man appear- 
 ed occasionally to possess more money, and to live 
 more expensively than his station justified, yet 
 as he never missed any sums himself, he had 
 not only no grounds to doubt his honesty, 
 but permitted him to enjoy his utmost confi- 
 dence. 
 
 Herbert's suspicions of the man's fidelity 
 and honesty were however at length awakened, 
 by hearing from England that letters which he 
 remembered had been intrusted to Perez's 
 charge to convey to the post, had either not 
 reached their destination, or had arrived with 
 evident marks of having been opened. 
 
 He had also remarked that the letters and 
 papers in his own letter-box were often dis- 
 arranged and some were wanting. He had 
 latterly, also, missed several pieces of gold, 
 which were inclosed in the same case. Unwil- 
 ling to tax Perez at once, and being aware that 
 these robberies could only take place when 
 he was asleep, he determined to be upon his 
 
HEKBERT MILTON. 175 
 
 guard, and watch in the hope of detecting him 
 in the fact. 
 
 He had particular occasion to observe that 
 the disarrangement of his papers, and his losses 
 of money, were more frequent when his regi- 
 ment was in bivouac, where it was more easy 
 to enter his tent than a room without dis- 
 turbing him. Calling an English servant, of 
 whose honesty he could have no doubt, he com- 
 municated his loss, mentioning his suspicions of 
 Perez. 
 
 The soldier bluntly replied, " Why, Sir, it 's 
 that d — d Spaniard ; and I could have told 
 you so long ago, only you seemed so fond of 
 the fellow ; but if you '11 j ust let me loosen 
 the Corporal when you're gone to bed, hell 
 catch him 1 11 be bound." 
 
 The Corporal was no other than the noble 
 dog before mentioned, and whose attachment 
 to Herbert was as strong as his apparent ha- 
 tred to Perez ; indeed, the animal had shown 
 such determined antipathy to the Spaniard, 
 and had so often attempted to fly upon him. 
 
176 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 -that Herbert was obliged to order him to be 
 fastened up with the horses and mules, to pre- 
 vent accidents. 
 
 Following the soldier's advice, Herbert took 
 no farther notice of his loss or his suspi- 
 cions, but dismissing Perez as usual, retired 
 to his bed, and in a few moments his favourite 
 crept through the opening of the tent ; and, 
 delighted at his unusual liberty, jumped on his 
 mastery's couch, and almost stifled him with his 
 awkward but affectionate caresses. 
 
 Herbert had watched for a couple of hours, 
 and was at last falling asleep, when he was 
 aroused by the dog springing under the tent ; 
 and jumping up, he discovered Perez on the 
 ground, where the Corporal had fastened on 
 him. In a moment, two or three soldiers came 
 to Herbert's assistance, and they discovered the 
 keys and box on the ground outside the tent; 
 from which it was evident he had been in the 
 habit of purloining, and afterwards replacing 
 them. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 177 
 
 Suffice it to say that the fellow was imme- 
 diately dismissed from Herbert'*s service. 
 
 He heard afterwards however, from Sidney, 
 that he had seen the rascal in London, and 
 added w^ith some degree of indignation and sur- 
 prise, ** I met him entering Alfred Milton's 
 house." 
 
 I 5 
 
178 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Among the different young men who had 
 been most particular in their attentions to 
 Emily, no one was more remarkable in his 
 assiduities than Alfred Milton, the cousin of 
 Herbert. Indeed, the busy and insatiable 
 tongues of London gossips had already des- 
 tined him as the successor of Lord Henry, 
 and the consequent and very probable cause 
 of his Lordship's rejection. A trifling scruti- 
 ny, however, of Emily's manner would have 
 sufficed to convince any careful observer, that 
 she evidently suffered rather than encouraged 
 his attentions ; and although she often appeared 
 to listen to his conversation, it was clear that 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 179 
 
 the interest he excited proceeded from motives 
 and causes foreign to himself, and in which he 
 had personally no share. But it is high time 
 that we should introduce him to our readers. 
 
 Alfred Milton was the only child of Sir 
 Herbert's elder and deceased brother, and had 
 inherited nearly the whole of the paternal pro- 
 perty. Alfred was some years senior to his 
 cousin. He was a young man of extreme 
 fashion, and as much repandu in society, as the 
 utmost and most exigent coveter of London 
 celebrity could desire. His character and dis- 
 position were, it is true, pretty well known, 
 yet no man was so completely hien-venu. He 
 was of course a member of White's, Watier's, 
 and the clubs at Newmarket and Melton ; 
 whilst the table at the Union was never com- 
 plete without him. The dressing-rooms at the 
 Opera, the secret committees at the theatres, 
 the porter's private list in every fashionable and 
 difficult house, as well as the dining-rooms of 
 our most renowned Amphytrions, were alike 
 open to him. He was, in short, of that oft de- 
 
180 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 scribed set, before whom all minor beaux (we 
 detest the hacknied word " dandy") sink into 
 insignificance, or among whom they eventually 
 obtain a subaltern grade, by the sacrifice of a 
 due portion of their fortune, and by permitting 
 themselves to become the butt of the Grand 
 Croix of this most extraordinary order of hu- 
 man beings. He was of that privileged set, 
 who having nothing earthly to do the whole day 
 but dress themselves, with an admirable Bre- 
 guet in their pocket, make it a point of always 
 coming an hour too late for dinner, and in 
 black neckcloths and boots. 
 
 Indeed, the natural tendency to imitation 
 which exists in the human race, has had a sin- 
 gular effect on the appearance of our citizens 
 and tradesmen. One might imagine that the 
 whole nation was bitten with a miHtary mania, 
 an inclination to war (at least outwardly) 
 hitherto unknown in the annals of our coun- 
 try. If we enter the house of our banker, up 
 start a dozen clerks, headed by the junior part- 
 ner, who, were it not for the peaceful pen in 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 181 
 
 their hands, one might well mistake for a council 
 of war, judging by the enormous size of their 
 whiskers, the tightness of their blue great coats, 
 the clanking of their spurs, and the stiffness 
 of their black-stocks. If one happens to have 
 occasion to consult one's attorney, one might 
 well suppose that he stands in the presence of 
 the Judge Advocate General, from his ultra 
 military exterior ; whilst one cannot purchase a 
 pair of gloves, or barter for a watch-ribbon, 
 without disarranging the creases of half-a- 
 dozen soldier-like looking shopmen, who, from 
 the dreadful rigidity of their ties, have not even 
 the usual advantage possessed by their miUtary 
 originals, of now and then standing at ease. 
 
 The greater portion of the fortune bequeath- 
 ed to Alfred Milton by his grandfather, had 
 already been swallowed by Jews, or dissi- 
 pated in some other way. He had, it is true, 
 attained the very pinnacle of fashion, but his 
 elevation had cost him dear; and as he lived 
 in considerable style, having an excellent small 
 house in Upper Grosvenor-street, several hunt- 
 
1S2 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ers, his carriage, and sundry other indispensable 
 necessaries, it was evident he could have but 
 one method of supporting his expenses. 
 
 His great skill at whist, which amounted 
 almost to a point in every rubber in the course 
 of the season ; his cool calculating skill at 
 making a good book for Newmarket, the Derby, 
 and St. Ledger, and his general good fortune 
 at macao and hazard, were the principal, 
 though precarious and often fatal props, on 
 which he relied for the means of meeting his 
 engagements, in which, we must do him the 
 justice to say, no man was ever more punc- 
 tual. This species of uncertain and fluctu- 
 ating rental, however, frequently threw him 
 into difficulties ; from which, upon more than 
 one occasion, he had been extricated by the 
 kindness of his cousin, who had been security 
 for him to a large amount, with some of those 
 harpies, whose cypher-signed invitations to the 
 necessitous and inexperienced, may be constantly 
 met with in the daily journals : and yet there 
 are those who, by removing the only restric- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 183 
 
 tion which now, in some measiire, prevents 
 these monsters, would willingly let them loose 
 unmuzzled on the public. Wretches ! who in 
 nine cases out of ten, live to see the victims 
 they have ensnared, either end their miserable 
 days amidst the horrors of a prison, or become 
 the subject of a coroner's verdict ; whilst the 
 wide domain, the noble timber, and fertile 
 property which the industry and affection of 
 their ancestors had amassed and bequeathed 
 to them, often become the })rey of some vile 
 attorney, of whom, in most cases, these wretches 
 are the infamous lurchers. 
 
 Added to a very handsome person, Alfred 
 Milton possessed the most artful disposition 
 and consummate knowledge of the world. 
 He could adapt himself to any situation and 
 to every society. He could discuss Cereal 
 laws with the political economist, morality 
 with the virtuous, be serious with the sad, 
 romantic with the sentimental, gay with the 
 lively, and profligate with the vicious; — ^in 
 short, no one so completely brought to mind 
 
184 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the words addressed by Cicero to the treache- 
 rous Catiline: — "Cum tristibus sever^; cum 
 remissis, jucunde; cum senibus graviter ; cum 
 juventute comiter vivere." His skill in in- 
 trigue and success with the fair sex, was as 
 proverbial as his utter want of faith and insin- 
 cerity in all matters of this kind. The victims 
 of his seduction (the wives and daughters, as 
 usual, of friends,) were tracked, toiled, destroy- 
 ed, and then cast off, with a degree of patience, 
 ingenuity, and cold-bloodedness, surpassing all 
 imagination. He had neither morals, princi- 
 ple, nor feeling, in such cases : and his maxim 
 was, if he could not immediately effect his pur- 
 pose, to threaten the poor resistant with the 
 loss of her reputation, by merely insinuating, 
 as a secret, that he had been successful, to half- 
 a-dozen friends ; or, if she had committed the 
 folly of putting her pen to paper, by publish- 
 ing her letters : which, by-the-by, in either 
 case, of success or defeat, was sure to ensue. 
 
 On seeing his quiet, demure, and downcast 
 look as he entered a room, a stranger was natu- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 185 
 
 rally inclined to pity his diffidence and want of 
 self-possession. On observing that he scarcely 
 raised his eye towards the face of the per- 
 son to whom he addressed himself, and, with 
 head inclined, spoke almost in a whisper, one 
 regretted that so fine a young man should be 
 overwhelmed by such invincible shyness. But 
 his progress was like that of the wily, noise- 
 less, and crouching step of the tiger, when, ad- 
 vancing by imperceptible gradations, and with 
 half-averted head, it prepares to spring with 
 remorseless and deadly gripe upon its victim. 
 
 Alfred had early succeeded in obtaining an 
 extraordinary influence over the mind, and 
 possessing himself of the entire friendship and 
 confidence of the open-hearted and unsuspi- 
 cious Herbert ; who, in despite of the caution 
 he received from Lady Milton, (whose eyes 
 had been long opened to her nephew's real 
 character,) and sundry innuendoes conveyed to 
 him by his friends, considered every syllable 
 uttered against his cousin as the effect of envy. 
 
 The contrast in the dispositions of these two 
 
186 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 young men could not be more strongly defined 
 than the effect produced on each other'*s mind 
 by their reciprocal behaviour and mutual in- 
 terchanges of kindness. Every little act of 
 attention or civility, every trifling present re- 
 ceived by Herbert, called forth in his heart 
 the warmest sensations of gratitude; and he 
 thought it impossible that he could ever do 
 too much to repay his cousin. On the other 
 hand, Alfred detested his relation, not alone 
 because his prospects in the world were so 
 brilliant, but he envied him his personal and 
 mental qualities, and hated him because he 
 foresaw that his rapid success in society would 
 soon not only render him independent of his 
 assistance, but probably lead to some family 
 connexion, to which he felt that his own cir- 
 cumstances never would permit him to aspire. 
 
 From the first period of Herbert's introduc- 
 tion in the world, his cousin had endeavoured, 
 by every means in his power, (and from mo- 
 tives which will appear hereafter,) to lead him 
 artfully into all kinds of expense and extra- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 187 
 
 vagance: he introduced him into every place 
 and into every species of society the most cal- 
 culated to corrupt his mind and drive from his 
 heart those admirable principles which it had 
 been the constant study of his excellent mo- 
 ther and virtuous tutor to graft upon his 
 mind ; and this was done under the specious 
 pretext of deterring him, by force of example, 
 from those errors which his wily cicerone 
 was so anxious he should fall into. But his 
 plans were fortunately rendered abortive by 
 the steadiness and firmness of Herbert, who 
 luckily took his cousin at his word ; and 
 learning to profit by the examples of profli- 
 gacy and vice which he met with, to the an- 
 noyance of Alfred, increased his prudence and 
 circumspection, and completely escaped the 
 snare. 
 
 Alfred Milton had too much calculation and 
 knowledge of the world, not to foresee the peri- 
 lous situation into which he had been gradually 
 drawn by his own extravagance ; he felt assured, 
 that if he continued his present expensive style 
 
188 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 of living, a crisis must sooner or later take 
 place, and he had neither strength of mind nor 
 inclination to attempt a reform. 
 
 It was in vain that he exercised his genius, 
 fertile in resources, to provide means to avert 
 the approaching evil. To raise much more 
 money would be impracticable : he had been 
 compelled during a succession of years to make 
 enormous sacrifices : he had already often sub- 
 mitted to the infamous, though not uncommon, 
 exactions and insatiable cupidity of the Jews, 
 to whom he was obliged to have recourse. 
 Already he had been driven to the alternative 
 of failing in his engagements, or of receiving a 
 portion of the sums he raised, either in paving- 
 stones, Roman cement, whales' blubber, or anti- 
 quated piano-fortes ; which valuable commodi- 
 ties were of course taken off his hands by the 
 accommodating Israelites, at a loss of forty per 
 cent., and these sums, in addition to the usurious 
 interest, immense premium, and not less exor- 
 bitant and villanous law charges, were shared 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 189 
 
 between the rascally attorney and the not less 
 infamous principal. 
 
 Alfred's aversion and contempt for this indus- 
 trious class of individuals was invincible ; they 
 were useful, it is true, and necessary to his ex- 
 istence, and he detested them the more from 
 this circumstance ; and consequently treated 
 them with the most sovereign insult and disdain. 
 It mattered little to him whether he behaved 
 with politeness or brutality towards them ; he 
 knew that rank, manners, promises, or feeling, 
 were alike indifferent to these fellows, and that 
 he must pay, dearly pay, for their services. 
 
 His conduct upon one of these occasions, 
 though it gave rise to a ludicrous incident, ex- 
 cited the surprise of Herbert, who, fortunately 
 ignorant of the nature of these men and their 
 proceedings, accompanied him to the residence 
 of one of these individuals, situated in a dark 
 and obscure street in the vicinity of the 
 Adelphi. 
 
 The natural inclination of the younger Mil- 
 
190 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ton's mind was to be courteous and polite to 
 every one ; and as he followed his cousin up the 
 dismal and dirty stairs which conducted them 
 to the Jew's office, he ventured to suggest to 
 Alfred that it would be but civil to ring the 
 bell. Without taking any notice of this re- 
 mark, the latter merely kicked with his foot 
 against the door, flung it open, and walked 
 up to the table with his head covered ; whilst 
 Herbert, following with his hat in his hand, felt 
 his blood chilled when he found himself in the 
 black and ill-lighted den, surrounded with mus- 
 ty parchments, deeds, calculations of interest, 
 three or four half empty tin-boxes, worn out 
 rush chairs, leaden inkstands, and all the para- 
 phernalia of the man's calling. Nor was he less 
 struck by the artful, sombre, and avaricious 
 expression of the countenance of this moving 
 philosoper's stone ; a countenance which might 
 have rendered that of Shylock a very model of 
 charity and benevolence. 
 
 Rapping the desk where the man was sitting 
 with his umbrella, Alfred exclaimed without 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 191 
 
 farther preface : " Schwartz, I want some 
 money !" 
 
 " Ach, mein Gott !" rejoined the little Ger- 
 man Israelite, " dat is vat all die young gentle- 
 mens vants.*" 
 
 " D — n the young gentlemen!" returned 
 Alfred ; " I must have a thousand pounds on 
 Monday, before twelve o'clock." 
 
 " Vat zegurities can you gif mir, Mr. Mil- 
 ton ? Is it landed or vunded vat you can 
 
 gif?" 
 
 " Neither, you leech," answered Alfred ; at 
 the same time quietly tossing the papers by 
 which the man was surrounded, in every direc- 
 tion round the room, with a jirk of his glove. 
 
 " Neider," rejoined the other, quietly and 
 methodically picking up the scattered docu- 
 ments ; " neider ! den it is marrige seddlemenz, 
 or leazhold, or gopyholt, or your banker's ag- 
 zeptance." 
 
 " You are out still, you vampire !" was the 
 reply of the borrower. 
 
 " Bampires or not bampires," answered the 
 
192 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Jew, " I vish you voudn't use dem ogly names, 
 Mr. Milton ; we can't do noting mitout some 
 zegurities." 
 
 " My bill at three months, will that do ?*' 
 demanded Alfred. 
 
 " Pills,^' answered the money-lender : " Gott 
 pless you, my dear sir ! pills ! vy vat is pills ? 
 Mere vaste papers. IVe got as much of dem 
 tings here as vould fill a vagen. Upon my 
 word, pills is not wort two-pence ; die pest 
 pills, die most resbectaple agzeptance is not 
 wort a farding ; dere's such a sgarcity of mo- 
 nies in die marget. But dere's your freund, if 
 he 's a man of property, can't he go joint zegu- 
 rities ? vonH he have got some blate, some bic- 
 tures, or someding vat's dangible? Upon my 
 zoul, I vish to aggomodate you, but I have 
 not got a farding my own selfs." 
 
 '^ I am come here for money, little Schv/artz," 
 now observed Alfred, " and not to listen to 
 your stale cant and stupid humbug ; therefore 
 make no difficulties, I know what you are at ; 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 193 
 
 but money I want, and money I must have — 
 the bill must be done." 
 
 " Gott pless you ! my dear Sir," replied the 
 Israelite, with a hypocritical voice, " if I was 
 to gif fifty per zent, I could not yet monies 
 mitout de zegurities." 
 
 " Nonsense !"" exclaimed Alfred, " you know 
 I never failed in an engagement in my life, and 
 my cousin here will accept my bill ; you know 
 he backed my last piece of paper, and was my 
 security for the sums I raised." 
 
 " Hugh !" answered the Jew, " das ist was 
 anders, dat is a very worty gentlemans ; dat is 
 very good zegurities, as coot as die Pank. But 
 wat shall you gif for the pizness ?"" 
 
 " Fifteen per cent."" rejoined Alfred, " and 
 I should think that is sufficient to satisfy the 
 blackest raven of all your brood." 
 
 " Fifteen per zent." returned the other after 
 a little consideration, " by Gott ! I wish to sarve 
 you ; but den you know you most dake some of 
 the monies in goots.*" 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 
 
 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 "Goods! you little villain," exclaimed Alfred, 
 " not a penny in any thing but bank notes ; no, 
 no, I have already lost enough by your log- 
 wood, steam-engines, and patent coffins. I 
 must have the whole in money ; I will there- 
 fore give you a bill at three months for eleven 
 hundred and fifty pounds, and you must deli- 
 ver me the remaining thousand on Monday." 
 
 " Vat, you dink I carry Mr. Rothschild's 
 gelt in my pocket," answered the Hebrew, — 
 '' by Gott ! I wish to sarve you — ^but you must 
 have die goots. I said I had no gash myself — 
 I wish I had, by Gott ! Well, you make it 
 twelve hundred, and I will see my brincipal; a 
 very worty gentlemans, but he is not in town." 
 
 " Hang your principal !" exclaimed Alfred, 
 " I should like to cane you both together. If it 
 were possible to find a greater rogue than your- 
 self in the world, he is the man. I know him ; 
 I know the usurer — your principles and your 
 principal are worthy of each other." 
 
 During this speech, the little Jew evinced 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 195 
 
 evident symptoms of uneasiness, he rolled his 
 black glimmering eyes around, coughed, hem- 
 med, and endeavoured to drown the sound of 
 Alfred's voice by his exclamations of " Gott 
 almightiz, don't apuse my brincipal, he is a 
 very excellent gentleman s, a very worty gen- 
 tleman s, a very good gentlemans !" 
 
 A slight noise, which appeared to proceed 
 from behind the skreen drawn across the angle 
 of the Jew's office, now attracted the attention 
 of the young men ; and Herbert, who had wit- 
 nessed with astonishment the dialogue between 
 the two high contracting parties, was not less 
 surprised to see his cousin coolly take up the 
 large well-filled leaden inkstand, and merely 
 crying, " A rat !" pitch the implement over the 
 skreen, where it was heard first to resound, as 
 if it had come in contact with some hollow sub- 
 stance, and then bounded upon the floor. 
 Schwartz, who perceived Alfred's object, hastily 
 attempted to arrest his hand, but in his eager- 
 ness he stumbled over one of his tin boxes, and 
 K 2 
 
196 HEEBERT MILTOX. 
 
 throwing down the skreen disclosed the prin- 
 cipal, who had been during this time concealed 
 in the corner. 
 
 To the amusement of Alfred, this personage, 
 who was no other than Sir Jarvis Jacob, now 
 appeared, his white hair stained and drenched 
 with the ink, which, trickling over his face and 
 waistcoat, poured down upon his well-cleaned 
 leathers ; whilst spitting, sputtering, and wip- 
 ing his mouth, he was endeavouring to clean 
 his face from the fatal dye. 
 
 Upon the discovery of this individual, who 
 looked as foolish as he was filthy, Alfred calmly 
 approached close to him with his hands behind 
 his back, and then looking him in the face with 
 the most consum.mate contempt exclaimed : " So, 
 you. Sir, are the honourable gentleman, you 
 are the worthy principal that is out of town ! 
 eh 1 You detestable usurious listener, leave 
 the room as you are. Fly, you mean spy, — 
 fly!" and taking up the Knight's shallow 
 coachman-like hat, he flung it in his face, and 
 pointing to the door added, " Not a word, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 197 
 
 Sir Usurer ! — march ; and think yourself fortu- 
 nate that your insignificance protects you from 
 my cane. If you were a gentleman, you should 
 answer for this elsewhere, but I shall content 
 myself with exposing you to the regiment 
 to which you are a disgrace;" — and without 
 permitting the abashed Sir Jarvis to utter a 
 word, he followed, rather than pushed him to- 
 wards the door, and, slamming it in his face, 
 returned with the greatest calmness to complete 
 his negociation. 
 
 The money-lender, who in the mean time had 
 expressed the greatest perturbation and alarm 
 in his manner, and expected that Alfred's an- 
 ger would next turn upon himself, no sooner 
 saw the door closed upon his very worthy "brin- 
 cipal,'' and that Alfred was perfectly calm, than 
 he burst out into a long and loud fit of laugh- 
 ter, and exclaimed: " Sarve him right, by 
 Gott ! Ach ! die screens was no zegurities ! 
 Oh, he is a tamn Jew ! Dere is no doing no- 
 thing mit such a man I" — and then, after nume- 
 rous pour parlers, at length yielded to Alfred's 
 
198 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 proposal. The stamp was provided, the accept- 
 ance given, and the money promised at the 
 appointed time, whilst the two young men, 
 as they retired down-stairs, heard him still 
 laughing and repeating to himself: " Sarve 
 him right ! vat a tamn Jew ! vish he vas hos- 
 vipt.^' 
 
 Alfred was well aware that he might rely 
 upon his cousin's assistance, as long as the lat- 
 ter had any security to offer ; but this resource 
 must soon fail, since the kind-hearted Herbert 
 had already mortgaged for this purpose the 
 greater portion of the reversion settled upon 
 him by his maternal grandfather. 
 
 Alfred had frequently turned his thoughts 
 towards matrimony ; he looked upon marriage 
 as the sheet-anchor by which he purposed to 
 ride out the gale, and repair the dilapidations 
 of his fortune. 
 
 No one could be more eminently successful 
 in the higher circles, but here, unhappily, the 
 fortunes of the daughters were not in any degree 
 commensurate with the ambitious views of their 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 199 
 
 parents, and still less in accordance with those 
 of the suitor ; therefore he turned his eyes to- 
 wards a less brilliant but more substantial 
 class, flattering himself that it would be always 
 in his power to introduce his wife into the same 
 fashionable society he himself frequented. He, 
 however, found himself constantly repulsed by 
 the cold formality, overpowering civility, but 
 steady protests, of the sugar-bakers, soap-boilers, 
 or scriveners, (for thus he christened all the 
 respectable merchants and bankers,) a large 
 portion of some of whose fortunes he deter- 
 mined, through the medium of their daughters, 
 to appropriate to himself. These worthies 
 permitted him to drink as much of their cham- 
 paigne, and eat as many of their dinners as he 
 thought proper, but they were uniformly firm 
 in defeating the object he had in view. 
 
