Mgm^tAtt im -iffiitwreWifi '' LI E> R.AR.Y OF THE UNIVLRSITY Of ILL1NOI5 Gc7Z^-P V.I ^,o //iCfyul^^/Mu/iyri fyf^^ \: '■ ^ . . , ^^ .'A-/ Z//-^'-^/ / /y// FREDERICK DE MONTFORD, A NOVEL. IN THREE VOLUMES. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE PURSUITS OF FASHION. VOL. 1. Author, — " Qnis leget haec ?" Bookseller, — " Nemo, Hercule, nemo." Author, — " Turpe et miserabile ! Quare?" Persics. And who will read it ? No one, 'pon my soul. O sad ! Why not?— as well as ' Self Control.' 3lont»on t PRINTED FOR JOHN EBERS, 23_, OLD BOND-STREET, 1811 Harding & Wright, Pristers, St, John'i Square, London, i PREFACE. I HAVE always thought that he who pens a preface, stands in much the same situation as Mr. King at Chel- tenham, or Monsieur Le Bas at Margate, or, indeed, any other mas- ter of the Ceremonies; that is to say, he places himself in the door- way in order to introduce any stranger who may arrive to the coa^pany, and explain to him the regulations and amusements of the society into a 2 11 which he has purchased a right of ad- mission. There is, however, this differ- ence between the two characters; — that the latter's duty requires him only to provide entertainment for light heels ; whilst the more difficult task of the former frequently enjoins him to find employment for light heads, — More especially if ' novel' be inscribed on the title-page of the work which he presents to the public's attention. The gentlemen I have above named, alike eminent for their sua- vity of manners and professional civility, are rarely prolix or verbose in the performance of their duty ; but seem by their practice to infer that brevity, on that, as on most Ill other occasions, is peculiarly their province, and best suited to such solemn occasions. They therefore usually content themselves with ask- ing Major if he wishes to dance ; and, if such be his desire, introduc- ing him to Miss *^***; who, of course, ere the two first dances be concluded, takes care to make the stranger a little acquainted with the company. With this precedent, (and where could I find a better ?) I purport strictly conforming. And therefore, stranger ! whosoever thou art, lady or gentleman, that in a weak or idle moment hast purchased a right of looking into the ensuing pages, allow VI and useless inquiry, how much a set of features here resemble a set elsewhere. An occupation which could only serve to gratify pique or, at best, curiosity. But I am exceeding the limits I proposed, and which my precedents have assigned to me. I shall there- fore conclude with wishing you all sorts of amusement; and sincerely hoping that you will not follow the example of certain chaperons at London balls, and fall asleep before the thing is half over. DE MONTFORD. CHAPTER I. Amongst the crowd of youthful adventurers, whom the love of fame, and the hopes of military renown, allured, in the winter of 1808, to the coast of Spain, to join with their countrymen in defending, that op- pressed country from the aggressions of the tyrant of Europe ; no one was more zealous in the cause, more dis- tinguished by his courage and enter- VOL. I. B prize, or in every way more con- spicuous, than Frederick de Mont- ford. Few persons, in truth, could hoast greater claims than himself to occupy the distinguished post, here allotted him, of Hero in a Novel; heing possessed of an infinity of those qualities, mental as well as personal, which have, for ages, been established as indispensable requisites in such a character; and having, moreover, cer- tain mysteries attached to his birth and situation, admirably calculated to keep alive the attention, and en- gage the research of every admirer of romance. It is not our intention here to oc- cupy the readers time, or exhaust his patience with an account of all that befell our hero in the characters of school-hoy and subaltern j but it will be necessary to claim a little of his attention, whilst we briefly ac- count for the situation in- which he is above introduced, and notice a few events which look place prior to the period from which we mean to date our story. Strange as it may seem, although at the time of which we are speaking DeMontford had attained his twenty- second year, he yet knew but little of his own history; he had been brought to this country, when an infant, by Sir Ralph Delaval, who had since acted in the capacity of his guardian, defraying the ex- penses attendant on his education, and permitting him to pass, at his mansion in the North of England, the seasons allotted for his juvenile holidays. But on the subject of his parents, his country,- or any other B ^ part of tlie history of his young charge, the baronet maintained a scrupulous and invariable silence; checking, with marks of evident dis- pleasure, any attempts, which the curiosity or impertinence of his neigh- bours might occasionally dictate, to draw from him the secret. Scandal, indeed, had not been idle on this point in the neighbourhood of Delaval Hall, and had frequently hinted, that a nearer relationship sub- sisted between the baronet and his youthful elev^ ; nay, there were not wanting persons who affected to dis- cover a resemblance between them in many points ; and, on one occa- sion, when Frederick had, with very little ceremony, proceeded to inflict the extremity of school-boy ven- geance on one of his companions (who, relying upon a superiority of size, had upbraided him with the ob- scurity of his origin) Monsieur Dc La Place, Sir Ralph's old and favoiirite servant, who had lived with him from a boy, had travelled with him, and peculiarly enjoyed his master's confidence, was observed to listen, with more than common attention^ to the account given of De Mont- ford's impetuosity and spirit through- out the affair ; and, at the conclusion, was heard to exclaim, in a sudden burst of admiration, ' Ma foLv I Legargon sera digne du pere.*-— Now, the village hair-dresser chanc- ing at that moment to form one of the circle in the house- keeper's room, and being, moreover, a bit of a scholar, contrived, with the help of recollection, and 4he remains of a French dictionary, to give a tolerably accurate translation of the B 3 abavc speech^ to all his many cus- tomers, and which of course, caused divers conjectures, and much inte- resting converse amongst them. Nothing more, however, transpired in any way to satisfy curiosity, or afford a clue to the elucidation of this mystery. Sir Ralph continued his reserve on the subject, whenever started ; nor could the many attacks jiiade oil his servant (whose feelings we have seen, on one occasion, getting the better of his prudence) induce him to commit a similar blunder. Every stratagem employed to draw from him, by surprise or flattery, the wished -for tale of wonder, fail- ed of it's effect; — the same provoking indifference, — the same abominable shrug of pretended ignorance, was op- posed to each, and, at length, the dis- appointed assailants were forced to console themselves, in the absence of fact, by composing many ingenious fables, and thereon foiincling many good-natured opinions, which, though doubtless interesting in the extreme, our time will not permit us here to enumerate. Frederick had scarcely completed the small stock of education, which a provincial school, of no great cele- brity, had been able to afford him, when he was summoned by his patron to commence his career in the mili- tary profession, which he had lorig contemplated as the certain, if not the only, road to eminence. ** You have now, De Montford," (said Sir Ralph to him on the occasion,) ** completed your fifteenth year, and it is high time, that a profession should be thought of for one, who must hereafter depend chiefly on his^ B 4 own exertions for advancement in life. The profession of arms seems, in every view, most suited to your genius and disposition, and has, at a moment hke the present, numberless advantages attached to it. In my younger days, I was myself a sol- dier, and though, in my present re- tirement, I have for many years secluded myself from the cares and bustle of active life, there are some who yet remember, and, I trust, respect, the name of Delaval. Gene- ral Robertson, one of these friends of any youth, and now commanding in India, has made me the offer of a commission for you, in a distinguished regiment under his command, and has annexed to it a promise of his support and interest, whilst your conduct continues to deserve it. This fortunate proposal I hv^ve gladly em- braced, and you will therefore pre- pare yourself forthwith for your voyage, as it will, he states, be neces- sary for you immediately to proceed to your destination. I have given the necessary orders for your equip- ment, which, together with 3'our allowance, shall be of a nature to leave you no just grounds for a com- plaint. — '^ No thanks, Frederick;" (observing that De Montford was endeavouring, as well as his feelings would permit him, to stammer out his acknowledgments.) ** To find that your conduct is, what it, doubtless, will be, an honour to your profes- sion and your acquaintance, will more than compensate for any care and trouble 1 may have experienced in your education." To say that Frederick was delighted at this communication, would be fa.r B 5 10 too feeble an expression ; — those who from infancy have set their hearts upon the profession of arms, and have contemplated it, arrayed in fancy's bright colours, and dressed out as when it usually bursts upon the youth- ful imagination, — who have been in the daily and hourly habits of worshipping biit one idol, the love of fame, — and who already, in idea, have achieved count- less exploits worthy of immortal re- cord ; — if such there be amongst my readers, they will have anticipated the feelings of De Alontford on this joyous occasion. They will at onee enter into the many pleasing sensations that crowded on his mind, at finding his fondest hopes and long-nourished expectations about