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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 DEC 151989 
 
 L161— O-1096
 
 PAID IN FULL 
 
 %fl 
 
 HENEY JAMES BYEON 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MAXWELL AND COMPANY 
 
 122 FLEET STEEET 
 
 MDCCCLXV. 
 [All iights r6s&fved.2
 
 LONDOX : 
 
 ROBSON AND S0^', GREAT KORTHERN RRIKTING WORKS, 
 
 Paiicras Road, N.W.
 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 I. The First-Floor in Little Greex 
 
 Street .... 
 II. His owx Master 
 III. A Friend in Need 
 lY. The Glenburns arrive in Town 
 V. The Strange Customer 
 VI. A VERY Tender Passion . 
 VII. Thirty-five Years back . 
 VIII. Her Ladyship's first Rebuff 
 IX. In which Horace acts very rashly 
 X. Things look bad for the Bentleys 
 XL Ledbitter lays a little of the Train 
 XII. The "Good Fellow" 
 XIII. Horace meets a "Fascinating" Wo 
 
 MAN 
 
 XIY. In the Housekeeper's Eoom . 
 XV. Mr. Ledbitter's Walk 
 
 1 
 
 21 
 
 80 
 
 G2 
 
 71 
 
 101 
 
 119 
 
 137 
 
 140 
 
 168 
 
 193 
 
 2ir> 
 
 235 
 276 
 
 298
 
 PAID IIS^ FULL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 
 
 Or all the gloom}' and grimy houses in Little 
 Green Street, Soho, No. 92 was probably the 
 gloomiest and most grimy. The landlord had evi- 
 dently given it up as a bad job, and smoke and 
 dirt had apparently marked it for their own. 
 Hard task indeed would it have been for the puz- 
 zled plasterer to have discovered loliere to re-point 
 the brick-work, had the j^roprietor ever been so 
 rash as to talk of such an un-Sohoian extrava- 
 gance ; little need would a painter and grainer 
 have had to scrape away the once green covering 
 of the front-door previous to enveloping it in a 
 coat of the brightest pink, — ^time and the children 
 VOL. L B
 
 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Lad saved liim the trouble, for the smi had shone 
 very hotly upon it, and the Little Green Street 
 juveniles had seized upon the precious blisters as 
 so many prizes, and had picked some off, and 
 scratched away at the rest with their boots and 
 tops and hoops, until the door, as the lady oppo- 
 site (who made wax -flowers and had artistic 
 notions) very frequently declared, was '^ a eyesore 
 to the street" The very scraper, a stout and 
 sterling j^iece of iron-work, made for use and not 
 for show, had succumbed at last to the perjietual 
 balancings of the more reckless amongst the chil- 
 dren, and bent over in a manner which was irri- 
 tating to tlie person scraping, inasmuch as those 
 who called most frequently at No. 92 were visitors 
 with soles and heels which could scarcely afford 
 to be trifled with. Tlie knob of the door had dis- 
 appeared (popularly supposed tlirough the agency 
 of a desperate youth of eleven, who was found 
 with twopence-halfpenny in his possession for wliicli 
 he could not account) ; and though Mrs. Molloy, 
 the tenant of the house, and consequently owner 
 for the time being of the article, had recognised
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 3 
 
 it ill tlie window of a broker's shop in the next 
 street, that good lady was so completely put out of 
 court by the shopkeeper's threatening an action 
 for defamation of character^ that slie was content 
 to retire hastily to her liome, and, indeed, for the 
 rest of her life never alluded to the knob save in 
 whispers. 
 
 We have said the liouse looked gloomy, but 
 must make an exception so fai' as the first-floor 
 windows were concerned, for there the evidence 
 of cleanliness and good taste was aj^pareiit, not 
 only in the clean, bright panes, but in tlie neat 
 and cheerful curtains, the wliiteness of the blind, 
 and the agreeable oasis in the great desert of sur- 
 romiding dreariness afforded by a row of little 
 flower-pots in a green stand, and a large brass 
 cage in which a canary chirped and twinkled in 
 the smilight. The appearance of flies in amber 
 was not more puzzling to the inhabitants of Little 
 Green Street than was the natty first-floor front 
 that divided the dismal ground-floor and basement 
 of No. 92 from the dingy second-pair and attics 
 of tliat wobegone tenement. The apartments even
 
 4 PAID rs- FrLL. 
 
 of Captain Crane, who plaved tlie mandoline at the 
 open window on summer evenings, and selected 
 Soho as his dwelling-place because he said it re- 
 minded him so of the Continent, — even Captain 
 CVane's apartments paled in point of actual com- 
 fort before the first-floor of Xo. 92, although the 
 Captain's blinds had decidedly the best of it in 
 the matter of tassels; whilst the lady wax-flower 
 maker and Miss Parkins, who was jwpularly sup- 
 posed to be a court miUiner, both agreed that the 
 first-floor of Xo. 92 set a most excellent example 
 to the street ; though the wax-flower lady, still 
 A-iewing matters through the artistic lens, said 
 that it wasn't so much the windows themselves, 
 but that the surroundino: dirt and miserableness 
 *• threw them out.*' 
 
 The interior of the apartments which constituted 
 the first-floor upon which we have descanted, and 
 into which but few of the Little Green Street 
 denizens had ever been permitted to enter, more 
 than justified the generally -expressed belief in 
 their neatness and comfort. The fiimiture, which 
 was for the most part of the regidar lodging-house
 
 THZ FE5U-T JZ^'.tZB, IT ZZZ^TZ^ ^S22S -yTITnTT, ^
 
 O PAID IN FULL. 
 
 upon the mantel-piece continually, and refused to 
 be comforted. Not that there was any body pre- 
 sent to attempt the task of soothing the agitated 
 feelings of the poor old woman, nor, from the 
 expression of her countenance, would that duty 
 have been a remarkably easy one to perform ; for, 
 in sooth, her features were hard and somewhat 
 forbidding ; her mouth was pulled doAvn Avith a 
 chronic pucker ; and tlicrc was a something about 
 her stiff and undeceptive false brown front that 
 repressed familiarity or sympathy. Her dress ^^'as 
 cheap and dingy, her hands were horny with hard 
 work, and her entire appearance spoke of unre- 
 mitting toil and suffering. 
 
 " Dear, dear!" exclaimed the old woman as, 
 for the thirtieth time, she looked out of the window 
 without catching a glimpse of her she waited for. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! when will she come ? when will 
 she come?" 
 
 Another half-hour passed, and no signs of her 
 mistress, — for she it was Aime Maggs expected ; 
 and then she poured some water into the teapot, 
 and sat by with as much show of patience as she
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 7 
 
 could assume until the tea was supposed to be 
 di'awn, when she mixed herself a cup, going to 
 a cupboard for some coarse bro^vn sugar, leaving 
 the white untouched, and taking no milk whatever. 
 Tea without milk, and sweetened with brown sugar, 
 can scarcely be considered an elevating beverage ; 
 but it was not the wretched natm*e of the meal of 
 which she partook that brought the tears into poor 
 old Anne Maggs's eyes, as she stared blankly be- 
 fore her, looking at nothing, but seeing, oh, so 
 much ! There is scarcely any thing more sadden- 
 ing, — soothing, some may term it — than to sit on 
 a September evening in a solitary room in the 
 heart of this great City, with the sound of life and 
 traffic rattling and buzzing at a distance, alone 
 amidst so many, with the shadows of an autumn 
 night gathering round, and the darlding phantoms 
 of tlie past crowding the room, and tamiting one 
 with bitter memories, and bringing back the recol- 
 lection of the buried years ; then it is that frag- 
 ments of long-forgotten tmies, and with them their 
 associations of days and people, flit across the 
 brain, wliile surrounding sounds shape themseh es
 
 8 
 
 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 to the melody witli a strangely incongruous and 
 puzzling jingle, and one mechanically repeats the 
 shout of some passer-by, wedding it to an air 
 which bears with it most sorrowful remembrances, 
 without firivinor a thouo^ht to the grim, sad humour 
 of the combination. An autumn evening in the 
 country saddening! To be all solitary in this 
 great cruel town when the year is fainting after 
 its burning summer glow, — that is the time for 
 hideous thoughts ; not dull November, monsieur, 
 with its fog, its link-boys, its close-drawn curtains, 
 and its cheering blaze. 
 
 Anne Maggs had known trouble, — she had 
 known little else. Her path had been one of 
 thorns, and care had seldom left her tlu'oughout 
 her life's sore jom-ney. Anne Maggs was a poor, 
 j)lain, disagreeable-looking old woman, in a musty 
 stuff dress and a ridiculous false front; but she 
 had done that which would have ennobled many a 
 grand lady, and she had a heart an empress might 
 have envied her. At the sound of a little tremu- 
 lous knock at the front-door, Anne Maggs flew 
 down the stairs, and pushing aside the red-haired
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 9 
 
 maid-of-all-work who was about to open it, ad- 
 mitted a little pale lady, whom she seized, as if to 
 make sure she was safe, and tlien fairly hugged in 
 delight. 
 
 ^^ Oh, missis!" cried Anne, gasping, "oh, 
 missis ! I thought you were never coming back ; 
 you're two hours behind yom- time, and them 
 omblebusses is so reckless, being built hea\y their- 
 selvcs, and in consequence careless of others, and 
 you a mere speck, as it were, in a road ; but here 
 you ai'e, and no bones broke ; and do come up and 
 take off yom- things, for I have been a worriting 
 myself about you tiU I was in a state to go to the 
 pleece-station and have a biU struck off." 
 
 And pouring forth a volley of mingled satis- 
 faction and reproof, the old woman half assisted, 
 half carried her misti'ess up-stairs, where she 
 placed her on the sofa, and then retired to the 
 other side of the room to have another look and 
 see she was safe and sound. 
 
 Mrs. Bentley, the owner of the best apart- 
 ments at iS'o. 92 Little Green Street, and Anne 
 Maggs's mistress, was rather under the middle
 
 10 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 height, slight in figure, with a -wom but beautiftd 
 fece, bright brown hair which was just the least 
 bit in the world sprinkled with gray, calm sad 
 eves, and a simple, almost childish, manner, which 
 a stranger might at first have considered aftecta- 
 tion, but which was natural, and, when found to 
 be so, proved one of her greatest charms. Though 
 time and care had stamped tlie cruel crow's-feet, 
 and, as we have said, somewhat dimmed the lustre 
 of her pretty hair, it had not robbed her in the 
 least of a youthihl grace which she still retained, 
 and which often led people to suppose her very 
 much younger than she was. Indeed, at a dis- 
 tance, in her neatly-made walking attire, and with 
 her light and tripping step, Mrs. Bentley had been 
 frequently described by Little Green Street neigh- 
 bours as looking "quite a bit of a girl;" and on 
 one occasion, a month or so before the commence- 
 ment of our story, a short-sighted but pohte young 
 man at Shoolbred's had, whilst showing her some 
 cheap muslins, several times addressed her as 
 *' Miss," which had quite confused the poor Uttle 
 lady, and had not in any way flattered or con-
 
 
 U 
 
 Ife 
 
 ft 
 lb ghne 
 
 sia^ 
 
 Street, 
 lbs. BcanrfAT's prf^— ^ 
 
 ite jniial it litife
 
 12 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 teaching music, singing, French, and Itahan — 
 were many who wondered to see the little lady- 
 arrive in the wet with goloshes, a huge umbrella, 
 and a waterproof cloak, when cabs were only six- 
 pence a mile ; but they little knew where that six- 
 pence went — that its destination was the pocket of 
 the Eev. Arthur Brandle; while least of all did 
 the strapping lad at Wanley Vicarage suspect his 
 mother of stinting herself in the actual necessaries 
 of life, that he might mingle with his fellows in 
 after years upon an equal footing, and have a fair 
 start in that glorious struggle where knowledge 
 backs the brain for a place. 
 
 To make a fresh sujDply of tea, to fetch from 
 the cupboard the remains of a knuckle of ham, 
 and to place her mistress to the table at her even- 
 ing meal, was with Anne Maggs the work but of 
 a very few minutes ; and as the fagged look upon 
 Mrs. Bentley's face began to disaj)pear, mider the 
 cheering influence of that sublime Chinese plant, 
 the hard featui'es of the warm domestic gradually 
 relaxed into a smile ; and when the little teacher 
 asked for her third cup, Anne fiiirly broke out
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IX LITTLE GREE;X STREET. 13 
 
 into a ^^go^ous " Bless her 'aii: I*' Tea over, the 
 old woman put away the tilings, and taking up 
 some sewing, sat at a respectftil distance from her 
 mistress, who was unusuallv silent, and appeared 
 to be thinking of scenes and persons far away. 
 
 " To-morrow Master Hoi*ace returns to us, 
 Anne," at length said Mrs. Bentley, with a shght 
 sigh. 
 
 '^ All, and a fine yomig fellow he must be by 
 this time — almost a man : and his mother so yoimg- 
 looking too !" replied Anne Maggs. 
 
 ^' Young-looking, you old flatterer! why, I'm 
 becoming as gray as |>ossible, and the wrinkles 
 rmi over my face Hke the railways in the map." 
 And Mrs. Bentley gave a little laugh, in which 
 there was, perhaps, the slightest tone of sadness. 
 
 " Maybe, maybe, but I don't see them,'' re- 
 plied Anne, who was in an unusually good-hmiioiu* 
 at the prospect of shortly seeing Master Horace. 
 
 The conversation was here internipted by the 
 postman, who took a fiendish delight in rapping 
 twice as hard at Mrs. Molloy's knocker as at any 
 oilier in the sti-eet : for it was a loose and unsatis-
 
 14 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 factory instrument, and served gymnastic purposes 
 for Mrs. Molloy's children and their friends, to its 
 extreme detriment as a knocker. 
 
 "Bother them postmen!" exclaimed Anne 
 Maggs, " a-knocking as if the' house was a-fire ; 
 it's precious few CMstmas-boxes as you'd get if 
 I had my way with you." 
 
 Up-stairs came Master Peregrine Molloy, the 
 third hope of his parents, with a piece of bread- 
 and-treacle, with which he was festooning his 
 pinafore, in one hand, and a letter, upon which 
 he had stamped a proof impression of the blackest 
 thumb for its size and age in Soho, in the otlier ; 
 and having hit the door of Mrs. Bentley's apart- 
 ment with his elbow, dropped the letter on the 
 landing and floAV down-stairs again to a juvenile 
 party which he \N'as entertaining with proftise 
 liberaKty in the back-kitchen. Tlie letter was for 
 Mrs. Bentley, and as she read the address on the 
 envelope she flushed somewhat, and placed her 
 hand upon her heart ; but the emotion was only 
 momentary, and she broke the seal with a sigh. 
 It was from the Rev. Arthui' Brandle, and enclosed
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 15 
 
 the account for Master Horace's last quarter ; but 
 it also contained a letter to that young gentleman's 
 mamma, which she read out to Aime Maggs with 
 faltering accents and frequent pauses. 
 
 This was the letter : 
 
 " Wa7ilei/ Vicarage J Bucks. 
 
 " My, dear Madam, — Yom* son Horace will 
 start (d.v.) from here by the Tally-ho coach to- 
 morrow morning at ten o'clock, and will be with 
 you in the com'se of the afternoon. You have 
 signified your intention of removing him from 
 here, and as I may not have the pleasm'e of seeing 
 you for some time, I assume the privilege of a 
 preceptor, and beg to send you the humble opinion 
 I have formed of Horace's capabilities and dis- 
 position ; an opinion resulting from close and long 
 observation as his tutor and friend." 
 
 '^ How kindly put !" here broke in Mrs. Bent- 
 ley, nevertheless trembling visibly. 
 
 " Humph I" grunted Anne Maggs, who was 
 inclined to consider the letter an impertinence. 
 
 " Two years and a half ago, when your son first
 
 16 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 came here, liis education was — jon will pardon 
 the expression — in a lamentable condition. Not 
 that he was ignorant, for he knew much ; you will 
 again pardon me, if I add, too much. His mind 
 was like a large, uncared-for garden, in which the 
 weeds of foolish fiction and distracting rubbish, of 
 a light and pernicious nature, were completely 
 choking those noble, classical flowers, which are 
 so requisite, and which I have, to the best of my 
 ability, fostered and increased. Horace's mathe- 
 matics have been his great stumbling-block, and I 
 should be almost ashamed to say how unsatisfac- 
 torily backward he is in that highly necessary 
 branch of knowledge. He has ability — very de- 
 cided ability — but he is lamentably deficient in 
 application. His principal moral drawback is an 
 absence of any fixed pm'pose. I have fi'equently 
 asked him what were his views regarding a pro- 
 fession, but his replies have been so vague, so ut- 
 terly extravagant and absurd, that I have long 
 ceased to talk to or advise him ujDon the subject. 
 In money matters he is sadly reckless, and you 
 will forgive my saying that I think you have acted
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEK STREET. 17 
 
 most injudiciously in leading liim to suppose you 
 better off than you are. I write frankly because 
 I think it my duty so to do. Personally I have a 
 great regard for Horace, as indeed I have for all 
 youths placed under my charge ; and I shall al- 
 ways be very glad indeed to heai' of his welfare. 
 Mrs. Brandle desires her compliments. 
 *' Believe me, my dear Madam, 
 
 '^ Very faitlifuUy yours, 
 
 " Arthur Brandle. 
 
 ^'P.S. I still think I was right about the 
 number of the towels, but we wiU not dispute over 
 the matter." 
 
 Mrs. Bentley placed the letter on the table, 
 and scarcely dared to look at her domestic, who 
 had grunted fe'equently dm'ing its perusal, and 
 had sewn in a fierce and fiery manner, STiggestive 
 of extreme irritation and contempt. To her Master 
 Horace had been a perfect boy from the days 
 when she dandled him in her arms to the houi* 
 when he boldly declared liis determination to wear 
 *' stick-up" collars and try a "pickwick." He 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 had kicked her when he was a Httle boy, but it 
 was his play. He had told her to hold her tongue 
 and not advise her betters when a big boy, but it 
 was his spirit. She would have run all over Lon- 
 don to have got him a toy-stage, and she would 
 have sat out the performance of the '' Miller and 
 his Men" in pasteboard twenty times an evening, 
 and have joined in the boy's merry shouts when 
 the explosion of GrindofPs mill singed her false 
 front, and the smoke made her cough, and the oil 
 in the footlights ran over her only decent dress, 
 with never-tiring good-humour and patience ; for 
 she loved him with a mother's love, and his very 
 faults were virtues in her forgiving eyes. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Bentley, with a deep-drawn 
 sigh, ^^ there is Mr. Brandle's opinion of my boy,, 
 Aime." 
 
 " Very odd he didn't find out all that before 
 the notice was given ; and as for the towels, he 
 ought to be ashamed of hisself," replied the old 
 woman, with a toss of the head. 
 
 " And yet, Anne, Mr. Brandle is a very clever 
 man ; a very good man, Aime."
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR IN LITTLE GREEN STREET. 19 
 
 " Clever, I grant you ; good, I don't see it. 
 Them towels will lay heavy on his conscience 
 for many a year ; and him a parson too !" 
 
 " Oh, you know, Anne, he doesn't say any 
 thing against Horace ; only he — he — " and the 
 little mother passed her hand across her brow, and 
 read the letter again, in the dim hope that on a 
 second erusal it might show in a more favotu'able 
 light ior her son. 
 
 "It's rather a hard letter, Aime," she ex- 
 claimed at length, the tears welling up in her large 
 soft eyes. " It's rather a hard letter. Oh, my 
 poor boy, my poor boy !" she cried, fairly break- 
 ing down, and laying her head upon her old ser- 
 vant's shoulder, and weeping her heart out in her 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Bear up, bear uj), my dear, good missis," 
 cried Anne Maggs, as she smoothed the mother's 
 soft brown hair with her great coarse hand, and 
 hushed her to rest upon her bosom as if she had 
 been a little child, consoling her with tender words, 
 bidding her check her sobbing, and speaking so 
 low, so gently, and so tenderly, that the little
 
 20 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 music-mistress at lengtli flung lier arms round her 
 servant's neck, and, after giving her a sounding 
 kiss, retired to bed ahnost cheerful, to dream of 
 Horace and the coming morrow.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HIS OWN MASTER. 
 
 The Tally-ho coacli drew up at ten o'clock the 
 next mornino; close to the Rev. Arthur Brandle's 
 door, and, as the coachman couldn't wait while 
 much leave-taking was carried on, Horace Bent- 
 ley and two companions found themselves seated 
 upon the outside and trundling along the road to 
 town in no time, and their late tutor stood upon 
 his door-step benignly waving an ' adieu with his 
 large white hand, whfle the servants crowded to 
 a side-window, and nodded and smiled until the 
 vehicle was fairly out of sight. And now that 
 the curtain had fallen upon the first act of Ho- 
 race's existence, — now that he realised the fact he 
 was about to commence the world, — a feeling of 
 sadness mingled with the pleasm-e he experienced 
 in his new libert}^ ; and as the old house where he
 
 22 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 had spent nearly three years of his young life va- 
 nished from his view, he felt the tear start, and 
 the jocose ditty in wliich his youthful neighbour 
 indulged jarred somewhat upon his ear and an- 
 noyed him. Horace was purely a hobbledehoy, 
 but without the preponderance of knuckle and 
 general awkwardness peculiar to that transition 
 state. With frame well knit, and a preternatu- 
 rally early effort at a whisker, and with a con- 
 fident manner beyond his years, he appeared 
 considerably older than his companion, Joseph 
 Pulling, who was really two years liis senior, but 
 who, from the combined natm-al endowments of 
 gingery hair, pale-blue eyes, and a phenomenal 
 allowance of freckles, might have been any age 
 from fifteen to thirty. The third youthftd pas- 
 senger was young Tom Larkins, who was much 
 older than either of his friends, having been rus- 
 ticated at Oxford, and only just ceased reading 
 with the Rev. Mr. Brandle, ^vho had winked at 
 his numerous peculiarities, amongst which might 
 have been enumeratod smoking in his bedi'oom, 
 driving a tandem, and a habit of pinching any
 
 HIS OWN MASTEB. 23 
 
 of the sei'^'ants he might meet in the passages or 
 on the stairs. But the vicar was of a forgiving 
 spirit, and though he occasionally shook his head 
 at some extraordinarily wild freak of Mr. Larkins, 
 he never remonstrated with him severely; and 
 indeed that high-spirited youth would not have 
 brooked any great interference with his favourite 
 pursuits. Envious j-yeoplc there were who ac- 
 comited for the rev. crentleman's forbearance bv 
 declarincr that he had views of a matrimonial na- 
 ture for his daughter Martha, and that he well 
 knew young Larkins was heir to a pretty pro- 
 perty in Essex, where his father was a man of 
 station and influence; but those who know the 
 <jhai*itable motives invariably assigned to their 
 neighbours' actions by the denizens of small pro- 
 vmcial towns will scarcely consider their inuendoes 
 worthy much attention. Martha Brandle was too 
 tall, too bony, and too unconversational to please 
 Tom Larkins; and indeed, whatever views her 
 father may have had on the subject, there is no 
 doubt that, had the Essex youth proposed, he 
 would have been icniominiouslv rejected. But
 
 24 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Tom Larkins knew, as lie elegantly expressed it, 
 "a trick worth two of that," and limited his at- 
 tentions in the feminine quarter to acts of the 
 barest civility. Martha had different views and 
 hopes, which centred in a curate of the neigh- 
 bouring parish ; and dire was the indignation of 
 the vicar when that paUid yomig parson, who had 
 seventy-five pounds a year and no expectations, 
 coolly proposed for the hand of the lean young 
 daughter of the house. They were married even- 
 tually, however ; and the curate being presented 
 to a living most unexpectedly soon after, the vicar 
 was induced to overlook the rashness of the pro- 
 ceeding, though to his dying day he considered 
 his daughter had completely sacrificed herself. 
 When Tom Larkins heard of the match, he drank 
 the bride's health, and sent her half a dozen hand- 
 somely-framed " Sketches in the Hunting-field'* 
 for her dining-room, which were placed in a row 
 on the floor in the little room, ivith the umbrellas 
 and goloshes, by the horrified husband the instant 
 they arrived. 
 
 " Now, then, sober-sides," said Tliomas Lar-
 
 HIS O^VN MASTER. 25^ 
 
 kins, Esquire, to Horace Bentley, as tlie coach 
 rolled along tlie road in the pleasant sunshine of 
 a bright September morning ; ^^ now, then, down- 
 in-the-mouth, what's the matter ? Sorry to leave 
 old Brandle and his charmino; dauo^hter, eh?" 
 
 " Yes, I am sorry to leave them, Larkins," 
 rephed Horace, "though I'm not dull on that 
 account. I'm out of spirits because I'm in the 
 clouds about the future, — about what I'm going 
 to do." 
 
 "Oh!" said Tom, without the least interest 
 in the tone of the exclamation; and he placed 
 an immense cigar in his mouth, and puffed away 
 unconcernedly. Tom Larkins couldn't under- 
 stand how any body could be in doubt about the 
 future. His future was all right. There was his 
 paternal roof to fly to in case of need, with his 
 cross-grained old governor, gouty, but generous 
 enough if you got on his Aveak side, which the 
 artful Tom knew too well how to do ; there was 
 a set of chambers awaiting his tenancy in St. 
 James's, where every comfort could be procm*ed 
 for the asking, and to which he did not invite his
 
 26 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 companions on the coach ; his name was up at a 
 good club, and his account at his banker's was 
 sufficient to allow him all reasonable (and a good 
 many unreasonable) pleasures. Tom Larkins was 
 stout (robust he called it, but a tendency to ex- 
 treme corpulency was the agony of his existence, 
 for he came of a fat family, and well he knew it), 
 healthy, high-spirited, selfish, and sensual; and' 
 such folks enjoy life as a rule, to which Mr. Tom 
 didn't care about proving the exception. The 
 blue-eyed, freckly lad who sat beside him, Joseph 
 Pulling, was an unimaginative, good-natm-ed fel- 
 low, always mistrusting his own abilities, but ge- 
 nerally coming out of the trial ^actorious, not- 
 withstanding. He and Horace were firm friends, 
 and the prospect of their soon parting was not the 
 least amongst the causes of Horace's depression. 
 
 " Come, old boy, rouse up," cried Joe, in a 
 cheery voice. " There's as good fish in the sea 
 as ever came out. My prospects are not the live- 
 liest in the world, — to be perched up in a back 
 office down a lane in the City from ten till six of 
 a day, with a governor as severe as Timoiu* the
 
 HIS OWN MASTER. 27 
 
 Tartar, and all the other clerks hating you be- 
 cause you're going to be one of the firm some day 
 or other." 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me," said the aristo- 
 cratic Larkins, ^^tliat it's in human nature to sit 
 on a stool from ten till six?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," replied Pulling; "except it's 
 " the day before the China mail goes, when it's in 
 human nature to sit till nine or ten." 
 
 Mr. Larkins stared at his commercial com- 
 panion as if he were some strange animal, and 
 wondered what remuneration could possibly be 
 sufficient for so di-eadful a feat of endurance. 
 
 "Well," broke in Horace Bentley, "before 
 I'd do that I'd chop firewood or break stones." 
 
 "Would you?" retorted Pulling, "and why, 
 pray?" 
 
 " Why?" rejoined Horace ; " because I should 
 be my own master ; because I could begin when 
 I Hked, rest when I liked, leave off when I liked ; 
 because I couldn't endure to have a parcel of fel- 
 lows around me eager to catch me tripping; 
 because I couldn't stand being ordered to do this
 
 28 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 and do that like a servant ; because I conldn't 
 be tied by the leg like a convict ; because — " 
 
 "• Because you would rather not work for your 
 living, I expect," rather techily interposed honest 
 Joe Pulling; "because you've got all sorts of 
 silly notions, old fellow, that can never be real- 
 ised ; because you're a trifle too clever, and fancy, 
 because you can scribble verses and write a ser- 
 mon for Mr. Brandle that he says is almost good 
 enough to deliver, antl because you were a great 
 favourite with all of us, and could do just what 
 you pleased with us, that you'll find it the same 
 out in the world, and that steady-going plodding 
 won't win the race in the end. Eemember the 
 fable of the hare and the tortoise ; Z do ; and 
 when I go into the governor's office, and get no 
 more holidays than the other clerks, well, I sha'n't 
 grumble — much. ' ' 
 
 An awkward pause ensued after this tremen- 
 dous oration, and Horace was evidently annoyed, 
 as all are when we are told disagreeable truths 
 before a third party. It was not in Horace's 
 nature to be sulky, however ; and no one could be
 
 HIS OWN MASTER. • 29 
 
 angry with Pulling, in whose open face frank 
 good-humour sat enthroned, and whose general 
 appearance — as the autumn wind blew his sandy 
 hair about, whilst he kept on his hat with one 
 great red hand, and held on to the rail with the 
 other, his left leo; dano^lino; over the side of the 
 coach, and his freckles developing immensely in 
 the sun — was more calculated to excite laughter 
 than anger ; and Horace, his little fit of annoy- 
 ance past, burst into a loud roar at the ludicrous 
 figm-e of his youthful mentor, and declared that 
 there was a good deal of truth in his remarks, 
 after all. 
 
 And now that the ice was thawed, the two lads 
 chatted on in a friendly way until they reached an 
 inn in Oxford Street, where Horace got together 
 his luggage, shook hands coolly with Larkins and 
 cordially with Pulling, tipped the coachman much 
 more liberally than he had any right to do, and 
 calling a cab, rattled off with the air of a lord to 
 his mother's shabby little lodgings in Soho.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 Mrs. Bentley was almost too happy for words 
 that clay. She would not let her handsome son 
 out of her sight; and when he went up-stairs to 
 uncord his boxes (which operation he found had 
 been already performed by Anne Maggs), she ran 
 after him as if she couldn't bear to let him be 
 monopolised by any body else even for a moment. 
 She was jealous of Mrs. Molloy, with whom 
 Horace shook hands in rather a condescending 
 manner; and she was downright snappish with 
 the children, who came in and clambered up her 
 darling's legs, and pulled liis incipient whisker, 
 and danced over liis natty boots witli their muddy 
 Bluchers. She had prepared a little dinner, which 
 was a picture ; but she could scarcely touch it, 
 so absorbed was she in her son, and so anxious
 
 A FRIEi4D IN NEED. ' 31 
 
 that lie should have enough '^ wholesome" food ; 
 her opinion of all school-diet being that it was 
 scanty, and not sufficiently sti'engthening for a 
 growing boy. Not that she spoke of her son as 
 a growing boy ; for, like all lads of his age, he 
 wished to pass as having acliieved the proper 
 height of man, and was wilfully blind to the fact 
 of his coat-sleeves becoming too short, and his 
 w^aistcoats refusing to come as far do'\^^l as they 
 did when fresh from the tailor's hands. Indeed, 
 though her son's manliness made her appear 
 older, with a mother's miselfishness she delighted 
 in looking upon him as a man, a protector, a 
 shield, and a support. In this she was sturdily 
 backed up by Aime Maggs, on whose comitenance 
 a permanent grin appeared to have settled, and 
 who had not been heard to grunt once since the 
 arrival of her young master. To see the way in 
 which those two women piled the plate of the 
 hungry but mortal lad, — to behold the obtrusive 
 manner in which tliey heaped the tit-bits of the 
 fowl before him, and smothered his plate with 
 gravy, and filled up his glass with bottled beer
 
 32 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 the instant he had drunk the smallest quantity, — 
 to watch these two happy creatures' dehght when 
 the sly young rascal praised the potatoes, and said 
 that he hadn't seen one properly boiled since he 
 had left home last, — all this would have been 
 very pleasant to witness ; and so thought the lad 
 in whose honour the banquet had been prepai'ed, 
 and who lolled back in his chair, and used his 
 toothpick with quite a middle-aged air, to the 
 evident surprise and admiration of his two com- 
 panions. 
 
 Dinner over, the mother and son sat hand in 
 hand, talking of old times, but avoiding all men- 
 tion of the future ; the lad looking into the kind 
 eyes of his best friend, and readmg nothing there 
 but love, unselfish love, but httle dreaming of the 
 straits to which she had put herself for him, and 
 knowing notliing of the bitter drudgery of her life, 
 the ceaseless toil and trouble of her daily exist- 
 ence. If he ever gave the fact of his mother's 
 living in so cheap and dingy a locahty a thought, 
 he put it down to eccentricity and a natural 
 timidity, which slimmed the great, noisy, busthng.
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. • 33 
 
 busy thoroughfares of the more showy portions of 
 the town. Besides, he had been but little in Lon- 
 don of late years, and Mrs. Bentley had continu- 
 ally tallved before him of moving to more elegant 
 apartments; but it was only to bHnd her boy to 
 the fact that she was living cheaply and miserably 
 for the one great object of her life. On the occa- 
 sion of the present visit, however, the lad's eyes 
 seemed to be somewhat open to the fact that his 
 mother was living in an out-of-the-way shabby 
 sort of place ; and he shuddered as he reflected 
 upon the horror with which he should receive a 
 visit from the brilliant Mr. Tom Larkins in that 
 close little room, with its murky strip of a mantel- 
 piece, and a rug that had been mended in more 
 than one place by the combined efforts of Anne 
 Maggs and Mrs. MoUoy. Tlie aristocratic conver- 
 sation of Mr. Larkins, the elevated notions and 
 ambitious views of that yomig gentleman, had not 
 been altogether without their effect on Horace 
 Bentley. A certain haughtiness with inferiors, a 
 reserve with strangers, and a contempt for trade, 
 were natm'al to him ; and his companions at Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 BrancQe's had set liim down as rather a swell than 
 otherwise ; for indeed he looked a perfect joung 
 English gentleman, and his rather authoritative 
 maimer sat upon him with a better grace than 
 upon Tom Larkuis, though the latter was the son 
 and heir to a landed proprietor, with a town and 
 comitrj house, and a brother-in-law in the Min- 
 istry. When, therefore, the candles were lighted 
 and the meagre curtains (ba^\ai, and Anne Maggs 
 and his mother seated at their work, Horace began 
 to look at everj thing with a severe and critical 
 eye, and to notice not only the holes in the rug, 
 and the narrowness of the afore-mentioned mantel- 
 piece, but to remark with surprise that liis mother 
 wore a very common di'ess, and, now that the first 
 flush of pleasure and excitement had lefl her face, 
 that she was A-ery thin, and that her eyes were 
 very sunken, and her taj)er fingers more delicate 
 than they used to be. He noticed that the canrlles 
 were of different lengths, suggesting their having 
 been burnt singly, from motives of economy ; and 
 a pair of his mother's boots, which had been acci- 
 dentally left mider a chair beside him, exhibited
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 35 
 
 two decided patches, than which, to the lofty mind 
 of this noble youth, nothing more degrading and 
 poverty-stricken cOnld be. All these things and 
 many more did Horace jot down as he sat there 
 apparently dozing, whilst his mother and her old 
 servant stitched away in the sublimest ignorance 
 as to his reflections. Then it was that, for the first 
 time in his life, he began to think seriously upon 
 4iis present state and future prospects. Tlien it was 
 that a dim idea of his mother's extreme poverty 
 and self-denial began for the first time to suggest 
 itself to him, and that he read the true tale of that 
 shabby dress, those wasted hands. He could 
 scarcely realise at once that he, the late compa- 
 nion of gentlemen whose fathers held stakes in the 
 country, the careless yomig fellow " reading with 
 a tutor," — the very phrase being suggestive of 
 monetary ease and independence, — ^that he, the 
 spoiled and favoured amongst the select few Avho 
 had been permitted to receive the direct instruc- 
 tion of a famous senior Avrangler, — ^that he should 
 rudely awake from a ch*eam of comparative com- 
 fort, and find all around him but little removed
 
 36 PAH) IN FTLL. 
 
 from actual squalor. A thousand circumstances, 
 wMch he had scarcely noted at the time, now 
 crowded to his recollection, and convinced liim of 
 his mother's Avretched means, of his own miserable 
 insignificance. He knew that he inherited nothing 
 from his father, of whom, indeed, his mother never 
 spoke, and whom he did not in the least remem- 
 ber ; but he had never seriously reflected upon his 
 prospects or position, and had staved off thoughts 
 of the morrow in the careless thoughtlessness of his 
 nature. He was aroused from his painful reverie 
 by a loud knock at the front- door, and the an- 
 nouncement by Mrs. Molloy of Mr. Phineas Stone. 
 The person who entered the room (and before 
 whose fearful presence Anne Maggs trembhngly 
 vanished to the realms below) was a tall gaunt 
 man of fifty-eight or thereabouts, with high cheek- 
 bones, an iron-gray head of stubbly hair, an enor- 
 mous shirt-collar, and a coat buttoned to his throat 
 like a police-inspector. He shook hands coldly 
 with Mrs. Bentley, who coloured and grew very 
 ners'ous on his entrance ; and placing his gloves in 
 his hat, and running his long bony hands through
 
 * W VtTTTXf I V I ^ s^ iyiri'v _ 
 
 and stcz 
 
 
 
 iey*5 5< H r^iee rose 
 
 :;i'iii.v iH li I- —V rnfng out 
 
 Horace's t«"1 
 plainlvas a. 
 
 Tfdt 
 
 tD TQH: 
 
 w?" said !kr. Scone. '7r:zi i
 
 38 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 The widow replied that she was very happy to 
 have him with her, that he would be a great com- 
 fort to her, and one or two other commonplaces 
 which made Horace feel rather micomfortable, but 
 which had no visible effect on the elderly visitor. 
 
 " It's rather late to call, ma'am," continued 
 Mr. Stone; "but I'm going abroad in a day or 
 two. They tell me England don't suit me, ma'am ; 
 and as to Pej)sine, it's a swindle. I'm better 
 abroad, — much better ; and as my hat covers my 
 family, I can go where I like — hum ! I can go 
 wdiere I like." 
 
 And Mr. Phineas Stone looked round defi- 
 antly, as if courting a denial; for he had a loud 
 and decisive manner of saying the most trifling 
 things, and was despotic and autocratic to a degree 
 in the smallest and most unimportant matters. 
 Nobody contradicting him, ]\Ir. Stone, after chaf- 
 ing considerably, and running liis fingers through 
 his hair and whiskers, apparently in high dudgeon 
 at some secret annoyance, eventually cooled down 
 and asked Horace how old he was. 
 
 " You look more, — you look more," remarked
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 39 
 
 the visitor sharply, on hearing the lad's age. And 
 then he continued jerkily, '' I suppose you know 
 lots of Latin and Greek, and the use of the globes, 
 and all that sort of thing, eh ?" 
 
 Horace replied, with a smile, that he believed 
 he had not altogether wasted his educational 
 chances, and finished with a delicate compliment 
 to the generosity of his relative, which brought 
 the tears into Mrs. Bentley's eyes, and was not 
 altogether witlwut its effect upon the plilegmatic 
 Phineas himself. 
 
 ^' And what are you going to do now ?" asked 
 the visitor, sitting back and staring at the boy as 
 if he expected him to button up his coat and com- 
 mence a profession on the spot. 
 
 " That, sir," replied Horace, ^^ I have not de- 
 cided on, and should be very glad of your advice, 
 if you would give it me." 
 
 Tills was what Mr. Stone wanted. He liked 
 being asked his opinion, and was very fond of 
 giving gratuitous advice upon all matters. As, 
 however, he had defrayed the greater j)ortion of 
 Horace's educational expenses, and as he was a
 
 40 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 near relation, and the only relation who had ever 
 taken any notice of him, it was quite right and 
 proper that he should have a say in so impor- 
 tant a matter. 
 
 " There are various professions," didactically 
 observed the iron-gray relation ; " hum ! several 
 professions ; but the thing is — hum I — which pro- 
 fession to choose, because we can't afford any 
 thing further for college, can we, ma'am ?" and 
 he Manced furtively at the shabby dress of Mrs. 
 Bentley. 
 
 "No; we must choose a profession; we — 
 himi ! — must choose a profession ;" and Mr. Stone 
 drummed with his fingers on the table, looking at 
 Horace out of tlie comer of his eve, and waiting 
 for a remark from that young gentleman. 
 
 Horace had never seriously thought upon the 
 matter ; he had no particular liking or distaste for 
 any calling that was a gentlemanlike one ; on this 
 he was very distinct, except perhaps the Church, 
 for which he didn't feel sufficiently serious. 
 