 Emily Manby had for a time been marked 
 out by Alfred as a valuable prize, but upon 
 calculating the amount of her income, and upon 
 finding it secured against all dangers, he re- 
 nounced his project upon her as unworthy of 
 
200 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 his ambition and unequal to his wants ; cir- 
 cumstances had moreover come to his know- 
 ledge, which would render her infinitely more 
 serviceable to him in another view. Havinsr 
 been defeated in his project of marriage, he 
 now turned his thoughts towards India : a 
 gleam of light burst upon him, and he prepa- 
 red himself to play a desperate game, which, 
 if successful, would crown his utmost desires, 
 and in the event of failure, could not render 
 his position more unfavourable than it was al- 
 ready. He knew well that Sir Herbert Mil- 
 ton's fortune was entirely at his own disposal, 
 and that, with the exception of his cousin, there 
 were no immediate connexions to whom the Ba- 
 ronet was likely to bequeath his large property. 
 For some years he had carried on a correspon- 
 dence with his uncle, and he resolved to adopt 
 this interchange of letters as the medium for 
 his operations. With that consummate arti- 
 fice and duplicity which had already found 
 so many victims, Alfred determined to put every 
 engine into play to obtain a firmer footing in 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 201 
 
 his uncle's confidence, and to insinuate himself 
 into his esteem, hoping eventually either en- 
 tirely to ruin and supplant his cousin, or, at 
 least, to share largely in his future fortune. It 
 required no small degree of calculation, cun- 
 ning, and method, to attain this object. It 
 was necessary to indispose the father against 
 the son, and to excite the son to adopt such 
 a line of conduct as must infallibly ruin him in 
 the opinion of his father. The enterprize pre- 
 sented no few difficulties, but he was not to be 
 discouraged, and he considered his scheme in- 
 fallible ; especially as the distance which sepa- 
 rated him from his uncle would preclude the 
 possibility of Sir Herbert's obtaining a true 
 insight into his character, and prevent his as- 
 certaining the real state of his affairs, and the 
 veracity of his assertions. His operations were 
 commenced by throwing out obscure hints and 
 insinuations respecting his cousin, which he 
 thought could not fail to awaken suspicion, and 
 excite a certain degree of distrust and irritation 
 in the mind of the austere father, against a son 
 5 K 
 
202 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 whom he only knew by reputation. Alfred, 
 however, at the same time artfully affected to 
 excuse Herbert's faults, and the extravagance 
 which he had the assurance to attribute to him 
 as the errors incidental to a young and inexpe- 
 rienced man, arising more from the flattery and 
 temptations of the world, and from the indul- 
 gence of his mother, than from any defect in 
 his cousin's disposition. His letters were the 
 most perfect models of morahty, prudence, and 
 disinterestedness, and he had the satisfaction 
 to discover, in due time, that his uncle had 
 completely fallen into the snare. 
 
 Deceived by the honourable and prudent 
 sentiments which these letters displayed, as well 
 as by the zeal and respect shown for himself, 
 and the interest he appeared to take in his cou- 
 sin. Sir Herbert warmly expressed his satisfaction 
 to his nephew, and urged him to a continuance 
 of his observations on his son, to whom, as well 
 as Lady Milton, he conveyed indirect hints of 
 dissatisfaction. More he could not venture to 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 203 
 
 do, as he had been earnestly intreated by 
 Alfred not to make any disclosure of his 
 sentiments to Lady Milton or her son, as 
 it might lead to coldness, and want of con- 
 fidence on the part of his cousin, which might 
 render Herbert averse to listen to the pru- 
 dent counsels which he was so anxious to be- 
 stow upon him. Alfred was also well aware 
 that ambition was one of the leading features 
 in his uncle's character, and that Sir Herbert 
 had frequently hinted at his disinclination to 
 retire entirely from public life. The Baronet 
 considered himself certain of a seat in the 
 Court of Directors, but he wished, through 
 the medium of the House of Commons, to 
 obtain a place also at the Board of Control. 
 
 Alfred eagerly seized upon these distant 
 hints of his uncle, and resolved to lay a snare 
 for the Baronet, which, if it succeeded, must 
 produce the result of placing Sir Herbert un- 
 der heavy obligations to him ; at the same time, 
 he was not unmindful that, although Sir Her- 
 
204 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 bert was often extremely liberal, yet the idea of 
 squandering money, even for his own political 
 advantage, was looked upon by him as a crime. 
 It had long been Alfred's anxious desire to 
 obtain a seat in Parliament, more with the view 
 of securing his own person from the desagre- 
 rrtens of a spunging-house, than from any 
 other advantage which he expected to reap ; 
 but the matter nov/ appeared to him in a very 
 different light, and fortune favoured his pro- 
 jects in a manner totally unlooked for. 
 
 After a night of deep play at the club, 
 Alfred (when the party broke up) found 
 his bowl and pockets overflowing with po7iy 
 and rouleau counters, and upon squaring his 
 accounts down stairs he discovered that the 
 principal sufferer was a young nobleman, his 
 particular friend. This was a circumstance 
 the more fortunate, since the peer, though he 
 possessed a noble estate, and, above all, con- 
 siderable borough interest, was as much in 
 want of ready money as himself. Pocketing 
 the counters, instead of delivering them as 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 205 
 
 usual to the steward of the house, he returned 
 home, where, before he rose in the morning, 
 he received a note from the loser, earnestly 
 requesting a few weeks delay. Alfred imme- 
 diately answered this note in person, and, with 
 the air of a man who is conferring the utmost 
 obligation, proposed at once to cancel the debt, 
 if his noble friend would consent to return him, 
 or any person he (Alfred) might nominate, to 
 Parliament for two successive sessions. This 
 proposition v/as gladly and even thankfully 
 received by the peer ; the whole of the coun- 
 ters were delivered into his possession, and a 
 mutual and solemn engagement of secrecy, un- 
 der a heavy penalty, entered into by both. 
 
 No sooner did Alfred feel himself secure of 
 being returned at the ensuing and almost im- 
 mediate dissolution, than he forthwith wrote to 
 his uncle ; acquainted him that he had for seve- 
 ral years been endeavouring to obtain a pre- 
 ponderating influence in the borough of , 
 
 situated in the family county ; that at length 
 the purity of his political principles, his at- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 tachment to the constitutional but monarchical 
 rights of his country, and the independence of 
 his sentiments upon several most important 
 questions, had placed him in the proud and 
 flattering situation to which he had so long 
 directed his views. He also added, that he 
 had taken advantage of the fortuitous circum- 
 stances which presented themselves, because he 
 had observed the indifference and apathy of 
 his cousin upon the subject, and concluded his 
 letter by saying : " My great object in effect- 
 ing this important measure has been solely 
 for the purpose of securing a seat for a man 
 whose genius, talents, integrity, and political 
 knowledge, would render his return to ParHa- 
 ment a real blessing to his country; I shall, 
 therefore, merely look upon myself as my re- 
 spected uncle's locum tetiens : I have, in fact, 
 made this stipulation with my constituents, and 
 I shall consider myself as a benefactor to the 
 nation, if, on your return to England, you per- 
 mit me, in your favour, to accept the ' Chil- 
 tern Hundreds.' " 
 
HERBERT MILTON. ^07 
 
 The plan succeeded beyond his most san- 
 guine wishes. Sir Herbert not only accepted 
 his offer with every mark of gratitude and 
 esteem, but accompanied his letter with more 
 substantial proofs of his regard; and Alfred 
 could not help smiling when he unfolded his 
 uncle's order for a thousand pounds, which 
 the worthy Baronet hoped would not offend 
 the delicacy of his nephew. 
 
 Whilst, however, Sir Herbert was delighted 
 with the zeal, activity, and enlightened views 
 of his nephew, he felt hurt, and even deeply 
 irritated, at the indifference and apathy of his 
 son, who, in fact, was utterly ignorant of his 
 cousin's plans until the very eve of the elec- 
 tion, when Alfred had the audacity to en- 
 treat Herbert to assist him in raising a sum 
 of money, which sum was destined to play the 
 most treacherous part against himself. 
 
 There existed in the mind of Sir Herbert 
 Milton a most singular contrast, — a contrast 
 which rendered him a much easier subject for 
 the success of Alfred's machinations. With 
 
208 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the most profound judgment, consummate good 
 sense, and perfect knowledge of finance, diplo- 
 macy, and history, he was as ignorant as an 
 infant of the usages and intrigues both of 
 private and political life at home. This ig- 
 norance was in a great measure the result 
 of his having quitted England at an early 
 age, as well as from his retired habits, the 
 limited number of his correspondents, almost 
 all official, and the particular bent of his 
 own character. His rules of conduct for pri- 
 vate and public life were grounded on the 
 most rigid and austere principles, and drawn 
 up with the most mathematical precision. The 
 slightest deviation from the established line 
 was considered by him as an unpardonable 
 crime; judging the world by the rectitude of 
 his own honourable principles, he made no al- 
 lowance for the faihngs of others, and felt still 
 less inclined to pardon the corruption of the 
 age. 
 
 Sir Herbert's attachment to the monarchy, 
 and his admiration of the government of his 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 209 
 
 country, were not inferior to his respect for 
 the members of our two legislative chambers ; 
 and he looked upon a knight of a shire as a 
 being not to be exceeded in merit, except by 
 an individual of the Upper House. The little 
 initials M.P. attached to a man*'s name, were, 
 in his ideas, the distinctive attributes of pro- 
 bity, independence, genius, and patriotism ; 
 and, in his mind, the opinions and characters 
 of a member of Parliament ought to be con- 
 sidered by the world as immaculate as his 
 person was in fact sacred. He did not con- 
 ceive it possible that the enlightened gentle- 
 men and yeomen of England could ever ho- 
 nour with their suffrages, or elevate to this 
 flattering distinction, any man whose virtues 
 and talents were not of the first order. 
 
 He had no more idea of the intrigues, cor- 
 ruptions, feastings, and exactions, put in motion 
 previous to an election, than he had of the 
 mines of wealth, perjuries, and threats, employ- 
 ed during its continuance. He never dreamt 
 of the animosities, jealousies, and dissensions, the 
 
210 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 expulsion of tenants, the oppression of trades- 
 men, the unnatural hatreds engendered between 
 near relations, or of the still more unholy abuses 
 of rehgion, called forth by this periodical 
 though necessary pest. In short, the man who 
 obtained a seat in St. Stephen's, was in his 
 opinion of a superior class of beings, and, con- 
 sequently, his nephew at once rose in his esti- 
 mation to the highest possible level. 
 
 Not satisfied with his previous success, Alfred 
 took immediate advantage of another circum- 
 stance. He knew his uncle's hatred to the 
 Manbys, though most unjust, was invincible ; 
 he knew that Sir Herbert would immediately 
 take fire at the bare mention of his son's attach- 
 ment to Emily; consequently, the first fleet 
 to India conveyed hints and surmises on 
 the subject, accompanied with a thousand hy- 
 pocritical expressions of regret and surprise. 
 Although Herbert had not made any confi- 
 dence of his attachment for Emily to his cousin 
 previous to his departure, Alfred had enter- 
 
HERBERT MTLTOX. 211 
 
 tained strong suspicions of the fact : and, for 
 the purpose of ascertaining the truth, trans- 
 ferred Perez to the service of his cousin ; 
 through whose agency the matter was at once 
 revealed to him, — the whole of Herbert's cor- 
 respondence being delivered into his hands by 
 the treacherous Spaniard, which circumstance 
 led to the results we have before described. At 
 the same time, it is but justice to Alfred to 
 state, that he was utterly ignorant of the man's 
 murderous intentions ; and although he had 
 supplied him with money on his return to Eng- 
 land, as some compensation for the loss and 
 degradation he had sustained in executing his 
 orders, yet the idea of so atrocious a crime 
 had never presented itself to his imagination ; 
 and this appeared, without doubt, to be the 
 real truth, from the confessions of Perez at a 
 later period. In short, before Herbert returned 
 from Spain, Alfred had fully succeeded in ob- 
 taining, not only the confidence and esteem 
 of his uncle, but in poisoning the mind of Sir 
 
S12 HERBERT MILTOJ^. 
 
 Herbert against his son, which was evident 
 from the style of Sir Herbert's letters to Lady 
 Milton, who was utterly unable to account for 
 this evident displeasure on the part of her 
 husband, as the name of Emily never once 
 was mentioned in his letters, though he hinted 
 at his son's having formed acquaintances with 
 individuals, whose intimacy must eventually 
 bring ruin upon him, and disgrace upon his 
 family. 
 
 Thus far every thing had succeeded to the 
 utmost wishes of Alfred, and nothing now re- 
 mained for the completion of his scheme, but, 
 on the return of Herbert to England, to per- 
 suade him to marry Emily, without consult- 
 ing Sir Herbert, and to induce Miss Manby 
 to consent to such a proceeding. It was ne- 
 cessary, however, that he should appear neu- 
 tral in the affair, and that he should contrive 
 to effect this matter by the assistance of other 
 persons, upon whom neither the anger of his 
 uncle, nor the vengeance of Herbert, could have 
 any effect. For some time he balanced in his 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 213 
 
 choice, but at length selected two individuals, 
 upon whose assistance he thought he might 
 securely rely : both were different in their cha- 
 racters and dispositions, but both equally use- 
 ful. The one was intimately acquainted with 
 Emily, and entertained the greatest regard and 
 friendship for Herbert ; the other was equally 
 devoted to himself. The first possessed the 
 most kind and feeling heart, and was as inca- 
 pable of a dishonourable action as she was 
 remarkable for her wit, humour, and good- 
 nature ; but she was thoughtless and volatile 
 beyond measure, — always eager to afford plea- 
 sure and amusement to others without consi- 
 dering the results. The second was replete 
 with artifice, ambition, intrigue, and want of 
 heart, rarely inclined to acts of kindness un- 
 less they should prove beneficial to herself, and 
 coolly concocting mischief with the most calcu- 
 lating forethought. Over this latter personage 
 Alfred possessed the greatest control ; she was 
 his confidant, and had often lent herself to 
 schemes which redounded as little to the 
 
S14 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 credit of her morality and sensibility, as they 
 did to his honour and principles. The one 
 was the Baroness Geigenklang, the other the 
 Lady Catesby, whom we shall beg to intro- 
 duce to our readers in the following chapter. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 215 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Madame de Geigenklang was an English 
 lady of large fortune, of the most amiable and 
 fascinating manners, and of the highest fashion ; 
 her balls, parties, and musical soirees, being the 
 rendezvous of the most select and distinguished 
 society, both native and foreign, and the object 
 of every young man's ambition. Next to Al- 
 mack's, these treats were more recherche than 
 any thing of the same nature in London, where 
 the Baroness herself contributed not a little to 
 the pleasure and amusement of her guests. 
 She was the only daughter of a rich and emi- 
 nent merchant, who, having amassed a splendid 
 fortune, yielded to the intreaties of his child, 
 
S16 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 and, quitting the sombre and dismal alleys of 
 the city, purchased a noble estate, a seat in 
 parliament, and a capital mansion at the west 
 end of the town. Miss Cranbourn, — who was 
 well connected on the maternal side, possessed a 
 beautiful face, lovely figure, and was as remark- 
 able for the grace of her dancing, as for her 
 skill in music, — gradually obtained a first-rate 
 position in the fashionable world. In those 
 days, fortunately for many aspirants of both 
 sexes, this elevation was a matter of greater 
 facility than at present. That awful and power- 
 ful inquisition, that holy office in King Street, 
 from which there is no appeal, had not yet sprung 
 into existence ; consequently the merits and pro- 
 gress of each forthcoming youth or damsel did 
 not depend upon the capricious judgment of 
 half-a-dozen female Charons, in case of whose 
 refusal to ferry a man over the Styx of Fashion, 
 he had much better plier baggage, and content 
 himself with the rustic amusements of Russel 
 Square and its vicinity, or trust his success 
 to the Beaux Nash of Cheltenham and Bath. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 217 
 
 Suitors of all ranks had presented themselves 
 for the hand of Miss Cranbourne, but hitherto 
 her thoughts had been more intent on the gaie- 
 ties and amusements of the world, than on the 
 serious cares of domestic life. Her hour of 
 subjection, however, at length arrived, and she 
 found herself suddenly attacked by some of 
 those twitches and twinges, that species of tic 
 douleureux, or rather aigre-doux, which are 
 some of the infallible symptoms of a love fever. 
 
 The cause of these sensations was the young 
 and handsome Baron de Geigenklang, a Tyro- 
 lean nobleman, who had been introduced at her 
 house, where might always be seen the most 
 distinguished and illustrious foreigners whom 
 speculation, politics, or curiosity attracted to 
 England. The Baron, whose attachment for 
 Miss Cranbourne was not at all diminished by 
 the charms of her large fortune, found it a mat- 
 ter of much greater facility to obtain the fair 
 lady's consent than that of her father, who con- 
 tinued unmoved, in despite of the prayers and 
 intreaties of the lovers. 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 Mr. Cranbourne, like many other of our 
 countrymen, had imbibed among other vulgar 
 national prejudices, the most rooted aversion to 
 his daughter's marrying a foreigner ; he lost all 
 patience at the idea of his hard-earned consols 
 and the produce of his broad acres passing into 
 the hands of a stranger. Submitting to, rather 
 than uniting in, the wishes of his daughter, he 
 consented to his drawing-rooms being converted 
 into a species of Babel, where he had some 
 difficulty, from the mixture of tongues around 
 him, and his ignorance of every language but 
 his own, to communicate with any of his guests ; 
 but he looked upon all this assemblage of 
 princes, dukes, counts, barons, marquises, and 
 chevaliers, clothed with high-sounding and ne- 
 ver-ending names (which clothing is often the 
 extent of their wardrobe) as a set of adven- 
 turers, who flock towards our island, with the 
 very disinterested purpose of picking up some 
 of those immense fortunes, which they have 
 heard it merely requires a little dancing, a little 
 singing, a small proportion of flirting, curly 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 219 
 
 hair, and an affectation of constitutionalism and 
 anti-catholicism, to carry off and appropriate to 
 themselves. No man had more perfect esteem 
 and deference for the hereditary nobility of our 
 own country than Mr. Cranbourne, and he 
 would have rejoiced to have found his name 
 engrafted on some noble genealogical tree of 
 indigenous growth ; but nothing annoyed him 
 so much as the thought of his child being dis- 
 guised under a name that nearly dislocated his 
 jaw to pronounce, and he sickened at the pros- 
 pect of the fruits of his labour and economy 
 being at some future period expended in clear- 
 ing out the moat of some German prince's 
 schloss, rebuilding the pigeon-house of some 
 French count's rambling chateau, or in defray- 
 ing some of the carnival expenses of an Italian 
 marquis. 
 
 Mr. Cranbourne well knew that England was 
 considered, in many parts of the Continent, as 
 a never-failing resource, a species of El Dorado, 
 for the junior branches of that superabundant 
 nobility, which, in many instances, is so ludi- 
 L 2 
 
220 HERBEET MILTON. 
 
 crously numerous, so far exceeding the nomen- 
 clature of any Christian calendar, that it is ab- 
 solutely necessary to have recourse to numbers, 
 like the bridegrooms in " Les F elites Danadies" 
 in order to distinguish them from each other. 
 He was aware that, in defiance of their eternal 
 jactance and praise of the purity of their cli- 
 mate, the brilliancy of their native sun, and 
 the merits of their kitchen, that they would 
 gladly endure the hardship of beefsteaks, the 
 scorchings of port wine, and all the trachial 
 and catarrhal miseries of our fogs, damps, and 
 cloudy skies, if they could but bask in the 
 glowing reflection of some of those golden 
 mines, which have excited their cupidity, and 
 of which, in their own country, they have such 
 very limited and contracted notions. 
 
 Mr. Cranbourne was determined, if possible, 
 that his daughter should escape the miseries 
 which the sentimentality, or rather the unna- 
 tural fondness for every thing foreign, whether 
 it were a man or a mantua-maker, had entailed 
 upon other of her countrywomen ; and his pre- 
 
HERBEllT MILTON. 221 
 
 judices were strengthened by witnessing the 
 unfortunate results of many of these unions. 
 He had nobly given his thousand pounds to- 
 wards the Portuguese subscription, he had added 
 a large sum to collections for the sufferers 
 by Swiss avalanches, Hanoverian inundations, 
 conflagrations in Canada, explosions in Flan- 
 ders, fevers in Holland, and no one ever was 
 more active in his efforts to afford relief or as- 
 sistance to the Society for Foreigners in Dis- 
 tress ; but his blood curdled at the thoughts 
 of his house being converted into a receptacle 
 for all the needy relations of his daughter's 
 husband, who, to evince their gratitude for the 
 kindness, hospitality, and almost ludicrous ge- 
 nerosity they have met with, return to their 
 country and forthwith either publish the most 
 libellous and disgusting works against the land 
 where they have been received with so much 
 hospitality, or make it a point of uttering 
 the most abominable falsehoods and calum- 
 nies against individuals whose only error con- 
 sisted in lending them money never to be re- 
 
222 HERBERT MILTOK. 
 
 paid, or in giving them food and raiment when 
 they were pennyless and starving. In fine, 
 until the hour of his death, nothing could in- 
 duce Mr. Cranbourne to yield upon this point, 
 and his daughter, who had too much respect 
 and sincere attachment for her parent to per- 
 mit her taking any steps without his consent, 
 resolved to sacrifice her own affections, and to 
 await the period when she should be her own 
 mistress. 
 
 This event occurred sooner than she expect- 
 ed or desired ; her worthy parent having unfor- 
 tunately taken a cold in returning from the 
 House of Commons, which ended in his death, 
 and in due time, in the marriage of Miss Cran- 
 bourne with the young Baron. 
 
 With few exceptions, the Baroness was now 
 perhaps one of the happiest persons in the 
 world, and had no other drawback to her feli- 
 city but occasionally some little fits of jea- 
 lousy, when her husband remained too long 
 behind the scenes at the Opera, or when she 
 herself was too ill to attend at a public break- 
 
HERBEUT MILTON. 223 
 
 fast at Buxton House, or when some prima 
 do?uia who had promised to sing at her 
 concert, chose to be indisposed, and sit pro- 
 vokingly silent in a corner. She was exces- 
 sively fond of what she called " bringing peo- 
 ple together.*" Nothing afforded her so much 
 pleasure as a flirtation ; as she was convinced 
 that it made the individuals themselves per- 
 fectly happy (though not less ridiculous) during 
 its existence, and afforded her no small amuse- 
 ment in watching its progress, and shooting 
 forth her own little satirical remarks on the 
 occasion. ^ 
 
 To this lady, Alfred made up his mind to 
 intrust that part of his plan which merely em- 
 braced the marriage of his cousin and Emily, 
 without of course divulging his motives. Not 
 so, however, with Lady Catesby, whom he des- 
 tined as his principal agent, and to whom he 
 meant to recount all his plans boldly ; whether 
 he acted prudently, may be judged from the 
 difference between the character of his two 
 friends. Her Ladyship had been much less 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 scrupulous than the Baroness in pleasing her- 
 self, and although without any of those advan- 
 tages of fortune, had risen by a concatenation 
 of circumstances, to a place not less distin- 
 guished in society, though far different in pub- 
 lic opinion. 
 
 She was the daughter of a clergyman resid- 
 ing on the north-western coast of England, and 
 had completed her education abroad, where she 
 imbibed that laxity of principle, which, on her 
 return to her native country, exposed her to 
 the machinations of a military officer, to whose 
 arts she fell a victim ; and who having neg- 
 lected her, she eventually succeeded in mar- 
 rying his superior, who left her at his death, 
 soon after, in the possession of a very consi- 
 derable fortune. 
 
 Her weeds sat lightly on her brow, and at 
 the age of twenty it was evident that the fu- 
 ture occupied a greater portion of her thoughts 
 than the past : ambition, and the desire of 
 advancing herself in society, had taken the 
 place of every softer sentiment, and she looked 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 225 
 
 forward with confidence to some new alliance, 
 which should place her in that sphere of life 
 in which she was desirous of moving. In short, 
 her cards were so admirably played, that she 
 quickly turned the head of Sir Laurence 
 Catesby ; and, in the eighteenth month of her 
 widowhood, once more entered into the solemn 
 engagement to love, cherish, and obey a man 
 whom in fact she determined to rule, command, 
 and hate, as soon as she found herself establish- 
 ed at the head of his household. 
 
 Sir Laurence was a man of high charac- 
 ter, holding an important situation under go- 
 vernment : so far Lady Catesby's desires were 
 gratified, but she soon gave evident proofs 
 to her fond and doating husband, that the 
 thoughts of domestic happiness were not 
 among her calculations, and that she married 
 him for any purpose rather than that of order- 
 ing his dinners, or nursing her children. Her 
 aim was to shine in the highest circles of fashion, 
 and she little cared what methods she adopted 
 to obtain this object. Chance, however, tlirew 
 L 5 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 into her path an ally and assistant whom she 
 little expected, and although the result proved 
 the unceasing theme of discord at home, and 
 in a certain degree the loss of reputation abroad, 
 yet she endured the one with becoming reso- 
 lution, and was utterly indifferent to the 
 other. 
 
 A short time after her first appearance at the 
 Opera, where her striking countenance, and, 
 above all, her novelty, attracted considerable at- 
 tention, she remarked a young and evidently 
 very fashionable man observing her with parti- 
 cular earnestness, and not less decided symp- 
 toms of admiration : this was the food in which 
 her vanity delighted, and she therefore made 
 no attempt to withdraw herself from the fixed 
 gaze of the stranger. Her satisfaction was, 
 however, converted into alarm, when, in a few 
 seconds after Sir Lawrence had quitted the 
 box, the door opened and the same gentleman 
 whom she had seen in the pit presented himself 
 before her. This personage, who was no other 
 than Alfred Milton, very coolly commenced 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 227 
 
 addressing her, with his usual look, " It is 
 evident from Lady Catesby's surprise, that she 
 has entirely forgotten the individual who had 
 the pleasure of once seeing her in a less agree- 
 able situation.*" 
 
 The colour forsook Lady Catesby's face as 
 she recognised in the person before her, one 
 who had been intimately acquainted with all 
 her former history, and she could scarcely ar- 
 ticulate a single word in reply. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed. Madam, I beg,'' con- 
 tinued Alfred, observing immediately that he 
 was right in his conjectures, " though some 
 years have elapsed, yet have I not forgotten 
 the beautiful face which I once saw under dif- 
 ferent circumstances; and my only object in 
 thus introducing myself, is to offer you my 
 congratulations at your change of fortune, and 
 to promise you, under certain conditions, tlie 
 most profound secrecy." 
 