to be realized ; and they may suppose that no few schemes were instantaneously planned, : — not a few projects of the moment 11 formed, to raise their delighted au- thor above the level of his fellows in arms. To some it may appear strange, that our youthful hero should thus eagerly prepare for so long and perilous a voyage, without previously requiring from Sir Ralph some account of his own history ; — an account fraught with such apparent importance to his futuie peace of mind. But the truth is, that the reflections and dazzling images above alluded to, completely banished from his mind every unplea- sant sensation ; and left him no care, nor wish, to pry into the mystery of his birth. He thought of nothing, talked of nothing, but the moment that was to behold him in the fore- most ranks, acquiring hard-earned renown vv ith his sword ; and he counted every day and hour until B 6 1^ thai moment should arrive, with all the anxiety which youth commonly feels when it prepares to lay aside the worn- out trappings of the school- boy, and put on the more important, and (as they then appear) enchanting attributes of manhood. "'Tisa brave lad !" (exclaimed the baronet one morning to his servant, as, from the window of the apartment^ they surveyed the young soldier buck- ling on some of his newly-arrived and warlike accoutrements in the park, and descanting, with vast importance^ to his astonished playmates, the young Delavals, on their nature and use.) 1^" How forcibly," he continued, *' does the sight of that boy bring back to my view the scenes of my youth I You, La Place, can remember when, like De Montford, I surveyed, with equal rapture, the busthng stage IS of life, and prepared with equal ar- dour to tread it !" — Sir Ralph paused; — his emotions prevented his proceed- ing; and his faithful servant, well acquainted with the cause of his me- lancholy, made haste to draw his master, on some trifling pretence, from the scene that so strongly affect- ed him. By this time the reader may proba- bly feel an inclination to know some- tiling more of Sir Ralph Delaval, who, it may be perceived, is to be an actor of no inconsiderable importance in the following scenes. And here I confess myself rather at a loss. I am perfectly aware how such ap(S'son- age, in such a situation, ought, accord- ing to the rules of romance to be drawn. I know full well that many of my fair perusers have already laid it down that the baronet is to be an austere 14 and gloomy character, of forbidding manners and appearance; and haughty and tyrannical in his old age, in exact proportion as he was vindictive and ambitious in his youth; residing, moreover, in a gothic building of proper antiquity, boasting a m3^ste- rious closet, a haunted tower, and other terrible and ch?inmng Ji.vtu res / How cruel then does it seem, that truth compels me to declare, that none of these attributes belonged either to the baronet or his mansion ; — the lat- ter being merely a modern structure, ^vitbout one story of any kind attach- ed to it; and the former a plain coun- try gentlen^.an, universally beloved and respected ; the leading features of "whose character were an affable sim* plicity of manners, extreme piety, and- a benevolence of disposition al- most \vithout a parallel. Since the 15 death of a beloved wife, he had with- drawn from society, of which he was once the ornament, to pass the remain- der of his days in retirement, and the education of his three cliildren. The melancholy event, above mentioned, had made an impression on his mind never to be erased, which, joined to a natural reserve, gave his counte- nance an expression of melancholy, Avhich seldom forsook it, except when his favourite pursuits enabled him to relieve the distress of some fellow- creature. For this object he seemed in truth only to have his being. — ** We should never be weary of doing good," was his constant text, ex- emplified in his every action. — The heart-broken prisoner, the suffering penitent, and, in short, misfortune or want in any shape, were certain to attract his attention, and as certain 16 to meet with relief. Nor did his ]6ye of sohtude (as is too frequently the case,) prompt him to indolence ; and the magistrates who resided near him were incited, by his example, to a more active and conscientious dis- charge of their duties. His family consisted of a son, about Frederick's age, and two younger daughters, whose dispositions promised amply to repay their parents* care ; and the lat- ter of whom already gave proofs of more than ordinary beauty. Such was the guardian of De Mont- ford : — in such a character the mys- tery relative to the latter's origin was the more singular; it was, in truth, the only point on which the tongue of calumny had dared to insinuate aught against Sir Kalph Delaval: and on this ,)oint, as we have seen, nothing could draw forth any explanation. 17 Certain was it, that he regarded Fre- derick with the tenderest affection, — a thousand instances could be given of it: and yet his educating him at a distance from his own children, and his anxiety to send him, thus early in life, into the most dangerous of all professions, could hardly be account- ed for on the score of affection. These topics, it may be supposed, did not a little puzzle the neighbours of the baronet, as, I am afraid, they will for a while, my readers. But let us return to him, who was the cause of this perplexing enigma. 18 CHAPTER 11. Agreeably to the promise we have already given, we shall not attempt to make the reader follow De Mont- ford through the various and unin- teresting scenes of his minority ; but, noticing only as many of them as are indispensable to the comprehension of our story, proceed at once to the period mentioned in the commence- ment of the preceding chapter, — name- ly, his embarkation for the coast of Spain. It will, however, be necessary briefly to state, that his conduct in India was such, as> in a very short time, to render him a distinguished 19 favourite with his general and his brother officers. Possessed of all those engaging qualities, which in every age appear to advantage, but are more peculiarly attractive in youth, our hero soon became the idol of his companions. Courageous to an excess bordering on rashness, in the hour of danger he was ever fore- most ; and retired from the field dis- pleased and discontented, if no op- portunity of signalizing himself had occurred: and, when the perils of the past were forgotten in the conviviality of the mess- table, Frederick was there no less conspicuous for his unaffected good humour and powers of enter- tainment, than, in the ranks, he had been for his dauntless intrepidity. General Robertson, to whose care he was, as we have seen, peculiarly recommended, was not long in disco- vering and rewarding the merits of the youthful warrior. Having, by appointing him his aid-de-camp, made him an inmate of his family, he took every opportunity of encourag- ing and instructing him both by pre- cept and example; at the same time endeavouring to repress that impetuo- sity of temper, and openness of dispo- sition, which had, on many occasions, already manifested themselves as the leading features of his character; and which, this benevolent veteran fore- saw, if kept within their destined ^nd appropriate hmits, might ripen into qualities the most amiable in the cata- logue of human nature; but, if suf- fered, on the other hand, to degene- rate into excess, would as infallibly lead their possessor into endless errors and difficulties. An event shortly took place, which ^1 tended very considerably to increase the general's regard for his young charge, and which, in truth, turned this regard into an affection that ac- companied him to the grave. Every person who has read of, much more those who have served in India, must be aware, how different is the nature of the warfare carried on in that country from the contests which European nations wage against each other. The hardy valour of the Briton, there finds itself but an insuf- ficient match for the cunning of the wily Indian and the baneful in- fluence of his climate: the heart- broken soldier there often pants, in vain, for the arduous struggle which would decide at once the con- test and secure to him repose or victory; — he looks around, but finds f2 tio enemy save the sandy desert and the unwholesome morass; whilst long and fatiguing marches, pestilential dis- orders, and repeated disappointments, harass, dispirit, and destroy him ! And thus frequently has our gallant countryman heen fated to find, on the sands of that barren shore, an un- timely and a cheerless death-bed ; perhaps without the consolation of having once faced his enemy, or had an opportunity of proving his valour and falling in the discharge of his duty, like a warrior and an English- man. It was on one of those glorious but rare opportunities, when the skill of the British general had compelled his un warlike opponents to risk, what, notwithstanding their numbers, it was their constant endeavour t^ avoid, 23 a general engagement, that the event, above alluded to, took place. The British line, on this occasion, was, of necessity, extended to a con- siderable length, in order to cope, in some measure, with the immense superiority of the barbarian hordes confronted with it. In the heat of the engagement, De Montford had been dispatched by his general to the left wing with orders to it's commander to dispatch a body of his troops (com- pletely victorious in that quarter) to reinforce the right of the army, where the Sepoys were beginning to totter under the weight of the vast odds op- posed to them, which consisted of the enemy's picked troops headed by their Sultan in person. Frederick had just executed his corainission, and, havings seen the appoinled reinforce- ment commence it's march, was at a 84 "full gallop, on his return, when he observed his brother aid -de-camp, Captain Crawley, proceeding with equal speed in a contrary direction, and in the most violent apparent agita- tion. Scarcely had our hero time to inquire into the meaning of this preci- pitate and retrograde movement, when the captain broke into the follow- ing apologetical exclamations: ** De Montford, all is over with the left ! — I always said those Sepoys were cow- ards : — yonder they go at double quick time, to the tune of the Run-away Jig. — Warm work, I can promise you. — That last charge did the busi- ness ! " And whereas the general ?" — in- terrupted the breathless and indignant Frederick. " Oh ! he^s game to the back-bone, up to his eyes in smoke, and damning 2i lustily at the blacks, swearing he'll blow the brains out of the first man that pegs an inch from his colours V ** And can youy dare you, leave him in such a situation ?" ** Why, d — n it, old fellow, — no one irares for fighting less than I do : but the fact is, that I'm cursedly fright- ened lest my horse should get hit — He's English : — and I refused, a3 you may remember, 1000 pagodas for him after beating Lord George's Arab at Calcutta last year.