 At this Mr. Stone looked verv' gray, and !Mrs. 
 Bentley threw an alarmed glance at her son ; but
 
 AYBJESD IS SEEDl ^ 
 
 Horace was warming with his sohjeet, and eon- 
 tinned, that the law was a noble caffing, so was 
 jJiysic ; that literatnre was the noUest of all, but 
 that conld be combined with any other; thai he 
 abominated the notion of an office, and would 
 sooner emigrate than be a GrOTemment derk. 
 And walking np and down the room with a 
 fbll-grown air as he finently disclosed his senti- 
 ments, he greatlv sorprised his elderh- relative, 
 who sat in wonder and amazement at the boy's 
 eloqnence, with his month open. 
 
 "Well, sir," at length remarked Mr. Stone, 
 '• I should imagine Pariiament to be yoor proper 
 sphere ; for snch a gift of the gab I never came 
 across, — never. As, however, members of .the 
 House of Commons are not paid, it is highly 
 necessary that a profe^on should be dioeen — 
 humph! — a profession should be chosen. As to 
 your not lilnTig the Chureh, that is your own 
 sSsai ; besides which, it would certainly have en- 
 tailed further educational expense- The Bar is a 
 noble calling, and your eloquiaiGe and assurance 
 would stand yon well in need as a banistei:. But.
 
 42 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 hang it," continued Phineas, speaking more to 
 himself than to Horace, " the gift of the gab is 
 invaluable in whatever profession a man may 
 choose, — nothing like being able to talk ; I never 
 could — never." Tlien reverting to the original 
 topic, and looking somewhat contemptuously at 
 his youthful relative, he continued, " You men- 
 tioned literatm-e, sir, I fancy — ha ! ha ! — and said 
 it could be combined with any other profession ; 
 I hope you w^on't desert the calling you may 
 adopt for what some stupid dolts term ' court- 
 ing the Muses.' I never knew any good come 
 from scribbling yet, sir." 
 
 Horace was all ready with a flowery, argu- 
 mentative, and indignant reply, but an appealing 
 glance from his mother bid him pause, and with 
 a scarcely-concealed shrug of contempt for Mr. 
 Stone's remarks, he held his tongue and pre- 
 pared to endure more. 
 
 " Now, sir," continued that gentleman, " I have 
 a proposition. I am ujoon terms of some intimacy 
 with a medical gentleman of the name of Pinto, a 
 man of great skill, — though I must confess my
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 43 
 
 dyspepsia is too mucli for liim. Happening to 
 meet him yesterday, I mentioned you, and al- 
 luded to the difficulties which beset young men 
 without j)resent means and with no expectations 
 — ^humph ! — no expectations." Tliis last remark 
 being given with an approach to actual unction. 
 " Mr. Pinto suggested that the medical profes- 
 sion was perhaps the most feasible, and suggested 
 an arrangement by which you might become ar- 
 ticled to him for a certain sum, to be — for conve- 
 nience, as we are all poor, ma'am — paid amiually. 
 He argued, very justly, that tlie medical profes- 
 sion was a noble one ; and concluded by saj^ng 
 that a doctor could alwajs get his hving, even 
 if he went out as a sm^geon to an emigrant- 
 sliip." 
 
 A somewhat rueful expression spread itself 
 over the features of ^Irs. Bentley at this by no 
 means brilliant chmax to her relation's remarks; 
 but still there was no den vino; that the suo^o;es- 
 tions were kindly meant ; and as for Horace, his 
 imagination was set ablaze at once at the pro- 
 spect of actually entering a profession, for the
 
 44 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 commencement of Mr. Stone's speech had not 
 promised anj thing speedily tangible. Notliing, 
 that yomig gentleman declared, would so delight 
 him as to make one amongst that glorious band 
 of heroes who battled with disease, and fearlessly 
 fought tlie good fight against the pallid specti'e, 
 and so often gained the day. It was what he had 
 always dreamed of (he hadn't, but thought he had 
 when he said it) ; it was the calling of all others 
 to which his nature and disposition were most 
 suited. As for the Bar, he despised it; for its 
 members were the slaves of chance, and were not 
 the champions of justice, but hireling spouters, 
 who were too glad to take up the cause of the 
 first side which handed them its fee. And if he 
 wrote as a doctor, it should be medical books — 
 books which should be handed down to posterity 
 as happy specimens of a cultivated literary style, 
 combined with a close appreciation and know- 
 ledge of the subjects treated. Tliis was some- 
 thing better and nobler than stewing in a Go- 
 vernment office every day for a wretched pit- 
 tance, but quite sufficient honorarium for paring
 
 A FRIEND m NEED. 45 
 
 finger-nails, reading tlie newspapers, and taking 
 luncheons ; which pursuits, he believed, were the 
 most arduous amongst the daily work of these 
 priggish officials. A doctor ! why a doctor might 
 make almost any money; and as to the good a 
 doctor might do his fellow-creatures, — the poor 
 people he could attend for nothing, the advice 
 he could give his friends gratis, the countless 
 kindnesses, in fact, he could shower upon the 
 world at large, — all this was untold. Oh, the 
 medical profession, by all means. Medicine for 
 ever ! And Mr. Stone might be assured he would 
 never regret assisting his grateful young relative 
 at the outset of his professioijal career. 
 
 The boy's enthusiasm communicated itself to 
 his parent, and grateful tears trembled in Mrs. 
 Bentley's eyes, as she poured forth a mass of in- 
 coherent thanks to the kind relative who had has- 
 tened to meet her boy so soon, and put him in the 
 right road for gaining an honourable living. Phi- 
 neas Stone liked being thanked, and the excited 
 manner and tone of genuine gratitude of the lad 
 tickled his vanity immensely. He even conde-
 
 46 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 scended to smile, and take a glass of sheny-and- 
 water (dreadful public-house sherry it was, brown 
 and fiery to a degree), — all that he was permitted, 
 he observed, for his medical man allowanced him, 
 and his liver led him a sorry existence ; and when 
 he rose to depart, he made an appointment for the 
 morrow with Horace, who showed him to the door 
 with many a salaam, and as grateful a heart as any 
 in Soho. So Horace was to be a doctor. And 
 the mother pushed his curling hair from his brow, 
 and kissed him and congratulated him ; and Anne 
 Maggs prophesied great things for him ; and the 
 intelligence, spreading to the rest of the premises, 
 caused great excitement amongst the Molloy family, 
 and rendered Horace a very fearful character, 
 from that moment, in the eyes of the olive-branches 
 in the lower regions. It had soon been settled, 
 this important step ; and Horace's ardour, it must 
 be confessed, cooled down when, during his pon- 
 derings in the neat little bedroom the tender care 
 of his mother had made so snug and cosy, he 
 remembered that portion of Phineas's remarks 
 which spoke of the surgeoncy on board an emi-
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 47 
 
 grant-sliip. There was little of the adventurer in 
 Master Plorace's disposition, and he turned upon 
 his pillow with a sigh as he thought of the sepa- 
 ration from his only friend which his new pursuit 
 would entail, and the pleasure he experienced at 
 the prospect was embittered with this sorrowful 
 reflection. ^. 
 
 Mr. Archer Pinto, the surgeon who attended 
 Mr. Stone, resided in a big melancholy house ib 
 Bloomsbury, and was a general practitioner in a 
 lucrative way of business. He was a short, stout, 
 bald little person, with a self-satisfied double-chin, 
 a calm bland manner, which refused to be ruffled 
 even in cases of the extremest emergency, a tall 
 wife with a passion for poetry, an only daughter, 
 and two articled pupils. His house was conducted 
 upon principles of the strictest economy, and was 
 managed by Miss Pinto, who had a marvellously 
 aged head upon young shoulders, and an eye to 
 the main chance which was really wonderful to 
 behold in a lady of such tender years. Miss Pinto 
 was master and mistress both : servants trembled
 
 48 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 at her nod, articled pupils basely truckled to her, 
 her father admired her with a certain awe, and her 
 mother was actually afraid of her. Terror paled 
 the face of the family-butcher when a message 
 came to him that Miss Pinto would call round to 
 speak about that too fresh leg of mutton, or the 
 joint of beef in which the bone had sadly predo- 
 minated ; in the most cowardly manner would that 
 burly tradesman vanish into the parlour at the 
 approach of the doctor's daughter, leaving his 
 trembling spouse to apologise, and promise, and 
 humble herself before that awful young lady. In 
 a broken-spirited manner, and with many tears, 
 would Sarah Jane confide to cook the fact that 
 her young mistress " was a lump of suspicion, and 
 said such 'arsh things to her afore them pupils as 
 made her wish 'erself dead afore she'd come to 
 the 'ouse at all ;" and as for the weak-eyed yomig 
 man, Hopkinson, who had never been intended 
 for service, having had views originally of a mis- 
 sionary nature, and possessing an aunt in Devon- 
 shire with quite a snug little property, — that poor 
 youth was never himself when, as he described it,
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 49 
 
 Miss Pinto fixed him with " that eye of hern," 
 and dropped plates, and coloured, and trembled 
 in a manner delightful to the pupils, but very 
 painful for the casual guest to behold. Cook, who 
 never remained long in her place, invariably com- 
 menced with a battle-royal for her rights; but 
 Miss Pinto went at the great whale of a woman 
 with her little sword-fish severity and sharpness, 
 and speedily came up-stairs from the scene of 
 strife flushed but triumphant. The physic-boys — 
 there were two — would hide at her approach ; and 
 once, when she was kept to her room for a week 
 through influenza, those poor lads said it was as 
 good as a holiday to them, and heard of her con- 
 valescence with mutual regrets. Miss Pinto, in 
 fact, was what our transatlantic brethren would 
 term a " caution ;" and Miss Pinto was in the 
 drawing-room when Mr. Pliineas Stone and his 
 protegd were announced. 
 
 Her father had told her all about it, and had 
 left the matter in her hands. He was oblifred to 
 
 o 
 
 go out of town to see a patient, and Mr. Stone 
 and she could arrange it, she had no doubt. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 PAID m FULL. 
 
 Mamma was at home, certainly; but mamma 
 never interfered in these affairs, and there was no 
 necessity to distm'b her. Tlie premimn was to be 
 four hundred pomids, payable, in order to suit Mr. 
 Stone's convenience, in fom^ annual instalments; 
 a mode of settlement to which she was herself 
 averse, but papa had given his word without con- 
 sulting her, and papa of com'se was master in his 
 own house. Mr. Bentley would find them a very 
 agreeable family, and the two resident puj)ils gen- 
 tlemanlike and sociable; they kept a ^^lain but 
 wholesome table ; and papa's practice was so ex- 
 tensive, that any pupil of his enjoyed peculiar and 
 special advantages. Mr. Bentley would under- 
 stand, as soon as his articles were signed, that he 
 was an "apprentice," and bomid to obey his 
 " master" (this with a light laugh) ; and they 
 should get on very comfortably together, and be 
 very excellent friends, she had no doubt. 
 
 Tliis was the sum of Miss Pinto's speech, 
 which she uttered in a cut-and-dried and parroty 
 manner, as if she had learnt it from a book, and 
 which amused Horace, until it came to the words
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 51 
 
 " apprentice" and " master," at which it must be 
 confessed he colom-ed and winced. Miss Pinto 
 was not slow to perceive tliis ; for she had glanced 
 at him from the corner of her gray eyes several 
 times during the com'se of her remarks, and in- 
 deed there was something high and mighty in Mr. 
 Bentley's air that nettled the young lady, and 
 added extra point to the little shaft she let fly at 
 his self-importance. 
 
 The bewildered Phineas stared at the eloquent 
 damsel in extreme admiration at her volubility 
 and business tone, and would have agreed to any 
 thing she had proposed in blank amazement, but 
 ]\Ir. Pinto himself miexpectedly entered ; and the 
 doctor's appearance at once diverted the current 
 of his ideas into more selfish and dyspeptic chan- 
 nels. Tlie parchment was produced, the signa- 
 tures were applied, the first instalment handed 
 over, and Mr. Bentley was an apprentice to Mr. 
 Pinto, and a medical student, or, as his facetious 
 fellow-pupil Bmidy termed it, a " sucking saw- 
 bones." 
 
 The phrase "medical student" possesses a 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY
 
 52 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 certain charm for many lads. To their imagina- 
 tion it pictm-es a rollicking youth in large-pat- 
 terned trousers, a knowing cock of the hat, a 
 case of instruments in his pocket ready for any 
 casualty, a defiant air of gentlemanly vagabond- 
 ism, a combination of the scientific and the con- 
 vivial, very alluring and free and pleasant. A 
 halo of hilarity surrounds the medical student in 
 the eyes of those who know nothing about him, 
 and with them the ^'hall" or "college" is a kind 
 of cliif over which the quondam reveller topples 
 into sudden respectability and soberness. Horace 
 had shared this supposition, and he had looked 
 forwai'd to joining the profession with other and 
 more jovial views than those on which he had 
 descanted so plausibly to Mr. Stone. Tliese bliss- 
 ful prospects, however, began to dissolve from the 
 very moment he placed his foot upon Mr. Pinto's 
 faded drawing-room Brussels, and each sentence 
 of the young lady's speech served to destroy the 
 vision, whilst the climax was reached when the 
 indenture was signed ; for, as Mr. Pinto shook his 
 hand, and welcomed him as a member of the
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 53 
 
 establishment, he felt himself every inch a slave, 
 and a sigh, which was by no means one of relief, 
 escaped Ms Hps. With ]\Ir. Stone it was far dif- 
 ferent. He had carried liis object in a dignified 
 though remarkably rapid manner. He had settled 
 the lad for life, and done his duty to his relation 
 Mrs. Bentley; for she was his relation, and his 
 near relation, notwithstanding all that had passed 
 in earher days — hum ! — in earlier days. Filled 
 w^ith satisfaction at having achieved his desires, 
 he invited Horace to dine with liim at a capital 
 tavern in the City, where, for a dyspeptic and 
 bilious person, he floui'ished as hearty and suicidal 
 a knife and fork as any diner east of Temple Bar 
 that day. The parting betAveen mother and son, 
 though Horace was only going about a mile and 
 a half from her, was a sad one ; and Anne Ma^o-s 
 actually howled with disappointment as she helped 
 to place his trunks upon the cab, for she had 
 looked forward to her young master as a per- 
 manent institution in Little Green Street, and 
 considered Mr. Stone a monster for separating 
 a mother from her child. Sooth to say, Horace
 
 54 PAID m FULL. 
 
 himself was not so enthusiastically sm^gical in his 
 views since seeing the Pinto establishment and 
 signing the indenture, and left his sobbing parent, 
 who exhorted him, with many a hug and tender 
 kiss, to tliink of her continually, and become a 
 great man, with by no means the enthusiasm he 
 exhibited when the subject was broached by Mr. 
 Stone. Upon his arrival at the sm-geon's house, 
 the weak-eyed yomig man laboured with his 
 trunks up-stairs, and Miss Pinto gave him a 
 frigid shake of the hand, which chilled him; 
 whilst Mr. Bmicombe, one of the resident pupils, 
 grasped him with the fervour of an old friend, 
 declared he was delighted to make his acquaint- 
 ance, and was affable and pleasant beyond mea- 
 sure. Mr. Nixon, the other pupil, was very pale 
 and studious and hungry, and kept himself greatly 
 to his room, with his books and his bones and his 
 midnight oil; for he was reading hard for the 
 college, and couldn't waste much of his valuable 
 time upon society. And so Horace settled down 
 into liis new line of life, and the first month or 
 two of his probation revealed to him daily sur-
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 55 
 
 prises wluch amused him, and gave liim by no 
 means elevated notions of his teacher, who, by the 
 way, never taught him any thing, and who got as 
 much work out of him as he possibly could in the 
 daytime, and knocked him up at night to mix up 
 draughts and roll up pills for such of his patients 
 as might require immediate remedies. Mr. Pinto 
 was not one of those genteel medical practitioners 
 wdio AVL'ite their prescriptions in a chemist's book, 
 and leave the shopman to handle the unpleasant 
 drugs and concoct the unsavomy mixtiu*es. Mr. 
 Pinto had an eye to profit, and, under the pre- 
 tence that he always hked his patient's medicines 
 to be prepared beneath Ms own eye, he had 
 tm'ned a little back-room into a sm'gery; and 
 here, from morning mitil night, with the excep- 
 tion of meal-times, did Horace spend his days, 
 smTomided with physic and doctor's parapher- 
 nalia, and meeting the Pinto family and the 
 pupils at dinner with the odour of coloc^iith 
 clinging to his clothes, and imparting a flavour to 
 the tea-table, which was by no means appetising 
 to strangers. A red-headed assistant of ^Ir. Pin-
 
 56 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 to's, Mr. Gasher, who had never passed any 
 examination, but was popularly supposed among 
 the pupils to know much more than his employer, 
 set Horace to his prescriptions in no time, and 
 taught him so much in the course of a week or 
 t^vo that the neophyte was surprised at his own 
 acuteness, and put his hand to the proper bottles 
 on the shelves with all the skill of a compositor at 
 work. Indeed, to this he was considerably helped 
 by Mr. Pinto himself, whose treatment of general 
 cases was rather apt to run in a groove, and he 
 had stock remedies, which were procured chiefly 
 from the wholesale druggist, whilst he ignored the 
 existence of certain more expensive preparations ; 
 and this simple mode of arrangement rendered the 
 situation of mixture-maker and pill-compomider 
 very much less laborious than it might have been. 
 In course of time Horace found himself assuming 
 quite a medical air; and upon the next-door 
 neighbom- being attacked with spasms in the 
 absence of Messrs. Pinto and Gasher, Horace 
 took upon himself to prescribe, and with a success 
 which surprised himself, and saved Mr. Pinto one
 
 A FKIEND IN NEED. 57 
 
 of his most lucrative patients. But, with the 
 flush of this small triumph to warm him to his 
 work, Horace felt by no means an ecstatic wor- 
 shipper of his profession : indeed, under the cir- 
 cumstances, was it so much to be wondered at? 
 A mile and a half from his mother's lodgings, he 
 was so tied to the surgery that he could scarcely 
 ever get to see her. With no one to direct liis 
 studies, or to smooth the actual difficulties of the 
 outset, he blundered over a big volume of Materia 
 Medicuy and read a great " Practice of Physic," 
 till he fancied he suffered himself from every 
 disease he read about in that awful book, and 
 tossed at night on his pillow worn out and un- 
 happy, and yawned and groaned aloud by day, 
 with no one to sympathise with him, — no one 
 except the weak-eyed young man, wdio really did 
 seem to pity him, and who took every opportunity 
 of going into the surgery and entertaining him 
 with dismal accounts of his own early life, of his 
 blighted hopes, of the degradation of his family 
 through a drunken father, and other light and 
 amusing matter calculated to cheer up Mr.
 
 58 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Bentley's spirits and break the dull monotony of 
 the winter days. 
 
 With a small uncomfortable grate, which 
 smoked when the door was shut, and went out 
 almost the instant it was left to itself, Plorace sat 
 in that wretched little back-room, so redolent of 
 rhubarb and other full-flavoured drugs, through 
 the dark and dismal days of December, generally 
 alone, and invariably wretched. He bore up well 
 enough for one who, as we have hinted, had no 
 remarkable strength of mind or powers of endu- 
 rance — for one who was highly sensitive and, to 
 speak honestly, a little selfish, and who had so 
 suddenly learnt the bitter truth that he was much 
 poorer than he had ever imagined, and must en- 
 dure the portion of the humble worker for his 
 bread. But the thought that he was to spend 
 two long weary years in that lonesome chamber, 
 and to di'udge on until such time as the signed 
 articles stated he was to be permitted to com- 
 mence his hospital studies (oh, blissful prospect 
 of liberty and life !), often completely bore him 
 down ; and he would hang his head over the
 
 A FKIEND IN NEED. 59 
 
 scanty fire, and drop scalding tears upon tlie 
 ashes, in the solitary bitterness of his soul. To 
 say that he envied Buncombe and Nixon, who 
 went out to the hospital in the morning, coming 
 back to dinner, and to freedom for the evening, 
 would be to vastly depreciate the feeling those 
 gentlemen produced in the breast of the mihappy 
 Horace. To hear them dilate on their day's doings 
 — ^to hear them describe to Pinto the extraordinary 
 case of tetanus which came in yesterday, or detail 
 in a minute and graphic manner, which would 
 have sickened some young ladies, but had no ef- 
 fect on the unimpressionable Miss P., the skill 
 with which Mr. 0' Slash had performed some tick- 
 lish surgical feat, — h-ritated him to madness ; and 
 he would retire after dinner to his smoky little 
 surgery, with hatred and malice rankling in his 
 bosom, and a growing horror at the di'ugs and his 
 dry books that would have made liis mother fear 
 for the future, had she known the nature of her 
 poor boy's sentiments. There are few nobler folks 
 than the honest, upright doctor ; he whose heart 
 is in his profession, who looks upon his calling as
 
 60 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 a great and good one, and upon liis educated skill 
 as a .blessed power to be used witli patient care 
 and ever-watcbful tenderness ; but no more per- 
 nicious tiling crawls over the face of this fair earth 
 than the small-minded, pettifogging, little medical 
 man, who worms himself into a practice by a mil- 
 lion meannesses, and gathers in his yearly income 
 with fingers as uncleanly as his conscience. 
 
 "With a personal contempt for his supposed in- 
 structor, dispirited by the daily drudgery and mo- 
 notony of liis existence, Horace became misan- 
 thropical and selfish, and he dragged thi'ough the 
 first two years of his apprenticesliip with much 
 the same enthusiasm for his work that a galley- 
 slave might feel when chained to his oar, or a 
 convict experience for his compulsory toil. Xow 
 and then he would spend a day with his mother, 
 whose cai'eworn face and sad voice would send 
 him back to Bloomsbmy more disheartened than 
 ever ; and the observant eyes of Anne Maggs saw 
 hov\^ the young man was averse to his doctor's life, 
 and that his mother was gradually losing all hope 
 that he would succeed. When he entered at the
 
 A FBEEND ES ^'EED. 61 
 
 hospital — the first fee for which was sent over 
 from Ems by Phineas Stone, with a curt note 
 concluding with a comprehensive growl at all 
 watering-places, and Ems in particular — a new 
 tone was given to his hfe, and his profession as- 
 sumed a fresh interest ; for he now saw more of 
 the world and less of the Pintos, and the interest 
 which surrounded his daily hospital experience 
 was enhanced by the recollection of the two dark 
 dull years that had gone for ever.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GLENBURNS ARRIVE IN TOWN. 
 
 '^ Lord Glenburn and his new wife liave re- 
 turned to England, my dear," observed Pinto to 
 Mrs. Pinto one evening at tea. " I have had a 
 visit from Mr. Ledbitter, his lordship's confiden- 
 tial servant, this afternoon. Mind, Mr. Marshall, 
 that you are always particularly careful with any 
 medicines going to Portman Square." This was 
 to the new apprentice, who modestly replied he 
 would do his best. 
 
 Yes, the Grlenbums had come back and had 
 taken up their residence in the family mansion, 
 and were evidently about to sliine with hospitable 
 splendour during the coming season. Under the 
 able direction of Mr. Ledbitter, assisted by Mrs. 
 Gaunt, her ladyship's housekeeper, the old house 
 had been redecorated, and made very splendid for
 
 THE GLENBURNS ARRIVE IN TOWN. 63 
 
 the reception of my lord and my lady ; servants 
 had been hired, and every thing had been set in 
 working order against the return of the master 
 and mistress from abroad, and their permanent 
 settlement in England. Lord Glenbui'n was not 
 so wealthy as some of his brother nobles, nor were 
 his estates completely uninvolved, neither had his 
 reputation been of the most spotless ; but absence 
 had considerably dulled the recollection of the 
 latter drawback, and society was quite ready to re- 
 ceive the wandering lord upon his return to its 
 forgiving bosom, and more so from the fact of 
 reports from Continental travellers assuring it that 
 the rollicking peer had settled down, had married 
 a handsome sho^y wife, and intended closing a 
 hitherto shady career as a respectable member of 
 the upper ten thousand. It was marvellous how 
 well his virtues were remembered, and the esca- 
 pades of liis early life merely alluded to as pleasant 
 frolics, or else not alluded to at all. His lordship 
 had been a little wild, a Kttle reckless, and, some 
 elderly cynics added, a little brutal, in his plea- 
 sm-es before he went abroad — ^not altogether, the
 
 64 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 same heartless sneerers remarked, for his amuse- 
 ment or for simple change of scene. Ugly stories 
 of threatening mortgageeSj and savage bill-dis- 
 counters, and even disappointed friends, had cir- 
 culated at the clubs for some time after Glenbuni's 
 Continental move. Messrs. Mordecai met Mr. 
 Colchester (his lordship's attorney) with teeth bared 
 to the gums with grinning rage, and almost shook 
 their fists in that placid lawyer's countenance when 
 he made certain proposals to them, and explained 
 the entangled condition of his emj)loyer's affairs. 
 A house-decorator and a jeweller or two were fren- 
 zied with savage disappointment when the quiet 
 man of business showed them the utter uselessness 
 of threats and exposure, telling them to be calm, 
 concluding by twisting them round his fingers like 
 so many puny cords. Poor Colchester ! he had 
 his work cut out for him ; but he never left his 
 patron's business until he had arranged and settled 
 every tiling — ^persuading one and bullying (in a 
 gentle but by no means ineffectual manner) an- 
 other, flattering and cajoling a third, and promising 
 a fourth, in the event of matters being amicably
 
 THE GLENBUKN'S ARRIVE IN TOWN. 65 
 
 settled, future favours, based on the principles of 
 ready money and enormous profit ; so tliat in time 
 tilings began to look more manageable, and Lord 
 Glenburn led so dull and sober a life abroad, tliat 
 he had time to discover that the family gout had 
 not forgotten him, and no lack of opportunity for 
 repentance for — to use the mildest term — a mis- 
 spent life. Lord Glenburn, however, was not a 
 man to ^^give in," as he would have termed any 
 composition with liis conscience ; he was a man to 
 " die game," to revel on to the end and expire 
 with a drinking-song upon his lips, hke a bemused 
 swan. The son of a notorious four-bottle debau- 
 chee, whose villanies and heartlessness had made 
 him the terror for miles roimd liis house in Bucks, 
 and had earned for him the unenviable name 
 amongst the poor of "• The bad Lord Glenburn," 
 the present nobleman had succeeded, to some ex- 
 tent, in keeping up the family reputation, though 
 his pleasures were less coai'se and his peccadilloes 
 less public. Still the county families fought shy 
 of him, — much to his lordsliip's gratification, — 
 and there was no verv o'cneral mournincr when he 
 VOL. I. F
 
 QQ PAID IN FULL. 
 
 deserted tlie liome of his fathers for a foreign shore. 
 Those more selfish and less thick-skinned depen- 
 dents who reaped advantage from liis injudicious 
 bomity bewailed liis absence, it is true, and would 
 growl together in the alehouse over the deserted 
 look of the old Hall, and deplore the short-sighted 
 folly of its proprietor when his marriage became 
 noised about. Who the new mistress was, where 
 she had come from, what was her family name, 
 nobody knew ; no, not even Mr. Ledbitter, Lord 
 Glenbui'n's man, who had been with him from 
 boyhood, and, with tliis single exception, was sup- 
 posed to know the spring of every secret drawer 
 in that complicated cabinet, his lordship's mind. 
 
 It was a bad mind to know ; but Ledbitter 
 served his master with a blind sendlity which 
 questioned nothing. A pale, sleek, resj^ectable 
 person, with no particular expression, bald-headed, 
 trim in his attire, noiseless in his movements, al- 
 ways present when required, but never in the way 
 unless needed, skilled in all the duties of the valet, 
 Vv'ith a certain dignified air of self-importance min- 
 e-led with a deferential manner to superiors that
 
 THE GLENBURNS ARRIVE IN TOAVN. 67 
 
 pleased and flattered, — ]Mi'. Ledbitter would have 
 been perfection to any master ; but to Lord Glen- 
 bum he was simply invaluable, and was the only 
 creature who could manage him in all tempers and 
 at all times. Considering the clock-like regula- 
 rity of JVIr. Ledbitter's existence, and the mecha- 
 nical precision which characterised the routine of 
 his daily life, it was somewhat surprising that one 
 day he should commit such an indiscretion as to 
 escape from liis natm-al groove and actually fall 
 ill. And vers" ill indeed Mr. Ledbitter did fall ; 
 so iU that he had to quit his master for some 
 months, and recruit his strength at a favourite 
 watering-place, where, if he Kked, he could have 
 entered the very best society, so imposing was his 
 bearing, so majestic his bald head, and so sugges- 
 tive of pecuniary independence his general appear- 
 ance on the parade. It was dming this severe 
 illness that his master, who he thought could never 
 get on without liim, — and veiy badly, it must be 
 confessed, he did get on, — it was diu'ing tliis ill- 
 ness, we say, that Lord Glenburn met a certain 
 lady and made her his wife. Wlien Ledbitter
 
 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 heard of it, he stared in the blankest amazement, 
 and an expression of annoyance and even of anger 
 passed over his pale face, and a fierce look shot out 
 of those generally expressionless eyes that would 
 have surprised those among his acquaintance who 
 considered him a mild and agreeable gentleman, 
 and one who seemed never to experience any 
 particular emotion. A\liy Lord Glenburn should 
 have married, he could not divine ; why he should 
 have married a nobody, appeared to Ledbitter a 
 matter of profound astonishment. However, he 
 carefully folded his master's letter in his pocket, 
 and started for Poi-tman Square to meet Mrs. Gaunt, 
 the new housekeeper, sent home in advance by 
 Lady Glenburn, there to arrange for the reception 
 of the noble pair, who were expected shortly to 
 arrive in England. 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt had heard of Mr. Ledbitter; for 
 indeed Lord Glenburn, who had been suffering 
 since his marriage from the hereditary affection, 
 had continually regretted the absence of his valet, 
 and held him up as a shining contrast to the ser- 
 vant who temporarily attended on liim so fre-
 
 THE GLENBURXS ARRIVE IN TOWN. 69 
 
 quently, that Ledbitter's name had become a per- 
 fect bugbear in the eyes of Mrs. Gamit, and her 
 reception of him was as uncordial as decent cour- 
 tesy would permit. The chilling manner of the 
 new housekeeper, however, had little eftcct upon 
 the self-possessed Lcdbitter, who moved about the 
 house with a calm authority that carried with it 
 much more importance than Mrs. Gaunt' s some- 
 what loud and dictatorial style of ordering trifles. 
 Mr. Ledbitter seemed to command respect as of 
 right, and he at once assumed his old position in 
 the house ; whilst Mrs. Gaunt's boisterous mag- 
 nificence was unheeded, and her orders were fil- 
 tered through the Ledbitter sieve, to be passed or 
 retained as might please that placid but powerful 
 vessel. Mrs. Gaunt was not slow to perceive this, 
 and an instinctive hatred sprang up between my 
 lady's confidential servant and my lord's own 
 man, which augm-ed by no means pleasantly for 
 the domestic peace of tlie household. 
 
 " If ever I saw a woman with a bad unscrupu- 
 lous countenance, that's the female !" said Ledbit- 
 ter to himself the first time they had an argument.
 
 70 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " That man's a fiend in Imman form, or my 
 name's not Jane Gannt!" hissed the housekeeper 
 tln'ough her teeth, as she went to her own room 
 with her point micarried. 
 
 Back came the noble pair in due time, his lord- 
 ship techy and dissatisfied with every thing but his 
 valet, with whom he shook hands almost heartily; 
 her ladyship surveying all with a calm gratifi- 
 cation, kissing Mrs. Gaunt with a fervour Avhich 
 sm^prised the domestics, impressing them, as she 
 passed to her room, as being a tall showy lady, 
 with a profusion of glossy black hair, very white 
 teeth, and an air which one suscep)tible footman 
 described as " queen-like," and another — a sar- 
 castic creature from a very great family — as 
 " 'aughty, but with a more commercial air than 
 the reel thing." 
 
 And so Lord Glenburn slept once more in the 
 home of his fathers, with the pleasant conscious- 
 ness that he once again could face the world with 
 a handsome vrife upon his arm, and take his law- 
 ful place amongst his peers.
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 
 
 The world — that is, a portion of it — welcomed 
 back tlie prodigal with open arms. Some were 
 too yomig to know much of Glenbnrn's early 
 days; others didn't choose to recall disagreeable 
 reminiscences; and many cared nothing about 
 character, so long as there was blood and position, 
 and a grand establishment and display. To do 
 Glenburn justice, he in nowise truckled to the 
 leaders of ton^ and rather pooh-poohed any pre- 
 tence to fasliionable position, sneering at it so as 
 to smooth away the unpleasantness of the slights 
 he anticipated for his wife and himself. Her 
 ladyship, however, by no means shared these sen- 
 timents, and it was Y\dth secret delight that she 
 fomid herself engulfed in the giddy Maelstrom 
 of aristocratic revehy ; and she certainly took up 
 her position in the noble ranks, to which she was
 
 72 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 a stranger, with a tact and talent that surprised 
 her husband. Naturally excitable and enthusi- 
 astic, she toned down those ebullient qualities to 
 the proper level ; and really, with her fine figure, 
 her white throat and arms, her rich black hair 
 and bright full eyes, she moved about the di-aw- 
 ing-rooms of her new acquaintance with some- 
 thing very like the air of a duchess. She was 
 greatly admired, especially by the men, with whom 
 she was evidently rather more at ease than those 
 of her own sex, though a very palpable scar on 
 the left cheek somewhat marred her beauty, and 
 suggested an awkward accident or ugly blow in 
 early life. It is wonderful how women fashion 
 themselves to any sphere they may be called upon 
 to adorn, and how natm-ally they ap]3ear to glide 
 into the fresh groove placed ready for them by 
 the hand of fortune, and fill their new-found sta- 
 tion as though they had been born to it. How 
 different it is with men ! How awkward and 
 shambling, how loutish and glum, looks the 
 "young man" who calls on Sunday evening for 
 Sarah, housemaid ! how miserable he seems in his
 
 THE STRAKGE CUSTOMER. 73 
 
 stiff new clothes, his creaking boots and shiny 
 hat! and how different, how dapper, neat, and 
 comfortable aj^pears Sarah, in a dress altogether 
 too smart for her station, tightly-fitting gloves, 
 boots with military heels like her mistress, and a 
 bonnet that might have come from the Burlington 
 Arcade ! How ill-matched the pair look as they 
 hm'ry down the street to be out of sight and enjoy 
 themselves ! And doesn't a thought strike the 
 looker-on that something very like a lady might 
 soon be made of that trim and highly-ribboned ser- 
 vant-lass, but that no gust of good-fortune could 
 blow the innate vulgarism from the loutish lover, 
 who hates his holiday attire, and longs to be back 
 again into his corduroys with the familiar pockets 
 and the glistening knees ? Tln'oughout society it 
 is the same. Women settle down calmly and 
 with perfect self-possession, though the party is 
 fom^ times the size they had expected to find it; 
 whilst the men, who are out of their element, 
 hang about like hobbledehoys, and get into the 
 way, and have doors opened suddenly against 
 tlieir heads, and cover themselves with confusion.
 
 74 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 and come to grief in a hundred ways. Xo one 
 could have told that Lady Glenburn had been born 
 in a far lower sphere ; that his lordship's proposal 
 had surprised her even more than Ledbitter ; that 
 she had, previous to her arrival in Portman Square, 
 never entered a drawing-room of superior calibre 
 to Camden Town ; and that a few months back a 
 bow from a real live lord would have sent her 
 into hysterics of delight. Il^obody of course asked 
 her husband impertinent questions, though she 
 was pretty freely canvassed by her female ac- 
 quaintance, and, considering every thing, came 
 out of the ordeal remarkably well; and it was 
 generally set down that she was the daughter of 
 some foreign - watering - place - haunting half-j)ay 
 captain or retired doctor, or something common- 
 place and respectable of that class. Little Joe 
 Dapper, who affected to know every thing and 
 every body, gave out that he had heard her father 
 had been under Government; and this somewhat 
 vague statement w^as deemed satisfactory, and 
 people left off troubling their heads about what 
 she had been, contented with knowing what she
 
 THE STEANGE CUSTOMER. 75 
 
 waSj and confessing that she was a decidedly fine 
 woman, with her wits about her. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter, however, was by no means 
 satisfied. To him a mystery was every thing. 
 He knew so many of his master's secrets, that 
 the silence his lordsliip maintained on tliis great 
 subject rankled in his bosom and enraged him. 
 Whether he really liked his master or hated liim, 
 we shall presently let the reader know; but for 
 the time being it is sufficient for him to learn that 
 wherever Lady Glenbm'n went she was followed 
 by the watchful eyes of her husband's valet, who 
 was in his tm-n watched by Mrs. Gamit, the house- 
 keeper her ladyship had brought with her, and in 
 whose society in her own rooms she passed much 
 of her time. Mrs. Gaunt was a tall woman — as 
 tall as her mistress, and as stately — with heavy 
 eyebrows and a settled frown, a determined mouth, 
 and large masculine limbs. She was not the kind 
 of person to offend, and well Ledbitter laiew it. 
 As we have stated, the valet and the housekeeper 
 were mifriendly fi-om the first ; but Ledbitter now 
 strove by all means in his power to smooth away
 
 76 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 the mipleasant impression his manners and au- 
 thority had evidently produced. With this inten- 
 tion he treated Mrs. Gaunt with the greatest 
 possible respect upon all occasions, and strove, by 
 many artful little contrivances, to Avin her regard. 
 Mrs. Gaunt accepted all his politenesses with a 
 grim courtesy ; but if Ledbitter imagined those 
 eagle eyes didn't pierce through his disguise, he 
 was considerably mistaken. Mr. Ledbitter w^as a 
 clever man, but Mrs. Gaunt was housekeeper and 
 my lady's confidential servant ; and most of us 
 know the powers possessed by the favourite of the 
 mistress of the house. If Mrs. Gaunt desired any 
 additional comforts in her already snug room, they 
 were immediately ordered by my lady. If any 
 luckless servant fell under Mrs. Gaunt' s displea- 
 sm-e, she went that moment, and an appeal to her 
 ladyship simply resulted in a ratification of the 
 housekeeper's orders. An mifortunate young foot- 
 man, engaged at Ledbitter's recommendation, and 
 in whom that gentleman took some interest, know- 
 ing his friends, and promising to use his influence 
 to advance him, was packed off in the most sudden
 
 THE STRAKGE CUSTOMER. 77 
 
 manner, under his patron's very nose, for some 
 very trifling misdemeanour ; and wlien Mr. Led- 
 bitter remonstrated, lie was ordered to mind liis 
 own business by the housekeeper in such a peremp- 
 tory manner, that the colour rose to the very 
 summit of his bald head, and a highly dangerous 
 expression glanced from his indignant eyes. "When 
 Mrs. Gaunt Avished to go out, she did so without 
 asking permission ; when she spoke to her mistress, 
 it was in a familiar if not superior tone ; and, in 
 short, Mrs. Gaunt was the real mistress of the 
 mansion, and an arbitrary and despotic one she 
 was. It was in vain that Mr. Ledbitter dropped 
 hints to his lordship, and blandly suggested that 
 Mrs. Gaunt was somewhat unpopular below-stairs. 
 Lord Glenbvirn was as close as wax and as cau- 
 tious as a fox upon the subject, and told his valet 
 that she Avas much respected by her ladyship ; that 
 she was thoroughly experienced ; that she had 
 seen better days, and never thought to be de- 
 pendent on others ; that, personally, he liked her ; 
 that the servants dreading her was all the better, 
 as it would keep them to their work ; and that,
 
 78 PAID m FULL. 
 
 finally, if Ledbitter objected to her, he had better 
 avoid her : but, for his part, he advised him not 
 to offend her, for she was a devil of a malignant 
 temper, and frightened him out of his own lordly- 
 wits when she knitted those bushy brows, and 
 shut those tight thin lips like a vice. This was 
 scant comfort for the valet, who had fondly hoped 
 to rule the domestic roast in the halls of a master 
 whose vilest and most degrading secrets he shared ; 
 Avhose name, had he chosen to bruit about all he 
 knew, would have been struck from the visiting- 
 list of every decent family who knew him ; and 
 whose outstretched hand would have been spurned 
 by every honest man who might possess the doubt- 
 ftd honom' of his acquaintance. Once he fancied 
 that Mrs. Gaunt's ill-concealed dislike might have 
 its effect upon my ladyship, and procure his dis- 
 missal from Glenburn's service; but the thought 
 vanished almost as soon as suggested, for it was 
 too absm'd ; thirty vicious years had bound the 
 couple together by bonds that, at all events, the 
 master could never afford to unloose ; and a cruel 
 smile of conscious power played over the featui'es
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 79 
 
 of that most respectable servant as he reflected 
 upon the sccmitj of liis position, Mrs. Gamit's 
 malevolence and ill-will notwithstanding. 
 