 It would be impossible to describe Lady 
 Catesby's sensations at Alfred's declaration of 
 his knowledge of her former situation : she 
 
228 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 was taken too much by surprise to permit her 
 to deny the fact ; and she at once saw her re- 
 putation and hopes of advancing in society, at 
 the mercy of a man whose character she had 
 already heard painted, not in the most favour- 
 able hght, and already she fancied herself cast 
 down from that place in society which it had 
 cost her so much time and effort to obtain. 
 Agitated and almost fainting with vexation and 
 alarm, she could only answer, whilst tears of 
 passion filled her eyes : — " I am at your mercy, 
 Sir, and have no right to expect that you 
 should not betray me." 
 
 It is unnecessary to repeat the dialogue 
 which ensued ; we shall merely state that Al- 
 fred almost immediately succeeded in pacifying 
 Lady Catesby, and in allaying her fears lest 
 he should divulge the secret which threatened 
 her with such degrading consequences. 
 
 Ere the return of Sir Lawrence to the 
 box, his wife had regained all her previous 
 serenity, and she at once introduced Alfred 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 229 
 
 to the Baronet as an old acquaintance, 
 whom she had known intimately at Malta. 
 From this period there arose the strictest 
 intimacy between her Ladyship and Alfred. 
 Not only did they enter into a species of de- 
 fensive and offensive alliance, but sentiments 
 were awakened in her heart to which it had 
 hitherto been a stranger; and it was evident 
 to Alfred that he had inspired her with an 
 attachment, if we may be permitted to de- 
 signate by this name the unhallowed passion 
 which now took yjossession of her breast. 
 
 By the influence and exertions of her new 
 ally, joined to her own intrigues, Lady Catesby 
 gradually succeeded in mounting the slippery 
 steps of fashion; and, at the period we are 
 describing, had nothing farther to desire, 
 though her jealousy of Alfred, and her constant 
 fears of being betrayed by him, rendered her 
 life a continued scene of anxiety, and gave 
 to her manners and countenance an expression 
 of wildness and irritation, which was attributed 
 
230 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 by the world to the originality of her dispo- 
 sition. Indeed, Alfred had long been tired 
 with her importunities, and plainly showed 
 that he kept up the intimacy with a view of 
 making use of her on those occasions where 
 he found it necessary to employ a confidante 
 who was completely in his power, rather than 
 from any feelings of regard to her. This she 
 was aware of, and had often broken out into 
 reproaches, which required all the influence 
 Alfred possessed over her to calm and allay. 
 Being latterly engaged in a new intrigue, he 
 had been for some time particularly inattentive 
 to her, and, in fact, had for some weeks neg- 
 lected to call; but as he now required her 
 services, he made two or three attempts to see 
 her at her own house, where she had the firm- 
 ness to deny herself to him. However, as Al- 
 fred made it a standing rule never to commit 
 himself by writing letters, though he carefully 
 preserved those addressed to himself, he deter- 
 mined to await the fete champetre at Madame 
 de Geigenklang's villa, which was to take 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 231 
 
 place in a few days, and where he knew he 
 should meet Lady Catesby, and he doubted 
 not he should soon obtain her co-operation, 
 either by flattery or threats ; which latter was 
 a weapon he never employed but as a last re- 
 source : for he knew that Caspar was not more 
 inextricably bound to the Demon, than the 
 guilty but unfortunate Lady Catesby to him- 
 self. 
 
232 HERBERT MILTOX, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The day of the Baroness's fete^ which was 
 to give Alfred the opportunity of seeing Lady 
 Catesby, and which was so eagerly expected 
 by those who were bidden, and so gall- 
 ing to those who were not invited, at length 
 arrived : Hyde-park, St. James's-street, and 
 the windows of the Clubs, were as forlorn and 
 deserted as if it had been the month of Sep- 
 tember; a few beaux were alone to be seen 
 skulking along, as if ashamed of their loneli- 
 ness. The road leading to the goal of plea- 
 sure was in the mean time crowded with gay 
 and splendid equipages, hurrying with all the 
 rapidity of life and death towards the spot ; 
 their respective owners having put forth all 
 
HERBERT MILTON. ^33 
 
 the force of their stables, and all the splendour 
 and neatness of their households. Here might 
 be seen the semi-modern ducal coach, solemnly 
 rolling after its train of six ponderous black 
 Normans, their tails carefully gathered up, 
 and confined by a profusion of massy buckles 
 and well-polished straps, and their flanks fu- 
 ming under the weight of their trappings; the 
 box at the same time appearing to groan under 
 the pressure of the huge and important body of 
 the coachman, his vast circumference apparently 
 bursting through the bonds of purple or silver 
 lace by which it was confined, and his round 
 and rubicund visage glowing in all the rosy 
 demonstrations of unlimited October, from be- 
 neath a quaint three-cornered hat, and a triple 
 battery of curls ; his respectable deputy on the 
 leader, ebbing and flowing in his saddle with 
 the gravity of a senator, now and then me- 
 chanically casting his eyes back at the throne 
 of his patron, his head decked vvith a gold- 
 fringed velvet cap and his body enveloped in 
 a coatee, having more the appearance of an 
 ancient tabard than the light and airy jacket 
 
2S4 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 of a modem postilion ; whilst an escort of three 
 outriders, not less remarkable for the retro- 
 spective formality of their costume and the 
 formidable size of their holsters, rose and 
 sunk on their horses in front, with the regu- 
 larity of the pistons of a steam-engine. Next 
 might be observed the neat and fashionable 
 britcka of some wealthy banker's lady, "fol- 
 lowing" with such lightness and ease as scarcely 
 to require the exertion of the four thorough- 
 bred greys, (apparently attached to it more 
 as a matter of show than necessity,) whose 
 neat and simple black harness, light and com- 
 pact postilions, with their well-cleaned gloves 
 and leathers, admirably-polished boots, white 
 hats, and striped jackets, preceded by the 
 dapper groom, and guarded by two spruce 
 footmen on the hinder dicky, showed the mo- 
 dern taste and fortune of the owner, and was 
 perhaps emblematic of the rapidity of the 
 lady's elevation in the world. Farther on, 
 the attention and alarm of the spectators were 
 awakened by four or five young men in an 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 235 
 
 open caleche who were endeavouring to urge 
 their conductors, by dint of extra payment, 
 to take as much as possible out of four of Mr. 
 Newman's posters, paying back with the hurry 
 and importance of cabinet messengers, and urg- 
 ing their blue or yellow jacketed drivers to 
 risk their own necks and the limbs of the pass- 
 ing passengers, by the unnecessary and cruel 
 rapidity of their speed. Then might be seen 
 the simple but exquisitely-built chariot of some 
 Peer, who, with affected contempt and indif- 
 ference for all the pomp of heraldic bearings, 
 exhibited no other symbol of his rank than 
 a small and almost imperceptible coronet on 
 the dark-green pannel ; whilst a pair of high- 
 stepping roans, driven by a coachman in a plain 
 dark-grey frock, unadorned hat, and attended 
 by a footman not less unassuming in his attire, 
 gave sufficient proof that this simplicity had 
 cost the noble inmate more intense study and 
 calculation, and that there was no less vanity 
 in the getting up of this laboured simplicity, 
 than there would have been in the display of 
 
236 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 splendour more in union with his rank and 
 fortune. Intermixed amidst a string of ca- 
 briolets, post-chaises, and vehicles of various 
 descriptions, one might easily distinguish the 
 equipage of some second-rate foreign minis- 
 ter, by the large, coloured cockades, the 
 glazed hats, and the mixture of filth and 
 finery of the servants — not to forget the 
 countless display of crosses, crests, mottoes, 
 and quarterings emblazoned on the pannels 
 of an ill-built chariot, the raw-boned jobs dis- 
 guised in dull harness, together with that com- 
 plete want of neatness and ensemble which is 
 so perfectly characteristic of a foreign " turn 
 
 out." In short, the road to and 
 
 thence to the Baroness's villa, was one conti- 
 nued cavalcade of animated splendour ; and ere 
 the guests had arrived at Beau Regard, and 
 had been welcomed by the respectable Towns- 
 hend, they had already enjoyed to repletion 
 all the prefatory dust, hair-breadth escapes, 
 scratched pannels, and admiration, which are 
 the usual forerunners of these entertainments. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 237 
 
 Every accessory which taste could devise or 
 wealth procure was put into requisition by 
 the Baron and his Lady to render this f^te 
 one of the most distinguished of its kind ; 
 nothing was omitted which could afford amuse- 
 ment or gratification either to the eyes or pa- 
 lates of the guests ; whilst Nature, who so 
 often evinces her caprice and ill-humour on 
 such occasions, was kind enough to with- 
 hold her wonted accompaniment of rain. The 
 walks and greenswards presented no danger 
 for the thinnest shoe or most delicate con- 
 stitution ; and the hair of the fair guests con- 
 tinued as " crisp " and compact on their brows 
 as though they had that moment been liber- 
 ated from the hands of Plaisir or Truefit. 
 Smiling faces and a cloudless sky, laughing 
 eyes and bright sun-beams, might be seen in 
 all directions, and it appeared as if every in- 
 dividual of the party had shaken off* their sor- 
 rows and chagrins for the day. Corn Bills 
 and Catholic Questions seemed to be forgotten 
 by the senator ; the stiffest and most mystCr 
 
238 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 rious diplomatists unbent their brows, and ceas- 
 ed to occupy themselves with the thought of 
 Carbonaris and Constitutionals. Bankers kept 
 their hands out of their pockets, and even the 
 great Golden Bull of the city appeared pleas- 
 ed at exchanging for a few hours the sight 
 of the black and mammon-like visages of his 
 Israelite brethren, for that of the lovely coun- 
 tenances of the Christian damsels who were 
 smiling around. The situation of Beau Re- 
 gard, and the fine views which it commanded 
 over the distant country, were well worthy of 
 its name, and augmented in no small degree the 
 beauty of the scene in the eyes of those who 
 could spare a few moments from the serious 
 operations of flirting and eating, to admire the 
 prospect. 
 
 The mansion was built about midway on 
 the gentle declivity of a range of hills, which, 
 sinking gradually to the right and left, formed 
 a species of sylvan amphitheatre round a por- 
 tion of the park and grounds, and then lost 
 themselves in the neighbouring vales. It was 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 239 
 
 completely skreened from the eastern and north- 
 ern winds by massive clumps of forest trees, or 
 belts of thriving plantations, which fringed the 
 ridges of the eminences above, or feathered the 
 gullies and undulations which intersected their 
 flanks. A large sheet of water, so well con- 
 trived and disposed as to represent a natural 
 river, flowed at the farther extremity of the 
 park, where several head of cattle, half immersed 
 in the stream, were seeking coolness and refresh- 
 ment from the heat of the day ; whilst a herd 
 of deer were reposing amidst the fern which 
 clothed its banks, tossing their antlers and agi- 
 tating their ears to protect them from the flies. 
 The beautiful and admirably distributed flower- 
 gardens and pleasure-grounds, which extended 
 in an easy slope to a considerable distance on 
 eitlier side the house, were laid out with the 
 most perfect taste and science, and were divid- 
 ed from the park by a light invisible fence. 
 Every species of indigenous or exotic plant 
 which could attract the eye by the brilliancy of 
 its colours, or delight the sense by the fra- 
 
240 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 grance of its perfumes, were classed in distinct 
 masses, or blended together so as to give relief 
 and variety to each other. Here baskets formed 
 of light bark, and suspended by sylvan chains 
 made from the fruit of the pine tree, were filled 
 with several kinds of the most rare and costly 
 geraniums; whilst wreaths of convolvuli, cobaeas, 
 and other parasitical plants, twisted their light 
 fibres around their fragile supporters, and gave 
 them the appearance of garlands woven by some 
 fairy hand. Parterres of the most graceful and 
 informal shape intersected the lawns, and were 
 interspersed with marble pedestals supporting 
 classic vases filled with daturas, oleanders, or 
 orange trees in full bloom. On one side, beds 
 of many coloured larkspurs, varying as the 
 tints of the rainbow, or masses of heliotropes, 
 and carnations, were confined by a net work 
 of iron ; around which the variegated ivy, 
 creeping jasmine, or eglantine, interwove their 
 slender stems; whilst the passion-flower and 
 papyrus, twisting themselves round the arch- 
 ing handles, flung their light blossoms around 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 241 
 
 at the mercy of the breeze. On the other hand, 
 baskets of odoriferous tube-roses shot their 
 white and scented blossoms from amidst a mass 
 of dazzling cardinalis, whose brilliant crimson 
 flowers concealed the lonff and barren stems of 
 the tender exotic. Shaded by the pendant 
 branches of the tulip-tree, a statue of Diana 
 caught the spectator's eye, as she stood half 
 concealed amidst a mimic grove of the most 
 costly camelias. Upon an elevated bed, plant- 
 ed with the most rare and brilliant roses, en- 
 closed by a trellis-work of osier, and raised 
 above the surrounding flowers, the God of Love, 
 with quiver full of arrows and bow already 
 bent, stood prepared to lance his weapon from 
 amidst the blossoms. 
 
 In the centre of the parterres flowed a cool 
 and bubbling fountain, whose oval basin was 
 composed of spars, crystals, and fragments of 
 various minerals, clothed with flowering lichens 
 and other alpine plants, which had taken root 
 between the interstices ; whilst its waters were 
 half concealed by the broad and glossy leaves 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 of a tribe of nymphea, whose snow-white blos- 
 soms, or yellow buds, were now and then agi- 
 tated by the gold and silver fish which frisked 
 beneath their shade. Beneath the sweeping 
 branches of an immense cedar, the band of one 
 of the regiments of guards excited the admira- 
 tion of the guests by the brilliancy and execu- 
 tion with which they performed several morsels 
 of martial music. Farther, within a fantastic 
 pavilion, a troop of musicians, in the habits of 
 Italian virtuosi, called forth shouts of applause, 
 as they accompanied some pieces of music ar- 
 ranged for the occasion, with the sounds of 
 penny trumpets, rattles, bird whistles, and 
 cuckoo calls, which produced a degree of har- 
 mony, comic it is true, but inconceivable to 
 those who have not witnessed the effect. Coli- 
 net and his minstrels, stationed in a rustic ball- 
 room, attracted those who felt inclined to exer- 
 cise themselves in the dance, if they did not 
 prefer to remain spectators of a ballet per- 
 formed by the principal artists of the Opera, 
 in a sylvan theatre erected for the pur- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 243 
 
 pose, or to listen to a concert in the mansion, 
 where the most distinguished foreign vocahsts 
 were putting forth all the vigour of their 
 science. Beneath a temple dedicated to Po- 
 mona, stood Mr. Gunter, (worthy representa- 
 tive of the good old man who so often in our 
 youth rewarded our incipient capers with re- 
 freshments from his own hand,) superintending 
 a group of attendants in the costume of Valen- 
 cian gardeners, who either offered bouquets of 
 fragrant flowers to the sentimental, or more 
 substantial viands to the epicure, from a bufifet 
 which was loaded with a profusion of the most 
 delicious and rare fruits. Under the shade of 
 a cool grotto, dressed as a Russian Moujek, 
 stood the ingenious Mr. Jarrin, holding forth 
 the temptations of ices, cool sherberts, and all 
 the other treasures of his art ; whilst the Baron's 
 maitre d'hotel, as a Vintner from Epernay, was 
 firing a continued /ew dejoie from an inexhaus- 
 tible battery of champaigne in a mimic cabaret. 
 Deeper in the woods, a small band of wind in- 
 struments appealed in vain to the attention of 
 M 2 
 
ii44 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the many, though it was from this spot that the 
 view was most beautiful. Hence the eye wan- 
 dered over an hundred rich and fertile val- 
 leys, teeming with towns, villages, and spires, 
 until it rested on the Surry and Hampshire 
 hills, whose dark blue flanks and chalky summits 
 alternately gloomed in the shade of the fleeting 
 clouds, or glittered for a while ere they melted 
 into flakes of gold and purple, as they mingled 
 with the bright and gorgeous beams of the sun, 
 which appeared resting on their summits. In 
 the intervening space, thousands of villas, 
 churches, and rural habitations, reared them- 
 selves like sparkling opals from amidst the 
 trees, shining and glistening like plates of bur- 
 nished metal, as the rays of the evening illu- 
 mined their casements. 
 
 A singular contrast to this gay prospect was 
 formed by the black and cloud-capped aspect of 
 the vast city, which stretched its ancient, huge, 
 and endless masses of dark masonry over an 
 extent of country which the eye could scarcely 
 embrace ; whilst the cupola of the metropolitan 
 
HERBERT xMILTO}^. 245 
 
 church on one side, and the towers of the 
 abbey on the other, peeping from above the 
 mist, appeared like some huge giant reposing 
 amidst a chaos of rocks, and of whom the head 
 and feet alone were visible. A long and tor- 
 tuous wreath of light vapour, taking its rise 
 far inland, marked the mazy course of the 
 Thames, as it twined and rolled itself around 
 the Berkshire and Oxford hills, or watered the 
 plains in the vicinity of the city, where for a 
 while it blended itself with its dark mists, and 
 then appeared to the southward, converted 
 into a broad expanse of water, crowded with my- 
 riads of masts, or whitened with the sails of nu- 
 merous nations, wafting the produce and wealth 
 of the world into the very heart of the capital. 
 But we must return to Alfred, who had been 
 long waiting for an opportunity of conversing 
 with Lady Catesby, and who, to the annoyance 
 of the former, for the first time in her life, ap- 
 peared to be attacked with a sudden fit of con- 
 jugal tenderness, and scarcely quitted her hus- 
 band's side for ten minutes during the after- 
 
246 HERBERT MILTON; 
 
 noon. Alfred plainly saw that this access of 
 attachment for Sir Lawrence was not likely to 
 be of long continuance, and he smiled as he 
 saw her Ladyship tormenting herself with listen- 
 ing to what she always considered the prosy 
 observations of the Baronet, whilst she would 
 have given the world to have been waltzing 
 or flirting. '' This does not last an hour 
 longer," said Alfred to himself, '' or we shall 
 have her fainting with restrained passion. I 
 see she is fighting and working herself into a 
 storm ; but lime does not hold a bird more 
 firmly than I hold you, my Lady." He had 
 remarked that Lady Catesby not only avoided 
 him, but that she had received with coolness 
 and ill-humour the few words he had address- 
 ed to her during the morning : this, on any 
 other occasion, would have been a sufficient 
 pretext for his getting rid at once of any wo- 
 man whom he was tired of, but she was neces- 
 sary to his plans at present, and he therefore 
 resolved to dissemble. 
 
 At length the moment he had foretold ar- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 247 
 
 rived, and he saw her hastening alone to join a 
 party, who were proceeding to walk round the 
 grounds. Crossing the gardens, he contrived 
 to head her, as a sportsman would say, in such 
 a manner as to prevent her escape ; and as soon 
 as he was at her side, he immediately held out 
 his hand, which she, however, declined ; then, 
 in the softest and most feeling tone, he exclaim- 
 ed, " What ! does Laura, I beg her pardon, 
 Lady Catesby, refuse me even ftiis sHght mark 
 of friendship ?" Her Ladyship had watched 
 the expression of Alfred's countenance, when 
 he uttered these few words ; but she could ga- 
 ther nothing from a face which never betray- 
 ed his real sentiments, and which he could, 
 with consummate skill, adapt to the purpose 
 of the moment. " Have I deserved this ?"" 
 continued Alfred ; *' no, rather say at once you 
 are tired of me ; it would be more honourable 
 to you, more kind to me. Lady Catesby, to 
 confess that you are importuned by my atten- 
 tions ; — but speak, for God's sake ! I cannot bear 
 this cold, this cruel suspense." 
 
248 
 
 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 After gazing earnestly at his face for some 
 seconds, Lady Catesby answered : " Mr. Mil- 
 ton's conscience must sufficiently inform him 
 that his conduct has deserved no warmer recep- 
 tion. There was a time when his manner was 
 far otherwise ; when, although he possessed a 
 secret important to me as my life, yet he did 
 not then treat me with insult and contempt, 
 nor goad me with the degrading recollection of 
 my being at his mercy." 
 
 '* Dearest Laura," replied Alfred, " your 
 accusations are most unjust; you are dearer, 
 more necessary to me than ever. I own I have 
 been in fault, but I was hurt and piqued at 
 your apparent estrangement, and the prefer- 
 ence you seemed to accord to Lord Taunton. 
 Therefore, I confess I did houcU a little, being, 
 as you know, too proud to make the first over- 
 tures, and I have therefore sighed and suffered 
 in silence." 
 
 " Say, rather, that you have been sighing for 
 Miss Manby," retorted her Ladyship ; " say 
 that you were only waiting for a pretext to cast 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 2i9 
 
 me off, and that you have found another, who, 
 if she fall into your snares, will, in her turn, be 
 forsaken and degraded like myself. But speak, 
 Sir; for once be candid; when is it your inten- 
 tion to expose me ? How long is it your good 
 pleasure that I may continue to show myself 
 in the world .?" 
 
 Alfred plainly saw that jealousy was the 
 principal cause of Lady Catesby's anger, and 
 he flattered himself, with a little exertion on 
 his part, he should soon re-establish himself 
 in her affection ; he therefore gently took her 
 hand, pressed it to his breast, and exclaimed, in 
 a voice of assumed emotion, " Oh, Laura, you 
 little know the misery you cause me by your 
 cruel suspicions ; have I not given you every 
 proof of my devotion and attachment ? How 
 can you suppose for an instant that I could be 
 capable of any act which could disturb your 
 happiness?" 
 
 " Deceiver, arch deceiver !"*' exclaimed Lady 
 Catesby, still leaving her hand in his. 
 
 Alfred saw his advantage, and continued : 
 M 5 
 
250 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " Whilst you, Laura, have been fostering these 
 wicked, cruel suspicions, my only desire has 
 been to consult you on a subject of the deepest 
 interest to us both." 
 
 " Interest !" rejoined Lady Catesby ; " what 
 interest can there be in common between us for 
 the future ? you cannot deceive me.**' 
 
 " Be patient, for God's sake !" rejoined the 
 other, " and you will find that it is a matter 
 of the most urgent importance to us both." 
 
 " It must, indeed, be a most desperate case, 
 which can induce Mr. Milton to condescend 
 to consult the opinion of a person whom he 
 has thought proper to treat with even more 
 than the wonted insolence and ingratitude with 
 which he is accustomed to repay every favour, 
 every kindness he may have received, let the 
 sacrifices made for him be what they will." 
 
 " Ingratitude ! Laura ; what can be your 
 meaning .?" exclaimed Alfred, with a forced sigh 
 of tenderness, whilst he was cursing her in his 
 heart ; "is it thus you receive me, when my 
 object is to draw the bonds which unite us 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 251 
 
 still more closely; when I am about to ask your 
 advice and assistance ? For where can I apply 
 for counsel more appropriately than to Lady 
 Catesby, when skill, prudence, and female 
 charms are required ?" 
 
 " What new scheme of wickedness has your 
 fertile genius invented ?" said Lady Catesby, 
 withdrawing her hand : " who now is to be 
 seduced, — who is to be ruined ? What friend's 
 wife or daughter is to be sacrificed ? Whose 
 horse is to be dosed ? whose jockey to be 
 bribed ?'' 
 
 " Have I deserved this lanojuaore ? can these 
 reproaches flow from your mouth, Laura, with 
 any degree of justice ?" replied Alfred : " what, 
 in Heaven ! can have produced this sudden 
 gust of passion, or rather what demon ?" 
 
 *' Demon !'' rejoined the lady, with a look 
 of bitterness, whilst a tear glistened in her eye ; 
 '• that demon is yourself. Sir. Is it not enough 
 that I was already sufficiently lost in my own 
 estimation ? Was not I sinful enough already, 
 but you must add to my abasement? Is it 
 
^2 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 not enough that I should have placed myself 
 in your power, that I should have sacrificed the 
 honour of my husband to purchase your se- 
 crecy ? And yet, forsooth, lie not ! you come 
 to insult my misery and increase my shame, by 
 desiring me to participate in some new crime 
 which you are plamiing." 
 
 Lady Catesby had uttered this speech in a 
 manner which plainly convinced Alfred that 
 jealousy and wounded vanity had more to do 
 with her displeasure than repentance or re- 
 m.orse : he therefore replied in the same affect- 
 ed voice : " Indeed, dearest Laura, I am at a 
 loss to imagine to what you allude ; what hate- 
 ful tale-bearer has poisoned your mind against 
 me, and filled your brain with fantasies, which, 
 could I love you more, or was I less hurt, I 
 should either laugh at or resent; but were 
 your suspicions as true as they are unfounded, 
 even then I should not have merited these 
 harsh and cruel remarks." 
 
 " What is there you do not merit ?" retort- 
 ed Lady Catesby, who became every moment 
 
HEltBERT MILTON. ^55 
 
 more irritated. " Do not pretend to trifle with 
 my feelings any longer. I am well informed of 
 your love, or rather your passion, for Miss 
 Manby; for to call it love, where you are 
 concerned, would be a mockery of the word. 
 What, Sir, even this unfortunate orphan cannot 
 escape you ?'' added her Ladyship, v^hose man- 
 ner betrayed the most violent agitation ; "but 
 she shall, Sir ; I will protect her — I will warn 
 her against your treachery — I will unravel your 
 plans, and, sooner than you should succeed, I 
 will sacrifice myself, and bid her take warning 
 from my example. She shall learn to hate you 
 as you deserve ; you shall become as odious 
 and abhorrent to her, as the veiled prophet to 
 the trembling Zeleika." 
 
 Alfred, who was little prepared for this vio- 
 lent resistance on the part of Lady Catesby, 
 though she had often before broken out into fits 
 of passion, had considerable difficulty to restrain 
 his own rising anger ; but it was urgent for 
 him that Emily Manby should be persuaded to 
 take the step he wished her to adopt, and as 
 
S54 HERBEET MILTON. 
 
 he knew that she had a great regard for Lady 
 Catesby, of whose character and history the 
 former was ignorant, he determined to yield to 
 her Ladyship's violence, and still endeavoured 
 to soften and tune her to his purpose. 
 