* — Losing him would be no joke, now-a-days — you know — eh ?" — * I appeal to those who remember, and were in, the action, of which I am speaking, if t])is speech be not the truth and nothing but the truth : — howe\er extraordinary it must appear i^hen told of a British officer. VOL. I. C ^6 *' Coward ! — villain 1" — screamed De Montford, as he clapped spurs to his horse ; and a few moments beheld him at the side of his beloved commander. The dastard Crawley had given but too correct an account of tliis affair : the right wing overpowered by num- bers had began to give way on all sides; and a well-directed charge from the enemy's cavalry completed the confusion. General Robertson, on hearing of the disaster, dispatched an order, as we have seen, for reinforce- ments ; and himself repaired immedi- ately to the spot where the fire was hottest and the danger most urgent : he found the troops frying around him in all directions, and their officers in vain exerting their authority to rally them : the enemy's cavalry bore down all before them, whilst a tremendous fire of artillery swept away multitudes. 27 In this distressing situation the intre- pid veteran, seizing the colours from the hands of an affrighted fugitive, placed himself in front of a gallant few, who like himself preferred death to ignominy ; in hopes to stem the torrent till succours should arrive and make a momentary head against the victorious rahhle. The numbers of this heroic band, however, gradually diminished ; and when De Montford reached the spot, he found his valiant patron fainting from innumerable wounds, and tottering upon one knee for support s — his left arm shattered by a sabre and hanmni]: lifeless to his side : — yet still grasping in the right the co- lours of his country, and faintly op- posing them to the arm of a rufrian liorseman ; which was already raised to rob the army of it's idoi-aad: mzmkind vards them in the endowment of numberless external graces ; and, from the character we have given of their father, it will not be supposed that he neglected to provide for the more essential cultivation of their minds. They certainly were both of them beautiful, both of them clever, and both of them agreeable ; and yet as certain it is, that nothing 41 could differ more than they did, in the character of their beauty, the turn of their abilities, or the nature of those powers by which they enchant- ed their acquaintance. The beauty of Charlotte, the eldest sister, was of that apparent and strik- ing description which dazzles at once the beholder; and leaves him no. power, even if so inclined, to deny to it that admiration which it appears rather to command than to court.-— '* How beautiful she is P' was the buzz that invariably greeted her cn-» trance into every assembly : and any- one who had ventured to assert that INliss Delaval was not uncommonly handsome, would have met with no- thing but contemptuous increduhty. The good looks of Emily, though not so instantaneously perceptible, were yet no less attractive or fascia 42 nating. It is true that a stranger might have passed an evening in a ball-room where she was, and might perhaps have retired from it without any particular impression of her beauty on his mind : but had that stranger's good fortune afforded him an oppor- tunity of conversing with her for a moment, it is impossible but that the winning softness of her smile and the bewitching expression of her ra- diant eyes would have remained inde- libly engraven on his imagination. Charlotte's countenance attracted every eye ; Emily's engaged in it's favour every heart : the former's per- son was gazed on as a model of per- fection whilst present ; the beauty of the latter was remembered long after it*s possessor had disappeared. The abilities of the two sisters were cast m an equally different mould and 43 produced equally different effects. Ambitious of acquiring literary repu- tation and contemning those limits, within which fashion and immemorial usage have thought fit to confine her sex's studies; Charlotte had, with in- defatigable assiduity and unremitting application, contrived to amass toge- ther in her mind a fund of learning that might have put to the blush many of it's professed votaries: and to this, her darling pursuit, she sacrificed without remorse most of those consi- derations, so commonly and so eagerly sought after by persons of her age and rank. Whatever advantages however might result to her mind from this passion for literature, it certainly was productive of no good consequence to her manners ; which thereby lost much of that enchanting mildness, so justly appreciated as the most amiable tea- turc in the female character ; and which finds but an insufficient substi- tute in the pedantic effrontery of sci- ence and the assurance engendered hy a conscious superiority of talent. Of admirers, both real and pretend- ed, Miss Delaval could boast num- bers: — Fortune and beauty are seldom without those attendants. But it will readily be supposed that it was not every one, who ^ felt or feigned to feel* a flame for this young lady, that ac- corded with the romantic conceptions which studious retirement had taught her to form of the marriage state. She looked in vain amongst the crowd of coxcombs, * who infest our streets and dishonour our public places,* for one of similar pursuits or equal under- standing with herself. To this learned and, I am afraid my readers will think, extraordinary per- 45 sonage, the gentle Emily afforded a striking contrast. Possessed of abili- ties equally solid but less brilliant than her sister's, this lovely girl was content to dedicate lier time and attention to the cultivation of those qualities which she considered best calculated to ensure her a tranquil and a happy journey through life ; without wish- ing, much less essaying, to soar be- yond that sphere marked out, by the prudence of ages, for her sex's ob- /^ervance. Naturally of a timid and reserved disposition, it was with difficulty that she could be persuaded to give to her mental endowments that publicity which they merited ; but M'hen by any cause, induced to share in conver- sation, it became evident at once how qualified she was to adorn and instruct every society she entered. 46 The splendid talents of Charlotte were, it is true, universally regarded, with respect, but not unfrequently with dread also: but the unobtrusive virtues of Emily disarmed even envy itself; and compelled all who had the happiness of her ac([uaintance to pay immediate homage to her mild and intrinsic worth. Her partiality for Frederick had arisen when they were children; and the accounts which she daily read of his brave and meritorious conduct abroad, tended to keep alive this re- gard ; and at length to mature it into a passion ardent and unchangeable. To her youthful mind every action of De Montford appeared that of a hero : ^nd the elegance of his manners and person when he arrived, established her in the opinions she had formed ; 47 ■and completed the victory over her affections. It is one of the peculiar properties incident to the passion of love when it assails the female bosom, that, inde- pendent of the many distracting doubts which it creates, it is accompanied, on the part of the sufferer, by a most anxious wish of concealment from all ; — but especially from the object for whom it is entertained. And thus with Emily. She trembled lest by a glance, or any inadvertent action, she should betray the secret of her heart -to De Montford or her family. Her pride and delicacy were alarmed lest she should be considered as makins": advances to the former ; and every feeling of her soul revolted at the idea of forcing her affections on one who might consider them a burthen. It was in secret therefore only that 48 she indulged her grief and poured forth the sorrows of her susceptible mind. Addicted always to retirement she now more than ever courted and indulged in it; since it gave her an opportunity of reflecting uncon- trouled and unobserved on the subject Tiearest to her heart ; and enabled licr in some measure to mitigate her grief, by calling, to her aid those gilded palliatives which hope and fancy are ever at hand to administer to * a mind diseased.