 A very grand party indeed the Glenburns gave 
 in the early portion of the season, at wliich every 
 body was said to be present, though a goodly col- 
 lection of people who were not every body were 
 content to stand outside in the square and watch 
 the nobility and gentry arrive, and pass remarks 
 of a critical and occasionally sarcastic nature on 
 the toilettes of the fashionables who were fortmiate 
 enoudi to be invited. Members of both Houses 
 came and went ; a foreign Minister or two, very- 
 affable and gorgeous ; grand, solemn army swells ; 
 literary and artistic lions ; the ambassadors from 
 the Popolormn Islands in the South Sea, with 
 their interpreter ; Cabinet Ministers ; a R — ^1 
 D — ke; and, in fact, a selection fr'om the Court 
 Guide sufficient to gladden the heart of a much 
 greater lady than Lady Glenburn. It was when 
 tliis brilliant assemblage was at its height that 
 Mr. Ledbitter, who had found his lordship rather 
 techy and cantankerous when mider the hands of
 
 80 PAID IK FULL. 
 
 his fiiitlifal valet, and Mrs. Gaunt (who had passed 
 him on the stairs with a severe smile) settling 
 heavily on his spirits, thought he would vary the 
 monotony of his existence by takmg a turn in the 
 square, and, if need be, by having a quiet cigar 
 and chat with Mr. Bobus, mine host of the Maule- 
 verer Head in the Mews, who was a retired valet 
 himself, and had lived in some good families, 
 thougt the tavern associations of later years liad 
 somewhat dimmed the fashionable lustre of his 
 early life. With this object in view, Mr. Led- 
 bitter strolled out amongst the crowd, by whom 
 he was generally taken for a noble lord in the 
 Government and cheered vociferously, and, turn- 
 ing into the Mews, bent his steps Avith gingerly 
 caution to the abode of the afore-mentioned Bobus, 
 It was a OT'eat night for the Mauleverer Head — as 
 indeed it was every other night or so in the season 
 —for the tap of that hostelry was of the best, and 
 no better judges of porter or mild ale exist thaji 
 those proud and noble creatures in plush and pow- 
 der Avho add so much to the comfort of om' aristo- 
 cracy. Eound three sides of the square the car-
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 81 
 
 riao-es tlirono-ed, and the crowd culminated in the 
 Mews, where a knot of coachmen and footmen — 
 splendid fellows, with gorgeous liveries and lofty 
 bearino; — huno; about the door of the Mauleverer 
 Head, chatting like ordinary mortals, — very ordi- 
 nary mortals, in fict, — and tossing in a conde- 
 scending manner for beer and spirits, cheering to 
 the heart of Mr. Bobus, but by no means conducive 
 to the safety of the masters and mistresses tliey 
 were to convey home. Mr. Ledbitter surveyed 
 these caparisoned lackeys with a lofty and super- 
 cilious air; for he had never worn livery, and 
 heartily despised the honest dependents who did. 
 So he elbowed his way in a haughty manner up 
 the steps of the Mauleverer Head, and pushed into 
 the parlour with an air of dignified authority. 
 
 " Good evening, Bobus," said Mr. Ledbitter 
 to that worthy, who was seated in his shirt-sleeves, 
 and with a long pipe, amidst an admiring group of 
 richly-liveried servants. 
 
 ^' Sir," replied Bobus respectfully, " I hope I 
 see you. Pray be seated ; we're reyther full tliis 
 evening, but alius a corner for you, sir, and glad 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 S2 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 to see you: your 'ealtli, sir!" And tlie host sipped 
 his brandy-and- water with a nod which the visitor 
 graciously acknowledged. 
 
 Tliere was to the keen observer something un- 
 comfortable and nervous in the huiTied manner in 
 which Bobus addressed Mr. Ledbitter, and in the 
 anxious glance he threw at two prominent cus- 
 tomers whose conversation the entrance of the valet 
 had evidently interrupted. But those magnificent 
 creatm-es were too absorbed in their pipes and self- 
 importance to perceive the frightened and signifi- 
 cant glances of their host. 
 
 " Oh, in course/' observed a gentleman in blue, 
 evidently continuing the thread of his remarks ; 
 '^oh, in course; vre ain't born yesterday; we've 
 cut our eye-teeth, I do hope ; and a feller's cha- 
 'racter don't change 'cos he's been abroad for ever 
 so long;" and the blue gentleman shook his head 
 wisely, and refilled his pipe witli the air of a 
 sociable Solon. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter pricked up liis ears at this re- 
 mark, and quite crushed Bobus's hopes that the 
 smoke might drive him out by bringing forth a
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTODIER. 83 # 
 
 large cigar and ligliting it with a spill from the 
 chimney-piece. 
 
 " Well," responded the other leading figure, a 
 yomiger and more jamitj person than the previous 
 speaker, — " well, I don't suppose Grlenburn is 
 Averse than his neighbours; and, for my part, I 
 don't seem to care about your pious 'ouses." 
 
 Tlie blue gentleman took his pipe from his 
 mouth, and looking lashes at his o-pposite neigh- 
 bour, replied solemnly, " What you seem to care 
 about, John Jenkinson, which you are yomig and 
 foolish, is very little consequence to any body; but 
 I must say, as a fam'ly man, as your morals is low, 
 sir — low!" and the blue coachman puffed with an 
 air of outraged decorum. 
 
 '^ Wliich also," put in a forensic footman, " his 
 argyments is altogether out; for 'aving lived a 
 many yeaj in a family as strict as strict can be, 
 with cold dinner on Sundays and missionary 
 meetings in the droring-room, I can safely say as 
 the living was better than where I now 'ang out, 
 wliich is with a lively Markis and a noted bong 
 veevong into the barging."
 
 ^" 84 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 The agony expressed in Bobus's face as tlie 
 above remarks issued from the lips of some of his 
 best customers amused Ledbitter immensely, and 
 a sardonic smile passed over his respectable coun- 
 tenance, and lapsed into a significant Avink at the 
 host, who "was relieved by the valet's equanimity, 
 but evidently afraid of further observations on the 
 subject. With the view of changing the conver- 
 sation, then, the master of the Mauleverer Head 
 dashed, in an abrupt and reckless manner, into 
 foreign politics, expressed a very strong opinion 
 upon the timidity of the British GoA'ernment, and 
 felt comparatively comfortable, when a demonstra- 
 tive groom in the background came forward and 
 bearded the lion in his den. A more Conservative 
 lackey than this last speaker never languislicd at 
 the door of the Carlton, or devoured the leaders in 
 the ''Erald before going to do battle at his club. 
 He denounced Bobus as a Radical of the worst 
 type ; he quoted Shakespeare amidst general cheers 
 (Ledbitter very prominent); he shook his fist at 
 Whiggism generally, and pointed the finger of 
 scorn at Bobus in particular, and wound up with
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 85 
 
 a peroration wliicli produced great applause, and 
 brought Bobus on to liis legs in a second. As to 
 being a Radical, Bobus flung back the imputation. 
 Him go in for universal suffrage, and have his 
 barman voting against his landlord, maybe ; him 
 wish for a parcel of ragamuffins to get into power, 
 and order about respectable people ; him attempt 
 to shake the foundations of Chm-ch and State, 
 and upset the 'ole framework of society, indeed! 
 (Hear, hear.) No ; he didn't admire the spirit of 
 the age. (" Hear, hoar," and a sly look at his 
 brandy-and-w\ater from Ledbitter.) He thought 
 there was a good deal too much edication a-going 
 on, and people were a-getting too clever by half, 
 with their mechanics' institutes and such places. 
 Why couldn't the mechanic go to his favourite 
 tavern, and enjoy his pipe, and, if he might be 
 permitted the expression, the social glass? No, 
 he wasn't a Radical, nothink of the sort, and he 
 begged to remark afore sitting down, ^'gentlemen 
 all" 
 
 The parliamentary turn matters had taken 
 comforted Bobus, but by no means satisfied Led-
 
 86 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 bitter. The valet, who enjoyed a joke in a quiet 
 way, and was never so happy as when he could 
 be doing any thing underhand and in secret, 
 struck into the argument, and led the subject 
 round with genuine skill to Lord Glenburn, much 
 to the indignation of Bobus, who, not knowing 
 his man, imagined something would be said which 
 would assuredly rob him of one of his most respect- 
 able customers; ^^ a gentleman," as he afterwards 
 described Ledbitter to his w^ife, " as gave, my 
 dear, quite a port- wine flavom-, as it were, to the 
 parlour." 
 
 Now that] the game was once again put up, 
 the entire field blazed away at it, and Bobus sat 
 back, and gave up all interference. Lord Glen- 
 burn was a blackleg, a cheat, little better than a 
 convict. Hadn't he fled the country, and w^asn't 
 that the same thing as being sent from the coun- 
 try? Yery well, then. Suppose he had come 
 into property ; lived abroad until the statute (sta- 
 tue the speaker called it) of limitations barred the 
 creditors' claims; su]3j)ose he had married, and 
 become respectable, and got a lot of noble fami-
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMEE. 87 
 
 lies to visit him, — did that wipe out the recollec- 
 tiou of what he had been? Cei-tainly not. His 
 reputation would last with liis life, and a pretty 
 reputation it was ! Hadn't they heard, when 
 Glenbui-n's probable return had been talked of 
 at dinner, a generally expressed opinion as to 
 his moral and social character? Hadn't second- 
 rate visitors who came in cabs, — barristers and 
 such-like, — shruo:o:ed their shoulders and sneered 
 at him? And hadn't shy tm'f-transactions been 
 more than hinted at by those whose experiences 
 were not of yesterday ? And, in fact, hadn't 
 Glenburn's name been miiversally received with 
 contumely ? 
 
 Ledbitter sat with one leg over the other, sip- 
 ping his brandy-and-water, and slowly smokmg 
 his cigar dm'ing this vituperative volley, with evi- 
 dent enjoyment. Now and then, as some more 
 than ordinarily strong charge was brought against 
 his master, Ledbitter would cast a knowing glance 
 at Bobus, who had now given it up as a bad job, 
 and sat with his eyes half closed, patient but per- 
 spiring. Sometimes the valet would smile, appa-
 
 b^ PAID rS" FTLL. 
 
 rently at the enormirr of what he heard, but in 
 reality at his own knowledge of how greatly the 
 eonif lany underrated the A~illany of his lordship. 
 Tirmously indignant, of a truth, were those be- 
 pc»wdered customers at the Mauleverer Head. 
 The feeble opposition of the two whose remarks 
 we recorded at the commencement of the chapter 
 only served to inflame the moral indignation of 
 the mass. The room was now very thick with 
 smoke, and the conversation had become gene- 
 ral; the shyer servants, stimulated with refi^esh- 
 ment, joining in the grand Glenbum hunt. On 
 the chance mention of her ladyship, however, the 
 native pohteness of the Briton asserted itself, and 
 she was spoken of with extreme respect and gene- 
 rally with admiration. Bobus, delighted at the 
 abusive tack being abandoned, burst into vehe- 
 ment praise of her beauty and high bearing. She 
 was a very noble-looking lady, which was more 
 than could be said of some noble parties' wives 
 (this with a sarcastic sweep of the entire assem- 
 blage except Ledbitter, who was feivoured with a 
 knowing nod) ; ay, even the best blood going.
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 89 
 
 She was a fine figui'e, she had a handsome face, 
 dressed like a empress, and her eye was lovely. 
 Tlie company applauded the gallant Bobus, and 
 that worthy creatm-e toasted his visitors with con- 
 vivial condescension. But the conversation had 
 lost all interest for Ledbitter, and he sti'etched 
 his legs, and threw away the end of liis cigar, 
 and looked at his most substantial and respect- 
 able gold watch, and showed other sjTiiptoms of 
 a home-seeking natui*e. It was just as he was 
 about to reach doT\ai his hat from the brass rail 
 on which it reclined that a tall footman remarked 
 sneeringly that a pink scar under my lady's left 
 eye was not an addition to her beauty, and almost 
 immediately came an exclamation from the corner 
 of the room farthest from the door, which arrested 
 Ledbitter's movement, and sent a thrill of sm'- 
 prise tlu'ough the assemblage. The exclamation 
 was vehement, and by no means polite. The 
 liveried brethren stared through the smoke into 
 the corner from which it proceeded, and there 
 beheld a most miprepossessing- looking person, 
 of whose presence they had not been previously
 
 90 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 aware. He was a man past middle age, with a 
 bloatedj brutaFface, deeply smiken eyes, soddened 
 with drink, and his grayish hair was cropped close 
 to his bull-head, giving him the air of a iighting- 
 man with a strong dash of the burglar. Round 
 his neck he wore a brown comforter, and his 
 clothes were coarse and muddy. He had been 
 half asleep, with his head resting on his hand, 
 during the early portion of the conversation ; 
 but he had partially revived as the tones of the 
 speakers became excited, and he sat listening 
 with a drunken leer upon his face, whilst he 
 drew figures on the table before him with a black 
 and beery forefinger. 
 
 " Who's that speaking of a gal with a red scar 
 under her left eye? What sort of a scar is it? 
 Can't you speak, none of you?" shouted the crop- 
 eared customer, surveying the company generally 
 with a savage defiance. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter was the only person present who 
 did not express surprise and disgust at the sudden 
 appearance and fierce manner of the stranger. 
 
 " Tlie scar on^Lady Glenbm*n's face is a very
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 91 
 
 peculiar mark," said tlie valet quietly. " A veiy 
 peculiar mark, of a triangular shape, and — " 
 
 ^^Wliat!" lialf-slu'ieked the otlier ; "a tlu'ee- 
 comered scar ? Don't lie, now ! and don't tell me 
 she's a high white forehead, and long black hair, 
 and tall and grand-looking. Don't tell me that ; 
 if the devil himself told me that, I wouldn't be- 
 Heve it," 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Ledbitter, with a half 
 smile; ^^we arc not any of us in the habit of 
 crediting remarks from that quaiix3r. But I cer- 
 tainly must say your description, as far as it 
 goes, is correct; her ladyship certainly has a 
 high white forehead, and also a profusion of 
 black hau' ; and she is tall, and decidedly grand- 
 lookino-; whilst" — he added with a slu'uo- — "there 
 is no denying she has a tlu'ee-cornered scar mider 
 the left eye." 
 
 The man rose and staggered, and passing his 
 grimy hand over his brow, appeared to screw his 
 eyes to a steady stare at Ledbitter ; but the drink 
 he had taken was too much for him, and he sank 
 again upon his seat. He was evidently half
 
 92 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 stupefied with liquor ; and as such a low creature 
 was by no means fitting company for the highly 
 genteel footmen who were honouring the Maule- 
 verer Head with their presence, most of them 
 speedily fomid excuses for going, and Bobus 
 went up to the unwelcome visitor and sternly 
 commanded him to quit the premises. But the 
 stranger was now fast relapsing into a maudlin 
 phase of inebriety, and he commenced sobbing 
 and mumbling in an incoherently hysterical man- 
 ner, very unpleasant to listen to, but to which Mr. 
 Ledbitter did listen very attentively nevertheless. 
 
 "An ungrateful gal! an ungrateful, bad, 
 cruel gal !" he whimpered through his sobs and 
 moans. " She's no heart, never had ; nor her 
 mother, — no heart and no pity ! Why didn't I 
 dash her brains out while I was about it ? not 
 merely mark her for life. Why didn't I spoil 
 her precious doll-face out and out? And, oh, 
 poor gal, poor gal! did I raise my fist to you? 
 I've deserved it all, deserved it all." 
 
 And then he burst into a wild fit of crying, and 
 lay with his head upon his arm resting on the table.
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 93 
 
 Bobus was not a bad-hearted Boniface, and 
 the sight of this brawny fellow crying and wail- 
 ing like a child melted his heart with pity, and 
 he went back to his seat determined to wait 
 patiently until such time as his customer should 
 recover himself and retire. To this charitable 
 determination he was considerably assisted by 
 his waiter, who informed him in whispers that 
 the weeping party had been there all the after- 
 noon, had imbibed a good deal of Bobus's liquor, 
 and had paid on the nail in an ostentatious 
 manner for all he had ordered. A customer was 
 a customer when all was said and done, and 
 perfect sobriety would scarcely tend towards en- 
 riching the tavern - keeper ; besides, the thin- 
 skinned footmen, who spent little enough at the 
 best of times, had departed; and as to Mr. Led- 
 bitter, he appeared quite interested in the unhappy 
 gentleman, and seemed to listen to his broken 
 remarks with almost anxious attention. A strange 
 man was Mr. Ledbitter, thought honest Bobus, 
 who, beyond the legitimate trickery of his busi- 
 ness, scarcely knew what deception and cmming
 
 94 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 meant ; a very strange man, to seem so mucli 
 taken up witli what appeared to Bobus as no- 
 thing bettei' than a chrunken tramp. Little did 
 the pubhcan guess what was passing through 
 the valet's mind as that astute creature listened 
 with the profoundest astonishment to the strange 
 disjointed sentences proceeding from the tremu- 
 lous lips of the semi-stupefied stranger. Led- 
 bitter bent his head, and even put his hand to 
 his ear, in his evident desire to catch every re- 
 mark. Once or twice it was easy to see the 
 sudden flush which would overspread his gene- 
 rally colourless countenance ; and once he actually 
 dabbed his forehead with his silk pocket-handker- 
 chief, so surprised and overcome did he appear 
 at what he heard. Indeed, the cool and collected 
 valet, Avho, as a rule, prided himself upon the 
 skill with which he could conceal liis emotion, 
 broke all bounds in this instance, and muttered, 
 " By Jove !" and other exclamations, sufficiently 
 loudly to attract the attention even of the un- 
 suspicious Bobus. 
 
 "What's the matter, sir?" asked that worthy,
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 95 
 
 when a more than ordinarily marked exclamation 
 escaped his sm^prised patron. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" repHed the valet with a forced 
 laugh; "a strange fellow this; he's muttering 
 the oddest things to himself. Kindly touch the 
 bell for me, — thank you. A glass of brandy at 
 once, Jolm, if you please." 
 
 And what was Bobus's surprise at seeing tlie 
 abstemious Ledbitter seize and swallow a small 
 glass of raw spirit ; a thing he had never known 
 him do before, as he remarked to the valet, at the 
 same time expressing a hope that he was not ill. 
 
 "A slight attack of indigestion, Bobus, no- 
 thing more. Tliere, I'm better," replied Led- 
 bitter, and he became once more absorbed in 
 the man witli the short hair and the brown com- 
 forter. 
 
 The fellow became calmer by degrees, and 
 apologised, with a surly attempt at civility, for 
 having talked at random. 
 
 " Talked at random, eh?" thought Lord Glen- 
 burn's man ; " random or not random, I don't 
 lose sight of you, my fine fellow ;" and the valet
 
 yt? PAID IS' FULL. 
 
 assured Mm that no offence had been taken, and 
 even Trent so far as to offer the fellow a cigar. 
 The stranger stared in some snrprise at tlie imper- 
 turbable countenance of tlie ralet, and putting 
 ont his great rongh hand, grasped the cigar, 
 and lighted it, Ledbitter handing him a spill with 
 a bow, which the other acknowledged with a 
 nod and a " Thankee, mate.*' The rough cus- 
 tomer, growing more sober every minute, began, 
 by extreme taciturnity, to make amends for his 
 previous injudicious talk; and he sat in sulky 
 silence pulling at his cigar, and only rephed to 
 the observations of his companion by an occasional 
 grunt of acquiescence. Fresh company had by 
 this time entered and departed ; and Bobus, find- 
 ing Ledbitter's society dull, turned his attention to 
 the other customers, and left the valet and his new 
 acquaintance to themselves. It was wonderful how 
 the clever servant drew out his companion' upon 
 every subject save the one particular one, upon 
 which he was dying to hear more. At the first 
 timid approach to it, the man looked up at his 
 gentlemanly fiiend, and, with a half smile, play-
 
 Wm
 
 9S PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " No, no, nothing — ^notliing at all, only some 
 incoherent rubbish that nobody listened to," re- 
 plied Ledbitter ; and, with a great sigh of relief, 
 the other sank back in his seat, sobered, but with 
 a scared, wild look still upon him, and his broad 
 chest heaving with some strong emotion. 
 
 It is a very remarkable fact that when this 
 great, rough, navigator-looking fellow rose to go 
 home, Mr. Ledbitter — the respectable, the neat, 
 the almost patrician-like Mr. Ledbitter — ^volun- 
 teered to walk part of the way with him, and, on 
 seeing him stagger, actually offered him his arm 
 and assisted him on his way. It was late when 
 the valet returned that morning ; and as he caught 
 from the stairs a passing glimpse of Lady Glen- 
 burn, gorgeous in her ball-dress, flushed with 
 pride and happiness, and surromided by an ob- 
 sequious cornet of great admirers, a grim smile 
 played round his treacherous lip, — a smile that 
 it was as well for her ladyship's peace of mind 
 she did not see. 
 
 The same hour which saw Ledbitter's return
 
 THE STRANGE CUSTOMER. 99 
 
 to liis master's liouse witnessed Horace Bentley's 
 return to his master's. Horace had been at a 
 supper-party, and had toasted the host — a newly- 
 fledged surgeon — in encomiastic terms, had smig 
 songs with rollicking choruses, and had kept it up 
 till the chimes of the small hours and an ominous 
 headache told Mm it was time to seek the shelter 
 of Mr. Pinto's roof. As he entered his bedroom 
 his eye fell upon a note from liis mother, evidently 
 ^vritten in haste and during strong agitation. He 
 tore open the envelope, and read the following : 
 
 " Darling Horace, — I have been twice to 
 you this evening ; but you were out, and no one 
 could tell me where. I leave London to-night. 
 Something has happened Avliich I cannot now ex- 
 plain to you; but I must go away — I cannot 
 breathe another day here. Good-by, and God 
 bless you ! 
 
 " Ever, dearest boy, 
 
 " Yom' fond, affectionate mother, 
 
 " E. Bentley."
 
 100 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 The bright morning sun found Horace still 
 sitting, pale and haggard, at the foot of his bed, 
 his brain in a whirl, and his bloodshot eyes staring 
 blankly at his mother's letter.
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 
 
 The first thing in the morning found Horace hur- 
 rying towards Little Green Street, with a view to 
 obtaining some clue to the mystery of his mother's 
 disappearance. Soho is rather a lazy neighbour- 
 hood, being given to late hours ; and the Molloys 
 were no exception to the rule. Alice Molloy, the 
 eldest daughter, was washing the steps, however 
 (before, as she imagined, any of her neighbours 
 were up to see her do so), and from that commu- 
 nicative yomig lady he heard that the family were 
 at breakfast ; so he went in, and beheld the group 
 at their morning meal. It was not a pleasant 
 sight : childhood, though innocent, is, very early 
 in the morning, and after abortive ablutionary 
 attempts, not so pleasant a sight as when it tod- 
 dles in spick and span, shining as to cheek, and
 
 102 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 oleaginous as to hair, after dinner, later in the 
 day. Mrs. Molloy was gifted with a strong 
 substratum of slovenliness, to commence with; 
 and having a large family, and lodgers, and a 
 husband who had been supposed to be in a de- 
 cline any time these thirty years, and a house 
 which "would wof look neat, whatever you done 
 to it," she did not show to advantage when taken 
 unawares. Horace bounced into the room before 
 she had time to take Master Augustus's elbow out 
 of the brown sugar, to snatch the butter from the 
 premature clutch of Miss Ameha, or to " show 
 the comb " to the second boy, who had appa- 
 rently come to his breakfast in a limited allow- 
 ance of clothing. Horace was too anxious to no- 
 tice much of this ; and he at once stopped Mrs. 
 Molloy's apologies, and asked where his mother 
 had gone ; whether Anne Maggs was with her ; 
 what was the cause of her leaving; did Mrs. 
 Bentley say any thing, give any reason; and a 
 volley of similar inquiries. 
 
 " Well, Mister Orris," said Mrs. Molloy, with 
 a hm'ried attempt to smoothe her hair with her
 
 A VERT TENDER PASSION. 103 
 
 apron, wliich was a complete failure, — "well, sir, 
 if you liadii't lia' come, all that's just what I 
 should ha' come to ast you. Of all the strange 
 things as ever happened in this house, — and a 
 many strange things has happened in it, as, in- 
 deed, what house in London has they not; but 
 me having let ajDartments for so many year, has 
 seen things occm', sir, as you would scarcely be- 
 lieve, as you're standing there. What with par- 
 ties coming sudden, and quite taking you back 
 in the matter of reference by paying two weeks' 
 rent in advance, and then turning out at the ele- 
 venth hour to be refugees, with infernal machines 
 mider the bed ; and then handsome fellows bring- 
 ing young wives, and going abroad and never 
 coming back ; and forringors under a cloud, 
 a-sneaking out with the sugar-tongs, and then 
 swearing till they're black in the face as they 
 never come up with the tea-things; and j)arties 
 taking the second-floor with children as conta- 
 minates other children, and uses such language 
 as the very postman hears it and cries shame, — 
 oh. Mister Orris, it's little as you can guess the
 
 104: PAID m FULL. 
 
 troubles a mother like me has with lodgings, and 
 a husband as is really a mere tommyton in a 
 house, poor fellow ! though it's not his fault ; for 
 I knew what it would be when he joined them 
 Dromedaries at the Oakley Arms ; and — yes, sir, 
 I'm a-coming to your mar : j)oor dear ! there she 
 come home all in a tremble, in a cab, — a thing I 
 never knew her to do, — and her face as white as 
 that plate, and a frightened sort of way with her 
 which threw poor Mrs. Maggs into almost as great 
 a state as your mar. And then she said as she 
 was going away, that I should hear from her; 
 and she offered to pay me the trifle she owed me ; 
 but I said, ' No,' I said, and I drew myself up, 
 for I was not desirous as money should be men- 
 tioned under the circumstarnces ; and I said, ' No,' 
 I said, ' mum ; the trifle between us is not woi*th 
 a-speaking about. You seem flustered, ma'am?' 
 And indeed she did, and got worse and worse, 
 until by a tremenjous effort she seemed to con- 
 quer her feelings, like ; ' and me and Mrs. Maggs 
 packed up her boxes; and your mar started off 
 in a cab, I don't know where, no more than the
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 105 
 
 child unborn. But that youj Mister Orris, don't 
 laiow nothing of it — well, it railly do surprise me." 
 
 Mrs. Molloy, like many of her class, could 
 have continued for any given time. She paused 
 now, not for lack of breath, but because her watch- 
 ful eye detected certain depredations by the chil- 
 dren, the result of their mamma's attention being 
 temporarily devoted to another object. She slapped 
 Miss Amelia, and shook Master Augustus until 
 his teeth rattled again, and asked Horace if he 
 would take a cup of tea. " For, indeed," she 
 added, " you don't look altogether in the best of 
 'ealtli yourself; but I suppose it's study." 
 
 '^TVell, Mrs. Molloy," said Horace, after reject- 
 ing the proffered cup of tea with an ill-concealed 
 shudder, " I don't know what to do." 
 
 " That's precisely what I says to Molloy myself 
 last night," rejoined Mrs. M. " ' Molloy,' I says, 
 ' I don't know what to do.' Molloy, along of hav- 
 ing been late at his Dromedaries, couldn't give no 
 advice except hiccups." 
 
 " Then, sir," continued the landlady, " there's 
 the fm'niture. I suppose your mar'll have her
 
 106 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 furniture sent wherever slie's gone ; and I was a- 
 thinking, if you'd no objection, if I was to let the 
 rooms furnished until such time as — -" 
 
 " Certainly not, ma'am," replied Horace, with 
 a sudden outburst. " You will be kind enouo^h to 
 let no one but the servant into those rooms. I will 
 pay for the apartments dm-ing my mother's ab- 
 sence, which, I have no doubt, is only temporary." 
 
 And Horace glared very fiercely at the injudi- 
 cious Amelia, who saluted his observations" with 
 an ill-timed grin. 
 
 '' Oh, very well, Mister Orris," said Mrs. Mol- 
 loy, lofty in her turn ; " I didn't mean any think 
 to vex you ; only as to your mar coming back, she 
 said positively as nothing would induce her to re- 
 turn to London again ; that she didn't care where 
 she went, so long as it was far away. And cer- 
 tainly I thought, as she was not rich, and — " 
 
 " The state of my mother's pecuniary affairs is 
 a matter, Mrs. MoUoy, on which you must be pro- 
 foundly ignorant," replied Horace, with a very 
 grand air indeed. " I believe you have never had 
 occasion to ask twice for yom^ money ; and if there
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 107 
 
 is any thing owing to tradesmen or other people, 
 have the kindness to tell me what it is, and I will 
 discharge their claims immediately;" and he rat- 
 tled three-and-sixpence in his pocket with the 
 magnificence of a millionaire. 
 
 The mention of Mrs. Bentley's pecuniary pmic- 
 tuality was a homethrust the landlady could not 
 resist; and dismal forebodings that a like lodger 
 would possibly never occupy the first-floor floated 
 across her mind, and tears, which were not alto- 
 gether unselfish, rose to her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Orris, right you are," whimpered 
 Mrs. MoUoy, " right you are, when you say as 
 Mrs. Bentley always paid like a lady, even when 
 first she come ; and she and Mrs. Maggs didn't 
 eat together in a day as much as would make a 
 meal for my son 'AiTy. She never rmi in debt a 
 penny ; and when she got on, she was downright 
 generous, in a kind of way, though she never 
 wasted an ounce of meat, or tlu'ow away a thing, 
 or have the least enjoyment. Many a time has me 
 and Molloy talked of taking up a slice of some- 
 thing nice of a Sunday, with om- respectful duty ;
 
 108 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 but we've been afraid, for she was so proud like in 
 her way. And IVIrs. Maggs told us as she was 
 a-saving and a-scraping for her son, which is you, 
 sir ; and proud you ought to be of such a mother." 
 
 Mrs. Molloy meant well, but she maddened 
 Horace. With his innate pride was mingled so 
 much self-conceit, that it was a difficult matter to 
 get on with him without offending him continually. 
 So he received the praises of his parent with a 
 very ill grace ; and, with a severe caution to the 
 mistress of the house to be careful of his mother's 
 furniture, and keep " those children" out of the 
 rooms, he strode up the kitchen-stairs, and, slam- 
 ming the front-door after him, departed. 
 
 " As 'aughty and as stuck-up a young fellow 
 he's grown as ever you came across, Molloy," said 
 Mrs. M. to the partner of her bosom, as he ap- 
 peared unshaven and sulky at the breakfast-table, 
 with his regular " Dromedary" headache, and the 
 chronic cough in tremendous force. " 'Aughty 
 and overbearing ; and mark my words, that young 
 gent won't come to no great good." 
 
 And so the week passed over without a line ;
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 109 
 
 but on the eiglitli or ninth day after Mrs. Bent- 
 ley's quitting London, a letter came from her, 
 dated from a little unknown village in Cornwall; 
 and though it by no means made matters clear, it 
 was full of affection and good advice, and con- 
 cluded with a postscript which, as is not unfre- 
 quently the case with women, contained the gist 
 of the letter. It told Horace that failing health 
 and a sudden fright, the effects of which might be 
 permanent, had induced her to leave London, and 
 that, by Anne Maggs's advice, she had started off 
 on the spur of the moment, knowing that the least 
 delay would have unnerved her and shaken her 
 resolution. She scarcely referred to her means of 
 living, but said that she had written to Mr. Stone 
 explaining matters, and fully trusted in his assist- 
 ing her. Altogether the letter was very vague 
 and unsatisfactory ; but Horace now knew of his 
 mother's safety; and as any further anxiety about 
 the affair would not in any way mend matters, he 
 folded up the letter with a shrug, and determined 
 not to bother himself about it. The separation 
 from his mother would, a year before, have been a
 
 110 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 bitter pang to him; but during that year many 
 changes had taken place in the sentiments of Mr. 
 Pinto's senior pupil. 
 
 Miss PintOj though hitherto supposed by her 
 family and friends to have been of an unsuscepti- 
 ble nature, had recently given Horace grounds for 
 great alarm by exhibiting in her manner towards 
 him an approach to tenderness of a most unwel- 
 come nature. He was a handsome young man, 
 with a haughty air and a bold look that women 
 liked. His manner to Mr. Pinto was more that 
 of an equal in years and experience than a pupil, 
 and the native snobbishness of the little sui'2:eon 
 grovelled before the superior air of the self-im- 
 portant Horace. He had won Mrs. Pinto's heart 
 by writing verses in her album and talking about 
 her favom'ite authors with an air of sham enthu- 
 siasm which sat very well upon the briUiant youth, 
 and he certainly displayed in his own compositions 
 (to which, during the two years of probation, he 
 had devoted far more attention than to Mr. Pinto's) 
 a lively fancy, and a fluency which occasionally
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. Ill 
 
 surprised himself. He had also been delighted by 
 seeing some of his lucubrations in print; and though 
 Pinto would sneer at his poetry behind his pupil's 
 back, Mrs. Pinto, and eventually the daughter, 
 gratified him by frequent praise and admiration. 
 He held his tongue about the manifold effusions 
 which remorseless editors " returned with thanks" 
 or "respectfully decHned," contenting himself with 
 strong though inward growls at the stupidity or 
 favouritism exhibited by those autocrats ; but he 
 delighted in displaying his published scribblings, 
 and gave himself such a literary air amongst his 
 brother-students at the hospital, that he was una- 
 nimously elected president of the Abernethy Club, 
 — a society of youthful savans, who read essays 
 and drank grog and indulged in science and short 
 pipes over a tobacconist's shop in the immediate 
 neighbourhood. Here he greatly distinguished 
 himself, not so much by the soundness of his argu- 
 ments as the boldness of the theories he started, 
 and the " 'ercles vein" into which he soared when- 
 ever he got upon his legs. His essays savoured 
 considerably more of Parnassus than the apothe-
 
 112 PAID m FULL. 
 
 cary's shop; and thougli his talents were very 
 generally acknowledged, he was nniversally voted 
 as too great a swell for physic. This was possibly 
 why Miss Pinto cast a loving eye npon him ; for 
 she had grown a little weary of. the one subject in 
 which the circle round the family-table indulged 
 ad nauseam, and her young heart yearned for the 
 sympathy of a soul above medicine; and such a 
 soul had Horace Bentley, who despised the drugs, 
 and who lost no opportunity of ridiculing the petty 
 trickery of the profession. 
 
 ^' A good many pupils your papa has had in 
 his time, Miss Pinto," observed Horace, as he 
 paced up and down the parlour one evening. 
 
 " Oh, ever so many," replied the young lady. 
 '^ Tlie first we had was Perkins, and then Fletcher, 
 and then Blundell, and then — oh, yes, ever so 
 many !" and Miss Pinto looked hard at Horace, 
 and sighed. 
 
 "What are you sighing for?" asked Horace, 
 with a comically disturbed expression. 
 
 " / don't know," replied the damsel, with a 
 toss of the foot; " only Pm sick of life."
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 113 
 
 '^ Sick of life ! and so yomig !" exclaimed the 
 student. 
 
 Miss Pinto shot a sudden side-glance at him — 
 a quick but searching look; but the student was 
 impertm'bable. 
 
 " And why sick of life with the world before 
 you ?" continued the gentleman. 
 
 "And what of that, Mr. Bentley? what of 
 that, Horace?" 
 
 Tliere was no reason why she should not call 
 him Horace ; but he winced at the word consider- 
 ably. 
 
 " It is a pleasure to pour one's sorrows into 
 somebody's ears," she continued, " especially 
 when that somebody is sympathetic and kind and 
 friendly, as you have always been. And I don't 
 know why ; for I know, Avhen first you came, I 
 treated you like all the other pupils, until I found 
 how different you were to them — oh, how dif- 
 ferent !" And Miss Pinto looked upwards with a 
 seraphic gaze at the ceiling. 
 
 Horace had never been made love to, and he 
 scarcely knew whether to respond or leave the 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 room. He was certainly flattered, but he was 
 also decidedly frightened ; for there w^as about the 
 amiability of Miss Pinto much that suggested the 
 playfulness of the panther. 
 
 He walked up and down the room without 
 continuing the conversation, and longing for an 
 excuse for leaving, but prevented from doing so 
 by a strange indescribable something Avliich 
 charmed yet terrified him. 
 
 " You were not angry with my calling you 
 Horace, Mr. Bentley ?" timidly observed Miss P., 
 after a long and very awkward pause. 
 
 " Angry !" replied Horace ; " of com'se not. 
 I — a — I wish you would always call me Horace ; 
 it's more fr'iendly." 
 
 ^^ Still, you never call me Priscilla; and yet 
 we have known each other a long time." 
 
 The idea of calling Miss Pinto Priscilla ! The 
 privilege appeared to carry with it a positive im- 
 portance, ^v 
 
 " Call you Priscilla, Miss Pinto !" he rejoined. 
 " What would your papa say ?" 
 
 " Papa, indeed !" sneered the lady, with a 
 short scornful laugh.
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 115 
 
 Tlie curl of the lip and the expression of eon- 
 tempt with "which this last remark was accom- 
 panied greatly charmed Horace, who utterly des- 
 pised the doctor, and was delighted to find his 
 sentiments were shared by PrisciUa. Indeed, the 
 perpetual bickerings between that young lady and 
 her father had recently resulted in a grand battle 
 royal, and Mr. Pinto had used very strong lan- 
 guage to his daughter, which was in the highest 
 degree ungrateful ; for she had been for years the 
 mainstay of the establishment, and, with the one 
 drawback of temper, as dutiful a daughter as any 
 in Bloomsbmy. Then it was that Horace began 
 to feel a certain pity for harshly-treated Miss 
 Pinto ; and when the sympathies of very yomig 
 men are enlisted in the cause of a suffering dam- 
 sel, and the suffering damsel in question gratefuUy 
 accepts the consolation, and smiles her thanks 
 tlurough her tears, the case of the very young man 
 stands considerable risk oJ£« becoming desperate. 
 Now, it was really a touching sight upon the 
 evening in question, when poor Priscilla — afber 
 another pause, more awkward if possible than the
 
 116 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 former one — suddenly burst into a violent fit of 
 crying, and sobbed away into her handkerchief as 
 if her heart would break. Horace looked very 
 foolishj as men always do when women cry and 
 you don't know what for ; and he stammered out 
 some words of consolation, and flushed and pal- 
 pitated, and thought he had never seen Priscilla's 
 hair look as pretty or her hands so white before. 
 And as he grew emboldened, he strung his con- 
 solatory sentences together with more coherency ; 
 and he was rewarded by observing Miss Pinto 
 become gradually calmer. And she held out her 
 hand to him with a grateful smile, and said she 
 was a stujDid creature ; but she was in low spirits, 
 for every body was against her. 
 
 It was a very white hand and very soft, and 
 it returned Horace's grasp with a decided pres- 
 sure ; and he found himself addressing her in a 
 low tone, and calling her PrisCilla, before he was 
 aware of what he was doing. The result was, 
 that two minutes' tears completely dissolved the 
 old formality between them; and a casual in- 
 ruder might have taken them for brother and
 
 A VERY TENDER PASSION. 117 
 
 sister, only that brothers and sisters don't sit hand 
 in hand; and we must admit that Horace held 
 Miss Pinto's little white paw very much longer 
 than he need have done. 
 
 "Been crying, eh?" broke out the doctor, as 
 he entered the parlour and fell on to his dinner, 
 which had been kept for him, for he had been 
 detained with a patient. "Been crying, eh?" 
 Do you good, and soften that confounded bad 
 temper of yours." 
 