 ** Indeed, Laura, you do yourself and me 
 the greatest injustice: if love has ever been 
 profaned by me, if I have proved faithless 
 and unkind to others, you, at least, ought 
 not to taunt me with my want of constan- 
 cy. Who is it, beautiful Laura, who has ren- 
 dered all her sex indifferent to me ; who is it 
 who has enthralled my heart, and for whom 
 have I earned the reputation of being incon- 
 stant and volatile ? Whose charms have blind- 
 ed me to the perfections of all other women ; 
 for whom have I renounced the splendid mar- 
 riages which it was in my power to contract ; 
 and for whom have I formed and entered into 
 a plot, which, if it succeed, will prove to you, 
 dearest Laura, that for your sake I am ready 
 to sacrifice every tie in life, and that I have no 
 
HERBEET MILTON. ^55 
 
 object in wishing to acquire a large fortune, but 
 that I may participate my happiness with you ?" 
 
 " A vaunt, tempter !" cried her Ladyship, 
 though evidently much softened by the fer- 
 vour and apparent sincerity which Alfred threw 
 into his words and manner — " avaunt ! there 
 is poison in every syllable which escapes your 
 lips— death lurks in your speech. Woe, woe 
 to the woman who confides in you !" 
 
 " r^aura, my dear Laura,'"* rejoined Alfred, 
 already aware of the advantage he was gaining ; 
 " calm these angry transports, and do not re- 
 ject my confidence." 
 
 " Confidence !" retorted her Ladyship; "every 
 word you utter is fraught with falsehood. 
 What.' are you not content with the degree 
 of abasement into which you have cast me, 
 but you must now add to the upbraidings of 
 my conscience, by making me the depository 
 of your infamous schemes upon another — for 
 infamous they must be, whenever a woman is 
 the object of your views .?" 
 
^56 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Alfred was now beginning to get extremely 
 tired of this scene, and would willingly have 
 thrown her Ladyship over the steep bank where 
 they were standing ; but he determined to make 
 one other effort, ere he resorted to his usual 
 reserve of menaces, which on more than one 
 occasion he had been obliged to bring into 
 action. "Laura,'' said he, "this conduct is 
 too cruel ; I plainly perceive it is your object 
 to quarrel with me — be it so; the day will 
 come when you will learn to appreciate the 
 value of the heart you have rejected. It is 
 unnecessary, it would be useless, for me, under 
 your present state of mind, to attempt to enter 
 into the subject for which I anxiously sought an 
 interview. All I shall therefore say is, I hate 
 and despise Miss Manby, — but now farewell ! 
 we never speak again. May he, for whom jou 
 thus abandon and reject me, never give you 
 cause to regret your injustice and maltreat- 
 ment of the unhappy Alfred — " and then, 
 squeezing a few tears into his eye, he pressed 
 
HERBERT MTLTON. 257 
 
 her hand, and exclaimed " God bless you !" 
 and pretended to turn from her. 
 
 Lady Catesby, who was visibly affected by 
 this last effort, ran towards him, placed her 
 hand upon his arm, and looking earnestly in 
 his face, said : " Do you indeed hate Miss 
 Manby ? Are you really sincere ; are you not 
 deceiving me? Is it not true that you wish 
 to make use of me as a tool, to forward your 
 views upon her ? Have you no intention to 
 marry her, or — " 
 
 " Marry !" retorted Alfred, interrupting her 
 with a laugh ; " marry ! I — I, Alfred Mil- 
 ton, marry a sentimental girl, and pass the 
 rest of my days, ^cl filer h parfait amour,' in 
 a cottage ! I renounce my liberty and my love 
 for Lady Catesby for an unknown orphan for 
 the sake of a few paltry thousands ! How little 
 you know me ! how completely you undervalue 
 your own empire over me ! No — no, Laura ; 
 the lion does not stoop to the mole. Married, 
 it is true, she must be, but not to me." 
 
^8 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " What !" rejoined Lady Catesby, whose 
 jealousy again took fire ; " married ! that you 
 may with less inconvenience add her to the list 
 of those unhappy creatures who have nothing 
 left but to hate the day that first threw them 
 in your way. I was convinced there must be 
 some scheme of this kind passing in your 
 mind." 
 
 " A moment's patience," replied Alfred, " and 
 you will find you are mistaken and misinformed ; 
 and beware lest I punish your informant ; be- 
 ware lest I revenge this conduct on your new 
 admirer. Lord Taunton, for to him alone I 
 am indebted for this treatment." 
 
 " You may kill the coxcomb on the spot," 
 answered the lady, "but his death would 
 not alter my opinions ; he has told me nothing 
 that I did not know before." 
 
 " I shall take an opportunity," rejoined Al- 
 fred, " of calling your noble lover to account, 
 for thus daring to occupy himself with me. 
 Could not the coxcomb content himself with 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 259 
 
 his own rapid success with you, Laura — you 
 were wont to have better taste — without med- 
 dling in my affairs ? But listen a moment, and 
 I will explain my meaning. Miss Manby must 
 be married ! nay, start not, and that speedily, 
 to my cousin Herbert !" 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Lady Catesby, " must 
 your own family, must your friend, the son 
 of the man from whom I know you have re- 
 ceived benefits, the cousin to whom you are so 
 deeply indebted, — must he be selected from all 
 London to bear the disgrace which you intend 
 to heap upon him.? This is indeed carrying 
 your ingratitude and wickedness too far. I 
 will have none of your confidence, Sir ; I must 
 indeed be lost and degraded, that you can thus 
 dare to make me the depository of such hor- 
 rible projects." 
 
 " If you imagine, Laura," rejoined he, 
 " that I have a grain of passion, since you 
 will not allow that I am capable of loving ; 
 if you suppose that I entertain a thought of 
 
260 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Miss Manby, in any other light than as a 
 stepping-stone to fortune, you do me wrong, 
 and vilely underrate my talents*"" 
 
 " Then what can be your object ? how can 
 Miss Manby, unless you marry her yourself, 
 be in any way instrumental to the advancement 
 of your fortune ?'' 
 
 " Aye, there hangs the mystery,'' answered 
 Alfred : " but you will see^ Laura, that I have 
 more confidence in your discretion, than you 
 have in my morals or genius. Listen : I know 
 Miss Manby loves, has long been attached to 
 my cousin. I have drawn her by degrees to 
 betray the secret, and I am equally aware that 
 Herbert is not less in love with her. I have 
 indeed the certainty of the fact, from his let- 
 ters, which have all been placed in my pos- 
 session, through the agency of Perez." 
 
 "Perez!'* exclaimed Lady Catesby; " what! 
 your old valet .P" 
 
 " The same," replied Alfred. " Well, it is my 
 ardent desire to see them united, they love each 
 other, and she is comparatively rich. In for- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 261 
 
 warding my own views, I insure their hap- 
 piness, 1 have there a double motive ; regard 
 for my cousin and my own interest. Besides," 
 added he, " I wish to prove to you, Laura, 
 that I am not the wicked, cold-hearted being 
 which my enemies would persuade you is my 
 nature, — no, marry they must, and then, in 
 completing their felicity, my triumph over my 
 calumniators will be complete. But, to effect 
 this, there are many obstacles to be overcome. 
 Sir Herbert's opposition, and Miss Manby's dis- 
 inclination to marry Herbert without the con- 
 sent of his father, not to mention my cousin's 
 absurd prejudices about parental duty, obedi- 
 ence, and all the other goodly sentiments with 
 which he will oppose my plans. But seriously, 
 I have his happiness alone in view." 
 
 " You most consummate hypocrite !" rejoined 
 Lady Catesby ; '* never did a spark of genero- 
 sity or kindness enter your brain ; or if it did, 
 you were not then in your senses. But no more 
 of this fooling; if you wish me to listen a mo- 
 ment longer, throw off the mask at once, declare 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 your intentions without reserve, or leave me — 
 leave me, for ever !"" 
 
 " Well, then, to be plain," answered Alfred, 
 " Herbert, you know, is an only son. He 
 stands alone between me and his father's for- 
 tune, though, I flatter myself, I possess a larger 
 share of the old Indian's favour." 
 
 '* Plain, indeed !" exclaimed Lady Catesby, 
 with a sincere look of alarm. " Good God ! Sir, 
 you make me tremble at my own thoughts. 
 Perez !'' added her Ladyship, meditating a mo- 
 ment, — " Perez was your servant, he was dis- 
 charged by your cousin, he received money 
 from you as the price of his treachery, and the 
 accounts of his being attacked and nearly assas- 
 sinated by this very man at Lisbon were re- 
 ceived last night by Mr. Sidney and Lady 
 Milton." 
 
 '^ I am as well aware of that as you are," 
 returned Alfred coolly ; " I have heard from 
 him myself; but, indeed," continued he with a 
 smile of contempt, " your Ladyship is carrying 
 your joke a little too far, to suppose me capable 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 263 
 
 of getting up such a melodrame. No, madam, 
 there is no necessity for my recurring to the 
 bare bodkin, though in the event of Herbert's 
 death, or of his dying without children, I 
 should, it is true, inherit his fortune." 
 
 " Well, then," exclaimed Lady Catesby, who 
 endeavoured to restrain her alarm, as she felt 
 convinced Alfred was in some measure connect- 
 ed with the attack on Herbert, of which she had 
 heard the details from Sidney, — '* what can be 
 your object in wishing your cousin to marry, and 
 by this means most probably cut yourself off 
 from all chance of the inheritance you covet ?"" 
 
 " Nothing can be more simple or more 
 certain," replied the other. " In the first 
 place, I know beyond all doubt that my uncle 
 will disinherit his son, the instant he marries 
 Miss Manby ; in the next place, I am acquaint- 
 ed with the names of her parents, which secret 
 is a sufficient guarantee to me, that Sir Herbert 
 never would forgive his son, and that I infal- 
 libly step into his shoes." 
 
 " Good God !" exclaimed Lady Catesby 
 
264 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " had I not reason to say you were a demon ? 
 By what black art have you discovered a cir- 
 cumstance which baffled all the researches of the 
 Manbys for years ? Are you the Wandering 
 Jew, or Asmodeus ?" 
 
 *' It matters not how I became possessed of 
 this secret,'"* answered he ; " suffice it to say, 
 that the knowledge of this circumstance, though 
 it has cost me dear, will amply repay me 
 in the end ; it shall be of more value in my 
 hands than the mystery of the philosopher's 
 stone itself." 
 
 " Beware,^' cried Lady Catesby, '^ most po- 
 tent alchymist, that you do not perish by the 
 exhalations from your own crucible !*' 
 
 " Fear not,*" continued Alfred, " and do but 
 lend me your assistance to persuade Miss Man- 
 by to accept my cousin with or without his 
 father''s consent ; my fortune will then be made, 
 and your debts as well as my own acquitted ; 
 and surely you will not refuse your aid when 
 you are certain to insure the happiness of your 
 young friend ."" 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 265 
 
 " I will never lend myself again to any of youi 
 schemes, Mr. Milton," rejoined Lady Catesby, 
 " unless you declare most fully every previous 
 circumstance, every probable result ; I will not, 
 Sir, commit myself farther in any of your corn- 
 plots, unless my eyes are completely opened to the 
 consequences ; therefore, at once reveal the se- 
 cret of Emily's parentage, as well as the results 
 you anticipate from your machinations." 
 
 " As far as regards Miss Manby," replied 
 Alfred, " I fear I must deny your wish. I 
 have sworn, solemnly sworn, never to divulge 
 the secret; and you well know," added he, with a 
 significant look, " I can now and then keep my 
 promises on this head ; for the rest, as I have 
 before said, it is my grand object to induce 
 Herbert to marry Miss Manby without the 
 consent of his father, and it is necessary that 
 you should use all your influence and art to per- 
 suade her to consent. You know, moreover, 
 that she is independent ; and although Sir Her- 
 bert disinherit his son, they will even then have 
 a very good income." 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
^66 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 '' YoiJr plan," she immediately replied, " is 
 worthy of Machiavielli himself; it is a master- 
 piece of craft and wickedness, and I had, indeed, 
 undervalued your talent for mischief ; but I will 
 tell you fairly, that, unless you at once disclose 
 the secret of Emily's birth, you must not reckon 
 on my co-operation." 
 
 " Ask not an impossibihty,'' answered Alfred. 
 *' I have not only sworn never to divulge what 
 has been communicated to me, but I am bound 
 by a heavy penalty — the success of my schemes 
 also depends on the concealment of this cir- 
 cumstance — and you, at least, should be the 
 last person in the world who should feel dis- 
 pleased at my proving that there are secrets 
 which I can withhold from my dearest, most 
 confidential friends." 
 
 '* So, Sir," retorted Lady Catesby, "you wish 
 to draw me into a participation of your crimes ; 
 you think you may safely make use of me as a 
 blind and willing instrument to advance your 
 fortunes, and yet you withhold from me the 
 most important information, and merely affect 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 267 
 
 to honour me with half confidences. But you 
 have taught me lessons of caution, Mr. Milton, 
 and I shall therefore adopt your own maxim, of 
 never playing a card without calculating those 
 in your adversaries' hand." 
 
 " Laura," rejoined Alfred, '* this is too ab- 
 surd ; you are really drawing too largely on my 
 patience — it cannot be — therefore pray carry on 
 this farce no longer. You well know that it is 
 for the interest of both of us that we should 
 continue friends, and your assistance at present 
 is the price of my future friendship." 
 
 *' And the price of my assistance," retorted 
 Lady Catesby, " is your entire confidence ! You 
 know my terms." 
 
 " Beware,'^ rejoined Alfred, " that you do 
 not exhaust my good nature !" 
 
 " Beware, Sir," replied the lady, " that I do 
 not divulge your infamous connection with Pe- 
 rez ; — take care that I do not communicate the 
 whole tissue of your villany to your cousin and 
 Lady Milton !" 
 
 " Your Ladyship is at liberty to make what 
 N 2 
 
268 HEKBERT MILTON. 
 
 use you please of the knowledge you have ob- 
 tained of my affairs; you may, if you judge it 
 prudent, repay my honourable silence, by your 
 treacherous gossip :"" and then casting at her a 
 look of mixed disdain and fury, he added, " but 
 beware, woman, how you trifle with the sleeping 
 tiger ! a word from your lips, a hint, a look 
 which may disclose my plans, - nay more, your 
 refusal to assist them to the utmost of your 
 power, and I forthwith publish your letters in 
 every journal in England ; I make known 
 your intrigues, and your former conduct ; and 
 we will then see w^hether the ravings of your 
 virtuous Ladyship will have greater effect with 
 my cousin and the world, than my simple 
 proofs. But I waste my time in talking to a 
 woman, whom I had spared hitherto, because I 
 despised her. You have been, and are useful 
 to me still, madam ; improve this ability, or 
 dread the consequences. But enough ; I once 
 more caution you to beware, or I shake you off, 
 and cast you into the mire from whence you 
 sprung !" 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 269 
 
 " Monster of insolence and ingratitude !" 
 screamed the now almost raving lady Catesby ; 
 " I defy your malice ! I scorn your treachery !" 
 
 " As you please, madam," rejoined Alfred, 
 calmly and scornfully tapping her arm with his 
 cane : "in the mean time, look narrowly to your- 
 self ; you are in my power, and you shall feel 
 it. You are my victim, and you shall not es- 
 cape me." Then, with a short sardonic laugli, 
 he turned upon his heel, darted through the 
 trees, and, arriving at the house by a circuitous 
 path, entered into immediate conversation with 
 one of the groups, with an air of reserve and 
 timidity, as if he were the most shy and awk- 
 ward person in the universe. 
 
 To depict the various emotions of Lady Cates- 
 by's mind after this scene, would be impossible : 
 shame, fear, hatred, and jealousy, racked her bo- 
 som ; the violence of her passion was too much 
 for her frame, and she sunk fainting in one o£ 
 the garden chairs, nor was it for some minutes 
 that she was enabled to totter towards the house, 
 where she immediately retired to the Baroness's 
 
270 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 dressing-room, and, desiring her carriage to be 
 ordered, sent for Sir Lawrence, and then making 
 her excuses to her hostess, was in the course of 
 a short time on her road home. 
 
 It would be impossible to present a better mo- 
 ral lesson, or a more forcible warning to all those 
 who are on the eve of plunging themselves into 
 similar immoralities, and disregard of every prin- 
 ciple of virtue, than that offered by the wretch- 
 ed Lady Catesby. Who is there that would not 
 pause ere they sacrificed themselves for ever, ere 
 they cast themselves into that awful gulph from 
 which years of repentance cannot redeem their 
 consciences, even if the world shall have forgot- 
 ten their errors ? Who is there who would not 
 shudder at the consequences of guilt, could 
 they but feel for a moment the dreadful agonies 
 which tore the heart of the miserable Laura, 
 rendered still more acute by the gentleness and 
 affectionate manner of her injured husband ? 
 
 Sir Lawrence was aware that his wife was gid- 
 dy, unthinking, and vain of her personal charms, 
 but he reposed the utmost confidence and re- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 271 
 
 liance on her virtue. He saw she was fond 
 of admiration ; but he trusted that time, and a 
 httle experience, would contribute to correct 
 these faults, which he attributed to the flatteries 
 of the world, rather than to any propensity to 
 evil. He had, it is true, ventured to remon- 
 strate with her upon the eternal thirst she ex- 
 hibited for '' going out," but this was done 
 from the fear of her health being injured by 
 the constant round of dissipation in which her 
 days were passed : he had moreover most ear- 
 nestly intreated her to check the continued at- 
 tentions of Mr. Alfred Milton, whom he justly 
 represented as a young man of the most danger- 
 ous character; but his remonstrance did not 
 arise from any mistrust in her, but from his 
 dread, lest her reputation should suffer in the 
 opinion of the world, which he well knew is 
 not wont to be over lenient in its judgments on 
 similar occasions. Far, however, from being 
 desirous to control Lady Catesby in the mo- 
 derate and rational enjoyment of amusements 
 becoming her rank and station, Sir Lawrence 
 
272 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 was even pleased and flattered at her success in 
 society, which success he attributed entirely to 
 her own merits and charms. Although his 
 own occupations, and the fatigues of his duties, 
 left him little leisure, and still less inclination 
 for late hours and hot rooms, yet he was an- 
 xious that she should obtain a footing in the 
 most select and distinguished society. Indeed, 
 in this matter he evinced a degree of eagerness 
 almost inconsistent with his character and avo- 
 cations. If a party was announced at Carlton 
 House, or any other place proportionably select. 
 Sir Lawrence was in a perfect fever until the 
 card or note of invitation made its appearance ; 
 and it then afforded him considerable gi-atifi- 
 cation in arranging these fashionable passports 
 in a conspicuous position, on the side of the 
 great mirror, over the chimney-piece. In the 
 present instance he evinced the utmost tender- 
 ness and sympathy for Lady Catesby ; and as 
 she had scarcely quitted his arm for more than 
 half an hour previous to his being sent for to 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 273 
 
 the Baroness's boudoir, he was the more pleased 
 with her for having afforded him (what he mis- 
 took for) so great a proof of her attention to 
 his wishes respecting Alfred. 
 
 Immediately upon their arrival in Stanhope- 
 street, Lady Catesby retired to her own apart- 
 ment, told her husband she merely required 
 repose ; and as soon as he quitted the room, she 
 hastily undressed herself, and then, dismissing 
 her attendants, fastened the door, and gave way 
 to all the bitterness of her feelings, which were 
 still more acute from her having endeavoured 
 to suppress her agitation during their drive to 
 town. 
 
 For some time the unhappy lady continu- 
 ed pacing up and down her chamber with 
 a hurried step, alternately bursting forth in 
 torrents of convulsive tears and sobs, or utter- 
 ing a short hysteric laugh, still more torturing 
 to her bosom. The guilt of the past, the hor- 
 ror of the present, and her dread of the future ; 
 the remembrance of her parent, who had died 
 N 5 
 
274 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 heart-broken on her elopement ; her jealousy, 
 her still unextinguished passion for Alfred, her 
 conscience-stricken fears for her husband, all 
 united to distract her mind with the most vio- 
 lent emotions of terror, shame, and remorse. 
 The thought of Alfred's cruel and pitiless 
 threats, the conviction that she durst not at- 
 tempt to free herself from the odious bondage 
 in which he held her, and the cruel avowal 
 he had made, not only of his indifference, 
 but of his contempt for her, drove her to a 
 state of temporary frenzy. Striking her burn- 
 ing brow with her hand, the dreadful thought 
 of self-murder crossed her maddening brain, 
 and she looked around for some implement 
 of destruction. For an instant, however, she 
 paused : it was not the fear of death, it was 
 not remorse, but the feelings of a mother which 
 arrested her hand. She thought of her two 
 children, of her two sleeping babes, to whom, 
 notwithstanding her guilt, she was fondly at- 
 tached; the recollection of her own situation, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 275 
 
 and of the innocent creature who must perish 
 with her, recalled her for a moment to her 
 senses. She threw herself on her knees, clasped 
 both her trembling hands across her bosom, 
 and endeavoured to utter a short prayer for 
 mercy and forgiveness to the great Being, into 
 whose dread presence she had been about to 
 rush unrepenting, and loaded with guilt. For 
 months, nay for years, Lady Catesby had not 
 prayed : it was the first time since her marriage 
 with Sir Lawrence that she had even attempted 
 to pour forth a sentiment of supplication ; and 
 it appeared, at present, as if the demon who 
 possessed her was resolved not to renounce 
 his victim. In vain the unhappy woman es- 
 sayed to repeat a prayer, — the words died in her 
 utterance. Her thoughts of the Deity and 
 of her children vanished from her mind, and 
 were replaced by that of Alfred taunting her to 
 destruction ; and the sound of his last words 
 again rung in her cars. Springing on her feet, 
 she rushed to her dressing-table, and seizing 
 
276 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 a phial of opium, uttering aloud, " Alfred ! my 
 death be on your head P she swallowed the 
 contents. Her head soon became dizzy, every 
 object swam around her, and falling senseless 
 on the carpet, her sorrows and her guilt were 
 buried in oblivion ! 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 277 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 After the scene with Lady Catesby, Alfred 
 sought the earhest opportunity of communi- 
 cating his project to the Baroness, who had, he 
 knew, considerable influence over Emily, and 
 whom he found seated in her boudoir. As he 
 approached, she exclaimed, " Oh ! there you 
 are, Barbaro Tiranno, Crudel Vincitor ! why 
 we have had I^ady Catesby in fits, gi^andissima 
 sceria ; — there was the marilo in an agony with 
 Eau de Cologne and aether, and the new Cava- 
 liere. Lord Taunton, in tears. ' O quante lagrime 
 finor" versai !' and you. Sir, where were you ? 
 Oh, I am certain you have been playing the 
 cruel ! or else Sir Lawrence and the 'prima 
 
278 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 dotiua have been quarrelling. But tell me all 
 about it ; — there, sit down, and do not look so 
 very good. Now for the premier coup cTarchety 
 
 " Upon my word," replied Alfred, as soon 
 as the Baroness gave herself time to take breath, 
 *' indeed I am shocked to hear Lady Catesby 
 has been taken ill, but I am completely igno- 
 rant of the cause ; in fact, I have scarcely 
 spoken to her twice during the whole day : and 
 instead of quarrelling with Sir Lawrence, she 
 appeared to have been seized with a sudden fit 
 of conjugal tenderness. She scarcely left his 
 side for a moment during the whole day ; and, 
 between ourselves, that was enough to have 
 made any one ill." 
 
 '* Oh, but 1 think him excessively agreeable," 
 rejoined the Baroness. 
 
 " No wonder," returned Alfred ; •' he is not 
 your husband." 
 
 After a few more observations, Alfred suc- 
 ceeded in bringing the conversation round to 
 his cousin, and then recounted all the particu- 
 lars of Herbert's adventure at Lisbon ; express- 
 
IIEIIBEKT MILTON. 279 
 
 ing, with every appearance of sincerity and 
 feeling, not only his horror at the atrocious 
 conduct of Perez, but his own distress at the 
 idea of having recommended so great a villain 
 to Herbert. His good-natured auditress listened 
 with great attention and sympathy to the details 
 of this affair, and merely interrupted him now 
 and then by exclaiming, ** Oh, my dear Alfred, 
 it is too shocking ! It would have been such 
 a pity if he had been killed, he sings so well ! 
 Poor fellow ! I am enchanted at his escape ; 
 I shall now have Moretti's last composition." 
 And as soon as Alfred had brought his recital 
 to a close, she added, " Poor dear Emily ! what 
 a state she must have been in when she heard 
 the report. Oh, there she is ! I must run to 
 her, and tell her all about it. Let me see, you 
 said seven briganti, and he had both his hands 
 tied, and then the Spanish lady trying to hang 
 him from jealousy, and his great poodle dog 
 biting the rope. — Oh, I must get some poodle 
 dogs !" 
 
 " I will give you mine,'" answered Alfred. 
 
280 HERBET MItTON, 
 
 laughing at the extraordinary confusion which 
 the volatile lady had made of his story. 
 
 " What, your beast Poco-Cura/ite, I would 
 rather be assassinated than admit him again 
 into the house, he howls so dreadfully when the 
 Baron accompanies me on the bassoon ; — but I 
 am enchanted to hear that poor Herbert is 
 coming home, I was so dreadfully afraid about 
 my music, and Emily — " 
 
 " Emily !" exclaimed Alfred, interrupting 
 her ; " what, in the world, has Miss Manby to 
 do with your music ?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear Sir," retorted the Baroness, 
 " you confuse every thing ; why, Emily is in 
 love with Herbert to the death ; her old Du- 
 enna, Mrs. Walden, told it me as a great se- 
 cret ; — by-the-bye, what a charming couple they 
 would make; I wish we could bring them to- 
 gether, they would improve so much by prac- 
 ising, their voices harmonize perfectly." 
 