* In society however she continued silent, embarrassed, and in a state of constraint ill suited to a mind where duplicity or concealment had hitherto been entire strangers ; and not better calculated to escape the observation of the most affectionate parent in the world and of a family that idolized her. Repeatedly was she pressed by that 49 parent and by every branch of that family to reveal the cause of her late evident dejection and melancholy; but in vain : — open clnd ingenuous on every other subject, on this she maintained an impenetrable reserve ; and to every question, which the affec- tion of her friends dictated, returned the same cold and unsatisfactory an- swer; denying that which was ap- parent in her every look and move- ment, and asserting what her coun- tenance too plainly contradicted. /' Nothing indeed, my dear Henry ! — Nothing is the matter with me ; — I am quite well -, — I am quite happy ; ■ — ind — e — ed I am ;" — would she an- swer to her brother Henry when he fondly and affectionately pressed her trembling hand, and entreated to know the cause of her dejection : whilst at the same moment a starting VOL. I. D 60 tear and a suppressed sigh would fully attest the falsehood of the assertion. But, it may be asked, how felt, the while, the source of this young damsel's uneasiness? the origin of all this disorder and distraction in her mind ? — although female ingenuity might enable her to keep the real cause a secret from her family, — ^^yet did it escape the notice of the object beloved ? — of De Montford ? Could he, a soldier and a man of the world, contemplate the sorrow depicted on that fair countenance unmoved ? and did not vanity once whisper^ to him that it 7111 ght have originated with himself ? Undoubtedly it is very provoking that we cannot answer such questions as we could wish ; and assert, in con- formity with precedent, that these 61 two persons did so ingeniously con- trive matters between them as to feel the tender passion at one and the same moment ; and at once become enamoured to distraction of each other. The truth is however that our liero had, at the moment of which we are speaking, very Httle time or inchnation to give way to any pas- sion but that wliich had ' grov/n with his growth and strengthened with his strength;' and of liis attachment to which we liave already given pretty evident examples ; — we mean the Love of Glory. His unexpected promotion to so important and honourable a situation as the command of a regiment, en- grossed his mind too completely at the present moment to allow the softer passions to have access to it. In common with all who beheld D 2 ^G.muouis^f,r. them he admired the Miss Delavals ; but regarded them rather with the fondness of a brother than the devo- tion of a suitor. And often did he good-humouredly rally Emily on her downcast and dejected looks without being in the least aware of the pain which his attentions gave her ; much less that himself was the cause of that melancholy he was endeavouring to dissipate. 53 CHAPTER IV. JL HERE remains to be spoken of but one more member of the Delaval fa- mil}^ : — and that the reader will ahead}^ have anticipated to be the baronet's eldest and only son ; whose name has been before stated to be Ilenr}-, and his age about that of De Alont^ ford. A profession not being thought requisite for this young gentleman, in whose person was to center all the wealth of his ancestors, he had received that species of education which is pronounced for the pur- pose of qualifying the rising gene-? p 3 54 ration of the present day, to shine in the circles of fashion and do the honours of their rank and fortunes. By this education, however, Henry Delaval had derived a far greater de- gree of profit than is commonly the result of University studies. Unlike many who repair to those seminaries of learning in order to wear away the years of a tedious minority and initiate themselves in vice and folly; he had never been tempted in the dissipated example of his college com- panions to forget the precepts and advice of his excellent parent ; and when he quitted the University he carried with him the applause of his seniors, the esteem of all who were worthy of his friendship, and many of the most distinguished hopours and rewards as testimonies of his merit. 55 This praise-worthy conduct was productive of it's usual consequences and met with it's accustomed reward. A short time prior to Frederick's re- turn a vacancy had occurred in the representation of the county where Sir Ralph resided ; when, without soli- citation and with very trifling ex- pense, the baronet had the gratification of beholding his offspring in a situa- tion as honourable as any to which human ambition can aspire. Selected by the voice of a free people to repre- sent them in the senate and be the guardian of their rights and liber- ties. Thus distinguished at so early an age, and thus, as it were, thrust for- ward at his very entrance into life, as an object of envy and admiration; with wealth and popularity in his grasp, and cheered by the applauding D 4 66 smiles of bis family and his coti- science ;— What, it may be asked, bad Henry Delaval to desire further from fortune ? Is it possible that any unsatisfied wish vet remained kn'kinsj; in that bosom wliere happiness ap- peared thus eager to preside ? That great and exquisite judge of men and manners never said any thing more truely than when he *... ^ That no vnm lives Contented with the lot which fortune gl?es^ Or chance presents ; but all with envy view The schemes that others variously pursue.' lIoR. Sat. {. Despite of all those brilliant prospects wbich crowded on the view of this enviable youth; and of all the immber- Jess distinctions and honours which glittered in the course bis abilities g,n(J ^1 good fortune had marked oqt for him j it is nevertheless certain that moments of reflection frequently told him that^ had his own wish heen consulted, ha would have preferred the situation of De Montford, acconjpanied with his military reputation and renown, to the one he no\v^ occupied ;— ^crowded as the latter evidently appeared with such superior advantages. The arrival of Frederick, his martial anecdotes, and the impetuosity with which he asserted the superiority of liis own professiou to all others; joined to that attention, which ever greets the return of the British soldier to his native land ;— un- doubtedly did appear to Henry to have charms belonging to them to which his situation was an entire stranger. And although the applause bestowed on Frederick's bravery did not excite any sentiment like envy m 5S hi* manly bosom, it assuredly did create in him a lively and ardent ambition to emulate such conduct ; and to prove that the gifts of fortune and talents had not deprived him of the right or the inclination to expose his person in defence of his country. The service on which his friend \yas going, seem- ed moreover to Mr. Delaval to be one on which every noble mind would be proud of an employment. To as- sist a nation struggling to preserve it's freedom and existence against the unprecedented oppression of Europe's despot, and resolved to prefer even annihilation to slavery ; appeared to him to be a cause well worthy the assistance and support of a race of freemen. These sentiments made such an impression on his mind that he re- *,olyed to request his father's permis* 2 59 sion to accompany De Montford to the continent. The objections made to this unexpected request by the best of parents may be imagined : it will be conjectured that he did not fail to urge upon his son's consideration every topic hkely to induce him to resign so enthusiastic a project. The neglect of his parliamentary duties, the dangers incidental to the nature of the service and the chmate, and their probable effects on one hitherto unaccustomed to fatigue or privations of any kind; and chiefly the misery and affliction of the whole family, should he, the object of their fondest aifections, and the sole surviving support of his race, be cut off; — were all pictured to him in the most glow- ing and pathetic colours. But when the human mind is obstinately bent on one darling pursuit or objectj and B 6 m thntf not the jTsuU of nionientaiy i^ntlmsiasni, but the offspring of sl pasMon long treasured up and cherish^ ed in the breast ; it is not com m only ^n i?asy task to convince of it's folly, or to eraxlic9.te the prepossession formed m it*s favour, Tlie voice of re^ison .and the force of argument are thm too often unavailing, .and retire before ^ predetermination to gratify the particular propensity, liowever ivild or irrj^tlopal it may be, Sir Eaiph per^ceiving that his son-s happine^ in gi great measure depended on tlw liidujgence .of this romantic whim I at length reluctantly gave g commt wlwh Iw mw It w.as useless any loppr to mthhoMi and Henry a.Qimdmgly prepared for hk ^.am* To De MQutforA mch a ^ompa» $mn §QiM not but h$ ^grcmhkp^ 6% The friendship between him and young Pelaval hacl commenced when they were boysj, and long before the former embarked for India : and it was now revived with all that warmth of feel* jng on both sides which long absence and similarity of disposition i^an en^ gender. Vanity moreover w'li^pered to our hero that it was delightful to have made so complete a convert to the beauties of his profession; and h<5 looked forward with delight to thg idea of bis friend witnessing and ap^ proving the many heroic actions which his youthful and fertile imagi* ?3ation told him he was to perforiT} at the head of Jiis regiment ! With ithesg sentiments it may be /supposed that no long time elapsed ^r0 these two youtbfiil enthusiasts declared themsejves ready to proceed on tbdr journey ^ but before thm fM\mm^ it will bg necessary to Q?i}\ 62 the reader's attention once more to the gentle and unfortunate Emily ; who, still cherishing that unhappy passion which banished peace from her mind and the roses from her cheeks, re* maineda prey to all those contending emotions with which the ungrateful god of love distracts each bosom where he finds admittance. De Montford and his friend were riding in the park adjoining to the house, one morning previous to their departure, when the dejection and melancholy of the latter's sister be- came the topic of their conversation. • — " I strongly suspect, Delaval T* (exclaimed Frederick, in all the gaiety of his nature, and httle sus- pecting how near a relation the subject bore to himself,) " that the lovely Emily has (to speak in the language of my profession) surrender- ed her heart at discretion to the ac- 63 complisbmcnts of some Northern Adonis. I attempted to rally her last night on this point, and she really put on in an instant a face of as much wretchedness and agitation as that which graced the sombre visage of Tippoo Saltan, when the British gre» nadiers dashed into his capital. But it is, as I then told her, shameful to abandon herself in this manner to despair; and adopt a conduce, as dis» graceful to the character of a heroine in a love encounter as to that of a hero in a military one. Joking and metaphor, however, apart ; I am truly sorry to find that this passion, what- ever it may be, makes such an evident impression on your sister's mind and spirits. But can you, who have been so long on the spot and are so much in her confidence, form no conjecture as to the object of her regard ? — 04 lie must be formed of strange mate^ rials, metliinks, who could command the affections of so lovely a girl, and permit them to languish for want of a suitable return.'' *^ In truth/' replied Henry, ^*yon have started a subject on which I am lost in conjectuie. It is impossible to find one amongst the visitors to our family in this neighbourhood, (and in London Emily has not yet been out,) for whom my sister^ by any, the remotest, chance, can harbour an attachment sufficient to disturb her mental tranquillity. It is true that that egregious dunce Lord Low.