 " Pa, you're downright brutal to me, you 
 are," replied Priscilla, with a side -glance at 
 Horace, who was bursting with indio-nation at 
 Pinto's ill-timed bearishness. 
 
 " Yes, sir," exclaimed the impetuous pupil ; 
 "yes, sir, I do think that Priscilla — Miss Pinto 
 — has great cause of complaint ; it's very hard for 
 a yomig lady who does so much for every body, 
 when her own father tm-ns against her." 
 
 " I tell you what, sir : I think you're an inso- 
 lent puppy ; and I'll thank you not to interfere 
 in matters that don't concern you," rejoined the 
 doctor, with fury in his pm-ple countenance. An
 
 118 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 appealing glance from the injured heroine stopped 
 Horace's indignant reply ; and he left the apart- 
 ment with a withering look for the doctor, and 
 one for the young lady which was sufficiently 
 expressiv^e to carry with it comfort and con- 
 solation.
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BACK. 
 
 And now we must ask the reader to go back with 
 us to a period thirty-five years anterior to the date 
 of our last chapter, — back to the days when 
 Gideon Munro farmed some two hundred acres 
 of as intractable land as ever disappointed the 
 hopes of the agriculturist. Candlish Farmhouse 
 was snug enough, embowered in a nest of fir- 
 trees, picturesque, and old-fashioned; but the 
 land that went with it was unremunerative pro- 
 perty, and Gideon Munro found it bitter hard to 
 make both ends meet. A cold stern man was 
 Mmiro, generally unpopular from his austere 
 manner and by no means hospitable nature. He 
 had been a widower for many years, and evil 
 report had settled that his wife had died from a 
 broken heart, the result of perpetual neglect and
 
 120 PAID m FULL. 
 
 unkindness from her husband. There was little 
 foundation for this belief, for nothing was known 
 of Munro's antecedents. He had taken the farm 
 on the failure of the last tenant, who had strug- 
 gled, and starved, and pinched, and drunk him- 
 self into bankruptcy and consumption, as more 
 than one of his predecessors had done before him. 
 And Gideon Mmiro certainly achieved wonders, 
 considering the ungrateful nature of the property. 
 Nobody, however, knew where he came from, and 
 Gideon w^as not the sort of person to force family 
 matters upon his acquaintance. He was a brusque 
 'Hhree-cornered" kind of man, with a determined 
 mouth and a settled fi-own; and his manners, 
 though scarcely rude, were chilling and repellant. 
 At the farmers' ordinary on market-days he was 
 invariably looked upon as a wet blanket; and 
 when he rose to dej^art, a sigh of relief would 
 escape fr'om more than one overcharged agrarian 
 bosom. He was a stanch Churchman, and never 
 missed sitting in his pew, with his cold eye fixed 
 on the clergyman, and he gave the responses in a 
 loud, hard manner, like an automaton. He was
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BACK. 121 
 
 not a liberal master, but he paid to the day. In 
 the worst year of his tenancy, when every thing 
 went wrong, Gideon Munro asked for no time 
 from his landlord or any one else, but rattled to 
 the agent's door in his creaking old gig, and 
 pulled out his greasy notes without a murmm'. 
 Not that in managing his farm he indulged in any 
 new-fangled fancies, or exliibited any desire to go 
 out of the beaten track. Agricultm-e had not 
 commenced in those days to take tlie gigantic 
 strides it has done of late years ; and the appear- 
 ance of a steam threshing-machine would have 
 sent a villaxre into con\'ulsions. But had Science 
 attempted to talk to Gideon Mum'o, he would have 
 sneered at her; for those who saw most of him 
 boldly stated that he believed in nothing, notwith- 
 standing his two visits to the parish-church each 
 Sunday. He set about his work in a mechanical 
 and uncompromising manner ; and it was the ge- 
 neral remark that Munro and his farmer's men 
 did more in a short time than any of the neigh- 
 bom-ing folks. Early and late he was at his 
 laboiu'; taking no pleasure; seldom going down
 
 122 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 into the little town of Deddington, save on mar- 
 ket-days ; reading nothing but the county paper, 
 and that at rare intervals and for a very short 
 time ; paying his way in an honest, straightfor- 
 ward manner; seeking to harm no one, keeping 
 his tongue quiet, and interfering in nobody's bu- 
 siness save his own, — and yet with all tliis shunned 
 by nearly all who came across liim, and earning 
 no kind and friendly word from a single soul. 
 He had a son, who was something between a 
 copying-clerk and a messenger, in a big town 
 far away ; and a little adopted daughter, who was 
 the one bright ray of smishine in liis dismal home, 
 Lily Munro — for she bore his name, though she 
 was no relation — had been left by her widowed 
 mother, an old friend of the late Mrs. Munro, 
 wliilst she went to London upon business. By a 
 coach-accident the j)oor woman lost her life ; and 
 as no friends came forward to take the child, the 
 Munros found themselves burdened with an addi- 
 tion to their family circle. Lily was a mere child 
 when her new-fomid mother died ; and her win- 
 ning ways and playfol prattle had so charmed her
 
 THiRTY-rm: years back. 123 
 
 chilling foster-father, that he seemed now to take 
 pleasure in no society save hers ; and in propor- 
 tion to his boundless affection for tlie little girl, 
 Gideon Munro became more cold and hard in his 
 manner to the outer world. It seemed, indeed, 
 as if he could think of notliing but his delicate 
 little fair-haired Lily. Nothing was too good for 
 her, for in liis eyes she was the acme of childish 
 perfection. He could never bear to be without 
 her ; even when he went about his farming busi- 
 ness, he would always have Lily holding on by 
 his coat-skirts, or clasping liis strong large hand. 
 Li his gig on market-days she would very fre- 
 quently appear; and the sui'est way to win a 
 smile from the flinty-faced farmer was to praise 
 the blue eyes and glossy hair of his little charge. 
 As she grew up, he taught her all he could, and 
 then engaged a governess from Deddington; for 
 he set his face against girl-schools, and wouldn't 
 hear of the Misses Minks's Academy for Young 
 Ladies at any price. Lily was to be a lady, but 
 she was to be educated under his own eye ; no one 
 else was to interfere. And indeed no one else did,
 
 124 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 for the little Lily gave herself such airs of impor- 
 tance, that the neighbours would smile at her 
 manner in derision, and ill-conditioned children 
 would pull faces at her over the pew-hacks in 
 church, and greatly incense the young lady, who 
 would sneer in quite an old-fashioned and full- 
 grown manner very amusing to witness. This 
 was all lost upon Gideon, who considered his 
 adoj)ted child perfection, and who never put a 
 pound into the Deddington Bank without a sa- 
 tisfactory feeling that he was adding to the tiny 
 fortune of the little girl. When his great raw- 
 boned son came home for a holiday (at the rarest 
 intervals), and strove to make himself agreeable to 
 the little mistress of the house, Gideon would look 
 on with a strange contemptuous smile at the awk- 
 ward attempts of his boorish boy, but mapped out 
 in his own mind a pleasant futui^e for the pair ne- 
 vertheless. In imagination he saw John married 
 to Lily, though it still seemed to him a shame 
 that such a fairy should become a farmer's wife ; 
 and perhaps he saw himself in the chimney-cor- 
 ner, with little grandchildren about his knee ; and
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BACK. 125 
 
 he thought of the temptations of the world, and 
 breathed a sigh of rehef to think that Lily, shut 
 up in the farmhouse like the maidens in the grim 
 castles of old, was beyond the reach of errant 
 knights and ill-intentioned marauders. Though 
 Lily had no opportunity for practice, it was evi- 
 dent that in her disposition there was the founda- 
 tion of a flirt. Young John she led a fearful life 
 during the first holiday he enjoyed, — ^if enjoyment 
 be the word to apply to a brief season of mingled 
 affection and snubbing; and on his next visit, 
 when he was big and broken-voiced, and given 
 to blushing, Lily was so demure and on her dig- 
 nity, that Gideon trembled for the consequences, 
 and begged her in beseeching terms to treat her 
 brother more amiably. The reply of the damsel 
 was characteristic in the extreme : 
 '* " Oh," she said, with a little toss of her fair 
 ringlets, " if he's my brother j it's a different mat- 
 ter." 
 
 And from that moment poor John was called 
 " brother" much more frequently than he liked ; 
 for he had arrived at that age when, as the Lau-
 
 126 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 reate expresses it, ^^ a young man's fancy lightly 
 turns to thoughts of love ;" but it is not love of a 
 fraternal nature by any means — indeed, sisters 
 about this time are generally treated with supreme 
 contempt, the lads of the family wondering how 
 on earth fellows can admire them. Still, a kind of 
 engagement seemed to be tacitly recognised ; and 
 Gideon spoke of Lily to inquiring neighbours as 
 booked, — thereby, as he supjDosed, putting her 
 beyond the aim of the admiring youth of the 
 surrounding district. 
 
 Had Gideon Mmiro not been bhnded by his 
 overwhelming love for Lily, he would have seen 
 in a thousand trifling acts the evidence of a wil- 
 ful, capricious disposition. But he loved her so 
 absorbingly, so intensely, that he saw notliing 
 but a pretty blue-eyed girl who was perfection. 
 He shut liimself almost completely from the rest 
 of the world, and devoted every moment of his 
 leisure to Lily. She read to him the county 
 paper, dwelling with evident gusto on the doings 
 of the aristocracy, in whose movements it was 
 plain she took the greatest interest; she droned
 
 THIRTY-FWE YEARS BACK. 127 
 
 out with cliildish monotony old standard stories 
 and liistorical tales ; but these, as she grew older, 
 were cashiered as dull and bygone, and made way 
 for more modern fiction, which was not in Gideon's 
 style, but which he hadn't the heart to stop, for it 
 evidently delighted Lily. He noticed that those 
 novels which dealt with noble names and great 
 people pleased her most, and it was, he imagined, 
 an evidence of that refined taste which is innate in 
 the bosom of the truly gentle. A stirring tale of 
 domestic trials she would toss aside ; but any vo- 
 lume which blossomed in e-^ery page with Mont- 
 morencis and Cavendishes and Delameres would 
 be devoured with greedy intensit)', and the dukes 
 and marquises and noble lords and ladies would 
 be descanted upon the next morning at breakfast- 
 time with an enthusiasm that was at least genuine, 
 and which highly amused the sober farmer. Had 
 Gideon Mmiro viewed that girl aright, he would 
 have seen her chafe under the cold, dull routine 
 of her solitary life ; he would have noticed the 
 ill-concealed contempt with which she listened to 
 his farm-news, to the unexciting description of
 
 128 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 the dinner at Deddington, to the denunciations 
 of the incendiary who had fired Farmer Wil- 
 loughby's stacks. He Avould have seen how she 
 flushed up when Sir Phihp Lurcher of MudrifF 
 and his family were alluded to, and when he said 
 "there would be a power of grand London folks at 
 MudrifF that week, and there wouldn't be room in 
 the family-pew for all of 'em, if what he heard 
 was true, though those fine town-people didn't 
 trouble church much, he fancied." 
 
 Mudi'iff, a fine old mansion near to Munro's 
 farm, was full of grand company, not the least 
 noticeable amongst whom was Lord Glenbm^n, 
 who in those days had not come into his title, 
 but was known to the world as the Honourable 
 Thomas George Adolphus Gripner, and to his 
 more intimate acquaintances as Treacherous Tom. 
 Some College freak in wliich he had rather dis- 
 honourably let a friend come in. for all the disgrace 
 had stamped him with the mipleasant title, — one, 
 however, he seemed very little ashamed of, and 
 which his companions applied to him continually 
 with no fear for the consequences. Tlie Honour-
 
 THIRTY-ri\T: YEARS BACK. 129 
 
 able Tom was young ; but he had begun life very 
 early, and having the brilliant example before him 
 of a bad father, who had incited him from his 
 most youthful days to acts of lawlessness and vice, 
 he was prepared for a glorious career, and deter- 
 mined to carry the family name tln'ough life un- 
 stained by any pusillanimous wavering and re- 
 pentance, and in utter defiance of decorum. It 
 sj^eaks ill for the good sense of society when one 
 is obliged to admit that the Honourable Tom's re- 
 putation was his strong point. But so it was ; he 
 was looked upon as a gay young fellow, who would 
 have his fling, like his father before him ; and 
 though the maternal eye watched him very care- 
 fidly, the mat'srnal sense of self-respect seldom 
 stepped in to prevent his contaminating with his 
 presence the young, the good, and the pure. 
 
 "We live in better times novv^ ; and though Vice 
 may drive its brougham in the parks, and flamit 
 it unblushingly with the noblest and the proudest, 
 the Honom-able Tom Glripners of to-day find them- 
 selves more frequently cut than courted. When 
 tliis young patrician caught sight of Lily's face at 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 chm'chj lie stared with miclisgnised admiration. 
 Lily, who had experienced the greatest difficulty 
 in keeping her eyes off the Lurchers' pew, felt 
 that he was staring at her; and the colour 
 mounted to her face, and her heart palpitated 
 violently, and she scarcely knew whether to be 
 pleased or alarmed. 
 
 Gideon had engaged a new maid to attend to 
 Miss Lily; for that capricious damsel could not 
 bear the red-elbowed, noisy Deborah, who had 
 been time out of mind Gideon's general servant, 
 but who certainly had a violent manner of flopping 
 down plates and dishes, and a habit of joining in 
 the conversation, which even Gideon had silently 
 objected to for some years. So poor plain Deborah 
 was sent about her business, and pretty Jane 
 Glossop — a smart servant, who had been in Lon- 
 don — vv^as engaged in her place. Jane knew one 
 or two of the servants at Sir Phihp Lurcher's ; 
 and be sm-e the reputation of the handsome yomig 
 visitor lost nothing on its way to tlie ear of Lily. 
 He was the most audacious and daring and reck- 
 less and extravagant and handsome yomig gentle-
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BACK. 131 
 
 man in the world ; no lady could resist liim ; he 
 was a Don Juan, a gay Lothario, a lady-killer on 
 the most extensive scale ; revelling in riches, heir 
 to a great title and estates, yet as affable to his 
 inferiors as if they had been his equals ; and, in 
 short, he was perfection to the maid-servant mind. 
 Lily and Jane Glossop talked at all opportunities 
 of the Honourable Tom; and the subject never 
 wearied them. The young aristocrat, on his side, 
 had not been idle. He had pumped his man Mid- 
 gely about Lily's station and sm'romidings ; and 
 the character he received of Grideon Munro was 
 not one to encourage him in the idea that his pre- 
 sence would be welcome at the farm. But fortune 
 favoui's the bold; and it so happened that one 
 morning young Gripner, being tired of the slow 
 society of Mudriff, and feeling his hand somewhat 
 too shaky for shooting, — for he had been up rather 
 late, and though a mere lad, he could drink with 
 the best-seasoned topers, — had strolled out through 
 the park-gates, and was enjoying a cigar on the 
 Deddington Road, as Gideon Munro came driving 
 past in his high-wheeled, shaky old chaise. The
 
 132 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 extreme looseness of one of tlie wheels had escaped 
 the eye of the farmer, and a sudden bump over a 
 large stone sent the whole affair to the ground. 
 Gideon fell heavily ; and the old horse, after rat- 
 tling on a few yards, pulled up with the remainder 
 of the disjointed vehicle. The Honourable Tom 
 flung his cigar into the hedge, and hastened to 
 the assistance of Gideon, who seemed badly hurt, 
 and who could scarcely crawl to the lodge. The 
 young gentleman was all attention ; he sent his 
 own man for the doctor, and superintended the 
 conveyance of Munro to his home with never- 
 ceasing watchfulness and care, bidding him cheer 
 up the while in a friendly manner that sm'prised 
 the farmer, who groaned out occasional thanks 
 with a rough air of gratitude and civility. Gi- 
 deon's fall had been a bad one, and he was ill for 
 a long time. During this period the Honom-able 
 Tom haunted the farm. 
 
 We have spoken of Lily's love of admiration, 
 of her innate coquettishness ; and we have said 
 that the heir to the Glenburn barony was selfish, 
 wilful, and vicious. No need to dwell upon dark
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BACK. 133 
 
 details ; no need to recapitulate the old bad story. 
 The noble youth tempted her away from her home, 
 from the father who was more than a father to her ; 
 and the day that brought Gideon the intelligence 
 that he was now in a fair way to recover, also 
 brought him the news of his adopted child's de- 
 parture. That with this bitter blow he should 
 still have lived was a matter of wonder to all who 
 saw him. His mad ravings made the listeners 
 shudder; and the fit, having passed, left him a 
 weakened, sln-unk, and broken-hearted man, so 
 aged, so changed, that he was scarcely recognis- 
 able as the once stern and upright Gideon Mum^o, 
 wdio had lifted the little Lily on to the seat at 
 church, and gently smoothed her golden hair as 
 she tm-ned over the big pages of his Prayer-Book. 
 He would see scarcely any body, and he seldom 
 spoke. Had not his son Jolm returned, and with 
 the assistance of an intelligent farm-servant taken 
 the management of affairs, every thing would have 
 been left at a standstill. 
 
 More than a year passed away in this sad and 
 thriftless style. The winter time came round; and
 
 134 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 one night, as Gideon sat staring at the fire, Jane 
 Glossop came into the kitchen, with her eyes red 
 from crying, and trembhng terribly. She had 
 learnt the news of her late mistress's death abroad ; 
 and she broke it to Gideon with a genuine pathos 
 that was very touching, in a homely manner that 
 made the narration more heartrending to that poor 
 old man. As the tale of gradual neglect and finally 
 desertion reached its climax, a terrible look shot 
 from the glistening eyes of Gideon Munro, and he 
 grasped his son's hand like a vice. He nodded at 
 Jane, who guessed that he wished to be left alone 
 with John ; and she went from the room, to sob 
 in real grief in Lily's little chamber. John had 
 loved Lily well, and had noticed the many weak 
 points of her character with alarm. But he was a 
 strange young man, and her departui'e, though 
 it had struck him deeply, had not produced the 
 visible effect that it had on the heartbroken Gideon. 
 When he thought of it — and he thought of it much 
 — a tightening of the lips and a strange evil look 
 in the eye would have been all that was apparent 
 to the casual observer. But there was a dogged
 
 THIRTY-FIVE YEAES BACK. 135 
 
 hatred at his heart for the man who had robbed 
 liim of his intended wife ; and he would sit by liis 
 father of an evenino- aimino* short fierce little 
 blows at the crackling log, morosely weaving his 
 small schemes of revenge, for which he was con- 
 tent to wait until such time as he could glut his 
 vengeance in his own fashion. 
 
 By the dying embers on that December night 
 the pallid John Muiu'o swore an oath, dictated by 
 his father : an oath that he would devote liis life to 
 one object — revenge upon the seducer, the mur- 
 derer, of Lily ; that he would strike the nobleman 
 a deadly blow, one that should cover him with a 
 shame that would blight and utterly destroy him ; 
 that he would leave no plan untried, no stone un- 
 tm'ned, for this one object ; that the blow should 
 come at a time when the world was smiling on the 
 villain, when any disgrace would bring destruction 
 with it, and when the joy of the preceding moments 
 should add an extra pang to the crushing agony of 
 the terrible exposure. 
 
 In the autumn of that year the Honourable 
 Tom Gripner engaged as body-servant a remark-
 
 136 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 ably smart young man, who called himself Led- 
 bitter, but who had previously been known by the 
 name of Munro. The Honourable Tom was not 
 aware of that fact, never having seen him at Cand- 
 lish Farm.
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 HER ladyship's FIRST REBUFF. 
 
 " Ledbitter," said Lord Glenburn to his vaJet 
 one eveningj — " Ledbitter, how is it you have 
 contrived to vex her ladyship ?" 
 
 " Really, my lord," replied the valet, " I can't 
 say. I have scarcely exchanged a dozen sentences 
 with her ladyship in my hfe, and those have simply 
 related to commonplace matters. I have invari- 
 ably treated her ladyship with due respect ; and I 
 am not generally in the habit of making enemies." 
 
 " Enemies !" laughed his lordship scornfully. 
 "You don't suppose Lady Glenburn is your 
 enemy, man; that is too absurd;" and Lord 
 Glenburn tied his white neckerchief with ingeni- 
 ous rapidity, and surveyed his features in the 
 glass, displaying his white teeth, and smoothing 
 his eyebrows with an air of extreme self-compla- 
 cency.
 
 138 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " I am. not aware, my lord, that I have ever 
 said any thing do^vnstairs that can have reached 
 her ladyship's ear — any thing disparaging, I 
 mean," ohserved Ledbitter reflectively. 
 
 '^ No, of course not," rejoined his master, with 
 a sharp suspicious side-glance; " of com'se not. 
 Why, you know nothing." 
 
 " No, my lord, certainly not ; I know nothing 
 whatever disparaging — of her ladyship ;" and Led- 
 bitter's pause before " of her ladyship," though the 
 slightest imaginable, was not without its signifi- 
 cancy. 
 
 " Confound it, sir," said Glenburn ; " of course 
 you don't ; her ladyship's unknown to you, quite 
 unknown." 
 
 " Yes, my lord," rej)lied Ledbitter ; " her 
 ladyship is unknown to me, along with the rest 
 of the world;" and he folded up a waistcoat with 
 extreme care. 
 
 It was Ledbitter's peculiarity that he could be 
 exceedingly insolent in the politest manner. In a 
 war of words liis master was no match for him. 
 Each knew this, and disagreements were rare be-
 
 139 
 
 tweeii them. But women upset every thing. Glen- 
 burn was nettled at a rude innuendo affecting his 
 wife, though he would have passed over any quan- 
 tity of sneers levelled at himself. 
 
 " And whose business, I should like to know, 
 is it who and what my wife was before I married 
 her? Do you suppose I care for the opinion of 
 the world? You know I despise it. But mark 
 my words, Ledbitter : the man who pokes his nose 
 into my family concerns must expect to have it 
 pulled. My hand doesn't shake too much for a 
 saAV-handle ; and if you ever hear of a word being 
 spoken against your mistress, so much as a whisper 
 against her fair fame, or even a sneer at the doubt- 
 fulness of her antecedents, tell me, and I'll thank 
 you." 
 
 Glenbm-n ground his teeth as he said this, and 
 concluded his dressing in a fierce and jerky man- 
 ner, flinging about the combs and brushes and 
 toilet ornaments, and cursing every thing. 
 
 " I'm sm-e, my lord," blandly remarked the 
 valet, as he moved about the room with noiseless 
 step, picking up and putting away the scattered
 
 140 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 garments, and handing Ms master every thing 
 required with a dexterity and calmness that would 
 have been a study for most servants, — '' I'm sm'e, 
 my lord, I have never heard but one sentiment 
 — admiration, the greatest admiration, for Lady 
 Glenburn. Servants to a certain e^vtent perpe- 
 tuate their master's opinion ; the drawing - room 
 sentiment is generally the servants' -hall senti- 
 ment; and wherever I go, I hear nothing but 
 complimentary remarks upon the grace and beauty 
 of her ladyship." 
 
 " Yes," smilingly replied Glenburn, breaking 
 through aU social barriers, — '^ yes, she's a deuced 
 fine woman, isn't she ?" 
 
 " Your lordship always had excellent taste in 
 such matters," remarked the valet with a smirk ; 
 " and whatever her ladyship's family — " 
 
 " Don't allude to her ladyship's family; that's 
 my affair. You laiow a good deal, my friend ; 
 but who my lady was you will never know, 
 so never allude to the subject ; or if you do, 
 Ledbitter, in spite of every thing, I — I — 
 shall—"
 
 HER ladyship's FIRST REBUFF. 141 
 
 '^ Yes, my lord," quietly interposed tlie valet, 
 with an evil half-smile about his lip. 
 
 '^ Why, I — I shall take it as d — d migrateful, 
 meddling, and disgraceful of you," replied the 
 peer; and he burst out of the room in a pas- 
 sion. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter set about putting the room to 
 rights, indulging in a low humming whistle the 
 while, and mentally resolvini^ by no means to 
 profit by his master's caution. On the contrary, 
 the evident irritation exhibited by Lord Glenbum 
 upon the subject simply served to whet the curio- 
 sity of the valet, who felt his o^ti position secure 
 notwithstanding Lady Glenbiu-n's dislike to liim, 
 and Mrs. Gaunt's very evident animosity. As his 
 lordship went down to dinner, the valet went out 
 for his evening walk. He had never been in the 
 habit of going out at this hour ; but for the last 
 fortnight he had sallied forth regularly at the 
 same time ever since the memorable night at the 
 Mauleverer Head. Cook said she believed a lady 
 was in the case ; but Mr. Ledbitter replied, with 
 the air of a preux chevalier ^ that were he suscep-
 
 142 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 tible, he should not require to seek the society of 
 ladies away from the particular house in which he 
 had the honour and happiness to reside. Where 
 could Mr. Ledbitter go every evening, then ? 
 
 "He is plotting against me, I'm sm-e of it," 
 said Mrs. Graunt to Lady Glenburn, who was hav- 
 ing her hair tortured by a French lady's-maid, 
 preparatory to heading her husband's table at a 
 grand dinner-party. 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt was admitted to her mistress's pre- 
 sence at all times, and was sometimes closeted 
 with her for the hour together. She was sitting 
 now in the queenly presence, much to the annoy- 
 ance of Fifine, who hated the grim housekeeper, 
 but who, from her extreme ignorance of the Eng- 
 lish language, and indeed of every thing save 
 hair-dressing, was not felt to be an incumbrance 
 when the mistress and her confidential servant 
 were conversing. 
 
 " He is plotting against me, that Ledbitter, 
 I'll take my affidavy," said the housekeeper, 
 shaking her head, and making a vice of her
 
 143 
 
 large mouth. " I'm sure he hates me, for he's 
 so civil. I didn't suspect him as long as he 
 gave liimself airs and pooh-poohed me ; but since 
 he's been so precious polite, I know he's a mo- 
 tive." 
 
 " Well, I can't help thinking you give your- 
 self needless alarm," rephed her ladyship. " Be- 
 sides, suppose he does hate you, what does it 
 signify ? But I'll soon settle the matter ; he shall 
 leave. I'll speak to Lord Glenburn about it tliis 
 evening." 
 
 '' Lord Glenburn won't part with him, you'll 
 see. Lord Glenburn's afraid of him. I haven't 
 watched the pair for nothing. Tliey're as tliick 
 as tliieves." 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt's simile was not refined, but it 
 may be said to have met the case. This her 
 ladyship discovered shortly ; for when she sailed 
 down into the drawing-room, she found her hus- 
 band pacing the floor, with an angry cloud u^ou 
 his brow, which, however, gradually vanished as 
 he viewed the elegant figm-e and richly-tasteful 
 toilette of his handsome wife.
 
 144 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 She advanced witli both hands, radiant and 
 blooming, looking even younger than she really 
 was, and with a pleasant consciousness of her 
 own beauty that was very charming to behold. 
 Glenburn loved this woman more than he had 
 ever loved woman yet. There was a simplicity 
 about her which she still retained, though the 
 artificiality of the life she was leading would have 
 destroyed it in most people, — a simplicity which 
 was delightful, especially in the eyes of men, 
 though many ladies sneered at it, and said it 
 was assumed. At all events, it was very wel- 
 come to Glenburn, who had passed his existence 
 amongst any thing but simple people, and who had 
 grown weary of the forced smartness, the strained 
 repartee, and the flashy attempts at wit indulged 
 ■in by the ladies who had formed the female so- 
 ciety at the foreign watering-places where he had 
 for some years spent his life. He told his wife 
 that her simplicity was one of her greatest charms, 
 and she was sensible enough to cultivate this at- 
 tractive feature in her character. There were few 
 things Glenburn would not have done, few trials
 
 HER ladyship's FIRST REBUFF. 145 
 
 he would not have gladly undergone, to make 
 this handsome lady his wife. The fact that she 
 would make a handsome vis a vis at his dinner- 
 tahle ; that when she went through the lohby of 
 the Opera the longing dandies would make au- 
 dible notes of admiration ; that when she drove 
 round the Park at his side the great Avorld would 
 stare with envy at him, — this had little to do Avith 
 the motive prompting him to share with her his 
 title. The motive was love, — love more genuine, 
 and with a nearer approach to purity and honour, 
 than had ever caused his heart to throb, or kept 
 him awake in the night. Every previous passion 
 of his life sunk into mean and pitiful insignifi- 
 cance in comparison with this one. He married 
 her; and as he heard her praises buzzed about 
 on all sides, — her simple, winning manners, her 
 beauty, her taste, her condescension, — he expe- 
 rienced a thrill he had perhaps never known 
 before ; and he sighed bitterly when he remem- 
 bered he was no longer young, and gazed at the 
 dark deceptive gloss of his large wdiiskers in the 
 glass with a rueful expression higlily touching. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " My dearest Kate," said his lordship, hold- 
 ing her at arms' length, ^^you look more beautiful 
 than ever. As I look at you, I feel there is 
 scarcely any thing in the world I could refuse 
 you." 
 
 "Ah, indeed! Then I have a favour to ask 
 of you, and you must grant it; I say you must!" 
 And her ladyship shook an alabaster finger at her 
 husband, with a playful assumption of power. 
 
 " Come, then, make your request ; we are 
 good-tempered, and rapt in admiration, and our 
 favourite sultana may command us," replied 
 Lord Glenburn, sinking back into a couch. 
 
 " Then," said his wife, with a timid droop of 
 the eyes, — "then oblige me by sending away 
 Mr. Ledbitter." 
 
 Lord Glenburn's brow grew suddenly dark, 
 and her ladyship's colour fled from her cheeks at 
 the sight. When Glenburn had this bad look 
 upon him, his appearance completely changed; 
 and the countenance which a minute a^o mioiit 
 have passed muster as good-looking, — even hand- 
 some, — would now have formed a fitting model
 
 HER ladyship's FIRST REBUFF. 147 
 
 for tlie face of a fiend. He liad of late almost 
 lost this look, wliicli had at one time been habitual 
 with him ; for a long course of selfish gratification, 
 and continued absence of heavy annoyances, had 
 chased the evil cloud from his brow. But a sud- 
 den and strono; vexation brouo^ht it back ao;ain in 
 
 O CD O 
 
 all its old deformity ; and well might her ladyship 
 shrink from her husband when he strode towards 
 her, his hands clenched, and his eyes glowing 
 with uncontrolled rage : 
 
 " Lady Glenburn," he said, in slow, measured 
 accents, — " Lady Glenburn, so long as you con- 
 tinue beneath my roof, you will please to cease all 
 mention of Mr. Ledbitter. You and Mrs. Gaunt 
 have, for some absurd cause or other, taken a 
 dislike to my valet. Learn from me, madam, 
 that your likes or dislikes in that quarter are 
 immaterial; and also distinctly imderstand that 
 Mr. Ledbitter was in my confidence before you 
 were born, and those who offend my valet insult 
 me." 
 
 The visitors at Portman Square that evening 
 remarked on leaving that Lady Glenburn hadn't
 
 148 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 seemed herself at all; and as for Glenburn, lie 
 was evidently relapsing into his old ill -humour 
 and devotion to the bottle. 
 
 "I will never mention the fellow's name to 
 him again; I thought I should have died from 
 fright when he glowered at me, and spoke so de- 
 liberately and so dreadfully," said her ladyship, 
 as Mrs. Gaunt sat with her whilst she took off her 
 fine dress and jewels that night. 
 
 ^^Ah," said the iron housekeeper, ^^ he won't 
 talk like that to me; and if it's war to the knife, 
 woe betide that pale-faced valet, with his false 
 smile and his velvet tread, for I'll carry my object 
 yet. " And Mrs. Gaunt, with her strong long limbs, 
 looked as if she could have carried any thing. 
 
 " You leave Mrs. Gaunt alone, Ledbitter," 
 said Glenbm'n, in thick accents, to the valet (who 
 had returned some time from that mysterious 
 walk out), " and she'll leave you alone. 'Tall 
 events, her ladyship don't bear you any an — an- 
 mosty." 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter smiled.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 
 
 Miss Pinto, having hooked her fish, was not the 
 kind of angler to let it go. Horace found him- 
 self her lover in no time. It was to be kept 
 from "Pa," of course; but Mrs. Pinto, who was 
 charmed at having any thing to do that was ro- 
 mantic, looked down upon the pair with a benign 
 expression, and maintained such a distant man- 
 ner to Horace hi the presence of her husband, 
 that it was perfectly extraordinaiy even that ob- 
 tuse person didn't suspect something. But he 
 didn't. Priscilla's conduct underwent so mar- 
 vellous a change, her face became so permanently 
 radiant, her voice lost so much of its normal 
 harsluiess, that the doctor was content to take 
 matters as he found them; and, as it always chd 
 and always will take two to quarrel, jMr. Pinto
 
 150 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 foimcl liis home pleasanter than it had been for 
 some time. The stuck-up senior pupil, too, be- 
 came more amenable, and didn't contradict his 
 master upon abstruse points forgotten for many 
 years by the doctor, but still fresh in his own 
 lecture - crammed brain ; nor did he indulge in 
 miseemly satire, or stimulate the other pupil to 
 open rebellion ; or, in short, commit any of the 
 acts of insubordination wliich had rendered him 
 detestable in the eyes of Mr. Pinto. No ; every 
 thing was changed : he was chatty, agreeable, 
 deferential; hstened to the dull old anecdotes of 
 the doctor's youthful escapades ; told him that 
 the leading physician at the hospital had inquired 
 very kindly after him, and observed that a cleverer 
 man had never passed the college than dear old 
 Archer : and the result was, that the family circle, 
 became quite pleasant, and Horace found himself 
 getting fonder of Priscilla and less anxious about 
 his mother every day. 
 
 Mr. Mortimer Jenkins consequently came down, 
 upon them like a bombshell. 
 
 Mr. Mortimer Jenkins was a young doctor
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 151 
 
 from the Pottery districts, with a spare thousand 
 or two, and a strong distaste for the class of pa- 
 tients pecuHar to his native county. Mr. M. J. 
 longed for a London practice, and had advertised 
 in a medical journal for one. Tlie advertisement 
 caught Pinto's eye ; and as he had scraped toge- 
 ther a fair sum, and was becoming rather tired of 
 his business, he was induced to reply; and thus 
 the bombshell. Mr. Jenkins saw the practice, and 
 didn't care much about it; he also saw Priscilla, 
 and became enamom'ed. He came to tea on Mon- 
 day, he di'opped in to dinner on Tuesday, treated 
 Mrs. and Miss Pinto to the play on Wednesday, 
 paid a long visit on Thursday, retm-ned home on 
 Friday, and from his distant surgery in Stafford- 
 shire sent up a proposal of marriage for Priscilla, 
 making his purchase of the practice contingent 
 upon her acceptance of his hand, upon Saturday. 
 Miss Pinto had gone to the play under protest. 
 Horace growled as she passed him on her way to 
 the dusky old brougham, and she threw an appeal- 
 ing glance at him which would have touched a 
 Stoic. She was the slave of circumstances ; be-
 
 152 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 sides, she had never seen Macready. Be sure 
 Horace was in the theatre as well, and that he 
 watched Mr. Jenkins much more than Macbeth. 
 When the Staffordshire surgeon pointed out the 
 characters to Priscilla in the bill (generally incor- 
 rectly), Horace could have seized a seat and fimig 
 it at him ; and when the heartless damsel smiled 
 and listened attentively to his explanations or cri- 
 tical remarks, the emraged student bit his nails, 
 and gromid his heel against the flooring, with the 
 maddening feeling of a first jealousy. Poor Jen- 
 kins was perfectly unconscious of the pair of gleam- 
 ing eyes that shot their fiery glances at him from 
 the slips. He was a well-meaning, inoffensive, 
 freckly young man, with very pale-blue eyes, and 
 was what people call " very clever in his profes- 
 sion," — which, nine times out of ten, is a gentle 
 way of admitting he is a noodle out of it; a simple- 
 minded, honest fellow, who had treated silly old 
 Mrs. Pinto and her daughter from the purest mo- 
 tives of good-nature. The play at last was over, 
 — it was interminable, thought Horace, — and the 
 trio left the theatre and returned to Bloomsbury.
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 153 
 
 Macbeth was not a favourite play of Mrs. Pinto's ; 
 there was no " sentiment" in it. Romeo and Ju- 
 liet was her pet, and she didn't care who knew it. 
 Mrs. Pinto, Hke very many exceedingly common- 
 place people, ventm'ed the most ordinary opinions 
 with a noble reckless disregard of the conse- 
 quences, and may be said to have expressed aU 
 her little wishy-washy sentiments in italics. Pris- 
 cilla didn't care much for the play; for the san- 
 guinary tone of the drama was mipleasantly sug- 
 gestive of the shop. As for Jenkins, he confined 
 his criticisms to the surgical aspect of the case, 
 and to remarking, en passant^ that the pink gash 
 on Banquo's throat was of too superficial a nature 
 to prove fatal, and strongly objected to the death 
 of Macbeth, wliich, he declared, was brought 
 about by a tlu'ust which was, mider the circum- 
 stances, really anatomically impossible. Horace 
 fomid them discusshig these appetising details over 
 a snug little hot supper, at which banquet he sat 
 down very much like the j^roverbial skeleton, and 
 watched his Priscilla with a morbid gloom. That 
 matter-of-fact young lady was very hungry, and
 
 154 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 was hj no means inclined to lose her supper. So 
 she threw a loving look at Horace (who received 
 it scornfully), and took another mutton-cutlet. 
 On the Thursday — ^thanks to a dreadful scene 
 with Horace — Priscilla received the visit of Mr. 
 Jenkins coldly. Mrs. Pinto threw out hints for 
 the Ladi/ of Lyons, but they were not taken ; and 
 the Staffordshire practitioner took his leave, heavy 
 and sick at heart, his sudden passion greatly aug- 
 mented by the distant behaviour of its object. On 
 Saturday came the proposal ; and Pinto sent for 
 his daughter. 
 
 '^ Well, Priscilla, by Jove, you know, eh ? 
 odd, very odd, ain't it ?" stammered the surgeon, 
 scarcely knowing how to begin. 
 
 " I don't see that it's so very odd," replied 
 Priscilla. 
 
 " You've had a letter, as well as me, eh ?" 
 asked the parent. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I've had a declaration, as they call 
 it," replied Priscilla, with a half-scornftd laugh. 
 
 " Well," observed Pinto, ^^ it's remarkably 
 sudden ; but I like people to make up their minds
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 155 
 
 soon. The sliilly-shallying system's out of date. 
 Hit the nail on the head — that's my motto. He's 
 made a capital bid for the practice — a ca-pi-tal 
 bid." 
 
 Priscilla delighted in the whole business. She 
 had always sneered at her mother's sentimental 
 proclivities ; and this piece of romance was some- 
 thing so noAv to her, that she greatly enjoyed the 
 misery of her situation. She had always pooh- 
 poohed such nonsense ; and here she was a hero- 
 ine in spite of herself. Here was the workaday, 
 commonplace Bloomsbury atmosphere suddenly 
 redolent of love and doubt and jealousy and de- 
 spair. She revelled in her new position, and 
 made the most of her heartrending situation. And 
 Horace had gone to the hospital pale and un- 
 shaven, and without tasting breakfast. Delicious ! 
 
 "Weil, what do you think of him, Prissy?" 
 asked the sm-geon. " What do you think of him ? 
 A good-looking chap, / call him ; well-to-do too, 
 and genteel, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 " Yes, he's good-looking enough," replied 
 Priscilla, "for those who don't object to sandy
 
 156 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 whiskers, and freckles, and goggle-eyes witli no 
 colour in tliem, and a wide, silly, grinning mouth, 
 and knock-knees, and a general appearance of 
 provincialism and stupidity." 
 
 It was evident Miss Pinto was in one of her 
 sarcastic moods ; but her papa was in a temper 
 not to be trifled with ; so he frowned darkly, and 
 said : 
 
 " Priscilla Pinto, I've been a kind father to 
 you; failing health is the sole cause," he con- 
 tinued, mentally quoting the advertisement he 
 had intended putting in the paper, — ^^ yes, ftxiling 
 health is the sole cause of my wishing to retire 
 from practice. Here is a chance I shall never get 
 again — a great chance ; and you won't be so un- 
 dutiful, so ungrateful, so cruel, as to throw any 
 obstacle in the way ?" 
 