 " That is the very subject I wished to con- 
 sult you upon," was Alfred's reply. 
 
 When once upon the subject of music, of 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 281 
 
 which the Baroness was passionately fond, 
 nothing could avert her thoughts to any thing 
 else, and she therefore now launched forth on 
 her favourite topic. 
 
 " I am very glad you agree with me on this 
 point," said she, *' for I think some of her low 
 notes equal to any thing I remember of Gras- 
 sini : did you ever hear her in ^ Pajto, ti las- 
 cio addioT how delightfully they would sing 
 that together ! Ah, my dear Sir, with all your 
 lessons from Tremmezani, you never will have 
 such execution as Herbert: what a splendid 
 tenor ; his B flat is impayahle. Ah, ah ! you 
 and Lady Cat. never will produce such an ef- 
 fect in your little duetts. In fact, we must 
 bring them together." 
 
 '* Why, my dear Baroness," exclaimed Al- 
 fred, " if you will but listen to me an instant, 
 you will find that it only requires your media- 
 tion and influence to unite them at once ; for I 
 am more anxious than you can imagine, that 
 Herbert, who has been attached to Miss Manby 
 for years — " 
 
282 HEEBERT MILTON. 
 
 *' Sempre fedele a te r exclaimed the Baro- 
 ness ; '* but go on.*" 
 
 " Well, continued Alfred, " I am naturally 
 most desirous that the poor tenoT' should not 
 (against every operatic rule) die of love, after 
 having escaped all the dangers of his Lisbon 
 adventure." 
 
 " What ! is he really and seriously in love ?" 
 quickly replied the Baroness ; " then it is all 
 settled. I will take upon myself to arrange eve- 
 ry thing ; I will propose for him at once to Emi* 
 ly ; then we shall have ' l<Ioce et Festin,' and we 
 will get up a little opera cToccasioriy ' Le nozze 
 dei Harmotiici,' and Lord Barriton shall ar- 
 range the music. By-the-bye, I hope he will 
 allow Morlachi, or Rossini, or Picini, to com^ 
 pose the whole of his next production ; for the 
 small portion of his own in his * Morte de Cleo- 
 patra,'''' made one suffer as much pain as the 
 Queen herself." 
 
 " But, my dear Baroness,'' rejoined Alfred, 
 " we must first get up the marriage, before we 
 think of arranging the opera."" 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 283 
 
 " Why, where is the difficulty ? She sings 
 divinely, is rich, beautiful, and a very dear 
 good girl : he will have a splendid fortune, is 
 one of the handsomest creatures in London, and 
 they are in love — what more can be wanting to 
 insure their happiness ?" 
 
 "There exist greater difficulties than you 
 are aware of," answered Alfred ; *' in the first 
 place, my uncle, from some unknown cause, en- 
 tertains the greatest dislike to Miss Manby, 
 and appears to have as great an enmity to her 
 as he had to her foster-father ; and I have reason 
 to fear he would at first object to their union,'' 
 
 '* What fun," rejoined the Baroness, " it 
 would be to make them run away, — an enlcvC' 
 rnent would be delightful !" 
 
 " Well then," answered Alfred, " if you will 
 undertake to persuade Emily to consent to such 
 a measure, I will, on my part, engage that Her- 
 bert shall carry her off; and although Sir Her- 
 bert may be a little angry at first, yet I have 
 grounds for asserting that he would quickly 
 relent and forgive them ; and then, my dear 
 
284 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Baroness, you and I shall have the satisfaction 
 of being instrumental to their happiness : it is 
 the only means within my power to show my 
 regard and affection for Herbert." 
 
 " Instrumental !" exclaimed the lady, " and vo- 
 cal too ! It will be charming — it will make such 
 a delightful little opera. Testarossa shall write 
 the poetry, Barriton bespeak the music, and the 
 Baron shall design the costumes. Let me see ; 
 Herbert, as primo tenor, may introduce " Solo 
 per te ben mio /" then Emily, prima donna Can- 
 tante, may sing " aS'^ il genitor mi toglie coiei 
 che m'innamora" then the duet from " Isolina 
 and Tebaldo," '« Che did ah no,""' will suit them 
 dehghtfully. Then that cross Mr. Rookby, as 
 the Crudel Padre, will make an admirable basso; 
 and for the underplot, you, as a kind of Le- 
 porello, may flirt a httle in recitative with Lady 
 Cat. as my cameriera ; and I will be the Prin- 
 cess who unites the couple." 
 
 Here the Baroness was interrupted in her 
 operatic programme by Alfred, who said, " Do, 
 for heaven's sake ! be serious for one moment. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 285 
 
 and tell me if I may rely upon your endeavours 
 to obtain Emily's consent to marry Herbert ; 
 I, for my part, will guarantee that Sir Herbert 
 pardons them within a month." 
 
 " If you are confident, Alfred, that the old 
 Rajah will relent, I will do all in my power to 
 persuade Emily. But, dear girl !" added the 
 Baroness, with more forethought than she was 
 wont to consider these matters, " I should be 
 sorry to urge her to take any step which might 
 affect her future happiness. To be sure, she 
 has no father, no relation to consult ; she is 
 her own mistress ; but I know her so well, that 
 she would not, I am convinced, gratify her own 
 love for Herbert, at the expense of drawing 
 his father's anger upon his head. Btit as you 
 assure me this will not be the case, I will use all 
 my influence to induce her to make my tenor 
 happy.'' 
 
 " How kind of you, my dear Baroness !" re- 
 plied Alfred ; " how grateful Herbert will be ! 
 to your kind mediation he will be indebted for 
 his happiness. The moment he arrives I shall 
 
286 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 set him to work, and I hope in the course of 
 two or three months we may rehearse our 
 opera." 
 
 '' Here comes Lady Milton !" exclaimed the 
 good-natured hostess : *' I shall tell her of our 
 plan; and as I know she doats upon Emily — '' 
 
 " Not a word, my dear Baroness, to my 
 aunt, as you value poor Herbert's success," 
 here interposed Alfred, alarmed at his friend's 
 suggestion. 
 
 " She ought not to be acquainted with the 
 business ; for, naturally, as she is aware of Sir 
 Herbert's objections, she would interfere, and 
 Herbert would never have courage to disobey 
 her, though the certain happiness to himself 
 and Emily was the result." 
 
 '^ Very true, very true !" replied the other, 
 " we will arrange the whole matter between 
 ourselves ; and now I must go and congratulate 
 your aunt on the tenors fortunate escape." 
 
 The Baroness immediately ran towards 
 Lady Milton, and poured forth a volume of 
 comphments and congratulations, which were 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 287 
 
 most pleasing to the latter ; whose affection and 
 pride in her son were augmented, if possible, 
 by the details which had reached her of his 
 gallant conduct upon the distressing occasion. 
 
 After conversing a few minutes with his aunt, 
 Alfred proceeded in search of Emily, and re- 
 solving to make an experiment to obtain her 
 confidence, or at all events to show her that he 
 was not ignorant of her attachment for Herbert. 
 He no sooner saw her, than he said, " I rarely 
 dance ; but if Miss Manby will do me the 
 honour of waltzing with me, I will endeavour 
 to brush up my steps, were it only to celebrate, 
 par extraordinaire, my cousin Herbert''s fortu- 
 nate escape." 
 
 Emily, who was on the point of rallying him 
 upon this unusual exertion, was however com- 
 pletely silenced by the last words of his speech ; 
 and blushing deeply, she assented; and then 
 taking his arm, placed herself in one of the 
 circles. 
 
 After a few turns, Alfred ventured to ask 
 Emily if she had heard all the particulars of 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the Lisbon adventure ; and then, without wait- 
 ing for a reply, he immediately proceeded to 
 recount the whole affair, interspersed with his 
 own observations. 
 
 During this recital, Alfred watched most in- 
 tently the effect produced on her countenance : 
 her cheeks were alternately blanched with ter- 
 ror, or crimsoned with pleasure, as the narrator 
 either dwelt on the imminent danger to which 
 Herbert had been exposed, or described the 
 uncommon courage and self-possession which 
 he had evinced during the whole of the perilous 
 scene : nor was the involuntary " thank God !" 
 which escaped her lips unnoticed, as he con- 
 cluded by saying, that the report of the sur- 
 geons was most favourable, and that his cousin 
 might be expected in London in the course of a 
 few weeks. Alfred did not require any proofs 
 of Miss Manby's attachment to Herbert ; his 
 object in thus exciting her mind at present, was 
 merely to draw her into some unguarded ex- 
 pression, of which he might take advantage to 
 open the subject at once to her, and to insinuate 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 289 
 
 that his influence over Sir Herbert rendered it 
 easy for him to obtain his forgiveness, though 
 his previous assent would probably be with- 
 lield. 
 
 Seizing the moment when Emily had al- 
 most involuntarily uttered her expression of 
 thankfulness for his safety, Alfred observed, 
 " I fear Miss Manby will think me more than 
 impertinent, if I dare to remark, that were my 
 cousin a witness to the interest she appears to 
 take in his fate, he would, I am sure, willingly 
 undergo a much more perilous adventure, could 
 he meet with the reward so dear to him, as your 
 sympathy."* 
 
 Emily blushed more deeply than before : 
 she, however, summoned courage to make an 
 effort to parry this direct attack, by replying, 
 *' Surely it is most natural, Mr. Milton, that 
 the relation of such a dreadful occurrence, at- 
 tended with such horrid marks of treachery 
 and revenge, should excite the interest of the 
 most indifferent person; those who are not ac- 
 quainted with Colonel Milton must feel — "" 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 
 
 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ** Not quite so much, Miss Manby, as those 
 who are well acquainted with him ; whilst those 
 to whom he is any thing but indifferent, must 
 much more naturally feel as you do." 
 
 Poor Emily, who saw that she had only com- 
 mitted herself more deeply by her last feeble 
 attempt at defence, instantly replied, " Yoii are 
 quite right, Mr. Milton : I do not hesitate to 
 say, that I do feel great interest in the welfare 
 of your cousin ; I should be most ungrateful, if 
 ever I were to forget his humanity and tender- 
 ness at the most heart-rending and painful pe- 
 riod of my existence : and,'' added Emily, as 
 the tears rushed into her eyes, " that kindness 
 has, I am not ashamed to avow, made a deeper 
 impression when contrasted with the fatal and 
 cruel animosity of Sir Herbert Milton, and 
 which, if I am to believe all I hear, has not 
 ended even with the grave.""* 
 
 " I may take upon myself to assert," rejoin- 
 ed Alfred, " that you have been misinformed 
 respecting my uncle's animosity to yourself; he 
 is neither unreasonable nor unjust : — as to Her- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 291 
 
 bert, all I shall say is, that the impressions you 
 have made upon his heart have been proved by 
 absence and temptations of every kind; — do not 
 be angry, I intreat you, but I will boldly af- 
 firm, that, for your sake, he has turned a deaf 
 ear to the most splendid matrimonial alliances, 
 and, in short, that the misery or the happiness 
 of his future life is in your hands." 
 
 Emily's agitation during this speech was ex- 
 cessive, and she vainly endeavoured to make 
 any answer to her tormentor, who continued, 
 with an air of great apparent feeling and sensi- 
 bility ; '' I love my cousin as my brother. Miss 
 Manby ; his happiness is paramount in my heart 
 to every other consideration ; and although I risk 
 both your displeasure and his, by thus ventur- 
 ing to anticipate his own declaration, yet I 
 shall think myself amply rewarded, if hereafter 
 I should have been instrumental in facilitating 
 his views, or in removing from your mind those 
 doubts which his dehcacy, and the reports of 
 the world respecting Lord Henry Thursby, pre- 
 vented his clearing up before his departure." 
 o 2 
 
292 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 '' One word more, and I have done. My in- 
 fluence with my uncle is perhaps greater than 
 that of any other human being ; fear nothing 
 on that head : his enmity, if any exist, shall 
 end with his arrival in England. But I see 
 you are offended ; I perceive that my aftection 
 for Herbert has led me too far : forgive me, 
 Miss Manby, but if he returns to England 
 to meet with the destruction of his dearest 
 hopes, 'twere better that I should write to him 
 at once, and distinctly state the truth ; and he 
 can yet return to the army, ere it be too late 
 to retrieve himself." 
 
 Poor Emily, who was nearly fainting from 
 emotion, merely replied in a half whisper ; " I 
 am not angry, Mr. Milton; do not write, do 
 not prevent his return." Before, however, her 
 tormentor could continue his attacks, they were 
 joined by Sidney, who came to claim her pro- 
 mise of dancing with him. Happy to escape 
 from Alfred, she gladly accepted Sidney's arm, 
 and without any farther remark proceeded with 
 him into another room. Sidney easily per- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ceived the extreme agitation of his lovely part- 
 ner, and attributed it to the effect of the intel- 
 ligence of Herbert's adventure, which he had 
 himself only heard from Alfred, his own letters 
 not having arrived. With great good-nature, 
 he merely said, " Do not let us dance, I see 
 you are fatigued ; suppose we sit down and 
 discuss the people as they pass." Emily ac- 
 cepted this offer, and was soon after joined by 
 Mrs. Walden. She was however again des- 
 tined to be tormented ; as every one knowing 
 Sidney's intimacy with Colonel Milton, either 
 came to congratulate him on his friend's escape, 
 or wished to ascertain the particulars of the af- 
 fair. Amongst others, he was accosted by Mrs. 
 Dunsten, a lady who was a native of Flanders, 
 and had married an English merchant of great 
 wealth. In constxjuence of some important ser- 
 vices which her family had rendered to the mem- 
 bers of three or four illustrious families who were 
 detained by Bonaparte, she received letters of 
 introduction to some potent patronesses in Lon- 
 don, and by dint of giving a number of balls, 
 
294 HERBERT MILTOX. 
 
 to which, for the first two or three years, her 
 kind patronesses did not permit her to ask any 
 of her own company, this trouble being taken 
 off her hands by these condescending person- 
 ages, who were even for some time in doubt whe- 
 ther they would allow more than one daughter 
 to make her appearance, whilst they strongly 
 recommended Mr. Dunsten to be taken ill on 
 these occasions. In short, by dint of this kind 
 of sU7'veillafice on the part of her friends, and 
 by a perpetual series of dinners, Mrs. Dunsten 
 " nte van Hoog van der Boompen,'''' contrived to 
 have all the best people in London at her 
 house, and in return she found herself as gene- 
 rally invited by all those personages who are 
 not of the ultra select committees. 
 
 Mrs. Dunsten's principal object in life was, if 
 possible, to marry one or two of her daughters 
 to men of rank ; fortune was a secondary con- 
 sideration, as her husband's great wealth ren- 
 dered all thoughts of money quite unnecessary ; 
 but hitherto neither the charms of Miss Ulrica 
 Carolina Georgina Dunsten, nor the seductions 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 295 
 
 of her sister. Miss Alexandrina Frederica Wil- 
 helmine Dunsten, (who, as well as her brother, 
 George Francis Paul Louis Ferdinand Dun- 
 sten van Hoog van der Boompen, were chris- 
 tened after sundry reigning potentates,) had yet 
 elevated them to the peerage, or even opened 
 the road to the every-day business of a Mi- 
 lady of the Bath, Guelph, or Tower and 
 Sword. The two young ladies were not quite 
 so vulgar as their mamma : they were half blue 
 from education, and half black from a noble 
 indifference to Mr. Sims's real Windsor ; they 
 spoke about ten languages, played upon a dozen 
 instruments, and weighed at least two hundred 
 and fifty pounds avoirdupoise each, and, in 
 short, were overpoweringly accomplished and 
 tiresome. All these accomplishments were how- 
 ever a mere matter of report, as their conver- 
 sation consisted of nothing but an endless string 
 of unmeaning questions. 
 
 " How d 'ye do, Koptin Sidney," exclaimed 
 the Brabant lady, as she approached ; " I am 
 fery hoppy to koncratoolate you on your friend's 
 
296 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 escabe; he iss a fery lucky tog." — " You mean 
 he was very lucky to have a dog," rejoined Sid- 
 ney, smiling at his own joke. — " No, no ! he is 
 fery lucky yonk gentlemans," replied the lady, 
 " for I onterstant he shall be morried dee mo- 
 ment ven he kombs bock, vat you tink ?*" — " I 
 think nothing more probable," rejoined Sidney ; 
 whilst poor Emily blushed, and looked as much 
 confused as if her name were forthcoming. " I 
 think nothing half so probable, but I have not 
 an idea who is the happy person, unless it is 
 one of the Miss Dimstens."" 
 
 *' Oh, goede God !" exclaimed Mrs. Dunsten, 
 not displeased at the supposition, " I do not 
 tink my tachters never gif him no encoorache- 
 ment, do he is a very noice yonk chentelmans, 
 and he will pe a baronet, into the parguin." 
 
 " Well, then, I cannot conceive who it can 
 be," answered Sidney; '* and I must say, I 
 feel somewhat interested, as he may, perhaps, 
 have chosen some person who may stipulate 
 that his wild friend Sidney shall be treated like 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 297 
 
 the friends of a prince when he comes to the 
 throne." 
 
 " Oh, dat is all a fun of yours, Koptin Sid- 
 ney; you know all die woorld says he shall 
 morry Lady Zoosin Bossville, and dat vill make 
 a fery noize motch. She has got all die feashions 
 and dee ronk, and den he has got all dee for- 
 tunes."" 
 
 " I wonder whether she has taken the little 
 precaution of asking Herbert's consent," rejoin- 
 ed Sidney. 
 
 " O dat iss not nacessary," replied Mrs. 
 Dunsten ; " Lady Dossington is fery intimate, 
 she iss on die pest foot mit Lady Milton, and 
 I do not suppoose dat ony yonk chentelmans 
 would refoose a motch mit sich a feashionable 
 yonk ladys." 
 
 '' Do you not ?'' replied Sidney ; " why, I de- 
 clare, Mrs. Dunsten, had I not a penny in the 
 world, and had Lady Susan my property, I 
 would sooner pass the rest of my life in all the 
 pauperism of celibacy, than marry such a regu- 
 o5 
 
298 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 lar London Miss, as artificial as Maradan's 
 flowers, and as hollow as one of Ude's souf- 
 Jietsr 
 
 " Oh Koptin Seedney, you are so trectfully 
 sargostick," replied the lady. " Veil, I dink 
 dey are fery noice yonk ladies; dey always 
 comes to all my palls, and pring who dey 
 like." 
 
 '* If that be a criterion of merit,'* rejoined 
 Sidney, " it depends but on your good-nature 
 to render all London delightful ; for who is 
 there who does not covet the honour of being in- 
 vited to a house, where the hostess and her ac- 
 complished daughters are a sufficient attraction, 
 independent of the delightful accessions which 
 are showered upon one ! Ah, Lord Marcus is 
 a happy man."" 
 
 " Ach ! you are fery fell pred, indeed," an- 
 swered Mrs. Dunsten, grinning at the compli- 
 ment, and catching the last word ; " if you are 
 not enkached next Sonday, vill you doo us die 
 pleasure to dine mit oos ; I will sent you a cart to 
 remind to-morrow morning, and den I vill infite 
 
HKRBERT MILTON. 299 
 
 Lord Morcoos to meed you." Sidney bowed, ac- 
 cepted the invitation with great gravity, though 
 he meant to send an excuse if any thing more 
 agreeable presented itself during the week ; as 
 he afterwards confessed to Mrs. Walden, he 
 never dined in Bruton-street, but as a pis aller ; 
 it made him really ill to see the whole herd of 
 large and small van Boompens, throwing down 
 spades-full of caviare, Russian cucumber, and 
 fromage de Roquefort ; besides, their wines al- 
 ways appear as if they had just arrived from a 
 journey across the desert, and their soups as if 
 they had passed a winter on Mont-Blanc. 
 
 " Veil " said Mrs. Dunsten, " I am fery 
 glod Coloneel Meelton is komink bock, dem ogly 
 Sponish wars, she run away mit all die yonk 
 chentlemans, dat is vy dere is soch a little mor- 
 riges koing on. I do not regollekt any seazin, 
 vere dere vas so little toing. All die yonk 
 chentlemens vot is left at home, she comes to 
 your ouze, she eats your soopers, she takes 
 your deaners, and she porrows your opera 
 dickys, but she does not lake up mit your 
 
300 HERBEllT MILTON. 
 
 tachters. Oh, dere iss no morriges, whatever, 
 koing on in dee feashonable woorld ;" and then 
 addressing Sidney, she added, " Kom, Koptin 
 Seedney, ven vould you bi morried ; kom, 
 you are reech, fy don't you put up mit a yonk 
 lady?" 
 
 " Who, I ?" answered Sidney ; " oh, I am too 
 deeply occupied with my engagements with the 
 Derby, to think of any thing else at present." 
 
 " O, enkached mit die Darby," rejoined Mrs. 
 Dunsten, with some degree of respect, " I sop- 
 pose one of die grand-tachters ; veil, dat iss a 
 fery noice konnections, dat is a fery noice yonk 
 ladies : I fish you vel, mit my heart ; ven is it to 
 take place ?" 
 
 " Not before next spring,*" replied Sidney, 
 with great gravity ; " but, apropos, Mrs. Dun- 
 sten, when are we to congratulate you ? the 
 world says, Mrs. Dunsten," — and he then looked 
 significantly towards Lord Marcus Maltby. 
 
 " Och !" replied Mrs. Dunsten, putting up 
 her glass and laughing ; " you are sich a yonk 
 chentelmans for chokes ; but do you know ? 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 301 
 
 it is fery stranche, dere is Lord Marcoos tan- 
 cens mit my tachter Olaxondreena. Och ! die 
 world she will talk, but I assoore you, Kopten 
 Seedney, I do not fish to marry my tachters 
 until she shall have seen die world/"* 
 
 " You are quite right, my dear madam," re- 
 joined Sidney ; " they have it in their power to 
 select whom they please, and they have not 
 been out above four or five seasons."' 
 
 " Fery true, dey have plenty of time, and 
 coot fortunes, and den, you know, dey are fery 
 aggomplished yonk ladies, and dey speaks all 
 manner of lankuaches ;" and then begging Sid- 
 ney not to forget the dinner on Sunday, she 
 went off to superintend the evolutions of Miss 
 Alexandrina Frederica, who was playing off 
 the whole force of her massive battery of 
 charms, accomplishments, and Poliglott lore on 
 the slippery young nobleman ; who, with the 
 whites of his eyes inverted, expressed in his 
 countenance all the agony he felt at being 
 obliged to dance with Miss Dunsten, — an opera- 
 tion which his Lordship felt himself ])ound to 
 
302 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 undergo now and then, by way of paying off 
 endless dinners, opera tickets, and balls ; not to 
 mention frequent presents of bulbs from Haar- 
 lem, boutarga from Odessa, pies from Stras- 
 bourg, and herrings from Antwerp : though he 
 asserted that the balance was considerably 
 against himself, as he lost more in one waltz by 
 his efforts to make Miss Alexandrina revolve on 
 her ponderous axis, than he gained by twenty 
 of her papa's Anglo-Flemish repasts. Indeed 
 the operation was no contemptible undertaking, 
 and was much better calculated for the propel- 
 ling genius of Messrs. Bolton and Watts, than 
 that of a very slender young nobleman. 
 
 Emily and Mrs. Walden, who had with diffi- 
 culty restrained their mirth during Mrs. Dun- 
 sten's dialogue with Sidney, now gladly gave 
 way to their gaiety, though both attacked Sid- 
 ney for having ventured to quiz the good- 
 natured lady even to her face. They were now 
 joined by Sir Harry Sneerwell, who imme- 
 diately congratulated Sidney upon his mar- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 803 
 
 *' So," said Sir Harry, " we are to lose you 
 at Newmarket, Sidney ; Mrs. Dunsten has just 
 told me you are going to be married : I am 
 sorry for it. It will be a sad loss to the 
 Derby.^ 
 
 •' Mrs. Dunsten's an old fool !" rejoined Sid- 
 ney : " pray did she tell you to contradict the 
 report of Lord Marcus being engaged to her 
 daughter ?" 
 
 " No ; but she asked me to meet him at din- 
 ner on Sunday, as if her dinners were not quite 
 bad enough, without such an horsed' auv re as 
 his Lordship." 
 
 " Come, Sneer well," rejoined Sidney, " have 
 some mercy upon her," 
 
 " Never, until she gets another cook, and 
 dines out with all her family, when she invites 
 me." 
 
 Emily now asked Sir Harry the name of a 
 tall, plain, and heavy-looking man, who was 
 talking to one of the princes of the royal 
 family, his left arm occupied by that of a gaunt, 
 dissatisfied, and singularly plain woman ; while 
 
304 HERUERT MILTON. 
 
 his right hand was employed in twisting and 
 twirling what Emily mistook for an immense 
 seal, suspended to an enormously broad watch- 
 ribbon, which peeped from beneath the breast 
 of his coat : on which coat was embroidered a 
 star, quadruple the magnitude of these decora- 
 tions usually worn by others ; having in the 
 centre enamelled a grey horse, which might 
 have served as a park hack for the heaviest 
 Miss Dunsten." 
 
 " That,*' said Sir Harry, — " that is a particu- 
 lar friend of mine, the Prince Stolz-zopf-Win- 
 ters-graben, N° 43. I think him very pleasant, 
 but the world is so ill-natured." 
 