- thorpe did avow himself her suitor some months ago-; and did declare that, next to his liioney and his race- lior^esp he liked her better than any jhmg in the world. ^^ My sucgies^s, howevpi? against hint 65 at the last county election where be oi)posed me, has fortunately put an end to his repeated and troublesome visits on that score: but on purpose to ascertain whether Emily does entertain an affection for so unworthy an object, I have written to request his company here for a few days : and as J hinted in the postscript that I should like to know the price of one of his broken* down racers which he wants to dispose of, it is possible and probable he will attend to my invitation," *^ Is that," said Frederick '* the Lord Lowthorpe who was my antago- nist, when at school, in that most memorable battle, which I even now- con tern plate with delight,— -you may remember — when, relying on his rank and size, he dared to apply the term*'-^— ^' The very s^me," interrupted hk 66 friend, '* not only in name but in character and disposition — The same dislike which was then felt for him by his school-fellows continues at- tached to him in manhood. Nay, such haste has Lord Lowthorpe made to fall into disrepute, that although but fivc-and-twenty years of age and heir to the richest earldom in the country, he can scarcely find an asso- ciate, much less an admirer, even on a race-course. To suppose that a being of such a description, and, possessing, moreover, no personal charms whatever to compensate for his mental deformity, should be the cause of all this uneasiness in my sisters would in my opinion be the height of " '' Absurdity !"— burst from both the friends at the same mO' ment. ** But truly," (continued Henry 67 with a significant and good-humoured smile,) *' I almost begin to believe that you, De Montford, have some share in the cause of Emily's dejection." — ''Me ?— How ?— Why ? — Where- fore ?" ^* For many very plain and simple reasons. — In the first place ; it is only since your arrival here that this fit of pensive grief has attacked my sister ;— before that event, her natural timidity and reserve had nothing attached to them that bore the least semblance of melancholy or uneasiness. — Besides, when you were giving an account the other evening of the manner in which some British officers rescued an old and wounded Rajah from the French dragoons, I observed Eniil3?*s eyes sparkle with unusual lustre at every word you uttered — andj when you mentioned the wound you received 68 on the occasion, her face, though she tried to conceal it with her handker- chief, became as pale as ashes." '* Nonsense !" (exclaimed our hero,) '* you are laughing at me, Delaval !"— And, striking into a gallop, he put an end to the conversation. It is certain that when De Mont^ ford applied the word nonsense to his friend's remarks, he did not consider them as meriting one monient's serious attention ; and tlmt when he put spurs to his horse he intended at once to have dismissed from his mind the whole of the conversation and the ideas which it engendered. But ideas will not always be thus easily dis- missed : tliey have a strange contu- jiiacious pertinacity belonging to them, which frequently forces us, despite of all the precaution we can employ, to entertain and cherish 69 them. — And more especially is this the case when they tend in any way to flatter, that great and ruling foible of our nature, vanity. It will not, I apprehend, be necessary to discuss, at any great length the character and attributes of vanity, in order to prove it's powerful effects on the human mind : The experience of each one will convince him how great a share it occupies in every transaction and pursuit of life ; and how often those brilliant actions which claim at once our applause, and seem the emana- tions of virtue and heroism, are in truth indebted only to this inaster- passion of the soul for their dazzling and enchanting appearance. So om- nipotent and absolute is it's sway indeed, that experience and education, successfully employed to correct al- most every other vice of our nature, 70 here frequently prove themselves powerless and ineffectual ; and we too often find vanity the companion of grey hairs and the bosom, friend of retirement and study. It will not then appear very im- probable that De Montford who pos- sessed no great share of either of the above preventatives, feeble as they are, should not immediately banish from his mind this flattering friend ; when it whispered to him that what Henry had said might possibly be true ; and that it inight be his ap- pearance and his accomplishments which Emily had to accuse as the source of her uneasiness. The idea, never till now entertained for an in- stant, rushed upon his mind with the resistless force which novelty, and it's accompanying train of fanciful imagery, commonly inspires. 71 To what length these ideas were permitted to be carried, or how long he indulged in this new train of thought, we pretend not to say ; — but this is certain : that on his entering: the drawing-room, previous to the announcing of dinner, his eyes in- voluntarily glanced towards Emily ; and, although Lord Lowthorpe was at that moment seated next to her, with an air of something very like a superior title to such a situation : — - and regardless of the extreme agita- tion of the young lady as he approach- ed or of the interruption which he gave to his Lordship's excellent ac- count of the dead heat between Pacholet and AlaiHa at Doncaster : — notwithstanding, I say, all these obstacles, it is matter of fact that our hero, in a very short time and with very little ceremony, did con- 72 trive to dispossess the peer of his enviable position, and to place him- self beside the object of his morning's meditation. 73 CHAPTER V. An the drawing-room of the De- laval mansion were this evening as- sembled an infinite variety of guests ; invited by the hospitable baronet, as well to enliven the short period pre- vious to the departure of De Montford and his friend, as in the hopes that society might in some measure tend to dispel the dejection of his amiable daughter. Amongst these guests Lord Lowthorpe's name and rank may seem entitled to pre-eminence. The account which Henry Delaval gave of this nobleman in the last chapter is too correct to call upon us VOL. I. E 74 for any further history of him; or oblige us. to drag through the cata- logue of his numerous imperfections and vices. Idleness, extravagance, and an attachment to play, have all their apologists, and for each of these, in particular situations, allowances may be, and are often, made : — But who yet could tolerate the stripling miser who with the garb of manhood puts on the love of saving ? Who at one-and- twenty stands forth an avow- ed adept in the pettiest tricks of the pettiest pursuits; and follows the trade of a gamester to accumulate hoards which Fortune and Nature have combined to render useless to him ?-— The former in having already heaped upon him hereditary wealth more than adequate to the most inordinate ambi- tion ; and the latter in having formed him too destitute of spirit to enjoy it. ii> It will not be supposed that, in such a family as the Delavals, the rank and fortune of his Lordship would, by any means, be considered as a sufficient compensation for his defi- ciency in those qualities which ev^ry member of that family had been taught to consider indispensable in the character of their acquaintance. The object of Mr. Delaval in inviting him has been already detailed ; and very soon did it become apparent to that gentleman how widely his judg- ment had erred in admitting for a moment the supposition that Lord Lowthorpe was in any way connected with the mental indisposition of his sister. In truth, it became visible to the most unconcerned observer that, not only from Emily but from every other member of the drawing-room circle, his Lordship received no E 2 76 greater marks of attention and re- gard than those which pohteness ab- solutely required. In vain did he endeavour to bring forward the only subject on which he could converse to be understood ; and with inexpres- sible regret he perceived that he was not likely to turn his visit to any account, either by selling Delaval an unsound horse, or inducing him to gamble. To effect this latter pur- pose he made many attempts : but in vain — Henry too fully appreciated the independence of his situation to endanger it in so uninteresting a man- ner ; or run the risk of acquiring habits which might terminate