 And the mean httle surgeon whimpered, and 
 played with his fingers in an imbecile and pur- 
 poseless manner. 
 
 " I am not throwing any obstacle in the way, 
 papa," replied Priscilla. " You don't expect me 
 to marry a man I have seen three times, I pre-
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 157 
 
 sume? As to purchasing the practice, that is 
 your and his affair; you would scarcely expect 
 me to throw my heart into the bargain, along 
 with the fixtures and the drug's." 
 
 "Hang it, miss!" burst out Pinto, "none of 
 your clever speeches ; for they won't do with me, 
 I can tell you. I'll have obedience, implicit obedi- 
 ence. You haven't got a penny in the world but 
 what I choose to give you ; and you haven't got" 
 (this with a cruel sneer) '^another lover; so take 
 the best chance that offers : you won't get another, 
 perhaps. Strike the iron whilst it's hot ; marry 
 this very gentlemanly young man ; and — and 
 accept a father's blessing." 
 
 Mr. Pinto hadn't known how to finish this 
 sentence; but he couldn't have pitched upon an 
 unluckier one. 
 
 "A father's blessing, eh?" said Priscilla, with 
 a flush of genuine anger ; " and why should I 
 care so much for a father's blessing? You talk 
 of gratitude ! It is you who should exhibit grati- 
 tude to me, not I to you. I have kept your house 
 together for years ; I have worked, and toiled, and
 
 158 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 slaved, and scraped, and managed ; and now you 
 expect me to finish m j grovelling career by marry- 
 ing a nonentity I desj)ise. No, papa ; I will not 
 marry this comitry surgeon, with his broad pro- 
 vincial dialect and his great shoes and his stubbly 
 hair. Tliough I may not have another lover, I will 
 remain an old maid to my dying day rather than 
 go with the pestles and mortars and spatulas and 
 bottles of musty old medicines." 
 
 Priscilla was in earnest now, and she looked 
 quite handsome as she stood there erect and with 
 flashing eyes, — a contrast, indeed, to her poor 
 insignificant parent, on whose countenance, how- 
 ever, a spiteful and angry expression was beginning 
 to settle. 
 
 " Nice conduct to a parent," at length ob- 
 served the doctor, white with rage, — " nice con- 
 duct. I'll tell you what, miss," — and he bent 
 down and peered into her face with gleaming eyes, 
 — " I tell you what, miss : you sJiall many the man 
 I approve of; you sJially — d'ye hear me?'" 
 
 A smile of contempt curled the Hps of his 
 daughter, as she repHed quietly :
 
 m WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 159 
 
 '' I am of age, and my own mistress, and I 
 shall not many tins person." 
 
 Pinto lost all command over himself; his eyes 
 burnt like living coals, and the veins in his fore- 
 head swelled like little ropes as he clasped his 
 daughter by the arm and shook her. He was a 
 powerful, thick-set man, and Priscilla trembled 
 in his grasp. But she was firm in her resolve, 
 and mentally rejoiced that Horace was not within; 
 for had that excitable youth been present, the pa- 
 rental dignity would assuredly have received a 
 severe shock. When Pinto was tired of shaldng 
 his daughter, he flung her from him, and stood, 
 with his coat-tails imder his arms, watching the 
 effect of his violence. 
 
 Poor Priscilla staggered back into a chair, 
 with a flushed and angry face, more defiant than 
 ever. Pinto panted, for he was of a bull-necked 
 build, — fat and scant of breath. Priscilla's lips 
 were firmly set, and the sui'geon-apothecary felt 
 he had tin-own away his anger and his violence 
 without producing the desired impression. So 
 now he begged his child's pardon, and declared
 
 160 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 he had but one object in hfe, — ^lier happiness. He 
 whimpered and sobbed, and spoke of his gray 
 hairs and his child's ingratitude, and went the 
 whole stereotyped round of stock phrases peculiar 
 to the " heavy father." He whined about his 
 failing health, the increasing dimness of his sight, 
 the toiling, struggling life he had led, the otium 
 cum dignitate which should reward the affectionate 
 husband and father after a career of honest la- 
 bour. 
 
 At length he paused, for upon the stony coun- 
 tenance of Priscilla there appeared no trace of 
 emotion ; her heart was with Horace, and she paid 
 no attention to her father, who, with his hand- 
 kerchief in his hand, was sawing the air like an 
 orator, and piling high the joarental agony. He 
 paused, but she made him no reply. She stared 
 at him with her pale eyes, but uttered never a 
 word ; and after waiting a momeiit or two for her 
 to speak, the surgeon growled a deep and angry 
 cm'se, and left her. 
 
 Horace returned, and found liis lady-love with 
 red eyelids, and was with difficulty prevented from
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 161 
 
 going at once to Pinto, and defying him to liis 
 face. With the aid of her lover's literary ability, 
 Priscilla sat down and wrote such a refusal to 
 poor Jenkins as had, perhaps, never been penned 
 by lady since love-making came into fashion. It 
 was alternately scornful and cuttingly polite ; 
 much stress was laid upon the extreme honour 
 the surgeon had conferred upon her by the offer 
 of his hand, and a stinging comparison was drawn 
 between the miseries of a London Hfe compared to 
 the dehghts of existence in the Potteries. A clas- 
 sical quotation closed the epistle, which Horace 
 read to Mrs. Pinto with " appropriate action," 
 and which that well-meaning but somewhat shal- 
 low dame pronounced wonderful, but really rather 
 hard upon a worthy young man, who had been 
 very polite and pleasant. 
 
 Mr. Pinto had no suspicion of what was going 
 on. He would as soon have imagined his pupil 
 in love with the Spliinx as Priscilla. So one day 
 when he was seated in liis dining-room making 
 out the list of his patients, he was considerably 
 astonished at the appearance of Horace and his 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 PAID m FULL. 
 
 daughter : tlie former a little pale, and, if truth 
 must be spoken, a trifle tremulous ; but the latter 
 flushed, erect, and defiant. 
 
 " Papa," said Priscilla, in a cold clear voice, — 
 " papa, Horace and myself have just been married. 
 Here is the certificate." 
 
 The sui'geon tmiied deathly pale, and sat back 
 in his chair with a scared look that was really 
 alarming. He then gazed blankly at his daughter 
 and her husband ; but his lips refused to shape a 
 word, and he passed his hand across his brow, and 
 stared, but could say nothing. 
 
 " Papa, we love each other," continued Pris- 
 ciUa, speaking hm-riedly, and with a trace of ten- 
 derness in the altered tone of her voice, for her 
 father's looks frightened her. " Horace knew you 
 would never consent, and so we married without 
 it ; but you will forgive us, and Horace will work 
 very hard and get a capital practice with you to 
 back liim and recommend him ; and then we can 
 all live together, and I won't annoy you with 
 sharp answers and ill tempers, as I know I often 
 have done ; and Horace is a gentleman, and Mr.
 
 m WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 163 
 
 Jenkins wasn't ; and you have often said you 
 wished I would get marriedj and now" (with a 
 great gulp) " I've done it." 
 
 Tliere was the ring of genuine feeling in Pris- 
 cilla's voice as she huiTiedly poured forth her 
 excuses ; but the countenance of the father was 
 still unmoved, and he showed no sign that he 
 heard her as he still stared A^acantly at her face 
 with a blank and bewildered look. 
 
 " I have no particular prospects, sir," said 
 Horace, coming to the rescue rather ungracefiilly, 
 and for the first time trembling before the man 
 he so heartily despised. " I have to fight my 
 way, but I can do it ; I am devoted to Priscilla ; 
 you couldn't expect to monopolise her for ever, 
 you know," — this with a faint and melancholy 
 effort at a smile, — "and you'd have laughed at 
 me if I'd asked your permission ; so make the 
 best of a bad bargain, Mr. Pinto, — father-in-law, 
 — and say you forgive us, and — " 
 
 Horace was almost drifting into the children's 
 climax of " we won't do so any more ;" for he was 
 paying little attention to what he was saying, but
 
 164 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 spoke almost at random, so alarmed was he at the 
 strange wild look upon his father-in-law's face. 
 Mr. Pinto did not reply, but continued to pass his 
 hand across his forehead, and he seemed hardly 
 to be aware that Horace had ceased speaking. 
 At length Priscilla threw her arms round his 
 neck, and looking close into his face, asked him 
 with a sob to forgive her, and smik her head upon 
 his shoulder and wept piteously. The surgeon 
 rose and disengaged himself from her embrace, 
 and buttoned uj) his coat, and stood as he was ac- 
 customed to do when he wished to let a patient see 
 that the interview was over. Priscilla knew the 
 attitude, and a strange fear well-nigh overcame 
 her,- and a dismal foreboding chilled her rash 
 young husband's heart ; for there was something 
 in the manner of the deceived parent that ren- 
 dered him almost dignified, a calmness that pre- 
 saged more than any ebullition of rage. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Bentley," said the surgeon, " you 
 have made your bed; so you must lie. I will 
 not trust myself to say what my opinion of your 
 husband's conduct is. He has chosen to marry
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 165 
 
 a penniless woman clandestinely ; that is liis affair. 
 You must expect notliing from me ; for, as I stand 
 here, I declare to you solemnly you shall never 
 have a shilling of my money. You must leave 
 my house this very day, and never enter it 
 again. Don't say a word. I am going my 
 Bloomsbury round, and shall be gone about 
 three hours. Don't let me find you here Avhen 
 I return." 
 
 The surgeon had spoken these cruel words in 
 a monotonous, low voice, without looking at liis 
 daughter ; and having finished his speech, he took 
 up his hat and gloves and went out straight to liis 
 brouo;ham. 
 
 Priscilla did not faint or go into hysterics. 
 She drew herself uj) to her full height, and with 
 a bright look turned to her husband, and seizing 
 both his hands, said, " Horace deai', we will try 
 to live without him." 
 
 Horace, however, was not so heroic in his 
 bearing; he blamed himself for his rashness, for 
 his selfish want of consideration, and for his folly
 
 166 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 in dragging Priscilla from a sphere of comfort 
 into one of poverty. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Pinto, who had been listening in 
 the passage, and had scuttered off into the sui'gery 
 at the conclusion of her husband's speech, was 
 brought out of that odoriferous apartment more 
 dead than aHve, and completely mmerved her son- 
 in-law, who did not shine by any means in this 
 emergency. Priscilla left her mamma lamenting 
 in the dining-room, and, with the aid of a house- 
 maid, had her trunks packed in no time, and was 
 ready to quit the domestic roof before Mrs. Pinto 
 had properly come round. Tliat good lady was 
 for a general abasement at the feet of the stem 
 father, and pictured Pinto as a modem Coriolanus 
 breaking down before the passionate entreaties of 
 his family. But this Mrs. Bentley wouldn't hear 
 of; and indeed Horace, who would have been 
 glad enough to have made any sacrifice to obtain 
 the father's forgiveness, remembered the cold, 
 hard, cruel look of the little doctor, and prepared 
 for departure with a heavy heart With stream-
 
 IN WHICH HORACE ACTS VERY RASHLY. 167 
 
 ing eyes and many sobs Mrs. Pinto promised to 
 see the unhappy couple continually ; and she fell 
 back swooning into the arms of the servant as the 
 bride and bridegroom started in a musty four- 
 wheeled cab, to spend their honeymoon in the 
 bhssful region of Little Green Street, Soho. 
 
 .'%.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 
 
 Mrs. Molloy's surprise at the arrival of the happy 
 couple expressed itself in the usual verbose and re- 
 dundant fashion of that lady. Not that she was 
 really so delighted as she appeared. Mrs. Molloy 
 had a theory about lodgers. Single gentlemen 
 who dined out were the best, in giving the least 
 trouble, and as being oblivious as to scraps ; maiden 
 ladies, or widows, came next in point of desirabi- 
 lity; and lowest in the scale stood married couples, 
 for the wives had a habit of prying and interfering 
 in a manner highly objectionable to the landlady 
 mind. 
 
 This was perhaps not so generally the case with 
 young married people, billing and cooing being 
 antagonistic to strict economy; but there was 
 something in the sharp features and equally sharp
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 169 
 
 manner of Mrs. Bentley junior which told Mrs. 
 MoUoy that she was not a young married woman 
 to be trifled with. Far above the specimens we 
 have quoted, of course stood that sublime lodger 
 who paid his rent regularly and never came at all. 
 Such a one had Horace been since the abrupt de- 
 parture of his mother. To do Mrs. Molloy justice, 
 she had kept the apartment in a moderately-neat 
 and cleanly condition; and though the windows 
 were rather dirty, and there were traces of rust 
 upon the fire-irons, there was nothing particular 
 for Priscilla to find fault with: and she looked 
 about with a determination to be down upon any 
 evidence of neglect, as Mrs. Molloy observed, to 
 her infinite disgust. Priscilla's temper had been 
 ruffled, and Horace had not spoken two w^ords 
 during the drive fi.'om Bloomsbury to Soho, but 
 had sat gloomily gazing through the window, 
 wrapped in apparently very dismal reflections, and 
 exhibited no inclination to take advantage of the 
 situation, and bestow any endearments upon his 
 new wife. 
 
 It is true the streets were crowded, and the cab
 
 170 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 frequently brought to a standstill by a block ; but 
 still, argued Mrs. Horace to herself, he might have 
 squeezed her hand and said something affectionate. 
 Horace was thinking of his mother. It was strange 
 that she had scarcely ever entered his mind for 
 months ; but now, at the time of his first trouble, 
 his first great difficulty, his mother monopolised 
 his thoughts, and he would have given worlds to 
 have had her at his side to advise him in that 
 gentle, loving voice of hers. What would she say 
 when she heard of his marriage ? She would not 
 upbraid him, of that he was certain ; she was too 
 kind and too devoted to him to think harshly of 
 any thing he chose to do. Would she like his 
 wife? Why not? Priscilla was well informed, 
 as times went ; handsome, amiable (with those she 
 liked), and devoted to him. Was he overwhelm- 
 ingly attached to her himself? Was he what the 
 world called over head and ears in love with her ? 
 Did she seem to him to be immeasurably above all 
 women he had ever seen, ever read about, ever 
 dreamt of? If she had jilted him, and married the 
 Pottery practitioner, would he have gone mad, or
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 171 
 
 committed suicide, or turned misantlirope ; or would 
 he have got over it in time, and married a girlish 
 creature with bright blue eyes and flowing yeUow 
 hair, and have learnt to laugh at the love of his 
 student days? These irritating thoughts would 
 arise ; and as he sat absorbed with his own un- 
 comfortable reflections, Priscilla, on her part, had 
 ample opportunity for considering the great change 
 in her position. 
 
 The most methodical people in the world are 
 frequently the least to be depended upon in emer- 
 gencies when method should assist matters. Pris- 
 cilla would no more have thought of going out for 
 an hour without having previously mapped out in 
 her OAvn mind the route she should take, and the 
 business she should transact, than would a post- 
 man think of going his romids at random. Every 
 act almost of her past life had been accomplished 
 according to a previous mental arrangement ; she 
 had been a piece of domestic clockwork, the most 
 methodical practical damsel in the parish. But the 
 master passion upsets most things, and it had com- 
 pletely capsized the systematic thoughtfulness of
 
 172 PAID m FULL. 
 
 Priscilla. Love and temper combined to obliterate 
 her sense of the propriety of looking before she 
 leapt. Her home was miserable to her; it had 
 never been a very happy one ; she had always 
 been in a false position; and Horace's affection 
 was the first ray of smishine on her life's most 
 dismal path. She had refused to think of the 
 fiiture with an obstinacy which increased with 
 every fresh slight and angry speech from her father. 
 She would look at Horace's handsome face and 
 stalwai-t young form, and determined that dark 
 fears for the future should not rob her of him. A 
 slight reactionary feeling came upon her during 
 tlie cab-ride to Soho. She scarcely knew where 
 she was going ; she had never been to Mrs. Mol- 
 loy's. Tlie marriage had been brought to a very 
 sudden settlement by a more than ordinarily savage 
 outbreak on ]\Ir. Pinto's part, and the future lay 
 before her like a desert, in wdiich her husband's 
 love was the one green spot. 
 
 Horace thought, as he looked round his mother's 
 apartment, that he had never seen it appear so 
 mean, and he mentally resolved that his stay in
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEyS. 173 
 
 Soho should be as limited as possible. Priscilla 
 bustled about, and her rather slirill voice resounded 
 through the little house, and struck terror to the 
 hearts of the young MoUoys, a copious supply of 
 whom were always on hand. 
 
 Priscilla settled into her new sphere in no time. 
 She was an admirable housekeeper ; and she and 
 her husband appeared to live upon an almost 
 nominal sum. Her mother had made her a pre- 
 sent of the trifling purse she had been able to 
 make up during her marriage, and with the money 
 Horace had received for the forthcoming term of 
 lectm-es, they possessed sufficient to carry on with 
 for the present. Horace was one of those sanguine 
 people who never think of the morrow until it 
 comes, and he had that fatal belief in the certainty 
 of something turning up which prevents so many 
 men from shouldering a spade and vigorously turn- 
 ing it up for themselves. " Sufficient unto the 
 day" was his favourite quotation; and so long as 
 he saw a canvas bag of sovereigns lying snugly in 
 the comer of his wife's dressing-case, he boldly 
 ignored the possibility of future poverty. Besides,
 
 174 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 he only wanted another year or so's lectures to fit 
 him for examination ; and once '^ passed," there 
 was a wide field for him, and, as he argued, with 
 a triumphant appeal to Mrs. Molloy (who was 
 never asked her opinion except when Horace was 
 certain it would be given in his favour), was it not 
 a received and acknowledged fact that bachelor 
 doctors stood no chance in comparison with mar- 
 ried medical men ? — a sentiment which Mrs. Mol- 
 loy — as the mother of nine — endorsed most empha- 
 tically. 
 
 All this was very well whilst the sovereigns 
 lasted; but the most careful housekeeper must 
 make an occasional call upon her husband's 
 pocket; and the little canvas bag began to grow 
 lighter ; and those highly necessary articles, coats 
 and trousers, and dresses and bonnets — ^which had 
 never entered into Horace's calculations — made a 
 dreadful inroad upon the Bentley capital. For 
 the first time since his marriage Horace thought 
 on this grave matter ; and as he reflected on his 
 position, his brow became gloomy, and he felt 
 how rasUy he had acted in marrying in haste.
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 175 
 
 He had not been to Mr. Pinto's house since 
 his marriage, and was not without considerable 
 misgivings as to the result of an interview with 
 his father-in-law; but he set out to pay him a 
 visit, trusting that he might have come round 
 since the absence of his daughter. Mrs. Pinto 
 had called once or twice upon them in a hurried, 
 nervous fasliion, as if she was afraid that her 
 husband might bounce in suddenly upon her, and 
 take her back to Bloomsbury like a culprit; but 
 these visits were so depressing, and left poor 
 Priscilla so low-spirited, that Horace was within 
 an ace of telling liis mother-in-law to have her 
 cry outside in the street before she came in, and 
 not let tlie entire neighbom-hood know the mar- 
 riage was against the father's wish by coming in 
 such a smTcptitious and furtive mamier. But, as 
 Priscilla said " mamma was all they had to look 
 to," he contented himself by keeping out of the 
 room, or hmnming unconcernedly at the window, 
 in order to put the folks opposite off the scent. It 
 was perfectly true Mrs. Pinto was all they had to 
 look to; and as Horace watched her, with her
 
 176 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 faded, irresponsible manner, and her reservoir of 
 tears always ready, he sighed to think of the firm 
 build and healthy constitution of the stern doctor, 
 who came of a family noted for longevity, and 
 who never had an ache or a pain from one year's 
 end to the other. When Priscilla hinted to her 
 mamma the uncertainty of the future, or showed 
 her the vacuous condition of the canvas bag, the 
 surgeon's wife only cried, and said, " What is to 
 be done ? what is to be done ?" in a helpless way, 
 with her pale eyes wandering about the room, as 
 if mutely appealing to space to help her to a satis- 
 factory reply. So Horace buttoned up his coat 
 and started to the parental roof, with an inward 
 conviction that his visit would be received with 
 discom'tesy, to say the least ; but he pocketed his 
 pride when he thought of the necessity of doing 
 something, and resolved that nothing should in- 
 duce him to forget the respect due to his wife's 
 father, and prepared to apologise and promise any 
 thing in reason, provided the stern sm-geon would 
 revoke his obstinate vow. 
 
 Mr. Pinto was coming out of his house as
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 177 
 
 Horace came up to the door. He bowed coldly 
 to his son-in-law, and stood waiting to hear his 
 business. 
 
 " I have come, sir," stammered Horace, " with 
 a message from Priscilla." 
 
 Tlie surgeon bowed again, and walked into the 
 front room, Horace following him. 
 
 Horace cleared his throat and endeavom-ed to 
 master his emotion, for the surgeon stood with his 
 head bent slightly, but he never asked his son-in- 
 law to sit down, neither did his manner exhibit 
 any proof that liis daughter's absence had softened 
 his resentment. 
 
 " Priscilla sent her kind love, sir" (a very 
 slight sneer on the surgeon's lip at this), " and I 
 have come to say that as my apprenticeship wiU 
 be at an end in a year — " 
 
 " It is now, Mr. Bentley," replied the sm-geon 
 quickly. " The last instalment of the money has 
 not been paid, will not be paid. I have received 
 a letter from Mr. Stone. His opinion of youi' 
 conduct in clandestinely wedding the daughter of 
 the man beneath whose roof you lived is the same 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 178 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 as mine, and lie has washed his hands of yon. 
 He refuses to pay the rest of the money, and 
 deeply regrets that he ever paid any at all. That 
 being the ease, I have nothing further to do but 
 to hand you your indenture ; had the money been 
 paid, you would have had a claim upon me for 
 rather more than a year's board and lodging ; the 
 money not being paid, of com'se you are no 
 longer my pupil, nor have you any right in my 
 house. I believe you have received a sum of 
 money to pay for your lectm'es, which sum I 
 presume you will retm'u. I have no doubt your 
 mother can ill spare her contribution towards it, 
 and Mr. Stone, though in easy circumstances, 
 cannot afford to waste his money on those who so 
 ill requite his bounty, — ^liis charity." 
 
 Horace felt the blood tingle to the roots of his 
 hair ; and that bitter feeling, which every man 
 experiences when he has humbled himself for a 
 second time and been a second time repulsed, 
 sickened him at heart, and he could have cursed 
 his own stupidity for imagining for a moment that 
 there could have been one sentiment of pity or
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 179 
 
 forgiveness in the bosom of the soulless, sordid 
 little imposter who stood before him. 
 
 By a violent effort (for which he gave himself 
 full credit afterwards) he restrained himself, and 
 simply made some commonplace reply, expressive 
 of perfect indifference to Mr. Stone's determina- 
 tion. Mr. Pinto then said that the indenture 
 should be left out for him ; and Horace bowed and 
 left the house. 
 
 It was about as miserable a tea that evening in 
 Mrs. Molloy's first floor as had ever been partaken 
 of in Soho. Horace, in order to school himself to 
 poverty and shortcommons, made a parade of eat- 
 ing half his usual quantity of bread and butter — 
 though he made up for it at supper, it must be 
 confessed ; and Priscilla sat mending away at 
 forty -finger power, occasionally sighing, but 
 more frequently indulging in denunciations of 
 <^Pa." 
 
 Tlie letter that came from Mrs. Bentley was, as 
 Horace expected it would be, a most kind and 
 loving one ; containing much good advice, and 
 many messages to her daughter-in-law. Priscilla
 
 180 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 had a good cry over it, and Horace's eyes were 
 suspiciously red after his first perusal. The tln-ifty 
 bride, indeed, went so far as to proj)ose that 
 Horace and she should go and live with his mam- 
 ma, clubbing their scanty means, and proving the 
 possibility of the old " enough for one is enough 
 for two" principle ; and adding, that li\'ing in some 
 parts of the country came to scarcely any thing, — 
 a fact for which Priscilla could by no means vouch, 
 for her provincial experience had been confined to 
 occasional visits to second-rate watering-places, 
 where she had passed her time in one continual 
 battle with the landlady of the lodgings. Tliis, 
 however, Horace wouldn't hear of; and he boldly 
 stated his determination to stick to London, as the 
 only place where a man had a chance, and where 
 genius was sure to be recognised. It had been 
 settled long ago that Horace had genius, and he 
 was the last person in the world to disbelieve any 
 thing in his own favour. Not that it was very easy 
 to state what he had ever done to deserve the repu- 
 tation; but there are some people in this world 
 who seem to assume a character for certain qualities
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 181 
 
 as of riglit, and nobody thinks of disputing their 
 claim. There certainly had been a flashy smart- 
 ness in the " papers" which Horace had read at 
 his Essay and Discussion Society, over the tobac- 
 conist's ; but his audience Avas not a higlily critical 
 one, and a very little wit went a great way with 
 those youthful medicos. The privileged few who 
 were let into the secret of the authorship of certain 
 rhymes and short sketches, which appeared at long 
 intervals in the pages of a periodical edited with by 
 no means rigid scrupulosity, were loud in their 
 praises ; but they were mostly of the class which 
 believes in any thing printed ; and though Horace 
 saw his own faults, he was very sharp and indig- 
 nant if they were pointed out to him by another. 
 Tlie Avant of application, to which Mr. Brandle 
 had referred in his letter to Mrs. Bentley on his 
 pupil's departm^e from Wanley Vicarage, was very 
 evident in the multifarious compositions which 
 Horace commenced, only to tlu'ow aside as some 
 new fancy seized him. He had begmi a tragedy, 
 of the severest order, and at the middle of the 
 second act had thrown it down in favour of a
 
 1^2 PAID m FULL. 
 
 farce. He would liave done great things with an 
 essay on the genius of John Hunter, had he not 
 suddenly become enamoured of the Muse, and 
 rushed at a tangent into a poem on the French 
 revolution ; an epic doomed in its turn to be super- 
 seded by a novel of life and character, of which he 
 dashed off half a chapter very spiritedly, and then 
 feeling confused about his plot, put it in the fire, 
 and commenced a comedy. He entertained a wild 
 notion of making a fortmie with his pen, and 
 gave up all views of being a doctor. Now it seems 
 a hard tiling, that a fairly educated yomig gentle- 
 man, of good address and considerable talent, 
 should find himself utterly miable to obtain, mi- 
 aided by " a friend at court," enough to board 
 and lodge and clothe liimself respectably. But so 
 it was with Horace. What could he do, hampered 
 with a wife? Horace had done her a triflinxr 
 wrong, compared with the dire injury she had 
 done him by accepting him and marrying him 
 without the prospect of a penny from any one. 
 Thus argued Horace to himself; and it did not by 
 any means tend to improve his temj)er, or add any
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 183 
 
 extra touch of amiability to his maimer towards 
 his wife. Thej grew poorer and poorer too, and 
 things began to look very desperate indeed. Ho- 
 race was beginning to lose liis self-respect, and 
 from never tliinking of the morrow (he was always 
 in extremes), took to talking of nothing else all 
 day, in the most dismal way; so that really the 
 atmosphere of the first floor at Mrs. Molloy's was 
 about as depressing as could well be conceived; 
 and how it was no grand, gloomy, Manfred-like 
 piece of poetic misery ever came from the pen of 
 Priscilla's husband about this time, passes the com- 
 prehension of the present cln-onicler. Of course, 
 too, it happened that the Molloys had a crowd of 
 their own troubles, at the same dismal season. 
 Tlie Molloys were perfect specimens of that cockney 
 type of small householder, remarkable for an an- 
 nual increase of chilcfren and difficulties. Bailiffs 
 and babies seemed to be their perpetual portion. 
 Poor Mrs. Molloy was a wonderful manager ; but 
 the appetites of growing children are dreadful 
 tilings to encounter ; and a quartern loaf, though a 
 big thing to look at, will only go a certain dis-
 
 184 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 tance, after all. "What with the lodgings, and 
 what with the washino-, and 'Liza's wa^ces at Mrs. 
 Pamum's, and Sarah Jane's little bit of dress- 
 making, and father's occasional presents from his 
 brother abroad, and a good fat hamper every three 
 months from uncle John the farmer and grazier in 
 Gloucestershire, Mrs. MoUoy managed to scrape 
 on somehow, but it was hard work for her to con- 
 trive ; and if the wolf wasn't actually at the door, 
 he was a very little way indeed round the corner. 
 Something was always hovering over the house. 
 Either they couldn't make up the water-rate, or 
 the greengrocer threatened the comity court, or 
 father had run up a score at the public-house, and 
 slaving Mrs. Molloy had to take the money from 
 the rent, and how to foce tlie landlord next quar- 
 ter, she — poor creature — didn't know. Tliis steady, 
 honest, overworked woman might have married a 
 well-to-do shopkeeper, or her cousin the head clerk 
 in a wholesale house, and have lived in comfort ; 
 but she had preferred the thriftless, ne'er-do-well 
 Molloy ; and she had never murmured at her lot, 
 but drudged on for years for that selfish, thanldess
 
 THIS'GS LOOK BAD FOR THE BESTLETS. 185 
 
 chui'l and her ammallj increasing family, and had 
 done her duty with a smile upon her honest face ; 
 and even at the hardest times, with a humble 
 thankfulness at her heart, for the health and strength 
 with whicli Heaven had endowed her. There are 
 many such heroines in this great city ; heroines we 
 never hear of; heroines with coarse red hands, 
 and in cotton gowns, who toil on patiently to tlie 
 end, — struggling, much-enduring women, with the 
 com*age of martyrs. 
 
 There is a freemasonry in poverty', and by cer- 
 tain signs and tokens Mrs. Molloy soon discovered 
 the impecuniositi*' of her first-floor lodgers. To 
 say that a slight feeling of gratified revenge, for 
 tlie haughty manner of the handsome Horace, did 
 not at times suggest itself to her, would be to ig- 
 nore the existence of a universal female attribute, 
 which even the kindliest-hearted women are pos- 
 sessed of. B>^he ratification was of the sHcrhtest, 
 and lasted but a moment ; the honest bosom of the 
 woithy creature warmed towards the yomig couple, 
 and, with the genuine delicacy of a true woman, 
 she treated them with much more attention and
 
 186 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 consideration, now that she felt her prospects of 
 rent to be vague ; whilst those trifling scraps and 
 pickings, which in all lodgings fall to the share of 
 the small fry of the family, were as carefully 
 guarded by Mrs. Molloy's maternal eye, as if they 
 were of untold value and importance. Horace's 
 position would have been a trying one for a man 
 of the firmest principle, and accustomed to look 
 difficulties steadily in the face. This he had never 
 done ; and, indeed, it was not in his natm'e, nor 
 could he school his mind to a calm view of the 
 future. He was always in extremes. He had no 
 notion of earning a bare subsistence by steady in- 
 dustry ; and when it was suggested to him by Mrs. 
 Pinto (who occasionally had faint gleams of com- 
 mon-sense), that he should try to get into an 
 office where he could earn a trifling weekly sum 
 for the present, he received the notion with dig- 
 nified contempt, and won his wife over to his view 
 of it, by picturing her loneliness in the long dismal 
 days, whilst he was away from her wasting his 
 manly bloom in a dingy office with commonplace 
 red-handed, hungry clerks, who would despise liim
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 187 
 
 for liis gentlemanly appearance and ignorance of 
 arithmetic. 
 
 It was this young man's peculiarity, that he 
 could, at the first blush, win over any body to his 
 side by a humorous and picturesque power of put- 
 ting things in a ridiculous light. 
 
 This talent for word-photogi'aphy he would 
 bring to his aid in all arguments ; and he generally 
 gained a temporary triumph by a species of verbal 
 p}Totechny which dazzled and confused the oppos- 
 ing speaker, but the effect of which was seldom 
 lasting. On quitting the society of the smart 
 youth, sober-minded people fomid considerable 
 difficulty in extracting the one grain of real sense 
 from the enormous bushel of chaff with Avhich they 
 had been overwhelmed ; and this gifl of flashy elo- 
 quence, though it sm-prised many, seldom gained 
 its possessor any friends, and succeeded generally 
 in convincing nobody but Horace himself After 
 a tremendous and bewildering effort of tliis kind, 
 Priscilla would sit dumfoundered at the specious 
 shoAv of argument in which her husband indulged ; 
 and it was not until the excitement he had produced
 
 188 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 had somewhat subsided, that her matter-of-fact 
 mind came to the rescue, and she remembered that 
 tlie purse was almost empty, and that every thing 
 going out, and nothing coming in, must inevitably 
 result, sooner or later, in a most unpleasant condition 
 of starvation. It was a disagreeable w^ord even to 
 whisper to oneself, but there was no getting over 
 it, and Priscilla made no attempt to do so, but 
 looked it firmly in the face, and made up her mind 
 to consult Mrs. Molloy. This was of course un- 
 known to Horace, who would have been dreadfully 
 angry had he heard of it. Mrs. Molloy, however, 
 could advise nothing, and only said she would not 
 trouble them for the rent at present ; indeed, she 
 added, with a tender consideration, she would 
 rather receive it quarterly if that would suit Mrs. 
 Bentley. Unless gifted with some special talent 
 in an eminent degree, it is Avonderfully difficult for 
 a married woman of gentle culture to add in any 
 way to her husband's means by the exercise of her 
 industry. She may let lodgings, but that necessi- 
 tates having a house ; and dress- making and tui- 
 tion are about the only callings which can be
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 189 
 
 carried on at home. Horace would never have 
 consented to his wife taking in sewing ; and as to 
 teaching, he pooh-poohed the notion, wilfully ig- 
 noring the recollection of his mother havins; broup-ht 
 him up with the produce of her years of hard 
 teaching. But his mother — as he justly argued 
 for once — was accomplished, a clever pianiste, and 
 possessed of a thorough knowledge of French and 
 Italian. Now, Priscilla's playing was distinguished 
 more for a masculine and defiant touch than any 
 skilfulness of execution, and her theoretic know- 
 ledge of music was very dim indeed ; Avhilst her 
 French had been cruelly nipped in the bud by 
 Mr. Pinto, who thought it would lead to novels 
 and nonsense, and who, priding himself on his 
 John Bullism, struck out the fee to the " Resident 
 PfSisian" after the second quarter, thereby saving 
 his pounds and his principles. Consequently it 
 was very evident that Mrs. Bentley junior's sphere 
 of instruction would have to be limited to children 
 of the tonderest years; and Horace (with that 
 inimitable and dangerous power of his) drew such 
 a picture of Priscilla surrounded by the smallest
 
 190 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 children in Soho, witli spelling-books, halfpenny 
 slatesj and a cane, that she burst into tears at her 
 own incompetency, and we^^t fit to break her 
 heart. 
 
 The twopenny pride, which was one of Horace's 
 bitterest inward enemies, had all along prompted 
 him to turn away and look from the only prospect 
 which was open to him. He might have gone as 
 a day assistant to a sui'geon ; for he knew much of 
 his profession, and the fact of his having studied it 
 for so long, and attended so extensive a course of 
 hospital lectures, would have, no doubt, recom- 
 mended him to many. Added to which he was a 
 gentleman in manner and appearance ; and an 
 imposing exterior is invaluable to a doctor, as he 
 had fi'equently found in his short experience, for 
 the poorer patients were wont to tremble beiteath 
 his searching eye, and to Yie^Y his whiskers with an 
 evident awe. But the " clever fellow Bentley," the 
 smart man who was destined to surprise the fogey 
 faction of the profession, and who was to start a 
 literary medical journal on a new principle, com- 
 bining light readable semi -satirical essays with the
 
 THINGS LOOK BAD FOR THE BENTLEYS. 191 
 
 more solid 25ucl(iing pro^-ided bj the hospital cases, 
 — a kind of chirurgical charivari, which was to 
 open a field for those soaring scribblers who scorned 
 succumbing to the conditions imposed by existing 
 pubhcations (the Editor of the Lancet never would 
 insert Horace's contributions), — ^was he, the idol 
 of a " set" to dwindle down into an micertificated 
 assistant to a surgeon-apothecary ? Never ! The 
 only way to preserve his dignity was to quit the 
 profession for ever ; and he stamped his foot upon 
 the carpet at this climax to liis reflections, as if he 
 had the entire College of Sm-geons beneath liis 
 heel. It was illustrative of the superficiality of his 
 nature, that during his long student-life he had 
 made no firm friend amongst his brotlier pupils, 
 and much to liis ratification no one amono-st his 
 acquaintance took the trouble to seek him out, 
 now that he had left the hospital. Tracing back 
 his list of companions from liis school-days, liis 
 mental finger paused at the almost-forgotten name 
 of Joe Pulling. Since Pulling and Horace had 
 paii;ed at the inn in Oxford Street, on the day 
 they both left Mr. Braiidle's for good, the clieerv
 
 192 PAID m FULL. 
 
 freckled face of his old companion had seldom 
 risen to the memory of Horace. Tliere used to be 
 something so genial and hearty about dear old Joe, 
 that Horace felt assured he would be the best per- 
 son he knew to put him in the way of doing some- 
 thing until (always this reservation) fortmie gave 
 him an opportunity of dazzling the world with a 
 sudden outburst of genius. So the yomig husband 
 took his hat and set out to the City to see his old 
 friend Joseph Pulling, whose father was a whole- 
 sale something or other, but he didn't know exactly 
 what, but knew it was something in which j^cople 
 made a m'eat deal of money, with ledo-ers and 
 invoices, and bills of lading and other mercantile 
 materials, the importance of which was sadly 
 undervalued by the aristocratic Horace, who was 
 at that moment possessed of about seven pounds 
 fom'teen shillings capital.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt' s knowledge of lirnnan nature was 
 by no means profound, else she would have rested 
 satisfied with the failure of Lady Glenbuni's anti- 
 Ledbitter movement, and have devoted her atten- 
 tion to matters which more nearly concerned her- 
 self. But the housekeeper was a restless, fidgety, 
 obstinate, self-willed woman, and she despised her 
 mistress for her pusillanimity, and told her so; 
 not using the expression we have done to denote 
 her opinion, but a shorter, more decided, but less 
 agreeable word. For Mrs. Gaunt, though she had, 
 according to Lord Glenburn, seen better days, 
 was not a woman of much cultivation ; and when 
 she lost her temper, — a frequent occurrence with 
 her, by the way, — she was accustomed to lamich 
 forth into such very strong language, that Led- 
 VOL. 1,
 
 194 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 bitter, hearing it one day in the distance, chuckled 
 considerably for so stolid a person, and listened to 
 catch more with much eagerness. The failure of 
 her mistress in inducing his lordship to casliier 
 his man rankled in the Gaunt bosom, and made 
 her almost mibearable in those regions where she 
 held undisputed sway. The proudest footman in 
 the house felt the effects of Mrs. Gamit's ruffled 
 temper; the noblest and most solemn of those 
 great creatures, a man who possessed the dignity 
 of a dozen dulses, before whose stalwart form 
 smaller mortals trembled in their insignificance, 
 — even Pilkington, who seemed to have been born 
 in powder, and to have been measured for the 
 front door at Glenburn's, where he would stand 
 at times like a triumph of the sculptor's art, stern, 
 stately, and motionless, — Pilkington was pulled up 
 quite short by the housekeeper, and on her retire- 
 ment was left stammering. There was no ma- 
 tronly reserve about Mrs. Gaunt when she spoke 
 her mind. Her mind w^as a very strong one, and 
 when it found expression m vf ords, they were of 
 a correspondingly vigorous character. Poor Pil-
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 195 
 
 kington was equally surprised and disgusted at 
 tlie liouse]vee23er denominating him ^^a cluiclde- 
 lieaded aj)e;" wliicli, being overheard bj a sar- 
 castic page, produced much misery in the ser- 
 vants' hall for the outraged footman in question, 
 and led to his eventually " resigning," and seek- 
 ing an establishment Vvdiere, as he expressed it, 
 the " housekeeper was not a fiendish." 
 