 " What, is he here upon a tour ?" demanded 
 Mrs. Walden. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Sneerwell ; " but they say 
 that his tour is passe ; however, he is envoift 
 from a whole almanack of German courts. 
 Plenipotentiary from half the mediatorial Princes 
 of the Confederation, and Grand Piqueur of the 
 Holy Alliance.'" 
 
 '' By-the-bye," said Emily, " I have heard 
 
HEKBERT MILTON. 305 
 
 much of the Holy Alliance ; I wish you could 
 tell me what it means, or for what purpose it 
 was formed." 
 
 '* For the p.'otection of the Grand Signor, 
 for the furtherance of civil and religious slavery, 
 for the re-establishment of the Inquisition, the 
 destruction of mutual instruction, the propaga- 
 tion of ignorance, and the better learning by 
 heart of ' God save the King,' translated into 
 modern Greek, out of compliment to the Grand 
 Signor," answered the Baronet. 
 
 *' We are not a bit the wiser," replied Sid- 
 ney, " for your liberal explanation.** 
 
 *' Answer for yourself, Sidney," rejoined 
 Sneerwell ; " if ignorance is bliss, then indeed 
 you are a most fortunate fellow." 
 
 " One thing, at least, is wanting to complete 
 my happiness," retorted Sidney, " on that score ; 
 which is, by unfortunately knowing you, I know- 
 too much." 
 
 Emily, who feared this sparring might lead 
 to a quarrel, as she was not acquainted with 
 those little changes of civility which generally 
 
306 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 passed between the Cynic and his friend, now 
 begged Sir Harry would tell her who the lady 
 was with the prince. 
 
 " That is his wife, who is daughter of one of 
 the sixty little potentates whom my good friend 
 represents. / like her, but they tell me she is 
 very disagreeable, proud, imperious, and as dull 
 as a dinner at Boodles ; what you took just 
 now for a watch-ribbon, is the cordon of the 
 order of St. Hubert, of which both his high- 
 ness, and my tailor purchased the grand-crosses 
 together : the one on the delusive anticipation of 
 Sidney paying his bill ; and the other, with his 
 little gleanings from the fiscal ' cuisse," the key 
 of which, and not of his watch, attracted your 
 observation." 
 
 " You are rather severe upon your friend, 
 I think," replied Emily ; " for, although I do 
 not know him, I have heard him spoken of as 
 a man of talent, firmly attached to this country, 
 though perhaps having more than the usual 
 portion of German hereditary pride." 
 
 " I think he is precisely what you say," re- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 307 
 
 joined Sir Harry ; " but people are so ill-natured 
 as to assert that his great merit consists in hav- 
 ing persuaded our ministers that he was a man 
 of talent, which, at least, proves him wiser than 
 they : and then nothing can be more natural 
 than his partiality for this country, — he finds 
 the climate agree so well with his chest. In 
 short, he will never quit it as long as he can 
 derive any benefit from it." 
 
 " If you wish to have a specimen of his 
 pride," said Sidney, " watch him when he bows : 
 he is literally too proud to stoop; he bows 
 backwards, instead of forwards." 
 
 " He has not had the advantage of a New- 
 market education,"" retorted the Baronet, who 
 never liked any body to say an ill-natured word 
 but himself; "he has not acquired the pretty 
 bend, which one learns by stooping half oner's 
 life over the mane of a horse." 
 
 " Come, come, Sneerwell ! I take him to be a 
 better jockey than you choose to allow : he is 
 first favourite for the King's plate, and has a 
 good chance for the Grand Duke*s stakes." 
 
308 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 '* I really do not understand what you mean,'' 
 observed Emily ; " I have always heard his 
 disinterestedness, and the sacrifices he made for 
 this country, spoken of in high terms." 
 
 " And very justly, / believe," rejoined Sir 
 Harry. " He gave up a landed property of about 
 a thousand acres of very profitable morass, 
 and one of the finest specimens of a ruined 
 baronial castle in the world, to follow the 
 orders of his sovereign ; and, poor fellow ! he 
 has met with no other reward than a paltry 
 pension of six thousand a-year for himself and 
 heirs, a few thousand acres of land, that will 
 not produce an ounce of peat, a chasse where 
 the game destroys the harvest, a few hundred 
 peasants, and a modern built house, well fur- 
 nished and of vast size, — but not to be compared 
 to his former castle, either for its picturesque 
 beauties, the serenity of its position in the 
 middle of a bog, or the hereditary souvenirs at- 
 tached to the place, which are naturally so dear 
 to a man of his ancient family !" 
 
 ^' He is, indeed, a very ill-used man !" re- 
 
HERBERT MILTOX. 309 
 
 joined Sidney, laughing. " At the same time, if 
 he has been unmindful of his own interest, he 
 has not forgotten that of his family, — even unto 
 the fourth or fifth generation ; why there is not 
 a Stolz-zopf from the Tyrol to the German 
 Ocean w^io is not on the list of pensions !" 
 
 " What can be a better proof of the good- 
 ness of his heart ?" rejoined the Baronet. " / ad- 
 mire him for the care he has taken of his rela- 
 tions ; and the world is excessively ill-natured 
 when they abuse him for having set aside so 
 many meritorious officers who bled and toiled 
 during the war, and having omitted them in 
 the distribution of the decorations, honours, 
 and rewards, to which they laid claim." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Sidney, " and these very 
 stars, crosses, pensions, and places, were shower- 
 ed upon the Stolz-zopfs; who during this time 
 were snugly established with Jerome at Cassei. 
 And indeed many of them had absolutely fought 
 against their legitimate sovereign ."*"' 
 
 " My dear Sidney,"' rejoined the Baronet, 
 *' it would have been impossible for the Prince 
 
310 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 to act Otherwise without great injustice to his 
 heart and principles, which, of course, are those 
 of the Sainte Alliance, whose great maxim is 
 to support the ' pacte de famille.'' Then," 
 added Sir Henry, " I have heard some ill-na- 
 tured people accuse him of having been the 
 original adviser of the expedition to Wal- 
 cheren.'' 
 
 " Then I shall hate him for ever !" exclaimed 
 Emily, whilst the colour mounted in her face 
 at this expression of Sir Harry : •' if he advised 
 that measure, he can neither be a man of sense 
 or political knowledge !" 
 
 '' That is precisely what the world says of 
 him,"' replied the Baronet, unmindful of the 
 tender chord on which he had touched. " The 
 fact is, it might have been more prudent to 
 have despatched the expedition to the Weser, 
 or still farther north, — where the Prince's ene 
 mies declare the country was ripe for revolt : 
 but then, you know, no man who loves his 
 country, would like to see it become the theatre 
 
HERBEllT MILTON. 311 
 
 of war, or exposed to all the incoaveniences and 
 exactions of military occupation; and I think 
 it very natural that he should rather have 
 wished to see a whole British army perish, than 
 that his own country should suffer by the na- 
 tural consequences of war." 
 
 " God deliver me from my friends !'* ex- 
 claimed Sidney. " I only accused him of being 
 a fool ; you wish to make him out a knave.*' 
 
 " Not in the least," replied Sir Harry ; " but 
 I should like much to know, if you had a 
 pet preserve of pheasants, if you would not 
 rather my hounds should draw any other man's 
 cover than your's ?'''' 
 
 " That may be," rejoined Sidney ; " but I 
 should not feel myself warranted in advising 
 my friend to put his best hunters into a glan- 
 dered stable at an inn, to preserve myself from 
 giving them a few feeds of corn at my own 
 house." 
 
 " Who is that man," demanded Mrs. Wal- 
 den, glad to divert the subject, " who never 
 
312 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 leaves the Prince's side but to eat or drink ? 
 I have watched him devouring every thing 
 within his reach." 
 
 " That," said Sir Harry, '' is a great friend 
 of mine — at least, he offers to dine with me 
 whenever he fancies I am not engaged else- 
 where." 
 
 " But who is he? And what is his occupa- 
 tion besides eating ?" 
 
 «' It is the Baron Von Maklzich," answered 
 the Baronet ; — *' a very useful personage to my 
 friend Stolz-zopf, by whom he is employed in 
 sundry negociations, where the latter thinks it 
 imprudent to appear in person. Moreover, he 
 assists the Prince in laying out, at a comfortable 
 interest, some of those sums which he contrives 
 to economize even in this dear land, or under- 
 takes to sell the diamonds which His Highness 
 receives on his diplomatic snuff-boxes, and sup- 
 plies their places with paste." 
 
 " Well, but is he a Jew, a diplomatist, or a 
 soldier ?" 
 
 *' Nothing of the last ; not much of the se- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 313 
 
 cond, but much of the first,*" replied Sir Harry : 
 *' no, indeed, he is so extremely antipugna- 
 cious, he has such a horror for all blood, that I 
 believe he would rather pay a double letter than 
 receive an epistle with Post Paid stamped in 
 red letters." 
 
 " Oh dear, it must be the man who we heard 
 was so distinguished at Vienna — " 
 
 " For his temperance and abstemiousness at 
 home," exclaimed Sir Harry, interrupting her, 
 " and for his voracity en ville ; he never was yet 
 known to have given or refused an invitation 
 to dinner. I once had the honour of meeting 
 him at the table of an illustrious individual in 
 this country, and you may judge of his host's 
 surprise at seeing his German guest (of whose 
 voracious appetite he had formed a very indis- 
 tinct idea) place his plate upon a wine-cooler." 
 
 " What, in the world, did he do that for r 
 demanded Emily ; " how very ill-bred." 
 
 " Why the answer he made to the question, 
 which was put to him by his illustrious host, 
 was, ' Ah, Monseigfieur, Vappetit est grand, le 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
314 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 diner court, le chemin lorigue ; et comme je rCai 
 pas Vavantage de faire si bonne chaire tous les 
 jours, je fais Vimpossible d''abrevier la distance 
 entre Fassiette et ma bouche.'' " 
 
 " Ob, what an ogre he must be ! but what 
 did Monseigneur say, — was he not shocked ?" 
 
 " On the contrary,'^ replied Sir Harry, " lie 
 was enchanted with Mahlzeit's na'vete; and in- 
 stead of directing him to be turned into the ken- 
 nel with the hounds, he Vv'as frequentl}^ order- 
 ed to come and exhibit his masticatory powers 
 ]:»efore the same illustrious Amphytrion." 
 
 " But I heard that he was not only remark- 
 able for his penur}^ and appeti^;;but for lend- 
 ing his money to his friends/' 
 
 " Then," said Emily, smiling, " surely they 
 cannot grudge him a few dinners, if he is so 
 liberal, poor man !" 
 
 " The poor man, as you call him,"*' answered 
 Sir Harry, " takes good care to be as well paid 
 for the loan of his money, as he does for his 
 domestic starvation when he dines out. You 
 may judge by the following anecdote to which 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 315 
 
 I was "witness. During my stay at Vienna, I 
 was invited to dine with a nobleman of high 
 rank ; among the guests were the Baron and a 
 Count Taschenleer ; during dinner, the maitre 
 d'hote! extinguished two or three candles in 
 endeavouring to snuif them with a pair of 
 snuffers of which the spring was out of order. 
 * Send to my hotel/ exclaimed the Count to 
 our host, ' for some of my English snuffers ; I 
 can let you have five thousand florins' worth, 
 cheap ; contraband, it is true, but real Shef- 
 field, warranted by Baron Mahlzeit."* The 
 Baron looked very foolish, but pretending to 
 take no notice of this speech, continued eating 
 with his usual avidity. ' What I" exclaimed 
 the host, ' have you been speculating in 
 English contraband goods, my dear Count .'^' 
 ' No,' replied the other ; ' but being in want 
 of forty thousand florins, and knowing that 
 my friend, the Baron, was always happy tj 
 assist his friends, I applied to him, and he 
 good-naturedly consented to advance me this 
 sum, on condition that I paid twelve per cent. 
 p 9 
 
316 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 and received a third of the amount in British 
 commodities : and as I was getting into the 
 carriage to come here, a cart arrived at my 
 hotel, loaded with snuffers, tea-trays, knitting- 
 needles, and razors !' You may judge,"" added 
 Sir Harry, " of the roar of laughter which 
 burst forth upon this discovery of the Baron's 
 double capacity of usurer and diplomatist — of 
 his being purveyor of politics and patent pins." 
 
 At this moment, a tall, meagre-looking man 
 came up to Sidney, and, extending his hand, 
 showed great pleasure at meeting the young 
 officer. 
 
 " Who was that ?** said Emily, as soon as 
 the gentleman had quitted them ; " he looks 
 like a foreigner.'*"' 
 
 " He is indeed a foreigner, and in every 
 land," rejoined Sidney ; " I do not pretend to 
 be very sentimental, but there is something in 
 that man"'s fate which gave me a better lesson 
 than all the sermons of my tutor for a dozen 
 years." 
 
 " Has he taught you how to make a good 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 317 
 
 book for the next meeting, or shown you how 
 to turn up a king at ecarte V exclaimed Sir 
 Harry. 
 
 " No," replied Sidney ; "he proved to me 
 how the king could be beat by a knave, and 
 that it is often better to play the one than hold 
 the other/' 
 
 " Well, who is he ?'' demanded Emily, " by 
 liis manner he does not look like an adven- 
 turer." 
 
 " A short time past," answered Sidney, " he 
 was really a king." 
 
 " Of spades, I should think," said Sir Harry, 
 " for he looks mighty like a grave-digger." 
 
 " Now do not be so absurd, Sir Henry," ex- 
 claimed Emily; " pray allow Mr. Sidney to go 
 on with his story." 
 
 " In fact," continued the latter, " he was 
 once the ruler of a mighty and warlike nation ; 
 representative of a long and valiant race of 
 princes ; legitimate descendant of Gustavus 
 Adolphus and Charles XII. but he is now 
 without a house to afford him shelter, without 
 
318 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 a servant to perform for him the most menial 
 offices, banished from his native land, exiled 
 from the throne of his ancestors, his rights 
 usurped by the son of an obscure Gascon, under 
 the immediate sanction and protection of that 
 AlUance." 
 
 " Fakes nous grace /'' here exclaimed Sir 
 Harry, " of the rest of your tirade against that 
 respectable and worthy body, and say at once 
 that it is Colonel Gustroson." 
 
 " How did you become acquainted with 
 him ?'' demanded Emily. 
 
 '' On my way through Germany,"" replied 
 Sidney. " The morning subsequent to my ar- 
 rival at Frankfort, my servant, an old soldier, 
 entered my room, and without farther preface 
 exclaimed, ' Well, Sir, I would rather be a 
 Chelsea pensioner than the biggest king among 
 them all !^ — ' What has happened now. Wad- 
 ding?' said I to the man; ' I conclude, like 
 a true Englishman, you are grumbling because 
 your beefsteak and porter is not ready.' — 
 ' Why,' replied Wadding, ' I should like to 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 319 
 
 know what you would say, Sir, if you saw our 
 King drive up to the Black Bear in Piccadilly, 
 on the outside of a Bristol van, (for their Dili- 
 gences here are no better), without a top-coat, 
 his fingers bitten by the frost, and his whiskers 
 frozen like icicles hanging from a hayrick; 
 and then, Sir, what would you think of his 
 turning-to, to clean his own boots ?' — ' Why, I 
 should say you were mad for inventing such a 
 story,' was my answer. — * That's what they 
 say of him, poor fellow !' rejoined the honest 
 Wadding ; ' and i'cod enough to make a man 
 like a raving bedlamite : why, its bad enough 
 to be reduced from pay-serjeant to the ranks ; 
 but to be one day a king and then reduced to 
 a private the next, and that without a fair 
 court-martial.' — ' What nonsense have you been 
 picking up ?'' said I. 'I really believe your old 
 wound in your head has affected your brain.' — 
 ' Why,' answered he, ' here 's the old King of 
 Sweden down in the shoehole a-cleaning his 
 boots with your blacking."* — ' Nonsense,* said I ; 
 * they have been laughing at you. Wadding."* — 
 
S@0 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 ' Have they,' replied he ; ^ well, all I know, 
 they told me he was a king, not General Blar- 
 ney dot, but Colonel Custard son, or some such 
 name; what your honour was presented to 
 when we were at Stockholm, on the Baltic ex- 
 pedition, and he's just as proud now as if he 
 was on the throne; for it went against my 
 heart, Sir, to see a king-like with a blacking- 
 brush in his hand, and so says I to him, says I, 
 Here, please your Majesty, Lord bless you ! 
 give us hold of the brush, you '11 never bring a 
 polish on 'em, at that fashion. Well, instead of 
 saying thank you, i'cod he looked as if he were 
 the commanding officer, and said something 
 about ' paw raw/ so as he called me such names, 
 I left him to clean 'em himself.'" 
 
 " Really," said Emily, " I do not know 
 which is the worst, you or Sir Henry. Mrs. 
 Dunsten was quite right in saying you are 
 too fond of a joke." 
 
 '^ Indeed I never was more serious," replied 
 the other ; " all my servant told me, I found 
 perfectly true ; and upon my subsequent ac- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 321 
 
 quaintance I found, that in consequence of his 
 having refused the pension offered to him by 
 Bernadotte, he was reduced to support himself 
 by the sale of the few jewels which he had 
 rescued from his private property." 
 
 It was now getting late, and Emily was pre- 
 paring to order her carriage, anxious to arrive 
 at home, where she might indulge in all the 
 delight she felt at the certainty of being beloved 
 by Herbert. She had, it is true, felt annoyed 
 at the boldness with which Alfred had entered 
 upon the subject ; but his words had left a deep 
 impression on her heart, and she felt fully in- 
 clined to forgive the liberty he had taken, in 
 favour of the intelligence he had communicated. 
 The hope of Sir Herbert Milton's opposition 
 being speedily overcome, relieved her heart 
 from a load not less oppressive than the uncer- 
 tainty she had been in respecting Herbert's 
 sentiments towards herself. As she was about 
 to leave the rooms, to which the whole of the 
 party had retired from the gardens, they were 
 joined by Mr. Ouncedale, who with his glass at 
 p 5 
 
S22 HERBERT MILTOX. 
 
 his eye, and his face more than usually long, 
 appeared as if he also had been driven from his 
 possessions. The Tic-douloureux, for so Sir 
 Harry had christened him, now exclaimed, 
 " How d 'ye do ? have you seen Mrs. Ouncedale ? 
 I have been waiting two hours to go ; my horses 
 will catch cold ; I feel a slight twinge of the 
 gout ; conceive Lady Graspall having past nine 
 times at ecarle !" 
 
 " I saw Mrs. Ouncedale waltzing with Colo- 
 nel Graindorge," replied Sidney, who had return- 
 ed from ordering Emily's carriage, " and I 
 can only say, that she desired me to tell you, 
 if I met 3^ou, that you might go home, if you 
 liked, as Lady Graspall would give her a place 
 in her carriage to town.*" 
 
 " That odious Lady Graspall !" rejoined Mr. 
 Ouncedale ; " she is enough to corrupt all the 
 young women in town ; — she ought not to be 
 admitted in society." 
 
 " Why,'' said Sir Harry, " it is true, though I 
 never saw any thing wrong ; indeed / like her 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 323 
 
 very much, but the world does say very ill- 
 natured things of her : at ecarte^ for instance, 
 they are cruel enough to say that she always 
 claims double the sum she stakes when she 
 wins; and when she loses, she contrives to 
 change sides when she is betUng, and generally 
 seizes the stake of some young man who she 
 thinks will be either too well bred, or too 
 timid to remonstrate with her." 
 
 " Not a word, Sir Harry !" now exclaimed 
 Sidney ; '' she is a great friend of mine, and so 
 fond of me, that she wanted to catch me for 
 her daughter. Lady Clara, and, indeed, I was 
 within an ace of proposing." 
 
 " What the deuce prevented you ?'' asked Sir 
 Harry. 
 
 " Why, my fear of her making a practical 
 pun, which would have been worse even than 
 your's,'' replied Sidney. " The fact was, I over- 
 heard Lady Clara tell her friend Mrs. Thornby, 
 that she only intended marrying me for my 
 fortune." 
 
324 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " Why, what in the world," rejoined Sir Har- 
 ry, " do you imagine any one would marry you 
 for?" 
 
 " The fact was," answered Sidney, good- 
 humourcdly, " I did flatter myself that I had 
 made some slight impression on the little in- 
 genue, who Lady Graspall told me was the 
 most timid naive creature in the world ; when, 
 as ill luck would have it for my vanity, and for 
 her Ladyship's schemes, I went to Mrs. Con- 
 greve's masquerade, where being disguised in a 
 domino, I heard her say to Mrs. Thornby, that 
 she thought me an insufferable horse-dealing 
 bore; that her mamma wished her to accept me 
 for my property ; and that she wished I was 
 ruined, to which Mrs. Thornby very quietly 
 replied, ' Marry him first, my dear, if it were 
 only for the pleasure of ruining him after- 
 wards.' " 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed the Tic, " I wish to God 
 I had been fortunate enough to have worn a 
 domino for a few months prior to the time fix- 
 ed for my marriage ! But do see," added he. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 325 
 
 '• what a fool that insufferable Mrs. Thornby 
 is making of young Lord Tiverton !" 
 
 " There is nothing extraordinary in that," 
 rejoined Sir Henry ; " she would find it a much 
 more difficult task to make a man of sense of 
 him." 
 
 " As for that," added Sidney, " she is merely 
 playing the same game with that boy that she 
 has done with half the young men in London ; 
 no sooner does a young man make his dehut 
 in the world, or a young peer or baronet leave 
 his paternal nest, or escape from his Alma 
 Mater, than she forthwith seizes upon him, 
 and plays with him like a cat, until the boy's 
 ideas become more expanded, and he finds he 
 has been throwing away his time and his atten- 
 tions upon a cold-hearted, practised coquette, 
 and that he is the laughing stock of London, 
 with the advantage of being shown up in the 
 ' Age,' or roasted by ^ John Bull."* " 
 
 " And then, when he brings his action for a 
 libel, he has the satisfaction of being convicted, 
 by a jury, of being one of the ugliest men, or 
 
326 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 one of the greatest idiots living," added Mr. 
 Ouncedale. 
 
 Emily's carriage being now announced, she 
 left the party, which did not completely break 
 up before the morning was far advanced; and I 
 shall take the liberty of giving my readers some 
 account of the ladies I have alluded to, before 
 I proceed to the next chapter. 
 
 They were all of that mischievous, that per- 
 nicious set, whose example has such a baneful 
 effect on the morals of the young men and wo- 
 men of fashion, especially the latter. When 
 the young and inexperienced girl perceives that 
 vice is in a great measure countenanced, levity 
 of conduct encouraged, and delicacy disregarded, 
 in the highest society, to which the absence of 
 virtue, and the total disregard of public opinion, 
 are in most instances a necessary passport ; 
 when she discovers that she cannot obtain a 
 footing in the most select society, without esta« 
 blishing an intrigue, or what is called a flirtation ; 
 — in fact, that the sacrifice of a certain portion 
 of her reputation is almost a sine qua non to in- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 327 
 
 sure her beinoj ranked amon*? the most fashion- 
 able; it is natural that she should quickly learn 
 to look v/ith contempt upon those principles of 
 morality and virtue which are so dear to wo- 
 men in a less elevated, less perilous, and less 
 mixed station of life. 
 
 Lady Graspali was a leader of one of these 
 sets. Money was her ruling passion ; whether 
 atewrfe, elections, the marriage of her daughters, 
 or in her own flirtations, this sordid passion 
 showed itself in the strongest colours, and had 
 rendered the intrigues and adventures of her 
 younger days still more scandalous. 
 
 Born to occupy a leading position in society, 
 she was not, however, content with the advan- 
 tages which she derived from her rank and con- 
 nexions, but she determined to form a supreme 
 junta, of which she was to be the chief, and her 
 conduct the precedent for that of all the mem- 
 bers. Her great object was to induce all the 
 women enrolled in this band of " Free Doers," 
 to brave the opinion of the world ; to set at de- 
 fiance the advice of their husbands ; to look with 
 
328 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 contempt on the reputation of their own names, 
 or the credit of their families ; — in short, to ar- 
 rive at that complete disregard for every prin- 
 ciple of decency and virtue, which had marked 
 her own conduct through life. 
 
 Her Ladyship's daughters, educated in this 
 school of deceit and immorality, were as selfish, 
 hollow-hearted, and mercenary as their mamma 
 could desire; indeed, so well did they play their 
 parts, so admirably did they act up to the les- 
 sons of the Countess, that the Ladies Clara and 
 Helen Mount Lewis were looked upon by all 
 those who had not penetration to discover the 
 dessous des cartes, as two of the most single-heart- 
 ed, ingenuous young women in London. In 
 the course of two or three seasons, the young 
 ladies succeeded, the one in marrying a rich 
 young nobleman, and the other a half-furled 
 baronet of immense property, who had just re- 
 turned from his travels. Though Lady Helen, 
 the youngest, showed greater symptoms of feel- 
 ing on this occasion, than was either to be 
 expected from her, or than at all suited her 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 329 
 
 mother's ideas of filial obedience. The convers- 
 ation between the mother and daughter, on 
 this occasion, was a curious specimen of Lady 
 GraspalFs principles, as well as those of her 
 daughter. 
 
 " Helen," said her Ladyship, one night, as 
 they returned from Almack's, " so you chose to 
 play the fool, and speak your opinions openly 
 of that horrid bore, Mr. Sidney ?" 
 
 " I only said it in a whisper to Mrs. Thorn- 
 by,'*'' replied the daughter ; " and I did not 
 think the man would have been listening at my 
 elbow." 
 
 " Well, he has just told me, that he 's off, 
 that 's all ; and you \e lost " 
 
 '^ An ass !" exclaimed Lady Helen, " and the 
 stock is not exhausted.''' 
 