in beggary and wretchedness. The desponding peer at length, however, succeeded in persuading a gentleman of the name of Arbuthnot to sit down with him to piquet. It 77 was true that Mr. Arbuthnot was but a younger brother, decidedly poor, and moreover not remarkable for the immediate punctuality of his pay- ments. But to win from him was better, in his Lordship's opinion, than not to win at all; and accordingly his convert and himself retired to a corner of the room and commenced avery unequal contest ;— wealth and science being opposed to their exact opposites. Mr. Arbuthnot's character was a very singular one ; and, as he happens at this moment to be holding great cards, we may venture to leave him for a short time whilst we lay that character brielly before the reader; who will meet with this gentleman many times before he arrives at the conclusion of this work. The Honourable Mr. Arbuthnot E 3 78 was the youngest of Lord Laforey'g five sonS; and was, like the generality of young gentlemen in that situation, left with little, besides the epithet of Honaurobk to his name, to set off his Patrician endowments, A maiden aunt had taken a fancy to him when a boy, and, with a pro- mise of remen)brance in her will, un- dertook tlie charge of his education: permitting him to share with her the smoky parlour of a small cottage in De- vonshire, and. administer to the neces- sities of a lap-dog, a parrot, and three very pretty canary birds. From this delectable employment, at an early age, Mr. Arbuthnot was summoned to breathe the purer air of St. James's and act the part of ensign in the Guards. The notions of this aunt relative to economy were borrowed from a docu- 79 mf nt in her possession of great anti- quity and value: namely, the pocket- book for the year of our Lord o?ie thousand seven hundred and forti/ izvo. Herein it clearly appeared that one John Churchill (of whom a-propos the French speak liighly) did, whilst in that situation which her nephew was about to fill, contrive to subsist on t?ie income which his gracious Majesty King Charles the Second in his bounty thought fit to bestow on him, in common with the other subal- terns of his army. Now, as Lady Bridget Laforey was far too loyal a personage to suppose for an instant that George the Third was, in any re- spect, less inclined to be bountiful to his soldiers than Charles the Second ; she considered, that whereas John Churchill did so contrive to confine his expenses within the profits of his pro- E 4 80 fession and afterwards to arrive at the most eminent distinctions in it ; — so also George Arbuthnot, with supe- rior advantages in every Avay, might iairly be expected to exist on the same, in equal comfort, and acquire similar renown. To put this matter however, beyond a doubt, and * make assurance (loublv sure,' she resolved to allow the young officer an annual sti- pend of twenty five pounds sterUng; with a promise of making out for him a faithful transcript of the let- ter which her late brother Richard, when in command of the 50th regi- ment at the Havannah, wrote to one of his refractory and spendthrift subalterns. To be brief in our account ; Lady Bridget's nephew had scarcely been three weeks in uniform before an unlucky cannon, (at billiards I meanj SI which nobody thought Major Mac- farlane played well enough to make, swept at once away the first payment hi advance of his allowance. Afrieyid, however, was applied to, — future pros- pects pointed out, — the aunt's asthma and crazy constitution much insisted on; — and, in a very short time, all MEN were required to know by THESE PRESENTS that thc Honour- able George Arbuthnat and Mister X. Y. Z. were on the most intimate footing: — The former frequently be- stowing on the shoulders of the latter divers familiar slaps and proclaiming him to be ** a devilish fine old fellow ;" whilst the latter returned the com- pliment by repeatedly declaring '*that the ensign was a very spunky lad P This agreeable acquaintance, and many of a similar nature, enabled our spirited youth to enter into all the E 5 82 pursuits of fashion with no inconsi- derable eclat. A racing stud of course became necessary to complete his consequence and happiness. The turf is an amusement eagerly pursued by youthful and impetuous persons, and is a stage on which their money and ideas commonly travel with a rapidity equal to that of their nags. Mr. Arbuthnot embraced with ardour this fascinating amusement, and, en- couraged by a few momentary suc- cesses in it, considered his future in- dependence completely established ; — ' Deucalion (the fleetest animal New- market yet had seen, ) was his, and was but i\\t years old ; — all the know- ing ones admitted that horses kept their speed till ten — thus, who could deny him i\\Q years prosperity ? — And before the end of that time, which of > itself appeared an age, doubtless 85 Deucaiian*s performances and his mas- ter's sound judgment would have ensured to the one a crown of im- mortality, and to the other wealth and independence. Misfortune, however, travelled fast- er than cither Deucalion's legs or his owner's calculations, and overtook them both at the same moment. For the former had scarcely completed his eighth, or the latter his twenty-first, year, when the breaking down of this renowned steed put at once an end to hope and speculation, and took with it all the hard-earned fruit of his former victories. About this time also, the event, sa long and so anxiously looked for by Mr. Arbuthnot, and his many friends of Mosaic persuasion, took place 5 and tlie publlckly-announced death of E 6 84 Lady Bridget Laforey was the cause of unfeigned satisfaction to all whom it might concern. But alas ! this satisfaction received a complete death- blow when the following heart-rend- ing codicil made it's appearance at the bottom of her Ladyship's will with every proper form and attestation : '' And Cai^ereajS it has been re- presented to me by the Reverend Charles Stiibbs, our worthy and re- spectable rector, that in his way to an adjacent living, accidentally stop- ping upon Salisbury race-ground, he beheld the above-named legatee, the Honourable George Arbuthnot, in the middle of a large circle of wicked and professed gamblers ; and that he^ then and there, distinctly heard him use the under-written expressions y namely; 'Done! — I'll bet 7/our 85 Lordship any sum, from ten to ten thousand pounds, that niy old aunt Bridget kicks the bucket (thereby meaning dies,) before any colt of youfs wins the Derby sweepstakes, — To be paid, you knozv, when the old Lady goes off the hooks /' (again meaning dies.) — Now, in considera- tion of the above wicked speech, as well as his marked inattention, when last here, to poor dear little Mopsey, I hereby revoke all gifts above speci- iied to the said George; and do will: and decree, that that of. 70, 000 stock in the three per cents, together with those jewels and pictures of my an- cestors, to him before bequeathed, (save and except £A0,000 to be paid in money to the herein named Charles Stubbs as a reward for his disinterested information) be placed in the hands of trustees in and for the 3 use of that excellent charity the — » Hospital (Signed) ** Bridget Laforey/' Shortly after the above lamentable development, the newspapers an- nounced, in the Obituary and Ga- zette, two unexpected pieces of intelligence ; — the first of these in* formed the tribe of Levi that their respectable brother Mr. Abram Isaacs bad fallen down in a fit at the Chapter Coifee-house, and immediately ex- pired, on receiving intelligence of a serious and unforeseen loss in the way of trade: — and the other told Lieutenant of the Guards that he was promoted to the rank of Cap- tain, vice Arbuthnot who retired. By the sale of his commissions, however, and by avoiding the more 87 frequented streets of the metropolis, Mr. Arbuthnot still continued ia possession of that precious gift, which tradesmen are now-a-days but too fond of encroaching upon. He still betted, and still talked of dice and horses, but the number of his intimates and hearers considerably diminished.; In short it cannot be denied that he was now become (what he would have shot any one for calling him) 'an avowed gamester without a profession or a fortune.' Fpr such a character I am aware there is to be found in our language a term of opprobrious signi- fication ; and which malicious people are extremely apt to apply to it : but I cannot bring myself to use it in the present instance ; for the gentle- man, of whom we are speaking, had certain amiable qualities attached to his nature, however vice and dis§ipa- m ion might have dimmed their lustre, whicli are in vain sought for amongst the motley group of well-dressed knaves, who pursue the trade, and merit the appellation, of itinerant blacklegs. The principal cause of all Mr. Ar- buthnot's errors and misfortunes was a want of reflection and a headstrong impetuosity of temper, that constantly prompted him to the commission of follies, which a moment's parley with his own understanding would have taught him to avoid and abhor. His abilities were certainly above the usual standard ; and the extreme goodness of his heart, his animating flow of spirits, a more than com- monly, retentive memory, and an infinity of wit and humour, were qua- lities which he possessed in an eminent degree; and which made him at all 89 times an agreeable and an entertaining acquaintance. At the same time no one could afford a stronger example than he did, of how possible it is by carrying even virtues to extremes to make them assume a contrary appear- ance. All the good qualities above enu- merated were, by Mr. Arbuthnot's use and arrangement of them, ofteu worthier of censure than of praise; — his goodness of heart rarely allowed him to draw any line or make any distinction; and in consequence, was frequently productive of embarrass- ment and perplexity; — his spirits on many occasions literally 7'a7i axvay with him ; and produced a species of mental intoxication, to the total ex- clusion of any thing like reason or reflection.