 It was in vain that the domestics appealed to 
 Mr. Ledbitter. He was in his lordship's confi- 
 dence ; his lordship listened to every thing Led- 
 bitter said, and was well known to take his valet's 
 advice upon all matters. Why, then, would not 
 Mr. Ledbitter, like a kind creature as he was, 
 just lay the complaint before his master, and say 
 a good word for his fellow-servants, wlio were 
 being fluttered like Yolscians in their magnificent 
 dove-cot by that most relentless eagle Mrs. Gaunt. 
 No ; Mr. Ledbitter thanked them ; not if he knew 
 it. He vras very sorry for the discomforts they 
 suffered; but he might remind them that the 
 world w£is wide, and there were more houses 
 where footmen were kept than the particular do-
 
 196 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 micile in whicli tliev served. At all events he 
 should not interfere. He mio-lit snfFer himself, 
 but it should be in silence. He mio-ht think 
 Mrs. Gaunt an angel upon earth, or something 
 else not so serapliic, but he kept his opinions to 
 himself, and ad\dsed those who -svished to stay to 
 do the like. So the Gaunt incubus settled heavily 
 on the domestic department, and there was much 
 melancholy and fiirtive interchange of sotto voce 
 invective amongst the oppressed dwellers below 
 stairs. This higlily pleasant person did not con- 
 fine her \4tuperative powers to the meaner portion 
 of the establishment however, but indulged in 
 much secret animadversion, when in her mis- 
 tress's boudoir, touching the timidity of her lady- 
 ship in not again reverting to the Ledbitter topic. 
 But Lady Glenbum had experienced one proof 
 that the latent Hon in her husband's nature only 
 slumbered, and she shuddered as she thought of 
 the danger of again arousing him. 
 
 After the first plunge into the sea of squab- 
 bling, when once the loving couple discover 
 that, notwithstanding the absorbing nature of
 
 LEDBITTEE LAYS A LUTLZ OF THE TRATX. 197 
 
 their affection, they can still find time to dis- 
 agree, it is strange how often thev plavfdlly 
 contradict each other for the mere pleasure ap- 
 parentij of getting up a mimic dispute. In the 
 early coaxing days of wedded life, when caress- 
 ing and speechless looks of love are supposed to 
 belong, as matters of course, to that saccharine 
 season, a trifling attempt at a tiff comes as a 
 stolen treat, a forbidden delight, and is enjoyed 
 accordingly. But this pleasure paUs; and time 
 and the tax - gatherers soon rob the domestic 
 quarrel of the romance which sxuTounded it 
 when it was a tender dispute, unimportant and 
 experimentaL When newly-married couples are 
 past a certain age, this same squabbling is a 
 perilous pleasure to indulge in ; and so Lady 
 Glenbum found it ; for as ill luck would hare 
 it, Glenbum's gout gave him a strong reminder 
 of its existence, and the sharp pangs of the 
 hereditary plague by no means improved his 
 temper. A new annoyance too had lately arisen 
 to torment him. He had been greatiy proud of 
 his wife's beauty and fiiscinatincr manners, TVhen
 
 198 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 he was confined to liis room lie had ample leisure 
 to reflect on any thing he liked ; and as he made 
 a rule of never reading, and didn't care to think 
 much of the j)ast, his thoughts concentrated upon 
 her ladyship, and the marked manner in which 
 men gathered round her in public, and how much 
 at her ease she appeared with them ; hea\y- 
 whiskered soldiers, sharp sarcastic legal guns, 
 simpering titled inanities, and in fact the genus 
 homo generally. ISTo one, except those very dear 
 jfriends who look so carefully after other people's 
 reputations that they are apt to entirely neglect 
 their own, could have found fault with Lady 
 Glenburn's manner in public. She spoke rather 
 loudly perhaps, but so did very many high ladies 
 of Glenburn's acquaintance ; she said silly things 
 with a laugh that showed her teeth, but what teeth 
 they were ! and how many women of fashion did 
 Glenburn know who said silly things and laughed 
 loudly withoiit possessing a tooth that didn't trace 
 its origin to the tusk of the rhinoceros ? Her 
 ladyship wore a heightened colom- after a glass 
 or so of wine at dinner; but that was nothing
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 199 
 
 SO uiiusualj and dyspepsia was the demon of the 
 age. She loved waltzing, and boldly declared 
 she could dance till she dropped, with a good 
 partner ; but she was young, and the exercise 
 was known to be healthy. Still, as Glenburn 
 sat up in his room with a swollen foot, and no- 
 thing to employ his mind, argue as he woidd, he 
 chafed and fretted greatly, for there was one 
 stern truth ever present, the hard fact of the 
 disparity between the ages of himself and his 
 wife. Lady Glenburn, though a fine showy im- 
 pressive woman, was in years little more than a 
 girl ; whilst he was growing whiter as to whisker 
 every day, and the crow's feet romid the sunken 
 eyes seemed to have increased every time he 
 looked at the glass. When alone in the morn- 
 ing in his room, before Ledbitter had apphed 
 the marvellous dye, and arranged the scanty 
 hair, so as to look twice its real quantity, and 
 touched up the battered nobleman in a dozen 
 wonderful ways unlaiown to the world, Glenburn 
 seemed a sallow, evil -eyed elderly man. His 
 form was still erect ; and had he boldly ventui'ed
 
 200 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 forth, despising the assistance of art, he would 
 have looked a striking figure of a handsome 
 though sinister person, past the prime of life, 
 but still an imposing-looking nobleman enough. 
 As it was, the very means he adopted to take in 
 observers defeated themselves, for his artificial 
 get-up induced people to think that he was 
 much older and more shaky than he really was. 
 Her ladyship required none of the trickery of 
 the toilet to render her fit for public inspection. 
 She could bear the gaze of guests at the break- 
 fast-table unflinchingly, conscious of the genuine- 
 ness of the colour on her countenance ; her large 
 eyes flashing without the incentive of excitement, 
 and her glossy black hair courting the glances of 
 the tell-tale sun. Glenburn's faith in woman was 
 not profomid. He argued from his own exj)eri- 
 ences, and it must be confessed he had seen much 
 to favour his adverse opinion. From his earliest 
 days he had looked upon a woman's love as a 
 fanciful excuse for the poet's ravings, a theme on 
 which to hang an opera ; but not a thing to be 
 believed in by commonplace mortals, who were
 
 LEDBITTEE LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 201 
 
 content to credit what they saw and nothing else. 
 A mari'ied roud is said to make the most jealous 
 of husbands. So it certainly was with Glenburn, 
 who, without any cause, chafed up in his room 
 as he heard her ladyship's light laugh as she 
 passed the door, and he caught a glimpse of his 
 gray hair in the looking-glass. 
 
 Without any cause — of course, without any 
 actual reason for feeling jealous, and with no 
 suspicion of the attentions of any visitor. Still 
 Mr. Ledbitter was such a wonderful adept in 
 the art of saying a very little, meaning very 
 much, that he had — perhaps unwittingly — given 
 his master considerable annoyance by trifling re- 
 marks which no other person living would have 
 noticed. Lord Glenbm^n was always unable to 
 get on without his valet ; but wdien suffering 
 from gout, Ledbitter was as necessary to him as 
 the air he breathed; for he broke down very 
 piteously when " the fit was on him," and he 
 would turn in an almost fawning spirit of friend- 
 ship to the sharer of his wicked secrets, his faith- 
 ful companion through so many heartless years.
 
 202 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 During these prostrating attacks tlie valet would 
 move about the room with the slightest symptom 
 of a smile upon his generally demui'e face ; and as 
 Glenburn groaned aloud at the pangs of his arch- 
 enemy, Ledbitter would look down upon his 
 master with his large eyes beaming with a strange 
 expression by no means suggestive of condolence. 
 Still he would listen very eagerly to hear the 
 doctor's opinion, and would question him with 
 much earnestness on his way out as to the possi- 
 bility of a serious termination to the disorder; 
 and on being assured that the attack Avas only 
 temporary, and nothing need be apprehended, 
 he would sigh with a genuine feehng of relief, 
 which the physician thought did honour to him, 
 but which was perhaps not prompted by motives 
 of mere affection. 
 
 Of course, IMr. Ledbitter wished his master to 
 live, for many reasons. Had Glenburn died com- 
 fortably in his bed, and been followed to the grave 
 by a beautiful widow, really mourning the loss of 
 her late husband ; had he left his affairs mode- 
 rately disentangled, and with his name regilt from
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 203 
 
 the respectable lialo wliicli liad suiToimded liis 
 latter dajs, — Ledbitter would have broken his 
 heart in bitter rage and disappointment. For he 
 never for an instant forgot the vow of his youth ; 
 the recollection of his stern father's dying com- 
 mand, and of his own early blighted love, had 
 not faded ever so slightly from liis memory. In 
 the busy day, when surromided by the buzz and 
 hum of the idle world of fashion — taldng its idle- 
 ness, oh, so laboriously ! — in the deatlily stillness 
 of the night, would the features of his lost Lily 
 be ever present to his view ; and close to his 
 breast, miknown to any one but liimself, he wore 
 a small locket containing her portrait, limned with 
 no great sldll, but a striking likeness of the httle 
 girl he had loved in liis uncoutli fashion with his 
 whole heart and soul. 
 
 A commonplace and vulgar vengeance was 
 altogether repugnant to the valet's feelings; and 
 indeed the oath imposed upon him by liis parent 
 had forbidden such a rough-and-ready sort of 
 revenge. A blow for a blow in a fair fight was 
 correct enough; but when a man has laid his
 
 204 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 plans with deep thought and cunning, and has at 
 last entrapped his victim by strategy and craft, 
 the avenger should remember this, and should 
 take a lesson of his enemy, and Avork on beneath 
 the sm-face for years if need be, and select an 
 opportunity for a final blow, when a kind of dclat 
 will be given to the chmax, by the sudden and 
 terrible nature of the retribution. 
 
 Tims argued Ledbitter. A lumdred times could 
 he have struck his master down without fear of 
 the consequences. In their travels opportunities 
 had arisen over and over again ; but the valet 
 scorned to avail himself of them ; and no man was 
 safer from the clutch of his enemy than was Lord 
 Glenburn when the razor played around his chin 
 in the skilful grasp of the nimble-fingered Led- 
 bitter. His manner, too, had ever been such as 
 to allay any suspicion, supposing any doubts of 
 his servant to have existed in the master's mind. 
 Always respectful before the world, when closeted 
 w^ith the rou4 lord the valet had taken an interest 
 in his trickeries and amom's which delighted Glen- 
 bm'n, who was not without a certain pride which
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 205 
 
 prevented his confiding his shameful secrets to 
 any of his own rank, but who had gradually got 
 to look upon his valet as a sort of second con- 
 science ; for Ledbitter was so painfully respectable 
 that he seemed like a living embodiment of the 
 whole code of morality, and it was quite a com- 
 foi-t to have so demure a person to confide in. 
 
 The absence of reproach on Ledbitter's part 
 lent an almost reputable air to some of Glenburn's 
 villanies; for it was part of the valet's scheme 
 that his master should enjoy life after his own 
 sensual fashion ; and once or twice when Glen- 
 burn had been ill, and had admitted with fear 
 and trembling that he dreaded death, and im- 
 plored the doctors to use all their skill to keep 
 away the grisly phantom, Ledbitter would whisper 
 to himself, " This is well ;" and he would watch 
 the return of strength to the frame of the cowardly 
 peer with very genuine satisfaction. 
 
 He had, upon first hearing of his master's 
 marriage, given way to much invective, and trem- 
 bled somewhat for the safety of his scheme ; but 
 of late he had become not only reconciled to the
 
 206 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 improved social condition of Glenburn, but had 
 planned out a new line of conduct entirely, and 
 experienced mucli inward satisfaction at tlie pre- 
 sent state of tilings. But on one matter tlie valet 
 was not positive. He was anxious to know if liis 
 master was jealous of liis handsome wife. Once 
 assured of this, he possessed the means of conti- 
 nually irritating his lordship in his own quiet 
 way; for though he waited with philosophic pa- 
 tience for the culmination of his revengeful plans, 
 he was not insensible to the pleasure of inflicting 
 annoyance at will upon the nobleman who paid 
 him his wages. Gout having attacked Glenbui^n 
 a day or so before a party at Portman Square, he 
 had been unavoidably absent from the festivities, 
 and had growled away the evening in his own room. 
 
 " I wish the people would go, confound them!" 
 he exclaimed, as the music again struck-up down 
 stairs. 
 
 Ledbitter was moving about the room quietly 
 arranging it; for his master had flung things a 
 good deal about, and the bump of order was 
 strongly developed in the Ledbitter cranium.
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIX. 207 
 
 ^^Bali!" ejaculated Glenburn, as some more 
 tlian usually loud strain readied liis ears. " Too 
 many parties altogether." Tliis was said to liim- 
 self, but it did not escape the ears of the valet, 
 
 " Tlie yomig expect pleasure, my lord," he 
 said in a voice ten times more than ordinarily 
 irritatiucr from the soothincr tone assumed. 
 
 " J don't want any parties," grunted Glenburn. 
 
 The self-evident reply would have been that 
 his lordsliip was not young; but Ledbitter, it is 
 needless to say, did not make that remark. 
 
 " Yom- lordsliip seems to have lost aU taste 
 for society." 
 
 Ledbitter had been told to chat with his master 
 and amuse him. He had read liim all -the news 
 he thought Glenbm-n would care about, and it was 
 really a hard matter to find subjects for conversa- 
 tion, which might possibly account for the gene- 
 rally judicious valet touching on a ticklish topic. 
 
 " I never cared for so-called ' society ;' you 
 know that. I hate pai-ties, and the people I meet 
 at parties. The men of the present day are a con- 
 temptible set of prigs, with their haw-haw man-
 
 208 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 ners and calm insolence. How on earth Lady 
 Glenburn can get on with them, / can't under- 
 stand." 
 
 " The novelty of such society, my lord, per- 
 haps may have charms for her ladyship." 
 
 Glenburn turned towards his servant angrily 
 at this, but almost immediately recovered his 
 comparative equanimity. 
 
 " Her ladyship does get on with them, there's 
 no doubt about it," continued Ledbitter, in a half- 
 musing manner. 
 
 His lordsliip moved his leg and shifted his 
 position, and seemed uneasy, but did not reply. 
 
 "A curious case that of Mrs. Mount Edging- 
 ton, my lord ; we servants often hear the ins and 
 outs of these matters." 
 
 "Yes," thought the peer; "but you'll never 
 know the ins and outs of the one matter you have 
 so long desired to become thoroughly acquainted 
 with, my man." 
 
 " What's the Mount Edgington business, 
 then?" Glenburn asked this without the least 
 tone of interest in his voice.
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIK. 209 
 
 " Oh, my lord J the old stoiy — the old story." 
 
 The valet was putting away some of his noble 
 master's clothes with extreme care, and his man- 
 ner exhibited no greater a desire to descant upon 
 the subject mentioned than did Glenburn's to hear 
 more about it. They were both acting, and act- 
 ing remarkably well. Glenburn had a faint sus- 
 picion of what Ledbitter's "old story" meant 
 from previous report, but still, though he knew^ its 
 recital would aimoy him, he was anxious to hear 
 liis valet's accomit of and opinion of the scandal. 
 
 "What do you mean by the 'old story,' 
 Ledbitter?" said the peer in an almost pleasant 
 voice. 
 
 " Well, my lord, a bit of a girl marrying an 
 elderly man ; and the bit of a girl getting tired 
 of her husband and. his old-fashioned pmictiHo, 
 and all that sort of thing; and regretting the 
 match, and running off with a handsome young 
 fellow of five-and-twenty. That's what I call the 
 old story. — What uncommonly bad dje that last 
 has turned out! your lordship's whiskers might 
 never have been touched." 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Despite Glenburn's previous assumption of in- 
 difference, liis face at this moment was a study for 
 a painter, so heavy and black a look came over his 
 features, so deep and angry a flush rose to his 
 brow. Ledbitter looked another way almost be- 
 fore he had completed the sentence, but he knew 
 the look that was on liis lordship's face ; instinct 
 told him it was there, and he felt that indescrib- 
 able satisfaction an orator experiences when he 
 knows his deHcate sarcasm has galled the opposi- 
 tion, though no cheer follow it— no visible evi- 
 dence of the effect be apparent. 
 
 " Mount Edgington was a fool !" he exclaimed 
 presently. 
 
 " For marrying the young lady, my lord?'' 
 
 " No ; for not keeping his eye upon her 
 when he had married her — for letting a parcel 
 of jackanapes come buzzing romid her. He 
 should have looked after his wife better, the 
 idiot!" 
 
 Another pause, his lordship apparently miable 
 ta overlook the wilful blindness of Mount Edging- 
 ton, for he gave vent to continual ejaculations
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 211 
 
 expressive of disgust and contempt for that gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 "Her ladyship looks lovelier than ever to- 
 nightj my lord," said the valet, as he desisted 
 from his previous labour and took from a table 
 the medicine his master had been ordered ; 
 " doesn't look above nineteen, so people say." 
 
 " Who are the ' people' ? If I hear of any 
 of the servants making remarks about Lady Glen- 
 burn, I'll order Mrs. Gaunt to pack them off on 
 the instant." 
 
 " Folks will talk, my lord, and I hear remarks . 
 from other people's servants besides om^s." 
 
 "Well, don't bother me with their observa- 
 tions. Her ladyship may look nineteen or ninety, 
 it's no business of any body's. Tliere's colchi- 
 chum in that, I know — detestable weakening 
 stuff. I thought homoeopathy and common-sense 
 had done away with those powerful remedies." 
 
 " Oh, my lord, your constitution, considering 
 the hfe you have led and your years, is a strong 
 one, and will stand violent remedies." 
 
 Tliere vras something remarkably mipleasant
 
 212 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 in the phrase "your years/' and Glenburn winced 
 at it. He took the medicine, however, without 
 farther remark. 
 
 " My lady has not been up this evening, my 
 lord?" 
 
 " ITo ; she prefers the society of — " 
 
 ^^ Captain Atherton, my lord." 
 
 Glenbm-n forgot his gout in a moment, and 
 wheeling Ms chair round suddenly faced his valet 
 and fiercely demanded what he meant. 
 
 Ledbitter had meant nothing ; but his lordship 
 having paused, the valet had finished the sentence 
 as he imagined it had been intended to conclude. 
 
 " Come, man, you don't drop hints for no- 
 thing. Tell me what you mean? if you don't, 
 I'll — I'll — " and Glenburn looked about helplessly 
 but savagely too. 
 
 " Dear, dear !" said the valet regretfully ; 
 ^^ what a fool I am, to be sure ! and yom' lord- 
 ship expressly ordered to keep, quiet and not ex- 
 cite yourself. Of course I meant nothing ; dear 
 me, dear me ! only to think now that I should be 
 so indiscreet as to say such a thing !"
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 213 
 
 "Look ye here, Ledbitter; I'm in no mood 
 for half-confidences or beating about the bush; 
 I'm infernally enraged, and I'll stand no non- 
 sense ; I'll know what you mean by coupling 
 Captain Atherton's name with my wife's. I'll 
 know it from your lips, or I'll ring and have her 
 ladyship up here — I will, Ledbitter! — and con- 
 front you, if you won't speak now." 
 
 The pm'ple veins swelled like ropes in his lord- 
 ship's forehead, and he clenched liis fingers as he 
 spoke, and rose to grasp the bell. Ledbitter 
 shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyes to the 
 ceihng, and made a deprecatory movement with 
 his hand, and seemed greatly shocked at the con- 
 sequences -of his indiscretion. What was there, 
 he argued in a bland tone, and with an unruffled 
 comitenance, — what was there in the idle and silly 
 chit-chat of the world ? Yomig ladies went home 
 from parties and confided the nonsensical results 
 of their evening's observation to their babbling 
 waiting-maids, who told another miscliief-loving 
 Abigail, who told a third; and so it got about, 
 the snowball increasing as it rolled. How was it 
 ha t the would-be sootliing style of Mr. Ledbitter
 
 214 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 had an entirely opposite effect upon liis master? 
 The composing cbaught, if it doesn't induce re- 
 pose, generally rouses the patient to increased 
 irritability or delirium. So it was with the po- 
 tion Mr. Ledbitter apparently intended to allay 
 Glenburn's excitement; it simply increased the 
 nobleman's rage and threw him into a fit of un- 
 controllable anger. Ledbitter looked perhaps a 
 trifle paler as his master stormed ; but in his in- 
 most heart he felt a keen satisfaction, for he knew 
 that the first instalment of his lonor-standin^: debt 
 was approaching payment. 
 
 Glenburn was the kind of man to feel the 
 pangs of jealousy very keenly. He was intensely 
 vain, and in his own way excessively proud. He 
 had heard nothing but praise of his wife since his 
 marriage, and the mere suspicion of evil report 
 galled him to the quick. Lady Glenburn had be- 
 come more frivolous in her tastes of late. At first 
 she had been evidently dazzled and delighted with 
 her splendid surroimdings, and took to her title as 
 a child does to its new toy. But all this had long 
 worn off w^ith continual contact with the great 
 world, and her ladyship^now took her pleasure
 
 LEDBITTER LAYS A LITTLE OF THE TRAIN. 215 
 
 in the calmest and most natural manner, and 
 amongst other fashionable improvements she 
 adopted the aristocratic custom of paying very 
 little attention to her husband. On the present 
 occasion her neglect savoured of actual unkind- 
 ness ; for she had been enjoying herself among 
 the guests downstairs without a thought for the 
 nobleman who had given her a position and title, 
 and who was chafing in his room from the com- 
 bined effects of gout and jealousy. 
 
 ^' I'll speak to her to-morrow — I'll speak to 
 her to-morrow," said Glenburn as he wiped his 
 brow with his handkercliief, after a lengthened 
 display of vehemence. 
 
 As Mr. Ledbitter opened the door to give 
 some direction downstairs, he fancied he caught a 
 glimpse of a dress he Imew by sight. The wearer 
 of the dress was hurrying oflP, evidently to avoid 
 being seen. 
 
 "Dear me!" said the valet to himself; "a 
 respectable person like Mrs. Gaunt listen at 
 doors ! I really should never have thought such 
 a thing of her."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE '' GOOD FELLOW." 
 
 It is a very uncomfortable feeling, tliat of being 
 without money, thought Horace Bentley, as he 
 pushed his way through the crowd of home- 
 returning clerks, for whom the Little-Green- 
 Street genius felt a very strong inward contempt, 
 though their firm-looking boots and stout broad- 
 cloth struck envy to his heart. It is a dismal 
 thing for a young man who prides himself on 
 his personal appearance, when the tell-tale crack 
 starts in the carefully polished " Oxonian," and 
 the hat, brushed and examined every morning 
 w^ith such scrupulous attention, exhibits a poverty 
 as to nap and a brownness as to hue, suggestive 
 of a lengthened season of hard wear, of scorching 
 sun, and drenching shower. Then, how agonis- 
 ing the discovery of the frayed edge of the trou-
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 217 
 
 sers, which, had they not exhibited an abnormal 
 ftJness at the knee, might have lasted ever so 
 long with a little skilful management and gentle 
 treatment. The shininess of the coat-cuff, too, 
 carries with it a bitter pang to the proud wearer ; 
 and the noblest nature has been known to suc- 
 cumb beneath the shaming Influence of a button- 
 less waistcoat. Horace had faUen Into good 
 hands as regarded mending, when he married 
 Priscilla. She was one of those people who 
 seem to be bom with a needle in their hands. 
 She was a sempstress at soul, and no kind of 
 sewing came amiss to her. She had the most 
 wonderful eye for " cutting-out,*' and she had 
 made her own dresses from a very tender age. 
 There was a theory, broached originally by a 
 bold student, named Darcy (who was supposed to 
 have been refused by the daughter of the house), 
 and subscribed to by the more contemptuous of 
 Pinto's pupils, that PrisciUa made her own bon- 
 nets ; but we are not in a position to state whether 
 this was true or not. However, she contrived to 
 dress, and to dress very neatly too, upon about a
 
 218 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 third of what most young ladies of her position in 
 Bloomsbury were in the habit of being allowed 
 for self-decoration. As to Pinto, he was kept 
 dapper and shiny in the most marvellons manner 
 by his nimble-fingered daughter, and he scarcely 
 ever troubled the tailor ; for Priscilla would 
 mendj and alter, and re-bind, and re-button, 
 and 2^atch artfully, and touch uj) generally witli 
 .such dexterity, that Pinto would go out in his 
 brougham with a new gloss on him ; and what 
 with a great deal of eye-glass, and bald head, 
 and shirt-fi'ont, he would look, as old ladies often 
 remarked, "quite aristocratic." Horace, who 
 was always sarcastic, had described his decep- 
 tive appearance as an "imposing presence;" but 
 by those who didn't scrutinise too closely, Pris- 
 cilla's papa had always been considered a very 
 well-dressed man. ]\irs. Pinto's toilet had been 
 allowed to take care of itself a good deal, for 
 that poor lady aimed at an air of eccentric dow- 
 dyism, and was supposed to dress after the por- 
 trait of a favourite authoress, who, in the frontis- 
 piece to her works, looked very much as if she
 
 THE '' GOOD FELLOW." 219 
 
 had been aroused by cries of fire in tlie middle 
 of the night, and had seized upon that eligible 
 opportunity for having her likeness taken. Poor 
 Horace's clothes had been tinkered and touched 
 up with great skill, for Priscilla evidently be- 
 lieved in the old adage that it was never too late to 
 mend ; but as he paced the crowded streets, and 
 elbowed the dapper City clerks who were getting 
 their guinea a week and doing well on it, he cer- 
 tainly felt an inward contempt for those talents he 
 knew that he possessed, but which were leading 
 him to nothing, and only prompting him to des- 
 pise those honest hard workers who were content 
 to trudge on and pay their way respectably. 
 
 The office in which Joe Pulling had declared, 
 some years back, he was destined to pass the day 
 on a high stool, was up a side street where there 
 were wagons, and bales, and barrels, and cranes, 
 and a close smell of tar and sti'aw, and men at 
 counting-house windows with pens behind their 
 ears, sitting before great dull-looking volumes, all 
 figures, but amidst all the commonplace bustle of 
 business, a silent evidence of prosperity, and money-
 
 220 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 ' making, and contentment. Horace was in, to liim, 
 an unknown region ; he knew nothing of bales of 
 goods, of invoices, of bills of lading ; and it would 
 have sorely puzzled him to give a correct definition 
 of a " dry Salter." But there was something in the 
 genius of the place which commanded his respect ; 
 and when at last he discovered the establishment 
 of his old schoolfellow, it was by no means with 
 any feeling of contempt that he mounted the steps 
 and knocked at the counting-house door. Mr. 
 Joseph was in another room engaged with a gen- 
 tleman, and would Horace send in his name. In 
 an instant Joe came dashing out of the room, 
 almost upsetting a pale little clerk on his proba- 
 tion, who was perched like a monkey on a In'gh 
 stool, and Avas making frightful blots and errors 
 with a tremendous steel pen. 
 
 "What, Bentley!" 
 
 " Why, Joe !" 
 
 And the tsvo old friends shook hands as if they 
 were determined on dislocation at the very least. 
 How strangely delightftil it is to meet in after life 
 an old loved schoolfellow, of whom we have lost
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 221 
 
 sight since adverse currents parted us on the broad 
 rushing river of life ! When the heart has grown 
 a trifle callous from contact with the world ; when 
 selfish surroundings have somewhat deadened the 
 warm friendly impulses to which we once were 
 prone ; when we have learnt to commence any 
 acquaintanceship with suspicion, and take for 
 granted nothing friendly that we cannot account 
 for in some mean way ; when we have learnt to 
 sneer and to be cynical, and to affect a contempt 
 for most things, and despise and try to hide the 
 tears which rise, spite of our efforts, when we see 
 a touching play or read a tale of sorrow; — then 
 comes the greeting of a dear old school-friend, like 
 a glowing sun upon the icy heart, thawing the 
 cold hard covering, and letting free once more the 
 bright and leaping waters. Horace had grown 
 old in a little time ; but the honest, friendly grasp 
 of his schoolfellow brought tears of delight into his 
 eyes ; and he saw Joe as he had last beheld him — 
 short-coated, shining and freckly, laughing gaily 
 on the coach, whilst the autumn breeze blew about 
 his sandy hair. 'No very great change had taken
 
 222 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 place in the outward appearance of Mr. Pulling 
 junior. Witli the exception of an enormous pair 
 of wliiskers, wliicli met under Ms cliin, and pre- 
 mature symptoms of baldness, Joe Pulling was 
 mucli the same as ever, and in his laughing look 
 and cheery voice he was the same " Old Joe" of 
 the Rev. Mr. Brandle's estabHshment. 
 
 " Come in," said Pulling ; " there's nobody 
 with me but Charley Tindal; you won't mind 
 him. He's a good feUow ; one of those clever 
 chaps who never do any good for themselves, you 
 know." 
 
 Horace blushed deeply at the description of 
 Mr. Tindal, for he felt it apphed exactly to his 
 own case ; but the counting-house of Pulling 
 Brothers was not particularly light, so Joe didn't 
 see the eflPect of liis remark. 
 
 Mr. Charley Tindal was sitting with his feet 
 upon the edge of his friend's desk, and exliibited 
 no appearance of being awed by the business-hke 
 and methodical atmosphere of the surrounding 
 region. He was evidently not in the mercantile 
 line himself, for there was a half-rakish look about
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 223 
 
 the lopsided position of his hat, and an amomit of 
 knobbiness in the blackthorn stick he held in his 
 hand, altogether incompatible with commercial 
 pursuits. He was not a bad-looking person, but 
 there was an air of indescribable impudence about 
 him, which, combined with a free and familiar 
 manner on the shortest acquaintance, rather stag- 
 gered you, producing a doubt as to whether he 
 should be cordially received upon his own terms, 
 or incontinently kicked. He was one of those 
 people who get a universal reputation for being 
 '* a good fellow." Every body spoke of him as a 
 man who was his own enemy, capable of doing 
 great things ; one who frittered away his talents ; 
 a man who might do much if he'd only stick to 
 something; and toned down the true reading of 
 his character in twenty other charitable stock 
 phi'ases. But every body agreed he was a " good 
 fellow." Oh, yes, there was no denying Charley's 
 shortcomings ; but after all he was a good fellow. 
 These same good fellowl are the springs of more 
 mischief than the world gives them blame for, 
 possessing, as they do, the means of doing much
 
 224 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 ill ill a very pleasant way, but with a no less per- 
 nicious effect, for all that. They generally have 
 open countenances and a pleasant ringing laugh ; 
 they call you " my boy" and " old chap" the first 
 time they meet you ; they have a knack of clap- 
 ping you on the back and poking you in the ribs ; 
 they have always a stock of anecdote on hand for 
 any emergency, and possess a marvellous power 
 of picking up the latest conundrums. Tliey are 
 invariably waiting for a remittance which never 
 comes, and generally have an obnoxious relative 
 who will stand between the good fellows and vast 
 property. Expectations have been the bane of 
 these good fellows' lives, and they have carefully 
 avoided the antidotes — perseverance and hard 
 work; they have aristocratic yearnings, but can 
 make themselves agreeable if chance brings them 
 into the society of the humbler classes ; and they 
 can sing jolly songs to catchy tunes, and with loud 
 roUicking choruses; and their healths are gene- 
 rally drunk at the end of the evening with musical 
 honom's, for the very strangers in the public-house 
 parlour have discovered they are "jolly good fel-
 
 THE 
 
 225 
 
 lows." They borrow unblusliingly, and assume 
 your garments in your absence with much con- 
 descension ; and when you dechne any participa- 
 tion in a " bit of paper," or refuse further loans 
 for a fortnight, or desire a speedy retvi'u of your 
 dress-coat (which comes home suspiciously creased, 
 and smelling horribly of tobacco), the "good fel- 
 low" discovers you are no longer the congenial 
 companion you were wont to be, and you lose 
 sight of him, and do not, on the whole, perhaps, 
 so much regret him. Later on in life you very 
 probably come across the remnant of the goo^ 
 fellow, the shadow of his former self, with his 
 laugh and old gay manner much deteriorated from 
 dismal associations and drink, and possibly starva- 
 tion, but his sponging and borrowing propensities 
 in stronger force than ever, as you soon discover 
 to yom' cost ; for he tells you a piteous story of 
 ilhiess and bad luck, and you give him what you 
 can, and shudder as he declares upon his honour 
 he will return it as soon as he gets the money he 
 has been daily expecting any time these twenty 
 years. Joseph Pulling' s \asitor was a good fellow 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 of tliis stamp, and lie greeted Horace with a fami- 
 liar " How are you? glad to kiiow you! if you're 
 one of Joe's friends, you're a good sort, Pwi cer- 
 tain." 
 
 " Come, . Charley, none of that," said Joe, 
 colouring sHghtly ; " Bentley and I have not met 
 for years — not since we were with a tutor together 
 in Berks. We may have both changed consider- 
 ably since then." 
 
 " Dear me !" replied Mr. Tindal, bringing his 
 feet to the ground and stai'ing hard at Horace; 
 " not met since you Avere at school ? Good 
 gracious ! quite an affecting meeting ; Pylades 
 and Orestes, Damon and Pythias, Beamnont and 
 Fletcher, and all that sort of thing ; why you ought 
 to fall into each other's arms with a hysterical 
 guggle, and a wuik at the prompter to light the 
 blue fire. Now I daresay you've got lots to say 
 to each other, so I'll leave you. I can sit out 
 there till you've done, and make faces at the new 
 clerk ; it will amuse him and be practice for me — 
 say the word !" 
 
 And Mr. Tindal stood on one leg in the stock
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 227 
 
 attitude expressive of an intention to fly, but 
 Horace begged him not to go upon his account. 
 So the volatile visitor sat down again. Then what 
 a world of chat had the two friends for each other ; 
 and how they talked over old times, and asked 
 after old schoolfellows, and roared at reminiscences 
 of Larkins and his grand airs, and Brandle's pre- 
 tentious manner, and poor Martha's meek httle 
 husband, with his demm-e looks and his deep de- 
 sign on the ^dear's daughter ! 
 
 " Here I am, you see," laughed Joe, " as I 
 always told you I should be, tied to tlie desk. 
 Having my month or so in the summer, you 
 know, and snatching a mouthftd of fresh air some- 
 times from Saturday to Monday ; but always to be 
 fomid here in the week-days, a pillar of this great 
 commercial metropolis ! hem !" 
 
 "A pillar!" chimed in Mr. Tindal; "a but- 
 tress, my boy ; a regular buttress !" 
 
 There was nothing particularly humorous in 
 the remark, but Charley Tmdal laughed a good 
 deal at it liimself, and as he had a very infectious 
 laugh indeed, the two friends joined in with him :
 
 228 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 and Horace felt bomicl to puncli Joe, and Joe hit 
 back at Horace; and tlie wagon-drivers in tlie 
 streets nodded up at the open window to each 
 other, as much as to say, " They're having a nice 
 game in there, them clerks." 
 
 '' Ha ! ha ! ha !" continued Tindal long after 
 the others ; "I like a laugh ; it does me good. 
 I'll back myself against any professional claquem\ 
 Bingham always begs me to go on the first night 
 of his farces, for he says my laugh's as good as 
 fifty. A good roar at the right time comj)letely 
 saved the Gentleman in the Tight Boots at the 
 Olympic. It was going very flatly, and I couldn't 
 do any tiling for it, till Miss Melinda Smith called 
 her guardian a ' meartless honster' instead of a 
 heartless monster — ^by mistake of com-se. Now 
 for it, I said ; and I set up such a shout, that the 
 whole house took it up and shrieked till the fall of 
 the curtain, when we had the author on, and the 
 piece ran eighty nights." 
 
 "And what are you doing?" asked Joe of 
 Horace at the conclusion of Tindal's anec- 
 dote.
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 229 
 
 Horace coloui'ed and stammered, and scarcely 
 knew what to reply. 
 
 '' If you've taken to tlie pa^\mbrokering line, 
 out with it; we can bear it," interposed Tindal. 
 
 "If I had, I've no doubt I should have met 
 you before," replied Horace. 
 
 "Good! had me there," exclaimed Tindal; 
 and as for Joe, he enjoyed his friend's reply so 
 heartily, that the tears rolled down his face so 
 copiously that the delicate Tindal expressed a fear 
 that they would " wash away the freckles." 
 
 Horace touched slightly upon the medical 
 phase of his hfe, and after treating his quarrel 
 with Pinto and his loss of Mr. Stone's friendship 
 very cavalierly, surprised PuUing with the an- 
 nouncement of his marriage. Charley Tindal, 
 though he was a superficial, rackety fellow, pos- 
 sessed marvellous powers of observation. Li the 
 matter of shabby clothes, or any thing that told a 
 tale of hard-upislmess, he was a very Argus. He 
 possessed an eye for a patch which would have 
 been a treasure to an old-clothes-man, and the 
 deepest " reviver" never deceived him. He had
 
 230 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " reckoned up" Horace Bentley about two minutes 
 after liis entrance ; and the more grandiloquently 
 that highly genteel youth talked, the more con- 
 vinced was Tindal that the conjectures he had 
 formed were correct. Like most " good fellows" 
 Tindal had no delicacy, and so he cut abruptly 
 into the conversation by asking Horace how he 
 inteinded to get his living. There is about some 
 impertinencies a boldness which robs them of their 
 irritating quahty, and in Tindal's question there 
 was something so comically rude that Horace 
 laughed at it, and replied : 
 
 " Ah, that's the thing ! In fact, I had come 
 to consult you, Joe, about the matter." 
 
 Mr. Charles Tindal indulged in a low whistle, 
 which meant much. " Tliat's the way," he 
 thought, "we always begin; we commence by 
 talking of consulting about the matter, and con- 
 clude by borrowing half-a-sovereign." 
 
 " You have given up your old silly notions of 
 literatm'e, I suppose," said Joe, a little gravely. 
 
 "Yes," chimed in Tindal; "if not, and you 
 wish to see a brilliant example of a successfid
 
 THE " GOOD FELLOW." 231 
 
 author, behold him !" and he placed out his arms 
 at full length, but, speedily remembering the un- 
 certain condition of the sewing of the sleeves, drew 
 them in ao;ain. 
 
 "Are you an author?" asked Horace, with a 
 trifling suspicion of contempt in the tone of his 
 voice. 
 
 " Well, I've done a little in that way ; my 
 name is not altogether unknown to fame, I be- 
 lieve. Ask Joe." 
 
 Joe, who was anxious to make the most of his 
 injudicious friend, and hoped that Horace might 
 attribute Tindal's rudeness to an eccentricity of 
 genius, gave a glowing account of the productions 
 of the modest Charles. 
 
 Together with the reputation of a good fellow, 
 the vivacious Tindal had achieved some sort of 
 quasi-literary credit of a cheap order. Nobody 
 could say what he had written, or adapted, or 
 translated, or filched; but he certainly had his 
 name attached, by some mysterious means, to one 
 or two trifles, and was supposed by liis friends to 
 possess some "influence with the press." This
 
 232 PAID m FULL. 
 
 vague reputation had been a good thing for Mr. 
 Charles Tindal ; but very bad for many highly re- 
 spectable people, whose acquaintanceship he was 
 accustomed to boast of, generally calling them by 
 their Christian names, and speaking of world- 
 known writers in a tone of familiarity, w^hich had 
 upon more than one occasion left simple-minded 
 strangers in doubt as to whether he mightn't be 
 himself a great author, picking up character, or 
 possibly the editor of the Times. He was one of 
 those pests who, lacking the patient skill to labour 
 in the lower ranks of the profession, aspired, 
 though devoid of ability, to a sort of flash-in- 
 the-pan popularity, upon the strength of a slight 
 acquaintance with the French language and two 
 or three of the less scrupulous theatrical managers. 
 Certainly he was not Horace's notion of an 
 author, which, it must be confessed, was rather 
 of the conventional order, and pictured a long- 
 haired, loose-collared genius, with an eye in a 
 never-ceasing "fine frenzy." But the respect 
 for any body who ever came into actual contact 
 with printer's ink and proof-sheets, which most
 
 233 
 
 unfledged writers feel, induced liim to treat Tin- 
 dal less familiarly, and to listen to his remarks 
 with much awe. 
 
 Tindal, on his part, had taken a tremendous 
 fancy to Horace, who was very well educated, 
 evidently had a lively fancy, and, according to 
 Pulling's account, "could write Hke Hghtning" 
 about any thing. 
 