 " You Ve lost twenty thousand pounds a- 
 year, by your stupid havardage. I thought you 
 would have had the sense to have deferred speak- 
 ing out until the fortune was your own.'* 
 
 *' La, mamma ! Pm sure it is all the same 
 to me, vvhether I marry one fool or another : for 
 
330 HERBERT MILTOK. 
 
 you know I never liked any body much, except 
 Captain Acton, Mr. Corbin, Charles Norval, 
 and Lord Henry." 
 
 " None of them will have a sous until their 
 father's death," retorted Lady Graspall ; " and 
 I have no idea of people having — what does 
 your brother call that sort of thing ?" 
 
 " Going to Heaven by the devil's bridge, 
 mamma," ansvv^ered Lady Helen. 
 
 " It 's going to the devil at once," rejoined 
 her Ladyship. " No, it does not suit my views 
 to have to chaperoiie you about, after your mar- 
 riage. I will not be pestered with petitions for 
 the carriage, and your saddling yourself and a 
 tribe of squalling children on me, both in town 
 and country. I will not have you marry to re- 
 main a burthen on me ; and your waiting until 
 some disgusting old man dies, before you can 
 have an Opera box, or, in fact, any of the most 
 common necessaries." 
 
 " Common indeed, mamma, they are now ! 
 Why the great double box next to ours belongs 
 to papa's attorney, and the box on the left 
 
HERBERT MILTON. Diii 
 
 to a man who cleans the streets, or the sewers, or 
 something.'" 
 
 " Never mind those low people," replied the 
 mamma, " but thank Heaven that you have 
 one of the most affectionate, indulgent mothers 
 in the world, who is slaving night and day to 
 repair your errors and establish your fortune."" 
 Lady Helen, during this speech, hung down 
 her head, and her conscience told her that her 
 mamma's exertions were never more necessary 
 than at present. 
 
 " Any body else would have been outrage- 
 ous,'* continued the Countess, " at her daugh- 
 ter's making such a fool of herself as to throw- 
 away twenty thousand a-year !"" 
 
 " It is very good of you, my dear ma'," re- 
 plied Lady Helen, " and, to show you my sense 
 of your kindness, I am ready to marry any body 
 you please directly." 
 
 " Well, then," rejoined the Countess, " whilst 
 you have been bavanUing, I have been acting; 
 and I have got another to supply Sidney's 
 place." 
 
332 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 *' Who is it, mamma ?" demanded the young 
 lady. 
 
 " Oh, Sir Maurice D'Orville, who has an im- 
 mense fortune/' 
 
 " La, mamma! the young man whom you were 
 speaking to in the corner, and who looked at me 
 so strangely ; — why he 's quite mad, they say. 
 Lord ! he had his keeper waiting on the stair- 
 case,'^ 
 
 " So much the better, my dear ; marry him, 
 and then nothing will be more easy than to take 
 out a statute of lunacy against him, and have 
 him put into confinement for life." 
 
 " But, mamma," rejoined Lady Helen, with 
 real sensations of terror and disgust, " you 
 would not have me marry an absolute maniac ? 
 Good God! how horrid to be left alone with such 
 a creature I I should die of fright ; and then 
 only think of entailing the horrid (and here Lady 
 Helen shuddered) malady on one"'s children ; 
 for it is of no use to mince the matter, mamma: 
 indeed I can't— any one but him !*' 
 
 " Helen !" returned Lady Graspall sternly. 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 333 
 
 " marry him you must ! remember, I know all 
 that has passed between you and Colonel Acton." 
 
 Lady Helen now hung back in the corner of 
 the carriage, and became pale and faint as death. 
 
 " Any other parent but myself, Helen," con- 
 tinued the Countess, " upon such a discovery, 
 would have turned you out of doors ; but I re- 
 frained from communicating the circumstance 
 to your brothers, with the hopes that we could 
 marry you without the disclosure of your con- 
 duct being made necessary, and in order to save 
 us all from disgrace." 
 
 Lady Helen still continued silent. 
 
 '* I shall say no more on the subject, Helen," 
 added her mother ; " you are aware, that I know 
 there remains little time now, unless you marry 
 Sir Maurice, ere the world, as well as your bro- 
 thers, must be informed of the circumstances. 
 You may do what you please, when once you 
 are married; but I will not have you bring 
 disgrace upon me, whilst you are under my 
 roof. You will decide, therefore, to-night, whe- 
 ther you wiU receive Sir Maurice as a lover, 
 
334 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 or whether you choose to be sent out of the 
 country with one of your brothers. As for 
 your qualms of conscience, they are too absurd, 
 for you have taken care to render them en- 
 tirely superfluous.^' 
 
 Briefly — in less than three weeks. Lady Helen 
 was the wife of the unfortunate Baronet, who, 
 before many months, became sufficiently mad to 
 warrant his being placed in custody, and her 
 Ladyship was appointed guardian and manager 
 of their only child, and of her husband's vast 
 estates. 
 
 Poor Mr. Oancedale was among those who 
 had reason to lament his wife's enrolment in this 
 corps of female Croats. Mrs, Ouncedale was a 
 pretty, cold-hearted little woman, who had mar- 
 ried the Tic for his fortune, and they had con- 
 tinued for some years to vegetate in a very ne- 
 gative state of composure, until Mrs. Ouncedale 
 took it into her head to become a woman of 
 fashion. Mrs. Ouncedale soon perceived that 
 all the most fashionable women rendered them- 
 selves more or less notorious, for some little 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 335 
 
 scandal, and she determined, therefore, imme- 
 diately to establish for herself a trifling flirta- 
 tion, of course, with some marked man of fashion. 
 By dint of carrying off* Colonel Graindorge from 
 a competitor, and by attaching four or five par- 
 ticular men to her train, she contrived, in due 
 time, to qualify herself for Lady Graspall's set. 
 
 Whenever her husband attempted to remon- 
 strate with her, she either treated his advice 
 with contempt, or accused him of being a jea- 
 lous tyrant, who wished to deprive her of the 
 most innocent amusements. 
 
 Once, indeed, the Tichad the courage to adopt 
 decisive measures, which were met with not less 
 decision by the lad}'. 
 
 " You shall not have the carriage, madam, 
 to go with Graindorge and the Thornby party : 
 I will not be made a fool of any longer."*' 
 
 " That which is done cannot be undone,*^ 
 quietly replied the lady. 
 
 " By God ! I will not be undone," rejoined 
 the husband, '' by you or any one else!*' 
 
 " I think you are a very absurd old man," 
 
386 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 rejoined the wife : " perhaps, you have sense 
 enough, however, to ring the bell ?" 
 
 " What for, madam ?" retorted the husband. 
 " I will not be trifled with, and bearded to my 
 face." 
 
 " Ring the bell, Mr. Ouncedale, I say, that 
 I may order the carriage ; and order the butler 
 to wait in the room until it is ready, or per- 
 haps you will beat me." 
 
 " Madam ! I repeat, you shall not have the 
 carriage to go to Richmond.'^ 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed the wife, getting up quiet- 
 ly, and ringing the bell herself : " oh, it is all 
 the same to me. I can go in a hackney coach 
 as far as Lady Graspall's, and then all the 
 world will hear of your absurd jealousy." 
 
 " Madam ! by God ! you shall not quit this 
 house without my permission !" 
 
 " You are an insignificant tyrant," rejoined 
 the lady, rapping the ground with the most pro- 
 voking nonchalance with her foot " you are 
 
 falling into your dotage :" and then, as the ser- 
 vant answered the summons of the bell, she 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 337 
 
 said, " Thomas, order me a hackney-coach : — 
 your master says I cannot have the carriage ;" 
 and then seating herself at the piano, she endea- 
 voured, by playing as loud as possible, to drown 
 the voice of poor Mr. Ouncedale, who, to save 
 himself from being laughed at, was at last 
 obliged to yield the point; and as his wife 
 mounted her hrichtska, to proceed to Richmond, 
 he took up his hat, to walk with one of his boys 
 in the retired part of Regent's Park. 
 
 Ouncedale was not, however, the only person 
 who had to lament his wife's connexion with 
 this set ; others there were, who, like himself, 
 felt all the misery, the disgrace, which must fall 
 on themselves and their families, by their wives 
 pursuing a course of life so dangerous to their 
 reputation, so inconsistent with their characters 
 as mothers, and women of birth and education. 
 Night after night they heard, as well as the 
 world, of the heavy losses of these ladies at play. 
 Day after day they were witnesses to the de- 
 mands made upon them by tradesmen for the 
 payment of immense bills for dresses, hatS; and 
 
 VOL. I. Q. 
 
338 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 bijouterie, to an amount which was often far 
 beyond the immediate means of the husbands 
 to pay, and which in every case was at least 
 quadruple the lady's pin-money. The bills, how- 
 ever, of the tradesmen might be pardoned and 
 discharged ; but the play debts were of a differ- 
 ent nature, vicious and inexcusable. Beginning 
 with the trifling loss of a few pounds, and a few 
 tears ; but ending, in most cases, in the abandon- 
 ment of honour, the ruin of domestic peace, the 
 destruction of every moral tie, and the verdict 
 of a jury. 
 
 Mrs. Thornby was another of this set, who 
 possessed almost all the bad qualities of Lady 
 Graspall, except her passion for money; but 
 she yielded nothing to her in want of heart, 
 and utter disregard of feeling or principle. 
 The Misses Thornby were yet too young either 
 to profit or suffer by their mother's example ; 
 and it was perhaps a fortunate circumstance 
 for them, that, during the London season, they 
 often remained many days, nay weeks, without 
 seeing their mother, who, to say the truth, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 339 
 
 would willingly see anybody else's husband, or 
 any one else's children, rather than her own. 
 The one bored her to death with his society, 
 and his prosing about the levity of her con- 
 duct, and the difficulty he made about paying 
 her expensive bills, which were often purposely 
 augmented by twenty or thirty pounds, on an 
 understanding with her tradesmen, in order 
 that she might obtain money to cover her losses 
 at ecarte, which she was afraid to confess to 
 her husband. Her children were also fast 
 growing up, and nearly at an age to remind the 
 world that Mrs. Thornby was now too old to 
 be perpetually flirting with all the young boys 
 who had just left school, or entered the Guards. 
 So far did Mrs. Thornby carry her utter want 
 of feeling for her children, that she made 
 it a point never to see her infants until three 
 or four years after their birth : if she met 
 them accidentally on the stairs, she would ask 
 the governess their names, pat them on the 
 head, and say " There, there ; you are very nice 
 children — which are you, a boy or a girl .'''* and 
 a 2 
 
340 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 as the little innocents would press around her, 
 with the instinctive fondness of nature, to ob- 
 tain some mark of maternal tenderness, she 
 would exclaim, "There now, you nasty little 
 pigs, do not slobber one ; come, do not tread on 
 my flounce." And she would then direct the 
 governess always to take the children in future 
 up and down the back- stairs. With a heart 
 too callous and cold to feel attachment for any 
 one but herself, and with too much calculation to 
 permit herself to fall into that abyss into which 
 others, too many others, had been hurried by 
 the effects of some unhappy and fatal passion, 
 by the seductions of the other sex, or the 
 brutal conduct of their own husbands, Mrs. 
 Thornby contrived to steer clear of absolute 
 shipwreck, though she was utterly indifferent 
 to the loss of reputation, or the scandals to which 
 she gave rise. Virtue had no share in her sal- 
 vation, calculation was her great safeguard. 
 Her greatest delight, as Sidney observed, was 
 to throw herself on the youngest men. Year 
 after year the greenest, the newest comers out, 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 341 
 
 were to be seen in her train ; and if she saw 
 any very young man of rank or fasliion en- 
 gaged in a pursuit which was likely to termi- 
 nate in marriage, she would put forth all her 
 powers of intrigue and seduction to carry him 
 off, and to prevent it. Had she done this 
 for the sake of marrying her daughters, there 
 might have been some excuse ; but her sole 
 object was mischief, vanity, and wanton plea- 
 sure in destroying the happiness of others. 
 A proof of her skill, and its consequences, will 
 appear in a subsequent chapter. 
 
34^ HERBERT MILTON, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Sir Lawrence Catesby had observed, with 
 much alarm and anxiety, the extreme agitation 
 of his wife on their return to Stanhope-street. 
 Concluding that she was much more seriously 
 indisposed than she had chosen to avow, and 
 dreading the consequences of a nervous attack, 
 he immediately despatched a note to the family 
 physician. Sir Fergus Malcolm, requesting his 
 attendance without a moment's delay. Many 
 minutes, however, had not elapsed after the ser- 
 vant's departure ere the worthy Baronet was star- 
 tled by a noise in the apartment of Lady Cates- 
 by, which was situated immediately above his 
 own cabinet. Sir Lawrence rushed up-stairs, and 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 343 
 
 found his lady in a senseless state ; the cause 
 of which was too plainly revealed by the empty 
 phial which had fallen to the ground. Surgical 
 assistance was immediately procured, and from 
 the promptitude with which antidotes were 
 administered, the greatest portion of the 
 deleterious liquid was withdrawn, and be- 
 fore the arrival of the physician, Lady Catesby 
 was declared out of danger from the effects of 
 the laudanum, which her husband and female 
 attendants naturally concluded she must have 
 swallowed by mistake, and Sir Lawrence had 
 soon the satisfaction to learn that a few days 
 would suffice to restore her to perfect health. 
 
 The return of Herbert Milton to England 
 had been retarded many weeks beyond the 
 period so anxiously expected by his friends ; 
 the time, however, at length arrived, when the 
 gallant young soldier was again destined to re- 
 visit his native land, and those only can picture 
 to themselves the delight he felt at once more 
 seeing the white cliffs of England rising from 
 the bosom of the blue ocean, who have them- 
 
344 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 selves been many years absent from their home, 
 and who, after many hardships, dangers, and 
 perhaps a perilous and stormy voyage, once 
 more feel convinced of the certainty of pressing 
 to their hearts all those who are dearest to them 
 on earth. 
 
 Feelings of this nature are calculated to 
 strike more forcibly upon the mind of an 
 EngHshman, than that of the natives of almost 
 every other country (continental of course); 
 not that the sensations of our countrymen are 
 more acute — not that they can feel a greater 
 attachment to the soil of their birth than the 
 denizens of any other land, nor boast of greater 
 patriotism or love for their kindred — yet there 
 is something in the very position of our Is- 
 land, which renders a return to her shores a 
 thousand times more impressive than a mere 
 transit from one continental state to another. 
 With the exception of the Swiss, the natives 
 of other nations, in returning from a foreign 
 land to that of their birth, have nothing 
 striking or remarkable to attract their atten- 
 tion, or to declare as they look from their car- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 345 
 
 riage window, that they are now within the 
 boundaries of their legitimate sovereign, 'save 
 indeed the altered livery of the postilion, 
 or the variegated colours of the sentry-boxes 
 and barriers, or the loss he suffers by the dif- 
 ference of the coin. There is nothing extra- 
 ordinary or sudden in the transition from one 
 princedom to another : the change of language, 
 generally speaking, is gradual ; the trees, roads, 
 hills, — in short, all the features of nature, bear 
 more or less affinity one to the other; the costume 
 and countenances of the people are not marked 
 by any immediate alteration : in fact, if he can 
 sleep well in a carriage, a Dane may travel from 
 Copenhagen to Naples, or a Frenchman from 
 Marseilles to Petersburg, without being aware 
 of his having quitted his native country, though 
 he may have passed through the dominions, and 
 heard *' God save the King " played, or rather 
 squeaked, on the posthorns of an hundred dif- 
 ferent potentates. On the other hand, an Eng- 
 lishman can alone attain the soil of his fore- 
 fathers by a complete transition and change of 
 Q. 5 
 
346 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 elements. The boisterous roaring of the gale, 
 the angry lashings of the waves of the boundless 
 ocean, is the music which accompanies him to 
 the sea-girt shores of his fatherland. He must 
 risk the dangers of the mighty deep, he must 
 expose himself to the mercy of the storm, and 
 the caprices of the winds, ere he can hope to 
 fold within his arms the wife or child who 
 tremblingly awaits his return. 
 
 Wafted by favourable winds and a smooth 
 sea, the gallant vessel which conveyed Herbert 
 to England, had made the shores of Cornwall 
 during the night ; and Herbert felt as though 
 his heart would have bounded from his bosom, 
 when upon rising in the morning, which was 
 peculiarly serene and brilliant for the season of 
 the year, and going upon deck, he found they 
 were about to enter the noble harbour of Ply- 
 mouth, and, in fact, that they were then passing 
 the narrow channel between the angle of the 
 Breakwater and the shelving banks of Mount 
 Edgecumbe. As the ship, urged forward by 
 wind and tide, appeared to fly almost through 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 347 
 
 the water towards the anchorage, Herbert gave 
 a hasty but dehghted look at the scene around 
 him. On the right, far above a mile, extended 
 the rough and broken points of that mighty 
 barrier, which the genius of man has so suc- 
 cessfully opposed to the fury of the ocean, over 
 whose black and rugged points the furious bil- 
 lows continually reared their foaming summits, 
 and appeared to clash and burst together as if 
 in fits of maddening but impotent rage at the 
 obstruction offered to their progress ; whilst the 
 bosom of the bay within appeared as calm and 
 unagitated as the surface of some inland lake. 
 On the left, the crags and banks of Mount 
 Edgecumbe, feathered with forest timber, or 
 clothed with evergreens, whose branches al- 
 most swept the surf from the ocean ; its green 
 walks, its picturesque sites, temples, and the 
 distant mansion embosomed in the woods, pre- 
 sented a striking contrast with the red and bar- 
 ren cliffs of the opposite strand, Avhence every 
 now and then the loud explosions of the miners 
 came pealing on the ear, as huge masses of gra- 
 
348 HEKBERT MILTON. 
 
 nite were torn and blasted from their rocky 
 beds, for the purpose of increasing the arti- 
 ficial rampart which the genius of Rennie was 
 raising as a proud monument to the greatness 
 of his country. As the vessel entered deeper 
 in the bay, the neighbouring island appeared 
 more distinctly to detach itself from the main 
 land, and reared its castellated summit from 
 the bosom of the calm basin in which it was 
 embedded, masking the shores of Devonshire, 
 and concealing hundreds of vessels which lay 
 sheltered beneath its protection. Far to the 
 right, the Sound stretched forth its noble bo- 
 som, in which several huge ships of war were 
 seen in quiet and secure repose ; whilst to the 
 left, the towns of Plymouth and Devonport 
 extended across the hills, intersected with 
 churches, steeples, batteries, and public edi- 
 fices, and disclosing, as if in its very bosom, 
 a forest of masts which sprung from the vast 
 arsenal at their feet, giving a noble picture of 
 the gigantic power and naval grandeur of the 
 natioK. No sooner had Herbert passed through 
 
HERBEKT MILTON, 349 
 
 the hands of the custom-house officers, than he 
 threw himself into a post-chaise, and in a few 
 minutes was on his road to London at the mo- 
 derate rat 3 of ten miles an hour. 
 
 Lady Milton, who had remained in town, 
 (long since deserted by the fashionable world,) 
 to receive her son, continued, for several days 
 prior to his arrival, in a state of feverish anx- 
 iety, dreading lest accident or misfortune should 
 retard his return. At length the long-expect- 
 ed vehicle drew up before the house — hastily 
 she rung the bell, sprung to the door, and 
 bounded down the stairs with the agility of 
 fifteen. In one instant Herbert, accompanied 
 by his huge and faithful preserver, sprung 
 from the chaise into the hall, and in another 
 was locked in the embraces of his affectionate 
 and doating parent. "My dearest mother!" 
 " My dear, dear child !" was all that either of 
 the parties could utter for some time ; and 
 such was the violence of Lady Milton's emo- 
 tion, at the certainty of once more folding 
 to her bosom her only and dear loved son, 
 
350 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 that she was scarcely prevented from fainting by 
 shedding a flood of tears, which reUeved her 
 overflowing heart, though she still clung to the 
 bosom of the young and handsome soldier with 
 all the tenderness of maternal love. In the 
 mean time his noble dog, who was unaccus- 
 tomed to witness such scenes, and was perhaps 
 jealous of these marks of tenderness bestowed 
 by his master on Lady Milton, now came up 
 wagging his tail, and raising himself on his 
 hind legs, placed his paw on Herbert's shoul- 
 der, and half whining, half growhng, licked 
 his face, as if requesting to be introduced. 
 " Ah !'' exclaimed Herbert, as he shook his 
 huge favourite from his shoulder, " dearest mo- 
 ther, I ought at once to have introduced my 
 brave preserver to your notice ;" and then turn- 
 ing to the dog, he added, " Chucho, essa es mi 
 madre,'^ The noble animal, as if he really under- 
 stood the meaning of the words, uttered a kind 
 of pleasurable bark, and then scampered round 
 the room as fast as his vast size would per- 
 mit, to the imminent jeopardy of the china 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 351 
 
 and furniture ; after which, crouching at the feet 
 of Lady Milton, he looked up in her face, and 
 appeared to await some mark of recognition. 
 Then, as her Ladyship, half-trembling, stooped 
 to caress him, she exclaimed, " Noble ani- 
 mal ! I shall ever love you as the saviour of 
 my son," the good-natured and faithful beast 
 crept closer to her feet, and laying his head 
 upon her shoe, whined and licked the ground. 
 
 The pleasure which Herbert's return afford- 
 ed not only to his mother, but to the whole 
 household, who were now assembled in the 
 hall, was marked in their smiling counte- 
 nances. Every soul in the house, from the 
 kitchen to the garret, had stolen into the pas- 
 sage ; all made some excuse for being present. 
 Many were the curious faces which, if they 
 did not come forward, were seen peeping from 
 behind the doors. All those servants who had 
 been long in Lady Milton's service were devoted- 
 ly attached to Herbert ; — kind, condescending, 
 and affable in his manners, liberal in his pre- 
 sents, he had won all their hearts, so that 
 
S52 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 those who had been hired since his departure, 
 were inclined to worship him, upon the reports 
 which they heard of his generosity, kindness, 
 and condescension, from their fellow-servants. 
 The story of his adventure at Lisbon had lost 
 nothing of its terrible accompaniments on its 
 passage from the drawing-room, through that 
 of the housekeeper, to the servants' hall, and, 
 in fact, was looked upon by all as infinitely 
 more miraculous than the defeat of the Phi- 
 listines. The maids kept smirking and smi- 
 ling at a distance, exclaiming, " Dear ! what 
 a beautiful young gentleman V^ whilst the 
 men, like true Englishmen, were examining 
 from the corner of their eyes the small hand 
 which they had heard killed a dozen men at 
 a blow ; and then the dog, which ate them up 
 afterwards. 
 
 Among the first who claimed the notice of 
 Herbert, was the old housekeeper, who had 
 been his nurse; and had accompanied Lady 
 Milton to and from India. Smoothing down 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 253 
 
 her silk apron, half crying and half giggling 
 with pleasure at the sight of Master Herbert, 
 she no sooner saw him released from the em- 
 braces of his mother, than she came up to him, 
 and in a moment was fondly recognized. 
 
 " Lord, my dear Master Herbert," said the 
 old woman, " how the sun has burned your 
 sweet face ! dear, we must wash it with milk 
 of roses to take out the freckles ! Bless me ! 
 there 's the nasty cut the villains gave you. 
 Lord love you, my darling, how you have 
 changed !"" 
 
 " Not for you, at least, Martin," exclaimed 
 Herbert, as he again kindly embraced the faith- 
 ful servant. 
 
 '* No, God love your handsome face, I do 
 not mean that/' answered she ; " only you 're 
 grown so brown, and so manly-like. I al- 
 ways told my Lady, when you was two years 
 old, says I, my Lady, ' His hair will be as 
 dark as your own when he grows up,* though 
 it was as white as snow then ; I have got a 
 
354 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 bit of it here, my dear, in this locket ; I cut it 
 ofF the day you were two years and thirty 
 days old, and that's now twenty-four years 
 ago and five months, come next fourth of De- 
 cember." 
 
 There is no knowing how long Mrs. Martin 
 might have continued her twaddle, had not the 
 old butler, who had been footman to Lady 
 Milton's father, now put in his claim for recog- 
 nition. 
 
 " Ah, my old boy !" exclaimed Herbert, shak- 
 ing the fat butler by the hand, " how d'ye do ? 
 how goes it with the gout and the brewing ? I 
 bring you letters from your sons. George was 
 made serjeant-major of my regiment before I 
 came away, and, if he goes on well, is sure of a 
 commission." 
 
 " Thanks to your goodness, more than his 
 own merit," answered the honest servant; 
 " though it is indeed a great honour to be ser- 
 jeant-major of a regiment of Guards ; and I 
 believe he 's better there, and more respected, 
 mayhap, than if he were to get a commission." 
 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 355 
 
 " I '11 answer for his doing well wherever he 
 is,**' answered Herbert ; " no one will forget his 
 brave conduct at the battle of " 
 
 " I did hear say," said the butler, with a 
 tear of pride and satisfaction in his eye, *' that 
 he did conduct himself like a brave lad there." 
 
 " Brave !"" exclaimed Herbert : " if he had 
 been in the French service, he would have 
 received a cross of honour immediately, and 
 have been made an officer on the spot : why 
 man, when the regiment on our left was 
 thrown into confusion, and overpowered by 
 numbers, half their officers being killed or 
 wounded, your son himself, at the head of their 
 grenadiers, rallied them, made head against the 
 cavalry, collected the remains of the battalion 
 into a square, charged with them, took a gun, 
 and then returned to us with the same coolness 
 as if he had been merely marching oiF a guard." 
 