— On various topics was his boasted memory employed where 90 prudence would have sanctioned uti-* disturbed oblivion : — and, a host of enemies attested the dangerous effects of his wit and humour, which indis- criminately played on friend or foe, and often inflicted wounds that sub- sequent apology or repentance were powerless to cure. Notwithstanding all these foibles and follies, Henry Delaval entertained a sincere regard for Mr. Arbulhnot: and, not content with assisting him on many occasions (on terms somewhat more liberal than those of Mr. X. Y. Z.) took every opportunity of endeavouring to wean him from that attachment to play which disgraced alike his character and his intellects. It was, therefore, with extreme regret that he this night perceived his friend sitting down to court fresh embar- rassments, and engage in a contest 91 where every thing declared success (to say the least) most improbable. Nothing can be more inimical to conversation and drawing-room chit- chat, than the introduction of a card- table. In the present instance,— the anxiety of the two players (at times pretty loudly expressed,) the large stakes for which they contended, and the apparent eagerness evinced by each to impoverish the other; engaged the attention of all present: and the sofa, the harpischord, and the back-gam- mon-board were in a short time deserted and sent many spectators to that corner of the apartment where these adventurous heroes were seated. Mr. Arbuthnot was there in the highest possible glee ; having, contrary to the general expectation, been ex- tremely successful against his Lord- 92 ship ; and afforded one more proof of the uncertainty with which the blind goddess dispenses her favours. He was proceeding to rally the peer, who with the prudence of a veteran game- ster declined following up for the present his bad fortune, when, to the astonishment of all the by-standers, De Montford exclaimed, that, for the first time in his hfe, he should like to take a hand at any game of chance that might easily be learned. The eyes of Lord Lowthorpe sparkled at this declaration whilst he resumed his seat; Henry Delaval looked grave and strongly recommended bed-can- dle-sticks — but in vain; — the young soldier was soon itistructed in a novel species of warfare and a triumvirate in an instant established— to play (as his Lordship declared) merely for amusement. 93 Emily had her feelings on this occasion. — What they were we will Tcserre till the next chapter. 94t CHAPTER VI. \t E proceed to give some account of the different feelings which were entertained by the actors in, and some of the spectators to, the scene ^vhich concluded our last chapter; and where our hero makes his appear- ance in a new and eventful character. And first, let us mention those which influenced the actors in this affair. The feelings of Lord Lowthorpe on the occasion will not require much of our time to pourtray : we have al- ready * seen that his Lordship's eyes sparkled with delight whilst he re- sumed his seat.* This delight will 95 easily be accounted for by 'those wbo can conceive the pleasure which a mind thoroughly depraved feels at the prospect of reducing one of supe- rior endowments to it's own degraded level. Besides, Frederick's unsus- pecting openness of temper and his avowed ignorance of the pursuit in which he was engaging, seemed to promise a plentiful and undoubted harvest ; and placed his Lordship on an eminence truly delightful to his amiable disposition : — the chances being at least ten to one in his own favour. He therefore made little doubt that the severe, and not yet forgotten, drubbing, which he had received at school from De Montford, would be amply revenged by a vic- tory over him on a stage where the latter was so evidently his inferior. . As for ^Ir. Arbuthiiot , he was so 96 overjoyed at the idea of having hit (to use the professional term) his Lordship, and at the unusually bril- liant appearance, in consequence, of liis note-case ; and moreover so em- ployed ill calculating the speediest method of putting his winnings into circulation ; that he scarcely noticed the addition of De Montford to the party ; until roused from his pleasing reverie by the stentorian voice of the peer commanding him, in somewhat imperious terms, to plaj/ o?2. Whilst preparing tq comply with his Lord- ship*s mandate, Emily, unperceived by his associates, put into his hand a note accompanied with a significant and anxious look expressive of her hopes that it's contents would be obeyed. To notes, Mr. Arbuthnot had latterly conceived a peculiar aversion ; but as, in the present in- 97 stance, a dim or a sbrieval correspon- dent were out of the question; and as this billet did not commence in the usual manner of, '' Si?^ I am directed to apply to you ;"■ — he ventured to read to the end of it without much trepidation. It was as follows; '^ My Dear Arhuthnot ! pray contrive to break up your party and get De Montford away, by some means or other : how wnll he have to execrate this evening if it should create in him (which is but too probable) an attachment to play V* This epistle bore the sionature of Henry Dela- val. But the anxiety of Emil}^ who indeed suggested it, and the eagerness with which she snatched it from licr brother's hands to de- liver iv, together with some other circumstances he had this evening witnessed, left tl at brother very VOL. I. F 98 little room to doubt what had been the cause of his sister*s late depression of spirits. We have before asserted that ]\lr. Arbuthuot possessed some good qua- lities ; and we really hoj)e he will meet with his due credit from the reader, for at once laying aside (which he certainly did on the perusal of this note) all the splendid calculations and hoj)es which the evening's good fortune had led him to form ; and instantaneously resolving to comply with his friend's wislies, notwithstand- ing he had no doubt at the moment, in his own mind, that, had he conti- nued to play, he should have won of his Lordship sufficient to re-establish his fbrtune ; or ( what he considered the same thing) to have purchased the favourite horse for the next year's St. Leger sweepstakes. 99 His efforts, however, to get Dc Montford away from the card- table, although it is but justice to say that they were sincere and repeated, were fruitlessly made use of; and this affair ended in the precise manner that such affairs usually do terminate. Every deal was positively affirmed (not un- frequently upon oath) to be the last : but alas ! perjury was as often com- mitted, and ' another and another still succeeded ;' — till, in short, when Au- rora peeped into the Delaval drawing- room, she found these three adven- turous youths prepared to ask her *^ what tcere trinnps ?'' and with aching heads and confused intellects summing up their complicated ac- counts. These accounts, unfortu- nately for our hero's future peace of mind, appeared much in his favour; and, at the final adjustment of them, F 2 100 he claimed a large balance from both of Ills opponents. '* Arbuthnotl" (exclaimed his Lordship, at breaking np, to that gentleman ; whose good fortune had early forsaken him and left him as usual in arrear to each of his competi- tors,) *' let us see how you and I stand, — I win, I think, on balance — Six hundred and forty-two pounds ?" *' Precisely so" — yawned out Ar- buthnot in reply. '* Six hundred and forty-two pounds — exactly," — repeated the Lord — not stirrino* one inch from the table. *' Precisely so'' — again replied the commoner, tossing a half-crown into the air and witli great adroitness catch- ins: it as it returned. A solemn, and rather an awkward, silence ensued — in the course of which some curious reflections obtruded iOl them selves oii the mincl of Mr. Ar- buthnot, as he cast up his e3'es and beheld his noble minded opponent's expectant, and somewhat gloomy, visage : and which said opponent seenied not much inclined to move till lie had received some e.rplanation on certain points." '^ As for the money," (at length broke from his titled lips) " I am the last person in the world that would press a friend for it ; but I have been so beat of late — never was any thing like it. And if you could let me have it to enclose to my bankers on Mon- day," (it was Saturday's sun that illumin€>d the benign countenance of his Lordship as he spoke,) — '' why, I own I should feel obliged to you — that's all — but don't think of it, I beg, — i\-propos, — you had better just make a note of the sum — Six hundred 102 and forty-two pounds. — Don't think of itl beg/^— The party now retired from the scene of action with feehngs as dif- ferent as those which influenced them at their entrance on it. Lord Lowthorpe sought his apart- ment with sentiments of extreme agi- tation and care; and immediately penned an epistle to a speculating friend, to know if he chose to pur- chase the debt of a younger brother, poor but honourable, and which 07i his word he believed to be good. Mr. Arbuthnot staggered away to his chamber and tried to whistle as he went through the passage: bift, I am informed, the attempt was far from being musical. Dc Montford was assuredly the happiest of the party, although had the book of futurity been unfolded to 103 him, at that moment, it is possible tliat his joy would not have been so excessive. Over and over again did he count the fruits of his success, and inwardly wondered how he could so long have abstained from a practice that really appeared to him to be no- thing but coining. — ** The simplest — the plainest — method of acquiring money," — he muttered to himself as he marched triumphantly off the field of battle and threw a handful of bank- notes at the sleepy . Now this appeared to Master William Dermot (who was a shrewd boy enough) rather a singu- lar