 So Mr. Tindal was very friendly with him in- 
 deed, and pressed Horace to show him some of 
 his compositions ; and Horace, with many blushes, 
 and trembling a little, produced from a side-pocket 
 some trifling verses which had been printed, and 
 a batch of scribblings, which he declared were 
 there quite by accident, though something told 
 Joe Pulling that they had been intended for his 
 private ear ; and Joe experienced sometliing like 
 a feeling of relief when Charley Tindal pocketed 
 them, more especially as he caught sight of a por- 
 tion of a play evidently in blank verse and sur- 
 feited with soliloquy. 
 
 And Charley Tindal carefully stowed away the 
 parcel, and promised Horace he would come and
 
 234 PAID m FULL. 
 
 give him his honest opinion of them (his honest 
 opinion, Heaven save the mark !) ; and Horace 
 shook hands with his old schoolfellow, and gave 
 up all thoughts of " office drudgery" once more, 
 and walked home with a light step, and dreamt 
 that night that he was a great man who could not 
 permit his wife to associate with Mrs. Pulling 
 upon any account.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATIKG" WOMAN. 
 
 The adage, " You may know a man by the com- 
 pany lie keeps," was never more thorouglily veri- 
 fied than in the case of Mr. Charles Tindal. He 
 was the centre of a thriftless clique, who lived 
 nobody knew how, but probably on their wits, to 
 judge from their poverty-stricken appearance. A 
 loafing idle crew, with the cant phrases of art 
 upon their lips, but with little real respect for any 
 thing ennobling, and no particular tastes beyond 
 tobacco and alcohol. In Mr. Tindal's dismal lodg- 
 ing would these worthies meet and rail at fortune. 
 Here was a would-be poet who lacked notliing but 
 skill and industry ; there was a painter who con- 
 fined his studies to the bars of public-houses, and 
 who scarcely ever touched a brush from one year's 
 end to tlie other, and still wondered that his
 
 236 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 elbows should come tlirougli his coat, and that he 
 should never have any money in his pocket except 
 such as came from a pitying relative in the coun- 
 try. But these fellows considered they were mon- 
 strously ill-used, and inveighed bitterly against 
 luck, which smiled so partially on certain people, 
 whilst certain other people languished and pined 
 in back attics and never 2:ot a chance. Then how 
 these witless ignoramuses pulled to pieces the 
 reputations of their more industrious and success- 
 ful fellow -labom-ers! with what rapidity would 
 they demolish a reputation which its possessor had 
 built up by years of patient toil, of unwearied 
 exertion ! "Watkins an essayist indeed ! Popkins 
 a poet ! look at the chances they'd had ; if they 
 hadn't had the " chances," where would they 
 have been ? So argued these stringent critics, 
 who preferred borrowing from the unwary to cud- 
 gelling their own poor brains. 
 
 Charley Tindal was tacitly admitted to be the 
 master among this motley crew. He certainly 
 beat them all at borrowing, which he had really 
 elevated to a science, and which he practised with
 
 HOKACE MEETS A " FASCINATmG" WOMAN. 237 
 
 SO mucli success, that his friends envied him the 
 possession of the mysterious power. As liis social 
 shortcomings were tolerably well known, Charley 
 Tindal was generally avoided by the great mass 
 of working authors and artists ; and as the drone 
 is invariably expelled from the liive of that type 
 of true labour,' the bee, so was this vagabond 
 turned out of the society of those who valued their 
 self-respect, and no man who cared for his own 
 reputation chose to be seen about with the noto- 
 rious Mr. Tindal. It was an milucky thing for 
 Horace that his first introduction to what Tmdal 
 chose to call '^ literary society" should have been 
 under the wing of so evil a bird. So ravenous a 
 bird, too, might be said of him ; for Tindal's only 
 object in taking up Horace was the ulterior one 
 of feeding on that prolific and mitiring youth ; 
 though the quondam medical student considered 
 it to be a lucky thought which had taken him to 
 Joe Pulling's counting-house, there to meet the 
 genial Tindal, who was to make Ms fortune ; for 
 the very next day after the interview in the City, 
 the lively Tindal appeared in Little Green Street,
 
 238 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Soho, and, on finding Horace was in, jauntily 
 entered the apartment and grasped him warmly 
 by the hand. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, you've got the makings 
 of a first-rate writer in you ; those things convince 
 me you'll make a name in no time," said Tindal, 
 placing the bmidle of scribblings on the table and 
 taking a chair. What could Horace do but ask 
 him to stop to dinner after this ? though when he 
 did so, and Tindal very readily accepted the in- 
 vitation, an expression passed over Priscilla's fea- 
 tures which promised rather badly for the banquet. 
 But Horace wouldn't hear of liis going away, and 
 he sternly commanded Mrs. Molloy to procm-e half 
 a leg of mutton (0 cheerless, tasteless, unnatural 
 joint! what visions of rapacious landladies and 
 imcomfortable lodgings, with hard horse -hair 
 sofas, and half-cold gravy dotted with tepid dabs 
 of dripping, and wretched servant-maids with 
 grimy hands and black caps, does its mere men- 
 tion not arouse !) to mark his sense of the service 
 his visitor had rendered him by giving him con- 
 fidence in his own powers. Horace, like many
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATEs'G" WOMAN. 239 
 
 egotistical and self-opiniated people, imagined 
 liimself to be the most timid and self-deprecia- 
 tory of literary tyros. He Avas actually bursting 
 with self-conceit, and fancied all the wliile tliat he 
 thought nothing of his own compositions. Still, 
 when Priscilla suggested some trifling alteration 
 in one of his sentences, he flushed so considerably, 
 and was evidently so dreadfully annoyed, that she 
 was quite uncomfortable, and was much relieved 
 when he put down the manuscript, wliich he 
 shortly did and in great dudgeon. But, as he 
 thought to liimself, Priscilla was only a woman, 
 and what was her opinion worth ? Of course he 
 didn't object to her praising any tiling he wrote — 
 that was quite proper ; but it was too absmxl that 
 he should be criticised by a bit of a girl. Here 
 was Mr. Charles Tindal now full of unalloyed 
 praise, and he was a regular literary man. So 
 Horace piled the pleasant visitor's plate, and talked 
 very fast, and ate very little himself, for he felt 
 strangely delighted at the prospect which was 
 openmg before him. This prospect was a weekly 
 periodical, which Tindal and a few friends had
 
 240 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 often thought of starting, and which wouldj he 
 was sure, be most delighted to receive the assist- 
 ance of Bentley's fresh young pen. Horace was 
 in ecstasies, and was with difficulty persuaded 
 from leaving the dinner-table to commence an ar- 
 ticle on the spot. However, as the " few friends" 
 had never possessed sufficient capital to start the 
 paper on their own hook, and had not been able 
 singly or collectively to induce any enterprising 
 printer or publisher to take the risk, the matter 
 was no nearer completion than when first the idea 
 
 was broached. 
 
 '' An idea," said Tindal, dallying over his 
 
 cheese, — " an idea, Bentley, which would prove 
 
 an e-normous success if properly carried out. I 
 
 fancy satire is yom' forte, isn't it?" 
 
 Of com-se it was; if he had asked Horace if 
 
 antln'opology had been his forte, that excited youth 
 
 would have replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " Political and social satire, dealt out with an 
 
 unsparing hand, is the thing; pitch into poj^ular 
 
 people, that's the style !" 
 
 Social satire Horace felt himself quite equal
 
 241 
 
 to ; as to politics, lie knew that a Whig wasn't a 
 Tory, and that was about the extent of his political 
 knowledge ; but he had no objection, he declared, 
 to have a shy at the Government, and was pre- 
 pared, at the shortest notice, to show up its foreign 
 pohcj, or write a slasher on the state of things at 
 the Home-office. Li fact, there was nothing too 
 abstruse for this modest youth to tackle; and 
 although he winced at the personal nature of the 
 composition to which Tindal suggested his devot- 
 ing his abilities, he was prepared to forego his sen- 
 sitiveness ; — and, indeed^ the state of his finances 
 forbade any very great scruples in the matter. 
 
 i\Ir. Tatlow, the small printer, who was at last 
 induced to take up the periodical and bring it 
 before the public, was an enterprising person, who 
 was supposed by his typographical bretln:en never 
 to have succeeded with any thing. Mentioning 
 his name in connexion with any small literary un- 
 dertaking was tantamount to annomicing the cer- 
 tainty of its speedy collapse ; and when it was re- 
 ported in scribbling coteries that the new satirical 
 journal — The Catch ^em Alive Oh — was one of 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 242 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Tatlow's ventures, there was much dismal head- 
 shaking and melancholy shoulder-shrugging, and 
 universal were the prognostications of a short 
 career. 
 
 " I'll give it four numbers," said Smith. 
 
 '' Tln-ee," said Jones. 
 
 " A couple," chimed in the saturnine Brown. 
 
 " Don't believe it'll ever have a second num- 
 ber," was the cheerful prophecy of Robinson. 
 
 But Tlie Catch ''em Alive Oh had a second 
 number and a third ; and chiefly in consequence 
 of the grossest personality and abuse on the part 
 of the general staff, who woke up to work stimu- 
 lated by the congenial nature of their task, and 
 several really smart and clever articles by Horace, 
 the periodical almost paid its expenses, and Tatlow 
 started a chaise for Mrs. Tatlow on the strength of 
 a weekly loss of only three pounds. It was fine 
 practice for Horace, and procm^ed him a certain 
 reputation, though he felt heartily ashamed of his 
 own boldness, and blushed many a time as he 
 romided a stinging sentence Upon the shameful 
 conduct of some respected public functionary, or
 
 243 
 
 poured the most withering invective upon the ho- 
 noui'ed head of some worthy statesman. It must 
 be advanced in his favour that he was seldom 
 much in earnest, and played with the dangerous 
 toy as a child plays with gmipow^der or a box of 
 lucifers. His principal attraction in Mr. Tatlow's 
 eyes was his marvellous fecundity. He never tired 
 or stopped to rest, and would cover reams of paper 
 whilst the remainder of the staflp were stimulating 
 their brains with artificial inspiration and with no 
 particular results. The Catch ^em Alive Oh began 
 at last to be talked about, and people asked who 
 was the author of certain rhymed articles which 
 w^ere remarkably happy ; and the end of the mat- 
 ter was, that a very respectable-looking gentleman 
 called upon Horace one day and offered him an 
 engagement on a superior periodical, with a better 
 salary. Horace's first flush of literary excitenient 
 had toned down considerably since his professional 
 dSiitj and the continual grumbling of Mr. Tatlow, 
 wdio thought it most injudicious to appear satisfied 
 with any thing, had somewhat put him out of con- 
 ceit with his work. The staff too did not improve
 
 244 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 upon closer acqiiaintancej and was given to call- 
 ing in Little Green Street at nnlioly hours, and 
 expressing desires for cold meat and pickles, and 
 other delicacies, much to the indignation of Pris- 
 cilla. Indeed, that young wife's opinion of the 
 literary profession was by no means an elevated 
 one ; and Mrs. Pinto, happening to call one 
 morning when Mr. Charley Tindal was present, 
 received such a shock to her romantic notions 
 of her son-in-law's craft, that Horace smuggled 
 him off with rapidity, greatly to the annoyance of 
 Tindal, who had come for the day. The inter- 
 view between Tatlow and Horace, when the latter 
 told him of his new engagement, and the neces- 
 sity of an Immediate termination of the present 
 one, was alternately stormy and lachrymose. Tat- 
 low commenced by raving at the ingratitude of 
 authors ; then appealed tearfully to his contribu- 
 tor's better nature ; again relapsed into the tem- 
 pestuous phase ; and, finally, shed real tears at 
 Horace's demands for a pecmiiary settlement. 
 Tlie split in the camp was fatal to The Catch ^em 
 Alive Oh J which dragged on a miserable existence
 
 245 
 
 for a few weeks, and eventually went to swell tlie 
 mighty list of literary failures wliicli had preceded 
 it. The more liberal treatment Horace received 
 from the respectable proprietor, who had tempted 
 him from the demoralising slough of despond into 
 which he might have settled for life, enabled the 
 young couple to make a better show in the world, 
 and Mrs. Molloy soon found her first-floor lodger 
 more " stuck-up" than ever. If misfortunes sel- 
 dom come singly, it is no less fact that slices of 
 luck frequently follow each other in rapid succes- 
 sion. Horace had written a sort of farcical skit 
 on a subject of universal temporary interest, and 
 had sent it to the manager of the Criterion Theatre. 
 As the piece was very shoii:, very legibly written, 
 and possessed a catchy title, the magnificent per- 
 son who ruled over the Criterion condescended to 
 look into it ; dnd finding that there was a good 
 part for Giggley the popular comedian, and that 
 it could be played without a new scene being 
 painted, actually so far forgot his dignity as to 
 drop a short note to Horace, appointing a meet- 
 ing, sending the farce to be copied meanwhile to
 
 246 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 avert the possibility of the notion being seized on 
 by the Elysium, which was the opposition house, 
 the manager of which the Criterion director de- 
 clared to be " capable of any thing." Horace 
 was thrown into a state of the wildest excite- 
 ment on receiving the managerial missive, and 
 it is needless to add was at the theatre to the 
 minute on the following day. Horace had never 
 been behind the scenes, and he had the ordinary 
 notion of that deceptive region, imagining it to be 
 a world of delio;hts into wliich it was a Morions 
 privilege to be admitted. He was rather shocked, 
 then, at the appearance of the stage - entrance, 
 wliich did not look as if it led to a home of 
 perpetual pleasures, but had a dingy, even dirty 
 appearance, and disclosed a swing door which 
 creaked inharmoniously as he pushed it, and 
 swung -to as he passed it with a determined 
 slam, as much as to say, '^ You have no busi- 
 ness here, and you shanH come in." The man- 
 ners of the porter, too, were much of the same 
 kind. Stage-door keepers evidently tliink, with 
 the French criminal law, that a man is guilty
 
 HOBACE SHEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 247 
 
 until he is proved innocent; for until they have 
 learnt that you really speak truth when you say 
 you have an appointment with the manager, they 
 look upon you in the most searching and suspi- 
 cious manner (if they condescend to look upon 
 you at all), and tln'ow every verbal obstacle in 
 your path to the managerial goal. Great govern- 
 ment dons can be seen easily enough; but the 
 theatrical manager sits in his chair of state like 
 a porcupine, and none can approach him. Brave 
 men there are who have been known to push past 
 all opposition and boldly bm'st into the presence 
 with success ; but these instances have been very 
 rare, and the ordinary road to the room where sits 
 the swayer of the dramatic destiny is one beset 
 with many difficulties, and is a hard one indeed 
 for the tyro to travel. Horace was about to give 
 up the matter in despair, when at last a grimy 
 slipshod attendant, who had been half asleep in 
 the corner, roused himself sufficiently to say that 
 " if the gent would wait, perhaps Mr. Girdle- 
 stone might see liim, as he said he had a 'point- 
 ment ; and the lean and slipj)ered attendant shuf-
 
 248 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 fled off into the dim recesses of the theatre. 
 Whilst waiting in the hall many popular fa^'our- 
 ites passed in and out, receiving their newspapers 
 and letters from the rack in the porter's niche as 
 they entered. A pink note here and tJiere con- 
 taining admiring rhapsodies ; letters begging for 
 autographs or orders ; great fat provincial j)apers 
 with a column and three-quarters of the most ful- 
 some commendation of Mr. Barrington Fitzj ones' s 
 Hamlet, which, according to the comitry critic, 
 eclipsed the recollection of Macready, who was 
 too hard ; of So-and-so, who was too old ; of 
 somebody else, who lacked grace, and so on ; 
 and which, if once witnessed by a metropolitan 
 public, woukl inevitably &g. &g. Professional 
 jealousy and managerial selfishness had combined 
 to confine Fitzjones's Shakesperian efforts to the 
 provinces ; but that suffering genius took care to 
 let his acquaintance see that there were other 
 places where his exertions were recognised, and 
 the provincial press (when commendatory) fomid 
 his advent produce a considerable increase in the 
 circulation of the local organ. Tlie stage-porter's
 
 HOKACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 249 
 
 manner towards ^' the profession" was cordial and 
 even playful ; but he was still stern to Horace, 
 and there is no doubt that he would have been 
 dogged to a duke. His soul was in his calling ; 
 and a contemptuous smile would come over his 
 featm'es when friends, who shared the \Tilgar opi- 
 nion of the coulisses J said they supposed that lots of 
 grand folks hung about behind the scenes, and he 
 would give vent to his sentiments regarding the 
 impossibility of strangers passing liis post in terms 
 of the most forcible description. At length the 
 shuffling messenger came back with a smile upon 
 his face, and desired Horace to foUow hini up- 
 stairs. There was a strong smell of gas and old 
 clothes behind the scenes, which was something 
 like the attractive odour in tlie front of the 
 theatre, but without the orange-peel. Horace 
 felt in another world, rather a gloomy and 
 dingy one perhaps, but with a certain attraction 
 to imaginative temperaments, and possessing a 
 peculiar fascination which no amount of dis- 
 appointment and failure can disj^el. Picturesque 
 writers are in the habit of making graphic capital
 
 250 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 out of the strong and melancholy contrast which 
 the comic actor or the lissom pantomimist presents 
 in his dismal home, with his increasing family 
 and many cares, to the false felicity of the hour 
 during which he struts and frets it upon the 
 mimic stage; but it is a question whether much 
 of this is warranted, for the stimulating and ex- 
 citing profession of the player does not render him 
 peculiarly susceptible to the depressing influences 
 of misfortune ; and when Paul Pry becomes Mr. 
 Jolm Smith, his domestic sorrow is not heightened 
 by the fact that he has been convulsing an audi- 
 ence for the last two hours. It is doubtless a sad 
 necessity that the comedian should have to turn 
 out of his sick home to redden his nose and make 
 a crowd of people laugh ; but the clerk who leaves 
 his daughter at death's door and the bailiif's man 
 in the kitchen, to go to his day's drudgery at 
 his employer's desk, has no particular advan- 
 tao-e over the actor that we can see. There has 
 been a little too much of tliis tinsel sentimen- 
 tality; there are no people Avho enjoy life more, 
 or who retain their mental and physical faculties
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATmG" W03IAN. 251 
 
 longer, than those '' abstract and brief chronicles 
 of the times" who arouse our sympathy or pro- 
 voke our merriment between the hours of seven 
 and twelve p.m. 
 
 Mr. Girdlestone the mana2:er was a rather 
 portly gentleman, with a partially bald head, a 
 round cheery face, and a pleasant though slightly 
 patronising manner. He was the sort of man 
 who called you " my boy" directly after you had 
 been introduced to him ; and he would cut down 
 an author's terms, or return an mipresentable 
 drama, in the most agreeable way imaginable. 
 When Horace was ushered into the room Mr. 
 Girdlestone was seated at a desk ^'VT'iting, and 
 with a slight nod and " How do ?" and a push 
 to a chair towards his visitor, the manager became 
 a5:ain absoi'bed in his letter- writino;. A scene of 
 confusion worse confounded did that little room 
 present The sanctum in which sat the great 
 arbiter of the dramatic fate of so many aspirants, 
 whose short note would send a thriU to the breast 
 of the recipient, and would be preserved for the 
 owner's life as a valuable possession, — the mana-
 
 252 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 ger's retreat was the most slovenly apartment 
 Horace had ever seen. How on earth Mr. Gir- 
 dlestone could ever find the letter, the manuscript, 
 or the memorandum he wanted, appeared a mys- 
 tery. The desk at which he sat was so piled 
 with papers, that it seemed as if another envelope 
 would topple every thing over. On the walls, 
 covered with the dust of years, hmig portraits of 
 popular people : some long since gathered to their 
 fathers; others grown out of all resemblance to 
 their jaunty likenesses, taken in days bygone, 
 with collars high up in the neck, and sleeves 
 which showed off the symmetry of the arms. 
 Here was a great batch of play-bills on a hook ; 
 there an old cabinet, which it would have been 
 delightful to have ransacked, containing as it did 
 a dramatic omnium gathei'um of years ; letters from 
 dead-and-gone celebrities, great favourites in their 
 day, and now — in, oh, such a little time — for- 
 gotten by the ficlde public ; engagements long 
 since concluded ; agreements fulfilled this many a 
 season ; account and note-books, telling of profits 
 and loss, — how Signer Saladini failed in the
 
 HOEACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 253 
 
 dreaclfullest manner on the first niglit, but stuck 
 out for his season's salary and got it ; how httle 
 Miss Miniver made her first appearance in Muffs 
 and Maidens J and, taking the town by storm, 
 brought showers of gold to the treasury ; and a 
 little further on, how the conceited minx insisted 
 uj)on her salary being trebled for the following 
 year, and on refusal transferred her services to 
 the Elysium, where she failed; — an old scratch- 
 wig, Avhich had belonged to a bosom-friend of 
 the manager's, an actor who had commenced life 
 with him, and who had gone to America and 
 died ; piles of old letters that should have been 
 destroyed long ago ; parchments about the lease 
 of the theatre ; and a crowd of miscellaneous 
 trifles, heaped together regardless of any thing 
 like method. In the corner of the room stood a 
 gmi, a whip, and a fishing-rod, for Mr. Girdle- 
 stone had a taste for field-sports; and about the 
 chairs and floor lay papers and parcels in dusty 
 confusion. At length the manager, having finished 
 his note, rose, and stood up with his hands in his 
 pockets and his back to the fire-place ; and thus 
 the great man spoke :
 
 254 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 " Well, now about this farce of yours?" 
 
 Horace bowed. 
 
 " Wliat's your notion now, eli?" 
 
 Horace did not exactly know what the manager 
 meant^ so lie said : 
 
 '' I beg your pardon ; I don't quite ex- 
 actly—" 
 
 ^^ Tlie figure, you know — ^the figure !" said the 
 manager, poising himself on his toes, and coming 
 down again on his heels once or twice a little 
 impatiently. " Hang it, my boy, the price !" he 
 exclaimed; for Horace had only coloured, with- 
 out replying. "The j)rice, you know; name the 
 sum, and let's have an idea of your notions. You 
 call the j)iece a trifle, you know, and so you must 
 make the price a trifle. Ha ! ha !" 
 
 Horace hummed and hahed, and scarcely knew 
 what to reply. 
 
 " It's only a temporary thing, you Imow ; 
 can't ever be revived. I get these things sent in 
 by shoals, and many of the authors would pay 
 me to produce 'em. Recollect that, my boy, and 
 don't open your mouth too wide." 
 
 Scarcely daring to look at Mi\ Grirdlestone as
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 255 
 
 he did it, Horace mentioned a moderate smn, and 
 the manager closed with him immediately, telling 
 him he must come and read it the day after to 
 the company. Eead it to the company ! Sit sm-- 
 romided by those wonderful beings who had so 
 often enchanted him,' and read those ridiculous 
 jokes in cold blood ! Horace begged to be excused ; 
 he said he was a bad reader ; that the piece really 
 didn't leant reading, it was so extravagant; that 
 he had an appointment in the morning ; that — 
 tliat he would give any thing 7iot to read it. But 
 the manager was inexorable. 
 
 " Always read yom- piece, my boy ; it gives 
 the people your notions of the characters. Eleven 
 o'clock sharp ; good-by. Give you a cheque to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Horace fomid himself bowed out into the pas 
 saofe before he knew whether he was on his head 
 or his heels ; and after a good deal of stumbling 
 in the dark, and twice walking into dressing- 
 rooms, he groped his way to the stage-door, and 
 bowing pohtely to a pleasant-looking gentleman 
 with a very blue chin, who moved aside to let him
 
 256 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 pass, walked out into tlie dayliglit a ^^free and 
 accepted" dramatist. 
 
 Horace slept fitfully that niglit, and was up 
 betimes in the morning, pacing the room nerv- 
 ously, looking perpetually at his watch, and groan- 
 ing inwardly at the coming ordeal. There must 
 surely be some unaccountable charm about writing 
 for the stage, or the young beginner would inevit- 
 ably break down and rush from the scene of bitter 
 recrimination and general discontent, and devote 
 himself to other pursuits, rather than suffer so 
 much mortal agony as he who would win dra- 
 matic fame must almost invariably go through. 
 Who but he who has endured it can tell of the 
 slights, the sneers, the petty jealousies, the trivial 
 spites, the almost childish vanities, which are in- 
 cidental to the development of the dramatic bant- 
 ling ? When the dramatist's literary labours are 
 accomplished, his real work begins. He must 
 alter this, expunge that, crowd the incidents of 
 three scenes into one, and introduce ten minutes' 
 talk in front of a hastily-painted '' interior" to 
 allow the carpenters time to arrange a grand
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 257 
 
 closing scene ; or lie must give several of tlie 
 good tilings ^vliicli fell to the lot of Mr. Jones to 
 Mr. Brown, regardless of tlie nature of the- cha- 
 racter ; or he must make his morning an evening 
 in order to show off Miss Robinson in a ball-dress, 
 Miss Robinson's shoulders being her strong point, 
 and her power in the theatre being despotic. The 
 motto over the entrance to Hades, "All hope 
 abandon, ye who enter here," should be inscribed 
 over every stage-door ; and thrice happy is he 
 who passes through the fiery ordeal of rehearsals 
 unscathed, who does not find himself snubbed or 
 insulted, or who does not find liimself snubbing 
 or insulting somebody else. The firmest friend- 
 ships, nay the strongest affections, are no guards 
 against the spirit of self which is predominant in 
 the performing breast during " business ;" lovers 
 scowl and snarl and snap, husband and wife growl 
 fiercely, and tell each other to mind their own 
 affairs ; whilst bosom friends on the other side of 
 the stage-door drop the familiar Christian name, 
 and are as freezingly polite as seconds at a duel 
 or opposition candidates on the hustings. The 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 next stage of tlie theatrical fever tlirougli wliicli 
 the hapless ^^rovider of the lil3retto has to pass is 
 short but severe. What can equal the first night, 
 what approach the concentrated agony of those 
 feverish two hours, which frequently leave the 
 patient prostrate? The hurried nervous meal de- 
 voured after a long wearying day's rehearsing, 
 with nothino; read^', and every bodv anxious and 
 snappish ; the rush down to the theatre in a cab, 
 flushed and dyspeptic ; the sickly feeling as the 
 music commences ; and the despairing misery when 
 the curtain does not rise at the conclusion of the 
 overture, but there is a fearful pause, and a shar][:> 
 hiss pierces the painfiil silence, and the j^oor au- 
 thor mentally resolves that if he survives this night 
 he will certainly accept that trifling berth in the 
 colonies, and drop his pen for ever. Tlien the 
 delicious reaction which comes with the first laugh 
 or burst of applause, and the long sigh of real 
 relief when the cui-tain descends upon the first act 
 amidst some enthusiasm, and injudicious friends 
 look up and nod approvingly instead of applaud- 
 ing, as they were asked to go to do, of course,
 
 HOKACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 259 
 
 and not sit with tlieir hands before them hke 
 boobies; and so the two hom*s pass away, the 
 " founder of the feast" alternately blessing his 
 stars and cm-sing his fate, now laugliing immode- 
 rately with the rest of the house, presently hiding 
 his head as some sibilant sounds reach his ear, 
 eventually rushing from the house in shame and 
 conftision, or staying to receive the plaudits of a 
 gratified public, as the case may be. Then the 
 long lingering sensitive state which follows, when 
 friends advise this or that, and critics point out 
 the Aveak places, and strangers in 'bus or boat, 
 unconscious of the playwright's presence, speak of 
 his brainwork as fearful trash, and wonder, for 
 their part, what the drama is coming to. What 
 is there to reward him for all this ? Not a per- 
 manent popularity, for after a spasmodic season of 
 success his work, imless it be one of lofty genius, 
 is frequently tin-own aside and forgotten ; not tlie 
 payment he receives, for that is seldom sufficient 
 to adequately compensate him for tlie toil and 
 anxiety he has gone through fr'om the day he 
 dashed down upon the foolscap 'Act I. Scene 1'
 
 260 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 to the hour when the fiat of the public pronounced 
 his production a success. What is it, then, which 
 induces the dramatist to go on piling up the list 
 of his pieces and working away for his fickle 
 friends the playgoers ? Why, it is a nameless 
 charm, an miaccomitable attraction, which is felt 
 but cannot be described, that lends to his labour 
 an excitement no other style of composition pos- 
 sesses, and which renders him impervious to an- 
 noyances which, in any other calling, would make 
 liis life a burden and a misery. 
 
 At the appointed hom- Horace arrived at the 
 theatre, and the sMppered messenger led liim 
 through a labyrinth of scenery on to the stage, 
 where stood the stage-manager, a very gruff gen- 
 tleman, who nodded a little superciliously Horace 
 thought, and led the way to the greenroom. The 
 greenroom (which was not green, Horace noticed 
 with surprise) was a dismal apartment with dirty 
 windows and some theatrical portraits on the walls ; 
 some of them being striking likenesses of ambi- 
 tious ballet-girls, or " gentlemen of the chorus, "^ 
 who having been permitted on their benefit-nights
 
 HOE ACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WO^IAN. 261 
 
 to assume characters of a superior calibre to those 
 wliich ordinarily fell to their lot, had taken the 
 ^arhest opportunity of having tlieir pictui*es taken 
 and j^resenting them '' to the management and 
 ■company," with their autographs affixed boldly 
 to the margin. Tliere was a rickety table with 
 41 bottle of water and glass ; and Horace was told 
 to sit there and commence. There Avere not many 
 'Characters in the farce ; and three gentlemen and 
 one lady formed the audience. Had they been 
 members of a jury sitting on a case of suicide, 
 they could not have looked more miserable. Grig- 
 gley, the comic actor, who had only to speak a 
 word at the wing to send the house into con\Td- 
 sions, whose peculiar maiuierism was the making 
 of imitative youtlis at mild little suburban parties, 
 — Griggley was evidently out of temper. The pro- 
 spect of new stiidy and late hours annoyed the 
 comedian, for he had recently taken a house in 
 the remote regions of Hampstead, and being of 
 a domestic turn he preferred retiring to the bosom 
 of his family to what he called " plapng the people 
 out." So Giggley scowled at Horace, and made
 
 262 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 up liis mind that unless he had at least three- 
 fourths of the farce to himself and could see a 
 situation for a song, he would not deign to say 
 any thing civil to any body. Mr. Montrose, the 
 walking - gentleman, yawned a good deal, and 
 seemed much absorbed in his boots ; and the 
 third gentleman, having been out late overnight, 
 went to sleep in an open and straightforward 
 manner under the very nose of the author. Ho- 
 race took up his manuscript with a trembling 
 hand, when Mr. Slagg, the stage-manager, sud- 
 denly burst forth with, '' George, where's Miss 
 Mellington ?" 
 
 George the call-boy trembled beneath the 
 glance of his chief, but could not reply. 
 
 ''Was she called to the reading, sir?" fiercely 
 asked the dreadful Slaojo^. 
 
 " Yes, sir," was George's tremulous rc})ly. 
 
 '^ Then, by gad, why isn't she here ?" 
 
 And the stage-manager slapped the table, and 
 took a huge pinch of snuff, and glowered at Horace 
 as if it was his fault. 
 
 " It's not the first time Miss Mellington's kept
 
 HORACE ilEETS A "FASCINATING" WOMi^^. 263 
 
 every body waiting," continued Slagg ; " she's 
 always doing it. By gad, tlie airs that girl gives 
 herself are dis-gusting. In my time actresses at- 
 tended to their profession, and came at the time 
 they were called ; but now, by gad — " 
 
 Slagg suddenly ceased, for Miss Mellington 
 had entered the room. Miss Julia Mellington, 
 the tremendous favourite of favourites at the Cri- 
 terion Theatre, was a rather pretty woman, a little 
 over the middle height, with no feature in her fiice 
 worth mentioning, but a quaint fascinating air of 
 jamity impudence, and a })rofusion of golden locks, 
 Avliich she was in the habit of letting down about 
 her she aiders on the slightest pretext; and a leg 
 and arm wliich Avere mii\'ersally acknowledged to 
 be perfection. She had had very little education 
 but that which she had picked up in her progress 
 tlu'ough the world ; but she was a shrewd sharp 
 girl ; and if she did not know much, she was fully 
 aware of the value of judicious silence ; and when 
 she couldn't talk upon any particular subject, she 
 had the o-ood sense to hold her tono;ue. Women 
 were in the habit of sj)eaking of her as bold ; but
 
 264 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 tliey were cbeadfully anxious for the name of her 
 dressmaker, and confessed that she had taste and 
 did wonders with herself considering how plain 
 she was ; but men went mad about her, and pro- 
 nounced her perfect, and — best matter of all in 
 manager Girdlestono's eyes — went to see her. In 
 fact, she Avas worth her salary six times over ; and, 
 despite Slagg's remarks, it would have been more 
 than his place was worth to speak authoritatively 
 and in dictatorial tones to Miss Mellington. She 
 came into the greenroom with her archest smile 
 and her profomidest curtsey. They seemed to be 
 directed at Horace, though there was a compre- 
 hensive glance round the room; and the young 
 author bowed with a bm-ning face, for Miss Julia 
 Mellington had always appeared to him as a crea- 
 ture to be mentioned with awe, and approached 
 upon bended knees. He had known medical stu- 
 dents who had taken to evil com'ses, and had 
 acquired premature and untimely red noses on ac- 
 comit of the cold disdain with which their amo- 
 rous effusions (left at the stage-door) had been 
 received by Miss Mellington ; he had heard of her
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 265 
 
 as a bright particular star, whom the nobihty ge- 
 nerally were desirous of raising to the peerage, 
 but who, in consideration of an aged mother, 
 refused to listen to the voices of the charmers, 
 and preferred the two-pair back of private inde- 
 pendence to the gilded pomp of aristocratic splen- 
 dour. 
 
 " Miss Mellington," observed the stage-ma- 
 nager sternly, but with a certain awe of the ac- 
 tress's collected manner and rustling rich silk 
 dress, " we have been waiting a quarter of an 
 hour for you." 
 
 " I am sm-e," replied Miss Mellington in a 
 sweet voice, "lam veri/ sorry; but my omnibus 
 broke down, and I can't afford to drive my 
 brougham at present." 
 
 This with a side-look at Miss Pimlico, the 
 pretty nonentity in the corner, who, by some 
 marvellous process of economy and management, 
 contrived to drive a very smart carriage on a very 
 small salary. 
 
 "What self-denial!" thought Horace; "how 
 good of the dear girl to ride in a dusty vulgar
 
 266 
 
 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 omnibus to and from the scene of her brilliant 
 triumphs !" and he felt as if he could have levelled 
 the surly stage-manager with his mother earth. 
 With a faltering- voice he read out the title of his 
 farce, and then commenced the scene. Horace 
 had not expected the professional performer to 
 laugh as much as the public, for he knew that 
 it was a matter of business to the actor; but he 
 had hoped for an occasional smile, and possibly 
 one or two real laughs. But even supposing the 
 company to have had a desire to do the agreeable^ 
 the awful presence of the stern Slagg would have 
 been sufficient to quell any attempt at merriment. 
 There he sat, with his eyes half closed, only tliink- 
 ino; of how this was to be brouoht on or that taken 
 oif ; Avhether Giggley's soliloquy wasn't too long, 
 and if Miss Pimlico could contrive to Avear two 
 dresses, which she always stipulated for before 
 undertaking any part. Giggley's countenance 
 assumed an almost ferocious look, at the very 
 commencement of the reading ; and the combined 
 wit of Shakespeare, Sidney Smith, and Sheridan 
 wouldn't have moved a muscle of his rigid coun-
 
 HORACE MEETS A ^' FASCIKATIXG" W03IAX. 267 
 
 tenance. Once or twice when tm-nino; over a 
 2)age, poor Horace, wlio liad grown di'eadfiilly 
 hot and rather despairing, tlnew a piteous glance 
 at the great comedian; but Gigglej always re- 
 tui-ned it with an indignant look, which would 
 have been highly comical had it not been very 
 terrible indeed. Montrose seemed amused ; but it 
 Avas with liis somnolent neighbom*, whose slum- 
 bers the walldncr-crentleman distm'bed at intervals 
 by digs in the ribs, treads on the toes, and other 
 delicate attentions. As for poor Miss Pimlico, she 
 had not a second idea, every body said ; and so 
 she was straightforward enough to be very much 
 entertained at the farce, and to laugh furtively in 
 her pocket-handkerchief, and looked defiant when 
 Mr. Slaci^o; scowled at her. When Horace wrote 
 that trifle, he imagined it was very short and 
 sparlding; but when he read it out in tlie Ci*i- 
 terion greeiu-oom, it seemed to him to be endless, 
 and its jokes fell dull and heavy on his ear. They 
 must in fact have been poor, he argued after- 
 wards, or sm'ely such intelligent beings as those 
 around him would have laughed. He little knew
 
 268 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 the various causes which operated against the de- 
 sired effect. Tlie great Giggley's part commenced 
 with a long and very laughable soliloquy; but 
 Giggley's powers of study were defective, and 
 he had a known liking for action and bustle, pre- 
 ferring a profusion of plates to break to any quan- 
 tity of witty lines to deliver. He was never so 
 well pleased as when he had to fling furniture 
 out of window; and a promise that he should 
 have tln'ee bandboxes to smash and a tray of tea- 
 things to drop had been known to reconcile him 
 to a very inferior part, and induce him to play on 
 until close upon midnight. So that the long soli- 
 loquy, unbroken by any of the destructive "busi- 
 ness," which was his hobby, bored the comedian 
 immensely ; and when he found he had to dress 
 himself in female attire — a mine of merriment he 
 had well-nigh worked out — his scowls became 
 fiercer and his determination not to smile more 
 marked than ever. Miss Julia Mellington was 
 unmirthftdly disposed too, but from other causes. 
 She would have liked to change her dress to the 
 male garments, for she was more at home as a
 
 man than a female ; but the author had not pro- 
 vided her a character in which such a thino; was 
 possible, and it seemed to her that the comedian 
 had been studied in the matter much more than 
 other persons, though Miss Pimlico's part ap- 
 peared quite as good as hers ; and as for herself^ 
 she didn't care which she played; and so on. 
 Montrose could hardly be expected to laugh 
 much; playing as he did a gentleman in two 
 other pieces, the additional expense to wliich the 
 new farce would put him in the matter of clothes 
 was quite sufficient to damp his merriment. So 
 the farce came to an end; and Horace, flushed 
 and parched, thrcAv a piteous look around the 
 room, and sighed from sheer relief. 
 
 "Here are the parts; and Mr. Girdlestone 
 says the piece must be done on Monday," said 
 Slagg. 
 
 " Monday fortnight, he means," growled Gig- 
 gley, as he took his part, with a sneer. 
 
 " Monday, Mr. Giggley, by gad, sir !" replied 
 the stage-manager. 
 
 "Is this all the part?" said Miss Mellington
 
 270 PAID IN FULL. * 
 
 witli a sweet smile, liastilj looking over the leaves 
 of the manuscript handed to her. 
 
 "That's all, miss," said the copyist, a feeble 
 youth with weak eyes, wdio was generally sup- 
 posed to pass twenty hours out of the t^venty-four 
 with a pen in his hand. 
 
 " Oh !" remarked Julia, with a catch of the 
 breath. 
 
 "Well," said Montrose, skimming his part, "I 
 shall find no difficulty in being ready by Monday ;. 
 I could go on for it in ten minutes for that matter." 
 
 This Avas a deep and sarcastic dig at the short- 
 ness of the part. It was quite uncalled for ; but 
 as every body was saying something disagree- 
 able, the walking-gentleman imagined his dignity 
 might suffer if he didn't also have a cut in. Miss 
 Pimlico was the only one who received her part 
 without being unpleasant ; but then she was such 
 a fool. 
 
 " Eleven to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen," 
 growled Slagg. 
 
 "Couldn't you make it ten?" asked Giggley, 
 the sarcastic Giggley.
 
 HORACE MEETS A '' FASCINATING " WOMAN. 271 
 
 "Eleven!" said Miss Mellington ; "oh, dear, 
 Mr. Slagg, I've a world of things to do to- 
 morrow ; do make it twelve;" and she threw an 
 a])pealing glance at Horace, wlio flnshed crimson 
 as he felt her large full eyes fixed upon him. 
 