 This short account of the young man's gal- 
 lantry filled the worthy father's eyes with tears, 
 and he would have overpowered his young mas- 
 ter with his thanks, had not one of the footmen 
 
S56 HERBERT MlLTON. 
 
 requested Herbert would have the kindness to 
 speak to his dog : — the fact was, the Corporal 
 finding himself not only entirely forgotten, but 
 among a number of strangers, who were all 
 frightened at him, had quietly returned, and 
 crept into the post-chaise, in which Herbert's 
 cloak still remained, and there seated and 
 maintained himself, in despite of the coaxing of 
 the servants, and intreaties of the postilion, 
 keeping them all at a distance by the mere vi- 
 bration of his tail, and the irritation of the bris- 
 tles on his back ; nor was it until Herbert or- 
 dered him to his side, that he would abandon 
 the vehicle, which, as he had travelled in it for 
 upwards of twenty-four hours, he now probably 
 looked upon as his home. 
 
 Before Lady Milton and her son separated 
 for the night, it was determined that they 
 should remain in town for a few days, and 
 that Herbert should then accompany his mo* 
 ther to Milton Park, which, with the estate 
 and mansion, had formerly belonged to a 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 35T 
 
 branch of the family, but had been sold by its 
 possessor, and again re-purchased by Sir Her- 
 bert's direction. From thence, Herbert intend- 
 ed to continue his tour to the houses of differ- 
 ent friends, from whom he found pressing invi- 
 tations awaiting his return. It may be well 
 imagined, that the paramount thought in the 
 mind of Herbert, on reaching London, was that 
 of seeing Emily, and he was on the point of 
 putting on his hat to proceed to Park-lane on 
 the following morning, when he was met by his 
 friend Sidney, who was hastening to congra- 
 tulate him on his safe arrival, and who, after 
 the first salutation, exclaimed, " Berty, I see 
 by your eye what you want to know ; she is not 
 in town ; they are down at Merryford, with the 
 Dropmores." 
 
 In spite of his attempts to conceal his cha- 
 grin, Herbert showed how much he was annoy- 
 ed by this intelligence, which would perhaps 
 render their meeting a case of uncertainty for 
 some months, as he was not intimate with the 
 
858 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Dropmore family, where Sidney informed him 
 Emily intended passing the greater part of the 
 winter. 
 
 '* Write to Mrs. Walden, my dear fellow, 
 and give a broad hint you wish to see them, 
 and I '11 bet you a pony they are in town in 
 less than a week ; women can always find ex- 
 cuses. But seriously, Herbert, since there is 
 no longer any secret between us on this subject, 
 tell me, fairly, what are your intentions ; it is 
 evident, there can be no doubt. Miss Manby is 
 as much in love with you as you can desire, 
 and I think it is but fair you should come to a 
 conclusion one way or other, and the sooner 
 the better." 
 
 " My intention is to await ray father's arri- 
 val, who will certainly, I find, be at home in 
 the spring ; and if he gives his consent, there 
 can be no doubt as to what I shall do.'' 
 
 " But in the mean time, if you meet Miss 
 Manby, do you intend going on sighing and 
 ogling like a schoolboy passing a pastrycook's 
 shop, or shall you bid at once ? I well know my 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 359 
 
 advice is never worth two-pence, but I should 
 recommend your first confessing yourself to Miss 
 Manby, and then waiting for absolution from the 
 Padre afterwards. Egad, Berty ! one would 
 think you were going to marry your father in- 
 stead of the prettiest girl in London : but here 
 comes your cousin Alfred ; I see his cabriolet 
 at the door ; I take it he knows as much of the 
 matter as I do ; but entre nous, Herbert, mind 
 what you are at ; beware, I say, of the snake in 
 the grass !" 
 
 Before Herbert could demand an explana- 
 tion of his friend's hints, the door opened, and 
 Alfred embraced his cousin with a degree of 
 warmth and affection that appeared really to 
 flow from his heart. The conversation be- 
 tween the young men turned entirely upon fa- 
 shionable intelligence, the " what's what"" of 
 London life, the arrangements for winter, the 
 marriages, divorces, and scandal of the past 
 season ; and, in half an hour, Herbert had re- 
 ceived a tolerable account of all the remarkable 
 events which had occurred since his departure. 
 
360 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 Alfred, however, made not the slightest allusion 
 to the name of Emily, or indeed to any family 
 matter; but proposed that he should send his 
 cabriolet to wait for them at White's, and that 
 they should all walk to look at a horse or two, 
 which Sidney had recommended to his friend ; 
 as well as to sundry tailors, boot-makers, and 
 hatters, who were in no small degree necessary 
 to a man of fashion, after a three years' cam- 
 paign in Spain. We must leave the young men 
 to discuss the merits of splints, spavins, and 
 windgalls, whilst we return for a short time to 
 Emily, who at this moment was in a state of 
 great anxiety and nervousness at Merryford. 
 
 Having buoyed up her heart with the 
 hope of seeing Herbert almost immediately 
 after the f^te at Beau Regard, her distress 
 and vexation were proportionably great when 
 she heard of his illness ; nor was her agitation 
 at all diminished by the certainty with which 
 she flattered herself of being the object of Her- 
 bert's affections. This, certainly, she had not 
 only heard from the mouth of Alfred, but her 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 361 
 
 friend Madame de Geigenklang had not wasted 
 much time in acting up to tlie wishes of Mr. 
 Milton. In tlie course of four or five days sub- 
 sequent to the dtjtuue, the Baroness invited 
 Emily to dine with her, and offered to chape- 
 rone her in the evening to Almack's. No sooner 
 had the two ladies retired from the dining-room, 
 than the Baroness commenced her attack. 
 
 " Well, my dear,"' said she, " so my Tenor 
 and my music are coming over directly, in spite 
 of the brigante; Osmino trionfera^ he will throw 
 himself at your feet, you blush, he kisses your 
 hand — he will say, ' Rendite hen mio' — you will 
 make no reply — silence gives consent, and you 
 are married — grand finale."" 
 
 Emily did indeed blush deeply ; and though 
 she could scarcely avoid smiling at the Baro- 
 ness's programme of what she considered likely 
 to occur, yet she attempted to make a defen- 
 sive answer. 
 
 *' Lord ! my dear," continued the Baroness, 
 "I know all about it; you are sospirando di 
 notte di giorno for this amor viricitore. Ah ! 
 
 VOL. T. R 
 
S()2 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 the very thought of it kills me : I used to sigh 
 and groan so horridly about the Baron, indeed 
 I was very nearly crying two or three times, 
 and I could never see the Romeo, or hear that 
 beautiful air oi^Omhra adorata aspetta,'' without 
 thinking I saw the Baron dying for love in a 
 cellar, or a vault, or some shocking old place." 
 
 " My dear Baroness," rejoined Emily, " I 
 hope that our history will not be quite so tragic ; 
 though I fear Sir Herbert Milton's animosity 
 to u\y poor father will overcome his affection 
 for his son ?" 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear ; you like Herbert, as 
 you call it, very much ; he loves you, as he calls 
 it, 'a la mort-^ anjd he has authorized me to pro- 
 pose for him, that is to say, I am convinced he 
 will be very much obliged to me for taking the 
 trouble off his hands. Lord ! my dear — by-the- 
 bye, what a nuisance it must be for a man to 
 propose ! it is quite bad enough to listen to a 
 proposition ; I declare I trembled like Leporello 
 when the ghost nodded his head : but tell me, 
 will you have this man for your wedded hus- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 363 
 
 band; come, say yes, and we will go at ance to 
 Carcons and order the trousseau.''' 
 
 " I fear, my dear Baroness, I must reject 
 your proposal," answered Emily : " surely, since 
 you will have me speak the truth, you, my 
 kind friend, would not urge me to accept any 
 man against the wishes of his parents — you, of 
 all others, who set so good an example ?" 
 
 " Oh ! my dear," exclaimed the Baroness, 
 interrupting her, " do not talk of my example ; 
 qual fiero tormentor the very idea of it quite 
 squarcia mio core ; besides, there was a great 
 difference between my postponing the Baron to 
 please my own poor father, whom I dearly 
 loved, and your refusing Herbert, out of de- 
 ference to his old, horrid, bilious papa, whom 
 you have every reason to hate ; moreover, you 
 are mistress of a very comfortable fortune, and 
 I had not a sous."" 
 
 " Fortune,'' rejoined Emily, " is the last 
 
 thing I think of; but still, if I had millions, 
 
 I never could be happy, if I thought I was the 
 
 cause of dissensions between my husband and 
 
 ii2 
 
<^64 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 his family ! I own," continued she, blushing 
 deeply, " I confess I do love, have loved Colonel 
 Milton for many years." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said the Baroness, before 
 the sentence was finished, " and if you love 
 him, can you bear the idea of delivering him 
 up, to be devoured by those Lady Bossvilles, 
 who would have no scruples in running away 
 with him, in spite of twenty fathers, if they 
 were certain of his fortune ?''"' 
 
 *' I would rather perish ; I would rather my 
 heart should break ; I would rather see him the 
 happy husband of Lady Susan, than consent to 
 become his wife, if our marriage were to entail 
 disgrace and ruin upon him ; at least, I should 
 have the consolation of having done my duty ; 
 and though my death ensued, I should extract 
 even from Sir Herbert himself, that approba- 
 tion which he refused to me living." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Emily," rejoined the Baro- 
 ness, really affected by the earnestness of her 
 young friend's manner, " you are a dear good 
 girl, and old Milton's a horrid cross old tyrant ! 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 365 
 
 — I hope he will die of bile directly ; but even 
 if he should not, I assure you, that you exag- 
 gerate greatly his objections. I know, from 
 the most undeniable source, that, although he 
 might perhaps refuse his assent before, and 
 perhaps bonder a little after, he would for- 
 give you both in less than a month: — really, 
 my love, you carry your scruples too far." 
 
 " You cannot disapprove of my motives ; you 
 cannot, surely, condemn my resolution?'' 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I do excessively," retorted the 
 Baroness : " if you persist in this horrid deter- 
 mination, you 11 drive my poor Tenor mad ; he'll 
 lose his voice, or starve himself to death. No, no ; 
 you must promise me you will accept him ; I 
 will answer for old papa Milton, and, you know, 
 my dear Lady Milton thinks you are perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 " Nothing can be more flattering to me 
 than the idea of being looked upon favourably 
 by Lady Milton," repHed Emily ; " but I can 
 plainly see by her constrained manner when 
 we meet, that she participates in her hus- 
 
366 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 band's sentiments of animosity : and Mrs. 
 Walden assures me I am the only person in 
 all England who must not, dare not, think of 
 Colonel Milton." 
 
 " Mrs. Walden is an old twaddle!" retorted 
 the Baroness; " she knows nothing about the 
 matter; but you may do as you please : but do, 
 there's a good girl, let me tell Herbert, the mo- 
 ment he arrives, that you consent." 
 
 " I will not consent," answered Emily mild- 
 ly, " to take any steps before Sir Herbert's re- 
 turn ; it shall not be said that I took advantage 
 of the influence I might possess over Colonel 
 Milton's mind, to induce him to hurry into a 
 marriage during his father's absence: — no, my 
 dear Baroness, I am not ashamed to avow, I 
 have long loved, and suffered in silence ; I have 
 loved without the hope of a return ; and now 
 that I have almost obtained the certainty of 
 being dear to the only man I could ever love, 
 this knowledge is enough to insure my present 
 happiness, and to give me courage to wait in 
 patience for the return of Sir Herbert." 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 367 
 
 *' Well, my dear," replied the other, " you 
 may perhaps be satisfied with this phantom 
 possession ; — but what does La Bruyere say 
 about love and fire? — * that it requires constant 
 fanning or it will go out,' or something of that 
 sort; at all events, love requires feeding;— apro- 
 pos, how uncommonly good the Jilets de soles 
 were to-day ; — and so, if you allow Herbert to 
 starve, or grow cold, he will probably take up 
 ' mit some other yonk lady,"* as Mrs. Dunsten 
 says ; and then, my dear, there will be an end 
 of the whole affair." 
 
 " Nothing, my dear friend, shall induce me 
 to take any step before Sir Herbert's return," 
 rejoined Emily. 
 
 " Perhaps, my love," answered the goodna- 
 tured hostess — " perhaps you are right to wait 
 till the old Rajah comes home ; but if then 
 he refuse, take my advice, marry Herbert, 
 hon gre mal gre, and I will guarantee the na- 
 bob's assent in a month afterwards. I should 
 not urge you to this step, unless I was con- 
 vinced of his ultimate forgiveness; and I am 
 
368 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 certain, if you were to persist in your refusal, 
 Herbert would die of a broken heart, or go out 
 with the man who is so fond of ice, and be fro- 
 zen up amongst the whales and the moutagnes 
 Russes, or marry an Esquimaux princess, or 
 break his neck in hunting seals upon sea- 
 horses." 
 
 Emily could not help smiling at the imbrog- 
 lio which her friend made of a North Pole 
 expedition. 
 
 " My love, it's no laughing matter, I assure 
 you ; he may, perhaps, in despair, set off to 
 Timbuctoo, and marry a hundred and fifty 
 black sultanas, if he does not die of the black 
 fever. How should you like to see him driving 
 about in his carriage, with half-a-dozen great, 
 fat, soot-coloured queens scratching each others'* 
 eyes out, to sit next him ? — then, good God ! the 
 horror of their music, only two notes, no idea 
 of thorough bass, or Logier's system ; no other 
 instruments but drums and flutes, made out of 
 the skins and bones of dead men !" 
 
 They were now interrupted by the gentlemen. 
 
HEKBERT MILTON. 369 
 
 who came in from the dining-room ; and as soon 
 as coffee was over, the carriages were ordered, 
 and the party started for Ahuack's. 
 
 After undergoing all the preliminary pleasures; 
 waiting for nearly an hour in the '' string"" of 
 vehicles, which commenced at the bottom of 
 Albemarle-street ; — after having been regaled 
 with the charming accompaniments of the 
 oaths of footmen, as the poles rattled amongst 
 their unbooted legs, in despite of the precau- 
 tion of boards and barricadoes ; the slashings, 
 and execrations of coachmen, as they cut into 
 the line, or were foiled in their attempts by 
 the vigilance of those who formed a part of 
 it ; the remonstrances and threats of masters as 
 they heard the horrid grating of a hind-wheel 
 scarifying the pannels of their new equipage ; 
 and, to sum up the whole, the screams of the 
 Baroness, who, being a dreadful coward, always 
 gave vent to her terror, first by loud exclama- 
 tions, and then by pinching her neighbour as 
 green as calipash : — after all these additional 
 and common introductions to the pleasures of 
 R 5 
 
370 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 a London ball, the party at length landed un- 
 der the awning in King-street ; and having de- 
 livered their tickets to the watchful Cerberus 
 on the right hand, they were proceeding up- 
 stairs, when their attention was attracted, and 
 they were in no small degree amused, by a 
 dialogue between a young nobleman and the 
 guardian of the entrance. 
 
 " My Lord," exclaimed Mr. Whiffler to the 
 Peer, " I am sorry, but we cannot possibly al- 
 low you to go up-stairs." 
 
 " Not allow me to go up-stairs ! Why, what 
 do you mean ?" replied the nobleman ; " is my 
 ticket a forgery, or have I given you a wrong 
 one?" 
 
 " Neither, my Lord, neither ; your Lordship's 
 ticket is perfectly in order, but it is the costume 
 we allude to." 
 
 " Costume, Sir!'' exclaimed the Peer; " why, 
 how long have you been established as a judge 
 of dress ?" 
 
 "The Ladies Patronesses,'* rejoined Mr. Whif- 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 371 
 
 fler, " have given us most positive injunctions 
 not to permit any gentlemen to enter the rooms 
 in loose trowsers, unless they are Privy-counsel- 
 lors, or Knights of the Garter.''' 
 
 " What excessive nonsense !**' rejoined Lord 
 Taunton, looking at his dress, which he had 
 flattered himself was the height of perfection, 
 especially his cravat, which, in despite of eleven 
 failures, had at length succeeded, and presented 
 one of those neat flat cross-bows, held together 
 by a turquoise-headed pin, which it requires 
 such long practice to attain with perfection, 
 and in the arrangement of which not above six 
 or seven men in London were ever looked upon 
 as decided masters. " How ridiculous,"" conti- 
 nued his Lordship, " to subject one to these 
 whims and caprices ! why do not the Ladies print 
 on the vouchers the kind of dress they wish 
 one to wear ? I shall certainly not return now, 
 Sir." 
 
 " Of course, your Lordship must act as you 
 think proper," rejoined the powdered guardian. 
 
372 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " but we shall feel it our duty to report the cir- 
 cumstance to their Ladyships, who will use their 
 own discretion in the matter." 
 
 " One would think one was coming to a 
 Caledonian ball, instead of Almack's,"" rejoined 
 Lord Taunton ; " why what do the old cats 
 mean .^" 
 
 " Oh, it is all that dehghtful person. Prin- 
 cess Nasowitch," whispered the Baroness in Lord 
 Taunton's ear ; " she always chooses her friends 
 and her footmen from the size of their legs ; — 
 she is a sort of Catherine in her way." 
 
 *' In that case," rejoined the Peer, " I must 
 forthwith order some mollets postiches, or I have 
 no chance of entering into her good graces." 
 
 As soon as the ladies had mounted the stairs, 
 and deposited the cloaks and shawls, Mr. 
 Whiffler again made an attempt to arrest the 
 ascent of Lord Taunton. 
 
 " If we may take the liberty to suggest," 
 said the man, *' we should strongly recommend 
 your Lordship's not appearing before their 
 Ladyships in your present costume ; if your 
 Lordship will have the kindness to return home 
 
HKUBERT MILTON. 373 
 
 and change it, we will take upon ourselves to 
 admit you after the established hour ; indeed, 
 my Lord, we have been already obhged to send 
 back several gentlemen for the same reason." 
 
 '' More fools they, for submitting to such 
 nonsense ! and I request, Mr. Whiffler, you will 
 do me the favour another time to take my 
 ticket, and be less prodigal of your remarks," 
 answered Lord Taunton, as he followed the 
 Baroness and Emily into the room. 
 ' The clock had in the mean time struck 
 eleven, and the door of admission was imme- 
 diately closed : — scarcely, however, was the bolt 
 drawn, ere a knock was heard. 
 
 " Who is there ?'' exclaimed the guardian, 
 peeping through the little grating; " who is it 
 that comes at this unseasonable hour ?" 
 
 " Mr. Stan well,'"' replied a voice from the 
 other side. 
 
 '' I am very sorry. Sir, but you are too late ; 
 the clock has struck eleven." 
 
 " But I am a member !" rejoined the apel- 
 lant." 
 
 " Extremely sorry. Sir, but there has been 
 
874 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 no house this evening," was the reply of the 
 guardian. 
 
 " But this is ridiculous !" exclaimed the other ; 
 ** I could not get up before, from the length of 
 the string." 
 
 " The last carriage has set down above half 
 a minute !" repeated the sentinel coolly. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Sir, that I am not to 
 be let in, because I happen to arrive one mo- 
 ment too late; this is carrying your impudence, 
 and the nonsense of the Patronesses too far : I 
 shall certainly report your insolence to them 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Sorry, very sorry," rejoined Mr. WhifBer 
 coolly, " to give oifence ; — regret, but cannot 
 avoid ; we have their Ladyships'* orders to take 
 down the names of all those gentlemen who 
 come too late, and all those who appear in this 
 list are to be excluded for one subscription. 
 Their Ladyships are determined, since their 
 husbands cannot produce a reform in Par- 
 liament, that they at least will introduce a 
 reform in the London hours !" and so saying. 
 
HERUERT MILTON. 375 
 
 he quietly walked away from the door, leaving 
 Mr. Stanwell no other resource but to retire 
 quietly to one of the neighbouring clubs, to 
 vent his anger at whist. Scarcely, however, had 
 he removed from the spot, ere a loud knocking 
 was again heard at the door : without, however, 
 hurrying himself in proportion to the loudness 
 of the appeal to his ears, Mr. Whiffler again 
 approached the grating, and demanded what 
 was wanted. 
 
 " Open the door for the Duke of- .'* 
 
 " I can't," replied Mr. Whiffler, " unless it is 
 one of the Royal Family." 
 
 " It 's I," now exclaimed a voice, " the Duke 
 of Gloria !" 
 
 " My Lord, your Grace; I am extremely 
 sorry, your Grace, but it is more than three 
 minutes and fifteen seconds too late; it would 
 be at my peril to admit anybody after this 
 hour." 
 
 "But I am just returned from a Cabinet 
 Council," replied theDuke, — " it was impossible 
 for me to arrive sooner." 
 
376 HERBERT MILTON. 
 
 " I will refer to the bye-laws, if your Grace 
 desires me," rejoined the man of tickets ; " but I 
 can take upon myself to say, there is no excep- 
 tion made whatever for any but members of the 
 houses of Peers and Commons when there is 
 a debate : their Ladyships have come to the 
 most positive determination, that their standing 
 orders shall not be broken through under any 
 pretext or excuse whatever. Your Grace will, 
 I trust, see how utterly impossible it is for me 
 to open the door without orders from above." 
 
 " Well then, go ; zounds !"" exclaimed the 
 Duke in a rage, " go and tell them I come from 
 the council, and do not keep me standing in 
 the cold all night." 
 
 " I will attend to your Grace's instructions," 
 replied Mr. Whiffler; " and if your Grace will 
 step into the larger room down-stairs upon 
 parole — upon parole, your Grace — whilst I 
 consult their Ladyships. I will open the door.*' 
 
 The Duke condescended to comply with the 
 important guardian's proposition, and the latter 
 slowly walked up-stairs, and then addressed 
 
HERBERT MILTON. 377 
 
 Lady Dossington, whom he found sitting on]one 
 of the elevated seats near the entrance. 
 
 '• My Lady;' said Mr. Whiffler, " there 's his 
 Grace the Duke of Gloria below ; he wishes to 
 know if your Ladyships will permit him to 
 come up-stairs.^' 
 
 " Has he forgotten his ticket?" demanded her 
 Ladyship, pursing up her mouth, and looking 
 extremely solemn, whilst both her daughters 
 whispered, 
 
 " Shut him out, mamma; he has no business 
 to forget any thing ; — besides, it will be such 
 a good joke !" 
 
 '* No, my Lady," replied Whiffler, '* he has 
 got his ticket, but the hour has struck." 
 
 " What is the clock ?" demanded the Pa- 
 troness. 
 
 " Five minutes, twenty-nine seconds past ele- 
 ven, by your Ladyship's chronometer," rejoined 
 the man. 
 
 " Was there any thing going on in the House 
 of Peers ?" inquired Lady Dossington. 
 
 " Nothing, my Lady," answered the other ; 
 
378 HERBERT MILTOV. 
 
 "our messenger reported that their Lordships 
 were not in sufficient number to constitute a 
 house ; and I understand, my Lady, that their 
 Lordships have come to an agreement not to sit 
 on your Ladyship's nights." 
 
 "A very proper decision !'' exclaimed the 
 lady: "you will inform his Grace, Mr. Whiffler, 
 that the Ladies Patronesses, having taken his 
 case into consideration, regret extremely that 
 they are under the necessity of adhering to 
 their rules." 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot to inform your Ladyship," 
 answered the man, " that his Grace desired me 
 to say he was detained by the Council." 
 
 " I am very sorry," rejoined her Ladyship, 
 with infinite solemnity, " but we cannot per- 
 mit the Council to interfere with our regulations. 
 Their Lordships must either sit earlier, or re- 
 nounce meeting upon an Almack's night, if they 
 wish to be admitted here." 
 
 " It *s very absurd that they can't choose 
 some other time, when they have all the week 
 at their disposal !" added the daughters. 
 
HEliBERT MILTON. 379 
 
 Mr. Whiffler was about to quit the awful 
 Patroness, when he said, (certainly forgetting 
 that the Duke was cooling his heels down- 
 stairs, amidst the footmen,) " I had almost 
 omitted to mention to your Ladyship, that 
 Lord Taunton would force himself up-stairs, 
 improperly dressed, in despite of your Lady- 
 ship's injunctions." 
 
 " How is he dressed .?"" demanded her Lady- 
 ship, frowning. 
 
 " In longs, my Lady,'' was the answer. 
 
 " In longs ! how highly improper !" rejoined 
 the Patroness : " what, tight ? 
 
 " No, my Lady ; loose." 
 
 " Loose ! how indecent !" exclaimed the La- 
 dies Bosville : " dear mamma, do have him sent 
 away." 
 
 *' Did you communicate our orders ?" de- 
 manded Lady Dossington. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady : I told him that your Lady- 
 ships had no decided objection to longs, if they 
 were tights ; but if they were loose, they must 
 
380 HEaBERT MILTON. 
 
 be shorts : but he treated me with indifference, 
 and walked into the room.*" 
 
 " If any one again attempts to intrude them- 
 selves in such an improper dress, I request you 
 will call in the civil power, Mr. Whiffler; and 
 in the mean time, unless his Lordship makes an 
 apology to the Committee, he shall have no more 
 tickets." 
 
 Mr. Whiffler now proceeded down-stairs to 
 communicate his orders to the Duke, who very 
 good-naturedly laughed at this most important 
 message, and, ordering his carriage, left the 
 house. 
 
 The ball of this evening passed oif as all other 
 balls at the same place, creating envy, jealousy, 
 and hatred in the minds of many of those who 
 have been unsuccessful in procuring tickets ; 
 affording real amusement to few, and disap- 
 pointing a greater portion of those who, by 
 dint of manoeuvring, petitioning, parliamentary 
 interest, or presents, have been enabled to ob- 
 tain the desired vouchers ; and as this was one 
 
HERBERT MILTOX. 381 
 
 of* the last balls of the season, and a general 
 election already talked of, the mixture of 
 company and the number was much greater 
 than usual ; and, consequently, it was what 
 the most correct persons called, '* horrid bad 
 Almack^s !" 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PllINTEW BY S. AND R. BENTI EY, DORSET STREET. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLIN0I8-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 046440837