 " Settle it with Mr. Girdlestone, then," said 
 Slagg ; " perhaps he'll alter it for you.^'' 
 
 " Then we'll sa}- twelve," replied Miss Mel- 
 lington, with a radiant smile all round ; and so it 
 Avas fixed ; for Miss Julia could twist the manager 
 — as indeed she could every body else — round her 
 little fincrer, for she was a most fascinatino; crea- 
 ture, and would put her pretty little hands to- 
 gether, and pucker up her mouth and look so 
 piteously into the manager's face, that he hadn't 
 the heart to refuse her any thing she wished. She 
 was quite an autocrat, in a small way ; and even 
 Slagg, that ferocious martinet, never stopped to 
 argue with her, but would bounce away with a 
 " By gad, that girl's too much tongue by half!" 
 and leave her mistress of the field. 
 
 One by one the performers strolled from the 
 room ; and Horace, bowing rather stiffly to Slagg,
 
 272 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 for he had taken a great dislike to that pompous 
 idiot, and much of the awe of the world behind 
 the scenes had worn away, walked out of the 
 greenroom on to the stage. Tliere he found Miss 
 Mellington, who had evidently been waiting for 
 him, and who beckoned him towards her in a 
 half-commanding, half-timid, and wholly charm- 
 ing mamier, which was very arch and delightful, 
 and strongly reminded Horace of her delicious 
 stage-effects which had so often roused him to 
 loud expressions of admiration. 
 
 '^ Oh, Mr. Bentley, don't be angry with me. 
 Now, say you won't be angry with me, or I won't 
 ask the favour." Tliis said with a combined dif- 
 fidence and boldness very fascinating. Horace 
 stammered out some ridiculous compliment; and 
 Miss Mellington made a deprecatory movement 
 with a neatly-gloved little hand, and then pro- 
 duced a song which she had brought with her, 
 and asked if she might sing it in the piece. 
 
 "There's a capital situation where Mr. Gig- 
 gley's changing to the woman, you Imow, and 
 all my scene with Miss Pimlico might come out."
 
 273 
 
 Horace felt all the pride of a parent in liis 
 production, and the suggestion seemed like a 
 request that a limj) should be lopped off the 
 precious bantling. Tliis thin-sldnned sort of feel- 
 ing wears away in time, and the dramatic writer 
 is frequently the first to suggest the elimination 
 of those portions of his piece which appear vague 
 or mmecessary ; but at the outset of his career he 
 cannot part with a single word without under- 
 going the bitterest pang. Self-conceit has much, 
 to do with this, and there is nothing Hke the six- 
 penny gallery for taking all that sort of thing out 
 of a man. 'No doubt there was considerable sel- 
 fishness in Miss Mellington's request; but the 
 public liked to hear one of her captivating Httle 
 ballads ; and as she said, in a very low voice and 
 with a suspicious look romid, "Pimlico was the 
 dearest girl in the world, but she could not speak 
 lines and that was the fact," Horace reluctantly 
 promised that Miss Mellington should sing the 
 song; for how could he refuse such eyes? and 
 she gave Mm her hand and a gentle squeeze of 
 gratitude, and went away quite happy. 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 '^ You don't mind my cutting this long 
 speech?" asked Giggley, whom Horace met in 
 the passage on his way out. It was the soli- 
 loquy, the capital introductory speech, which he 
 had written three times over before he could get 
 it not only as he liked himself, but as he thought 
 Griggley would like it. He had read it aloud to 
 imaginary audiences in Giggley's inimitable man- 
 ner, and with Giggley's peculiar voice ; and had 
 fancied he heard the roars of the people at the 
 various points. 
 
 But Giggley asked that it might be cut in a 
 manner which plainly showed that if the author 
 did not abbreviate it, the actor would ; so Horace 
 groaned a sad assent, and the remorseless pencil 
 ran down the entire page, disposing of a whole 
 army of jokes in its cruel career. Sick at heart 
 the young author strolled towards his home, the 
 beautiful eyes and winning manner of Miss Mel- 
 lington still ^haunting him ; haunting liim as he 
 passed the crowds of uninteresting folks upon his 
 way; haunting him as he sat in his room, with 
 Priscilla a little more sharp and pointed and
 
 HORACE MEETS A " FASCINATING" WOMAN. 275 
 
 angular than ever, sewing meclianically at tlie 
 window, tlie sunshine showing up her shabbiness, 
 and tlie traces of a recent encounter with Mrs. 
 Molloy very evident in her touchy manner and 
 her tightened lips.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 
 
 Lord Glenburn's gout continued very annoying, 
 and his temper did not improve in consequence. 
 As the master's surHness increased, the bland 
 manner of the valet assumed even a milder form, 
 and nothing appeared capable of ruffling the im- 
 perturbable Ledbitter. At length the fit assumed 
 a more serious aspect, and Glenburn had to keep 
 his bed, giving his servant great uneasiness, and 
 making a demand upon his services very eagerly 
 acceded to; for the valet was in terrible alarm 
 when Dr. Danby looked grave, and drew out a 
 great moon-faced watch, and spoke in a corner to 
 Pinto, who was very humble in his manner to 
 the great physician, and listened to his words of 
 wisdom with great deference and attention. 
 
 Pinto was the family doctor, — originally in- 
 troduced by Ledbitter, whom he had attended for
 
 277 
 
 trifling ailments; but his attentions had been 
 chiefly directed to the lower regions, where he 
 had looked after the health of the servants for a 
 small annual sum, which, however, paid him verj 
 well ; for to see his shabby old brougham drawn 
 up at the peer's door was sufficient to convince 
 many of his patients that he must be a clever 
 man ; and his constant mention of Lord Glenburn 
 and his charming wife served to show how wide 
 was the extent of his practice ; embracing, as it 
 did, the extremes of the aristocratic invalid and 
 the smallest of sickly shopmen. Not that her 
 ladyship ever permitted Pinto to approach her. 
 Mrs. Gaunt, who took the most violent dislike to 
 at least four out of every five persons she came 
 across, had at once settled that Pinto was not the 
 medical man for her mistress ; and as for herself, 
 she had a great drug-chest, almost as big as a 
 portmanteau, and several " Domestic Medicines," 
 and despised all doctors as a rule. Her ladyship, 
 too, had the best of health, and never required 
 advice ; so Pinto's descriptions of the charming 
 mistress of the Glenburn establishment were all
 
 278 PAID m FULL. 
 
 drawn from his own imagination, for lie had 
 never beheld the lady but once ; and as for Mrs. 
 Gaunt, he would not have attempted to doctor her 
 for a finger-ache. For once, in his ignorance of 
 that good lady's disposition and general beha- 
 viour, he had, on meeting her on the stairs, in- 
 judiciously mentioned the fact of her complexion 
 not looking as clear as it might have done, sup- 
 plementing the remark by a suggestion that he 
 should send her something from his surgery. 
 Mrs. Gaunt drew herself up, and bringing her 
 bushy eyebrows together until they formed one 
 unbroken hirsute line, told M5r. Pinto that if he 
 e^'er dai'ed to make a remark to her ao^ain about 
 her personal appearance, she should order him to 
 be shown out; and then passed by him with a 
 sweep of her hea^y skirts, and a contemptuous 
 glance down his dumpy figm-e, from his bald head 
 to his boots. Pinto ever after would sneak up 
 the stairs rapidl}^, on having ascertained that the 
 dreadful housekeeper was not about, and would 
 cut his intei-vicAvs with the domestics exceedino^lv 
 short. He had spoken of the housekeeper's be-
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 279 
 
 haviour to Ledbitter, but had received no sym- 
 pathy from that quarter ; Ledbitter agreeing with 
 the lady, that it was a most injudicious remark for 
 Pinto to have made, and exhibited an ignorance 
 of human natm'e which was sui'prising in so 
 clever a gentleman. 
 
 When Mrs. Gaunt reached her own room, 
 after hearing a portion of the conversation be- 
 tween Glenburn and his valet, she paced its nar- 
 row limits as the tiger treads its den, with quick 
 impatient steps, and with an expression on her 
 hard visatje which shoAved how overwhelmino; was 
 the rage in her breast. Mrs. Gaunt had been lis- 
 tening. Eavesdropping had been an old weakness 
 of hers; and in the com'se of her life she had 
 innumerable times verified the truth of the saying, 
 that listeners seldom hear any good of them- 
 selves. Upon the present occasion what she had 
 heard confirmed her belief in Ledbitter's ill-will, 
 and she read the valet's design upon his mas- 
 ter's domestic peace at a glance. For some ob- 
 ject of his own, it was evident Ledbitter wished 
 to produce an estrangement between Lord and
 
 280 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Lady Glenbuni. Why lie sliould wisli so to do, 
 the housekeeper knew not, neither did she care 
 to know; it was sufficient for her that it was so; 
 and slio ground her large teeth in the bitterest 
 anger, and pushed back her grizzled hair from 
 her temples, and walked nipidly up and down 
 the r(M)ni, her chest heaving with emotion, and 
 her large hands clenched. Yet how was she to 
 sjHJjik? 8he had no proof. She had heard the 
 conversation by listening at the door, and she 
 coidd not confess to that It was lucky for Led- 
 bitter that he was not in \wr way, for she h)oked 
 as if she could havr t<ini him limb from limb, — 
 that tlreadful woman, with her masculint^ stride 
 and lr)ng sinewy anns. She belongc<l to the 
 coarsest ortler of \'iragos, and could not settle 
 down until she had wearieil her legs with walk- 
 nig up and do>\'n, and tire<l out her tongue with 
 invective. " A mean pitiful villain,'' she ex- 
 claimeil, as she strode tlie room ; " a j»oor con- 
 temptible scoundrel, with his smug face and his 
 sneaking hyi)ocritical smile, his dainty white linen 
 and liis spruce clotlies. Ah, how I hate him I
 
 J.N 1 ilK HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM. 281 
 
 how I hate him ! If I ha<l him here, I would 
 as soon stab him witii this knifo as I would wrinu 
 the neck of a pigeon, — a <rrimacing, false wretch !** 
 And so on, up and down her den, like a wild- 
 beast, until she fell on to a chair fairly exhaasttnl. 
 Ledbitter was not sorr}- that she had heard some- 
 tiiing of tlie interi'sting dialogue between his mas- 
 ter and himselfl He did not regret tliat she had 
 caught a glimmer of the game he was playing. 
 His |XMition was so secure timt tlie fact of the 
 enemy seeing something of his tactics ratluT lent 
 an additional inten*st to the battle. Hv was plc>ase<l 
 to think that 3Irs. Gaunt should s(*e his power 
 over his master, and that she shoidd leani how 
 futile it was to attempt any tricks with his lonl- 
 8hip*8 confidential senant. He didn't care a fig 
 for her anger now ; and as t<i her ladyship, it was 
 all tlie same whether she liktnl or dis]ike<l him, 
 for her power pjJed lx*fore his, and he mentally 
 snap|)ed his finger at tlie pair of tliem. Tlie 
 double part which Mrs. Gaiuit would lx» forced 
 for the future to play — for she could surely never 
 admit tliat she liad listened at the door — would
 
 282 PAID IN YILL. 
 
 he most amusing; ]X)ssibly she might assume a 
 more agreeable manner, in order to throw him oft* 
 the scent, or — But Letlhitter clithrt take tlie 
 trouble to ct)njeeture further, contented to take 
 iimtters as they might come, nmeh pleased though 
 witli the result of his lalM)urs so far. But Mrs, 
 ( iaunt, though a deep designing woman, was apt 
 to l)e dreadfully rash when her fury was n)ased ; 
 :in<l she frecpiently perfonued such neck-or-notliing 
 nets of intem])enitc violence, that she was no match 
 lor the cool and collected Le<lbitt«T, with his plea- 
 sant smile and gentle manner. 
 
 For tlie first time sine** her marriage I^ady 
 (flenburn had trembled for her )M>sition. She 
 was a thoughtless woman, devoid of brains, not 
 ba<l-lu»arti»d by any means, but a IxMiutiful pui>- 
 jM't, of which Mrs. Gaunt pulIo<l the strings; and 
 j)ulled them with no gn^at gentleness or discre- 
 tion. For a battered gentleman not so young as 
 he had been, Glenbum wjis considere<l to possem 
 a gmxl life. His constitution was an iron one, 
 or it could never have stood tlie treatment it had 
 received at the hands of it** iK)sscs.sor. Gvut liad
 
 IN THE housekfepeb's room. 28 
 
 certainly inarkcMl him for its victim, l)Ut that wf 
 all ; Jind somehow jit'Ople don't think much * 
 gout ; tlien* in nothing of tho poetry of |H)orlincj 
 alx)ut it. A miui looks s<» alisunl with his iln 
 in fiannel, and a roar uj^on liirf lij)s when an 
 btxly comes witliin a >*anl of the aftlictetl men 
 ber. Any thing on the lungs, a fever, a frac 
 tured or disloeatcsl limh, — tlioHe arotwe n^-mpathv 
 but gout in al\%'ayft assocMat^l with cn>ss-grainc 
 guardians in eonuHlicH, and wealthy old s^pun 
 who take Uh\ mueh |)ort ; and it is so eminent] 
 re8]H'etahle that it ap|H»ars quite a complaint 
 he proud of. So LjuIv Glenhurii had luvrr aj 
 prehended any thing M'rioa^ when her lord lui 
 an attack <»f the fannly disorder; and her net 
 le<*t wan unint<'ntional, and resulttnl rather inr 
 thoughtlessneNS than any desin^ to slight her hu 
 l»and. Not that she loved him, of course ; th 
 was out of tht» (piestion. She entertained a fee 
 ing of gnititude which was as strong as lier natu 
 j)ormittc<l, for the man who had shariHl his tit 
 with her and given her wealth and position. B 
 that was all. Had Glenbiini been lialf his a<
 
 284 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 and possessed of every virtue, liis wife would not 
 have been tlie woman to appreciate them ; and 
 had she known the extent of his vices, it would 
 not have made any material difference in her feel- 
 ing towards him. She had been brought up with 
 a view to occupyuig a much lower sphere, and 
 she was really exceedingly obliged to Lord Glen- 
 burn for marrying her. But though she was an 
 apathetic soulless woman, she possessed all her 
 sex's love of show and glitter and excitement; 
 and when Dr. Danby told her with a grave face 
 that her husband was seriously ill, she felt very 
 much alarmed, and regretted not having been 
 with him more frequently in his dull room. 
 
 Her ladyship was seated alone, yawning over 
 a novel she could not imderstand, when suddenly 
 the housekeeper burst in upon her. It was easy 
 to see that Mrs. Gaunt was enraged, for she took 
 no pains to conceal her passion, but slammed-to 
 the door and shook her fist at her mistress. Lady 
 Glenbum looked up in some alarm, for the house- - 
 keeper when thoroughly angry was sometliing 
 fearftd to behold, and had a dreadfid habit of
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 285 
 
 speaking at the top of her strong harsli voice, 
 regai'dless of listeners, until she broke down for 
 lack of breath. 
 
 " This comes of jour brainless goings-on, your 
 fondness for parties and fal-lal nonsense, this does ; 
 this comes of your never going to see your hus- 
 band, and leaving him entirely to the tender mer- 
 cies of Mr. Ledbitter." 
 
 It was rather an insolent way to address a mis- 
 tress, but there was no sign of indignation on Lady 
 Glenbm-n's face; the only expression — ^if expres- 
 sion it could be called — ^her comitenance exhibited 
 at the attack was one of blank amazement 
 
 " AVliat is the matter ?" she inquired. 
 
 " What is the matter ! Mischief's the matter ; 
 every thing's the matter ! Glenbui'u's annoyed 
 with you, and rightly too. You must give that 
 Atherton his dismissal. Don't stare with your 
 eyes wide open like a silly doll ; I tell you Led- 
 bitter's plotting mischief against both of us ; he's 
 setting Glenbm-n against you, and he'U have you 
 separated if you don't mind your maimers. It 
 serves you right, well right"
 
 286 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 The housekeeper paced up and down tJie room 
 frowuinfi: and beating her hands tot^ether in her 
 
 O o o 
 
 rage. 
 
 " You 8a*<j>ect this man of more power tlian ho 
 jx)sse8ses. He can liave no uhject in wishing to 
 breed any (juarrel," said lier ladyship. 
 
 " How do you know ?" replie<l Mrs. Gaunt, 
 turning round on her mistress very 8hari>ly ; " how 
 do you know what motives he nuiy have ? wliat 
 interests he may wisli to serve ? what jKjtty ven- 
 geance lie may aim at? He has l)een in his mas- 
 ter's contidence for years ; he knows six times as 
 much alx>ut him as you can ever ho|)e to learn ; 
 and what do you or I know of his reasons ? He 
 liates me as I hate him, for lio saw 1 suspected 
 him from tlie Hrst ; and he'll carry his jKiint if wo 
 don't prevent liim." 
 
 The housekeciKjr sat in a chair with her head 
 in her hands, reflecting. 
 
 " Lord GlenbiuTi loves me, and — '* 
 
 " Loves you !" said Mrs. Gamit, looking up 
 suddenly ; '' loves you ! Ha, lia ! child, you are 
 as simj)lc as tlie merest idiot ! Yes, he loves you
 
 IX THE housekeeper's ROOM. 287 
 
 in his way, after his Ikshiou ; and you make liim 
 a showy wife, and set-oti' his rooms, and look well 
 when you arc dressed for the eveuiji*^ ; and ho 
 likes to hear your silly habhle, whieh ho used to 
 call HO sinij»le, luid natural, and unartificial, and 
 all that. But sueh love as liis, trirl, is the merest 
 silver wa.sh, and it'll come off like tlie stuff on a 
 copjK'r candlestiek. Love I it's selt-eonoeit, that's 
 wliat it is; onee wound that^ and you niav hid 
 ^(ood-by to rortnian Square." 
 
 " Well, 1 don't know what to do," haIt-sol)l>e<l 
 lier Imlyship, who really did not. 
 
 " ril have him out of tho house ."' said the 
 liousekeejier, brin«:ing her <rreat himd down ujH)n 
 the toilet-table with a tlmm|) which made its manv 
 omiunents rattle a^niiu ; *^ Til have him out of the 
 house, mider liLs master's \ery nose. As it's war, 
 there's no use in mincing matters. I'll dischar<ro 
 him, and Glenbum won't dare to siiy me nnv, I 
 know ; if he dot»s, we'll declare we'll leave him, 
 exjx)se liim, tell the world who we arc. No half- 
 measures, girl ; wc must stoj) short at notliino-. 
 He may pension-off his valet, — for, after all, there
 
 288 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 must be money at tlie bottom of the affair, — but 
 Ledbitter shall go ; Jane Gaunt' s said it, mind ; 
 at all risks, at all hazards, he shall go, he shall 
 go!" 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt was not one of those people who 
 said things in the heat of passion which she did 
 not mean. She was a most self-willed obstinate 
 woman, who, having once determined upon doing 
 any thing, even of the maddest description, could 
 not be deterred by any reasoning or advice from 
 carrying out her object. When once she had de- 
 clared Jane Gaunt would do a thing, it was a cer- 
 tainty that Jane Gamit would do it. She seldom 
 failed to perform what she said she would ordi- 
 narily ; but upon extraordinary and special occa- 
 sions, when she had used the words " Jane 
 Gamit," nothing could prevent her. So Lady 
 Glenburn well knew, and she felt how useless it 
 would have been to attempt any argmnent or per- 
 suasion. She turned very pale and trembled, and 
 felt faint for the first time in her hfe, when the 
 housekeeper spoke of a separation, and she thought 
 of its attendant misery and disgrace ; but she was
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 289 
 
 the merest doll in the hands of Mrs. Graunt, and 
 she could only look at her imploringly with those 
 big black eyes which had taken Glenburn prisoner 
 at Baden. 
 
 ^^ Go to Lord Glenburn' s room, and tell Mr. 
 Ledbitter that I wish to speak to him." 
 
 This to a servant, who paused a moment before 
 going, with an micertain look at the housekeeper, 
 who w^as seated in an arm-chair in her own apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Please, ma'am. Dr. Danby said " 
 
 " Do as I bid you !" replied Mrs. Gaunt, with 
 an impatient stamp. 
 
 The servant left the room, and shortly re- 
 turned. 
 
 '^ Mr. Ledbitter's compliments, and he will be 
 down almost directly." 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt turned a little pale, or perhaps it 
 would be more correct to say she became a trifle 
 less red, for her face was generally florid, and 
 during strong agitation was apt to present an 
 almost purplish appearance. Though the violence 
 of her anger had somewhat abated, she was still 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 far from calm ; the big waves had subsided, but 
 the sea was frothino; and bubblino- and misettled. 
 She never possessed the power of mastering her 
 emotion, and she knew it, and felt that Led- 
 bitter in tliat had greatly the advantage over 
 her. But she did her best, and sat stiU upon 
 the chair, tapping her foot upon the floor im- 
 patiently, her hand pressed to where her heart 
 might once have been, for, strong and deter- 
 mined as she was, she experienced, the first time 
 for years, the slightest symptom of a flutter in 
 that region. 
 
 Presently a soft tap was heard at the door. 
 It Avas just the kind of gentle unobtrusive knock 
 to be expected from Ledbitter. Mrs. Gaunt cleared 
 her tlii'oat, and called out ^' Come in!" in a loud 
 tone. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter came in. He bowed gravely 
 to Mrs. Gaunt, who scarcely acknowledged the 
 salute. 
 
 " Sit doAATi, Mr. Ledbitter," she said, pointing 
 to a chair close by him. 
 
 Mr. Ledbitter sat down unconcernedly, and
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 291 
 
 stifled a rising yaAvn with an air of consummate 
 indifference. 
 
 " His lordship has dropped into a gentle 
 slumber, and will no doubt awake considerably 
 refreshed," said the valet ; ^' else I could not 
 have left him, even to obey the commands of 
 Mrs. Gaunt." 
 
 Ledbitter said this in a tone which left the 
 hearer in doubt whether it was a compliment or 
 a sneer. Mrs. Gaunt began to chafe again, and 
 she showed it. The valet cooled even more than 
 ever : he might have been frozen to his seat, he 
 sat so cold and still. 
 
 '' Mr. Ledbitter," at length blurted out JVii's. 
 Gaunt, " I — a — ^liave sent for you to speak my 
 mind !" 
 
 The valet bowed slightly. 
 
 " You are in your master's confidence ; you 
 are his right-hand man. He tliinks as you think, 
 and you can twist him romid your finger. Don't 
 shake yom' head, man. I've got eyes, and I can 
 use 'em. I've not watched you both for nothing. 
 I see it all. You've Imo^vn him long ; you know
 
 292 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 all about liis career, and there isn't a single evil 
 deed he's done, — and he's done a-many ; don't 
 tell me ! — that you're not aware of — mayhap have 
 assisted him in. He's afraid of you : he's under 
 your thumb ; that's what he is !" 
 
 The housekeeper drew back to see the effect 
 of her speech. Ledbitter showed no signs of in- 
 terest or emotion : he sat with his resj)ectable head 
 slightly bent, but there was no symptom of ex- 
 citement in his placid countenance. 
 
 " From the first moment her ladyship and me 
 came to this house, you took a dislike to us. For 
 goodness' sake, don't look like that. You did! 
 You didn't like my lady from the first ; and you 
 hated me !" 
 
 " What possible cause could I " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. Perhaps we interfered 
 with your schemes, whatever they were. Perhaps 
 you didn't admire your master's choice ; and cer- 
 tainly you didn't know who she was, and that 
 annoyed you. However, you began to bounce 
 with me; but you soon found that wouldn't do 
 with Jane Gamit Then you tmiied polite. No-
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 293 
 
 thing was too ci^al for you to say Avlien you met 
 me about tlie house ; you looked as if butter 
 wouldn't melt in your mouth whenever I saw 
 you. Then I mistrusted you. I didn't care so 
 long as you were rude ; but I couldn't bear yoiu' 
 being polite and cameying, for I could see 
 through it; and I was right. You've set Lord 
 Glenburn against his wife ; you have I I know 
 it. You think you'll get rid of us ; you presume 
 on your power with your master ; but you'^'e got 
 a foe that won't yield to such as you. You've 
 put Jane Gaunt's blood up ; and she'll win, you'll 
 see, Mr. Ledbitter." 
 
 The housekeeper had half risen from her seat, 
 as she became more and more excited. The 
 valet's face was a little paler, and his mouth 
 appeared rather more rigid than was usual with 
 him; but he still sat with his head slightly bent 
 and his eyes drooping. 
 
 " Now, how cowardly and base a thing it 
 is," continued Mrs. Gaunt, " to tell lies behind a 
 mistress's back, to try and foment a quarrel be- 
 tween a happy couple! What man, who really
 
 294 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Wfis a man, would descend to so mean, so low a 
 trick? What master, but a despicable and con- 
 temptible one, would listen for a moment to such 
 a farrago of falsehood and wickedness? Bah! 
 you're suited to each other : like master, like 
 man — like master, like man !" 
 
 A temporary flush overspread the valet's 
 comitenance. He could bear to be called a vil- 
 lain ; but there was a peculiar sting concealed 
 in the comparison of himself with Glenburn. 
 Mrs. Gaunt could not have said any thing 
 more severe ; and she saw the angry colour 
 which came for a moment to Ledbitter's cheek. 
 After a short pause, the valet spoke in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " Did you merely send for me to insult me, 
 Mrs. Gaunt, and to speak malignantly of the 
 master who pays you your wages ? If so, I think 
 I may as well retire ;" and he made a slight 
 movement towards the door. 
 
 " Stay, sir ; I haven't done. Tliat is not all 
 I have sent for you for. It is but too plain that 
 the same roof cannot shelter us both. Your mas-
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 295 
 
 ter values you, or fears you, or something ; at 
 all events, he would never part with you will- 
 ingly. I have known my mistress from a child, 
 and will never leave her. You must go, and at 
 once. Don't smile, Ledbitter. I say you must, 
 and shall! I will go to your master, and invent 
 some reason for your absence ; and in time I will 
 break the news to him, and so arrange that he 
 shall not miss your presence. He may storm : 
 he will, I know ; but I can bear that. I am 
 mistress here, and I discharge you; now, upon 
 the spot ; at once ! Don't dare to disobey me ; 
 don't dare it, man ! Any money you want, you 
 shall have ; but you shall go. Jane Gaimt swears 
 it, and she'll keep her oath !" 
 
 Tlie woman had risen as she spoke ; and, as 
 she waved her long arms at her enemy, with her 
 form erect, and her hair pushed back from her 
 big hard-featured face, her chest heaving, and 
 her eyes flasliing with rage, she might have stood 
 as a model to a Fuseli for any one of the 
 Furies. 
 
 Ledbitter looked at her almost admiringly.
 
 296 PAID m FULL. 
 
 and replied in a voice which betrayed something 
 like a tremble : 
 
 " Whilst his lordsliip lives, Mrs. Gaunt, I will 
 never quit him." 
 
 " You will, man ; this day — this day !" 
 
 " No, madam ; no." 
 . '^ Beware ! you are making a madwoman of 
 me. I can't endure this. I shall forget where 
 I am, or what I am doing. Don't dare to cross 
 my path when my blood's once up. As sure as 
 my name's Jane Gamit " 
 
 " Ha, ha !" said the valet, rising suddenly, 
 and facing her witli his defiant finger pointing 
 at her, and a wild look of triumph in his eyes ; 
 ''as sm-e as youi' name's Jane Gaunt, indeed! 
 say, rather, as sure as your name's Jane 
 Lyon !" 
 
 The housekeeper gave a start as if she had 
 been shot, and with a fearful shriek, which rang 
 through the house, fell as white as a corpse upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " What was that confounded scream I heard
 
 IN THE housekeeper's ROOM. 297 
 
 just now?" asked the peer, wliom tlie shriek had 
 awakened from a light slumber. 
 
 " Only one of the servants in hysterics, my 
 lord," was the calm reply of the unruffled Lefl- 
 bitter, as he gently smoothed his master's pillow.
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 MR. LEDBITTER's WALK. 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt was not in the habit of fainting. 
 She had never been known to go into hysterics, 
 and looked upon smelhng - salts with contempt. 
 Her opinion of ladies who " felt the warm wea- 
 ther," and who took refuge in fanning and foolery, 
 was by no means flattering; her notion in the 
 summer being that you should " perspire and look 
 pleasant over it." If by chance she came across 
 a passage in a novel which spoke of a sensitive 
 heroine giving way to her feelings in the conven- 
 tional fainting fashion, the unemotional house- 
 keeper would fling aside the book with many ex- 
 pressions of contempt for those who wrote, and 
 those who read, such rubbish. But Mrs. Gaunt' s 
 time came in due season ; and when she did faint, 
 it was in downright earnest, and her coming-t<:) 
 was tardy and distressing to witness. So thought
 
 MR. LEDBITTER's WALK. 299 
 
 Felicia Penrose, an upper - servant whom Mrs. 
 Gaunt had been in the habit of treating less 
 harshly than the other domestics of the house, 
 and who flew to assist the housekeeper and apply 
 thc necessary restoratives to that lady. Almost 
 directly Mrs. Gaunt became herself again ; but 
 there was a frightened look in her generally bold 
 eyes, and a tremor pervading her strong frame, 
 which surprised Felicia, who w\as accustomed to 
 class all attacks of this natm-e mider the compre- 
 hensive title of ^' fits." According to Felicia's 
 experience, bed was the proper place for those 
 who recovered from fits ; but she would have 
 been indeed a brave upper-servant avIio would haxe 
 dared to suggest bed to Mrs. Gaunt. Tlie house- 
 keeper, after shuddering and throwing an alarmed 
 glance over her shoulder, shook herself, and with 
 a bio- sio-h of relief became once more a very fair 
 imitation, to a casual observer, of the Mrs. Gaunt 
 of an hour back, though to sharp-eyed damsels, 
 such as Felicia, the change was evident. 
 
 Felicia Penrose was a beady-eyed, black-haired 
 housemaid with a tight waist and a trim figure,
 
 300 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 who liad some time previously cast an eve of 
 favour upon the genteel body-senant of her noble 
 master. Li Felicia's eyes gentility was every 
 thing ; she was the ultra-conservative of the kit- 
 chen, a below-stairs Tory of the truest blue, and 
 upon the low radical levelling spirit of " some 
 folks" — by which vague allusion it was well 
 known to the whole establishment she pointed at 
 the cook, a most independent person — she looked 
 do^vn with contempt and scorn. She was one of 
 those unhappy servants who have the misfortune 
 to come of a family of " great respectability," who 
 thought itself disgraced by her entering service, 
 and so on ; consequently, by a judicious con- 
 sideration of the feelings of her relatives in menial 
 matters, combined with considerable incompetency 
 when it came to the higher domestic duties, Fe- 
 licia contriA'ed to pass her time agreeably enough, 
 devoting much of it to caps, and maintaining a 
 genteel whiteness of the hand which was highly 
 becoming. A somewhat deep and designing 
 young woman was Felicia ; but not sufficiently so 
 to ensnare the heart of Mr. Ledbitter, who was
 
 MR. LEDBITTER's WALK. 301 
 
 always scrupulously polite ; on occasion even ten- 
 der; but never committed liimself by a promise 
 or any remark convertible into tlie semblance of 
 one. Matrimonially considered, Lord Glenburn's 
 valet was a liiglily desirable person. He was well 
 off, of course. There was no proof that he pos- 
 sessed money; but it was generally believed by 
 the Glenbm-n household that ^Ir. Ledbitter had 
 put-by a goodly sum, which he had augmented 
 by judicious investments. He was not at all the 
 kind of man to retire and take a public-house, 
 thought his acquaintance — that woidd be too com- 
 mon a sphere of action for him; he might pos- 
 sibly go in for a large railway hotel, or do some- 
 thing extensive with refreshment contracts. But 
 whatever he might do, it was very certain he 
 would do it well; and Felicia Penrose pictured 
 to herself a future of genteel comfort, when one 
 evening the placid valet was more than ordi- 
 narily bland and attentive. Shar}) as Fehcia im- 
 doubtedly was, she was nevertheless veiy obtuse 
 upon one point, — she was perfectly blind to the 
 pimiping process she invariably miderwent when
 
 302 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 in compuny witli the agreeable valet. Being of 
 a somewhat talkative nature, Miss Penrose only 
 required the slightest indication of the conversa- 
 tional road for her to start off at a smart trot, 
 wliieh the occasional spur, in the shape of an ex- 
 clamation, would sharpen into a downright gallop. 
 Without at all intending it, Felicia fomid herself 
 revealing to the valet all her own notions regard- 
 ing her mistress and her mistress's constant com- 
 panion, Mrs. Gaunt. It was with no desire to 
 tattle or make miscliief that Felicia talked very 
 fast, and hazarded conjectures upon the mys- 
 terious friendship above stairs. She woidd, after 
 a gossip with Ledbitter, run over in her own 
 mind the many silly things she had contrived to 
 cram into ten minutes' talk, and feel herself flush 
 to the roots of her jet-black hair as she reflected 
 upon the possibility of Ledbitter retailing the facts 
 to a third party. Her misgivings would vanish 
 though when she looked into the stolid counte- 
 nance of her companion. It was the last face in 
 the world to belong to a babbler ; and, after all, 
 he had not appeared peculiarly interested at her
 
 MR. LEDBITTER's "^'ALK. 303 
 
 recital, tliough lie had led lier on somehow to tell 
 things too. In fact, the self-possessed servant 
 was a puzzle to Fehcia Penrose, and after e^ery 
 gossip with him she would mentally resohe to 
 hold her tongue in futm'e. But as such self- 
 denial necessitated a finish to those pleasant in- 
 terviews with the valet wliich Felicia chose to 
 consider as '' stolen," and which she invested Avith 
 a romantic interest of little less than Romeo-and- 
 Juliet-hke intensity, she concluded by giving her- 
 self up to the imlimited pmnping powers of her 
 middle-aged admirer. 
 
 One fatal evening, hoAvever — and Felicia re- 
 membered bitterly afterwards that it was the very 
 one on which the last hnk of her own suspicions 
 had been added to the long chain of apparent 
 trifles — the golden bubble burst, and Miss Pen- 
 rose's vision vanished into air. She had been 
 tender in her tone, and more than confiding ; for 
 the evening was calm, and Ledbitter had di'opped 
 hints of half-price to tlie play, and the atmosphere 
 was redolent of happiness. Suddenly Mr. Led- 
 bitter's manner changed ; conscience seemed to
 
 304 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 liave struck liim in an abrupt and unexpected 
 fashion. Kemorse arose to liis mind, and vir- 
 tuous horror was stamped upon his brow. He 
 lectm-ed Fehcia on the evils of a tatthng tongue, 
 and gravely shook his imposing head, and seemed 
 to endure much pain at the thoughts of his com- 
 panion's conduct. He spoke in an injured tone, 
 and upbraided Felicia, with a quiet severity which 
 was very heartrending, with making him the re- 
 cipient of silly trifling secrets which meant no- 
 thing, but which, if breathed about, might prove 
 very annoying to Lord and Lady Glenburn ; and 
 he worked up the climax to his rebuke with feel- 
 ing, and strode with much stateliness from the 
 room, ignoring the half-price question, and leav- 
 ing Felicia oscillating between a wish to cry and 
 a desire to tear his eyes out. She decided in 
 favour of tears, crying in a fierce way, and rub- 
 bing her eyes in a sharp enraged manner, as ill- 
 tempered nm-ses do those of naughty childi'en. 
 Then she gave vent to her indignation, and de- 
 termined to instruct one of her many respectable 
 relatives, who was an attorney, to commence a
 
 MR. LEDBITTER's WALK. 305 
 
 breacli-of-promise action at once against the de- 
 ceiving Avretch. Cooling down eventually, Fe- 
 licia reflected that there never had been a pro- 
 mise ; and that, divested of those little tender 
 hints and artful amatory touches which go so far 
 with the fair objects of the monster's attentions, 
 and so little a way with a cold-blooded jury, her 
 case was not a strong one ; and, though a wish 
 for vengeance rankled in the Penrose bosom, the 
 Penrose intellect was alive to the futility of the 
 law in such a matter. Hand-pressings and lover's 
 looks and sighs, that express so much at the time 
 they are heaved, come out miserably as evidence. 
 One short letter of a definite nature, albeit love is 
 spelt with a w, and the writer with praiseworthy 
 modesty puts down a small i whenever he speaks 
 of himself, will go much further in the stony- 
 hearted law-com'ts than all the cruel wounds that 
 reckless Cockney-sportsman Cupid is accountable 
 for. Sighing and dying may do much ; but they 
 don't bring damages. So Felicia Penrose did not 
 consult her highly-respectable distant relative ; 
 but hated Ledbitter in her heart, and wondered 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 how she could have thouglit for an instant of a 
 man old enough to be her father. 
 
 The acute attack of rage and mortification had 
 subsided, and Felicia had entered the chronic 
 stage of unseen but no less deadly hatred towards 
 the man who had treated her so unfeelingly about 
 the time of Mrs. Gaunt's sudden illness. The first 
 thing the housekeeper said when she recovered 
 her animation was " Shut the door !" She did 
 not object to the attentions of Felicia ; but not for 
 worlds would she be seen by the other servants in 
 such a condition. Felicia had shut the door ; an 
 act of forethought which was not lost upon the 
 housekeeper. Miss Penrose had not entered the 
 room without having previously caught a glimpse 
 of the* rapidly retreating form of Mr. Ledbitter. 
 There could be but one view to be taken of the 
 matter. In the female mind there never is but 
 one view to be taken of , such interviews. Led- 
 bitter had evidently been proposing marriage to 
 the housekeeper, and the unexpected declaration 
 of his respectable passion had been, as a matter of 
 course, too much for her. 
 
 " Ha," thought the dark-eyed damsel to her-
 
 MR. LEDBITTER'S WALK. 307 
 
 self, as slie looked upon the prostrate form of tlie 
 housekeeper, " if I only had a letter or something 
 substantial of the kind, I'd y^-ait till the marriage, 
 and then make him pay for his perfidy.'^ 
 
 It was the work of a very few moments with 
 IVIrs. Gamit to re-arrange her iron-gray hair, put 
 her cap straight, and collect her scattered senses. 
 In as shoi-t a time as it woidd ha^e taken a prac- 
 tised fainter to sigh, look round, di'aw a long 
 breath, and say " I'm better now," Mrs. Gaunt 
 was apparently as firm upon her feet as ever ; and 
 though pale and evidently trembling, she walked 
 up and down the room as steadily as ever, and 
 bade Felicia leave her, and hold her tongue about 
 it to the servants, in her natiu'al voice. 
 
 Later in the day the housekeeper sent for 
 Felicia, and at once dispelled the girl's notions 
 that there was any tender sentiment regarding 
 Ledbitter in the breast of Mrs. Gaunt. Their 
 opinions tallying, the valet received much hearty 
 abuse m his absence : and if his ears did not tingle 
 that afternoon, it was no fault of the indignant 
 couple in the housekeeper's room. Mrs. Gaunt 
 liked Felicia in her grim way, and treated her
 
 308 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 very differently from the otlier domestics, mucli to 
 their annoyance and greatly to the discomfort of 
 poor Felicia, who, being mipopular from the first 
 on account of her superior antecedents and grand 
 airs, now found herself completely tabooed and 
 treated with extreme contumely. But Felicia re- 
 turned scorn for scorn, and A^-ith interest ; dining 
 with her nose elevated in the air, and smiling with 
 contemptuous pity at the general bad gi'ammar of 
 the Glenburn household. The interview bet^^een 
 Mrs. Gamit and Felicia was not a very long one, for 
 the housekeeper had a knack of coming very soon to 
 the point ; and as the tendency of her instructions 
 was inimical to Ledbitter, Miss Penrose's perceptive 
 faculties were more than ordinarily acute. 
 
 As the valet strolled out to take his accustomed 
 turn that evening, a young woman, closely veiled, 
 might be seen following him at a respectful dis- 
 tance. The veil was not a very tliick one, and 
 twinkling through it might be seen a pair of rather 
 restless and wonderfully sparkling black eyes. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 
 
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