circumstance; when lie considered the time of the morning and the dress of the sleeper, which he insisted on, notwithstanding: an incredulous smile from Emily and a severe cross exami- nation from his mother, was not such as gemmen, like young 'squire Dela- val, wore of a morning, but resembled more what justice Wilkins put on when he went to dine at the big house on the hill ; and therefore not very appropriate for such a personage in such a situation. — '^ And do you know, Madam," (continued the com- municative youth,) " tiiere laid by the side of him a somewhat all sillc and full of that there sort of money which Mamma pays the taxgatherer ^\'ith, when hecalls." To Emily who had formed no idea that any three men could exist who wouhl prefer gambling to repose, and set up a whole night at such an occu- pation as playing cards ; and wdio certainly would not entertain the sup- position for a moment that Frederick could tluis have acted; this intelli- gence appeared scarcely less extraor- dinary than it did to her youthful informant : and she resolved, without much hesitation, to gratify that pas- sion which her sex {with what truth we presume not to determine) have been accused of too frequently indulg- ing in:— need I name, curiosity ? Anxious to establish his veracit^^ and possibly not without some latent iiopes of a second addition to his 118 pocket-money, Bill obtained permis- sion to accompany his benefactress in this expedition, or as he expressed it * to shew her ladyship the way :' and accordingly trotted on before her with all the speed that gratitude and a wish to prove his accuracy could inspire. No long time elapsed ere the vanguard of this reconnoitring- party halted at the appointed rendez- vous ; but before it's fair commander could climb the eminence on which the dormant phcenomenon was situate, or join her impatient conductor, the latter was accosted in very sonorous terms by a hero of the canine species, slightly alluded to before, and whose christian name was Pincher, This gentleman evidently appeared to con- sider himself the guardian of his mas- ter's slumbers, and now very 1 udly demanded from the ragged intruder 119 the countersigMi ; threatening imme- diate vengeance, trom a row of very forii-idable teeth, if any farther ad- vance were attempted wiriiout it. The dispute ran so high between these o:entlemen thit De Montford was compelled to bid adieu at once to a most dehghtful dream (in which he had all the four honours in his ovvn liand), and, starting up, a most cu- rious scene presented itself before him. Emily who had just reached the spot, at the sight of her lover, made that species of retrograde movement so well described by a modern bard ; ' And when a space was gain'd between, Closer she drew her bosom's screen, (So forth the startled swan would swing, So turn to prune iiis ruffled wing ;') and blushing, confused and terrified, 120 stood for some moments with her eye ri vetted to the ground and bereft of the power to speak or move. A thousand miles did she wish herself from this unlucky spot ; and yet felt it impossible to retire without attempt- ing some explanation and endeavour- ing to convince the person, whose slumbers she had thus broken in upon, that her intrusion was unintentional. — " But would De Montford credit her account ? — Might he not, would he not attribute her appearance to other less delicate motives ?" These sensations prevented her from attempting to interrupt that distress- ing silence which this awkward ren- contre for some minutes produced ; and which was fust broken in upon by Messieurs Pinchei^ and Bill. These valiant wights had proceeded to actual warfare in another part of the stage ; 121 and the former was essaying, as much as in him lay, to make * nakedness more naked' by fastening on the lat- ter's aheady scanty habiHments. The music proceeding from the snarls of the one, and the squalls of the other actor in this squabble, was productive of extreme harmony, and added much to the enchantments of the comic scene. De Montford at length began to stammer forth apologies and explana- tions to Emily, who was, however, too confused to pay much attention to them : nor was she, when that confu- sion forsook her, particularly delighted at being made acquainted with the real state of the transaction; — when she learned that, notwithstanding the pret- ty evident wishes of herself and her brother, her lover had been so captivat- VOL. I. a 12^ ed with the charnns of a pack of cards as to pass the whole night in their society. This was no flattering trait for a young lady of Emily's discern- ment to be compelled to notice in an object so tenderly regarded ; and she at once saw that her brother Henry's anxiety at seeing his friend so em- ployed was neither groundless or un- necessary. It struck De Montford with no small astonishment to find, in the conversation which took place be- tween him and the fair disturber of his repose in their way homewards, that the latter did not express more delight at the information he gave her of his triumphs at the card-table* Much and ably as he descanted on ' this topic, a reserved look and a reply couched in monosyllable terms, w«re 123 ail that he could extract from his companion, in honour of his success or science. The impetuous spirit of De Mont- ford was ill calculated to brook cold- ness and indifference where he fancied he was beloved ; " Why, my dear Emily," exclaimed he, as he took her hand, 'Vhave my slumbers so deranged my looks or made them so frightful that you must avert your face from me in this manner ? In what have I offended ?" '* Offended!— I'm not offended, Frede Sir I I mean — I thouo:ht only. — that's to say I fancied — I thought it was almost a pity to" *VDowhat? — To win a thousand pounds from that miserly lord"— vLcj^Emily looked graver still and with- ; 4drew her hand, though I do not under- stand that she was very much displeas- G 2 124 ed at his having taken it,) ** Why, did you not tell me yourself" (lie con- tinued) " that you disliked — abomi- nated, him ?'* '* That, Sir !" replied she, (shrewdly enough by the bye for a young lady in love,) '' will hardly furnish you with an additional reason for making your explanations to me; since it seems that my expressed (if indeed I did express it) dislike to his lordship was not sufficient to deter you from courting his society in preference to the charms even of repose ; and at- tempting to imitate him in the most irrational propensities. — But indeed I am taking unwarrantable liberties ; — assuredly I can have no title to con- troul your conduct. — Sir, — I beg I may not detain you," — she added, as she raised her eyes and cast them with an expression of nameless grace on Ii25 the disordered visage of her lover; who had again made her hand a pri- soner, and stood gazing at her with looks fidl of admiration and reverence. And well might he gaze on her with admiration and reverence: for any thing more beauteous, more lovely, or more fascinating tlian Emily at this momerit, cannot well be conceived ;-— even by those who are accustomed to start daily two or three all-perfect heroines from a circulating library. It was not the fashion of De Mont- ford when any sudden feeling struck him forcibly, to waste many moments in debating the expediency of giving it utterance: and accordingly we find him, after some further time spent in desultory conversation of the above na- ture, still possessed of his companion's hand, and informin": her in lano'uao^e somewhat vehement and perfectly free c 3 126 from prolixity or tergiversation, ** that he thought her the most en- chanting girl lie had ever beheld ; and, that if she disliked it, he would never touch a card as long as he breathed ; nay, would even at once declare forfeit in that match of twen- ty-one games v/hich he had niade , with the peer for this evening." This declaration ; — the warmth with which he pronounced the first part of iti and the sincerity which beamed in his countenance whilst uttering the pro- mise that concluded it; produced a remarkable effect on the person to^ whom it was addressed, and induced her to be guilty of many acts of ab- solute forgetfulness. In the first place, she forgot to remove her hand fiom the grasp that encircled it, and we blush to observe that it remained in that position a voluntary captive 127 for some minutes; in the next place, she forgot that urgent husiness whidi in the early part of this intervievv had so pressed upon her mind, that she, over and over again, declared, when Frederick attempted to detain lier, 'that she really must go directly i' and lastly she forgot, totally forgot, all those wise, proper, and often re- peated resolves, which she had made within herself, on no account what- ever to let it appear to De Montford that she cared for him the least; — her eyes, her manner, her every look and movement appeared as evidences against her on this point: ami indeed when her lover, who travelled over Cupid's domain wilh true military rapidity, gave her heart the wonted summons to surrender by asking her if she really did regard (or I believe G 4 128 he called it love) him ; — she remained perfectly silent. Now, silence, I have always understood from a very re- spectable proverb, is an indisputable affirmative. Without being obliged to drag through that ground, every inch of which may be traced on the shelves of every library in every town, it may be sulFicieat to come at once to the conclusion of this interview; leaving to the imagination of the gentle reader all those passionate avowals and blushing responses which of course were uttered on this eventful occa- sion. To each of these readers do I give my full and unqualified permis- sion to put into the mouths of the actors in this scene, any expressions which he or she may fancy belong to their respective situations ; and which 129 past experience or future expectation may suggest as proper to be used at such a meetincr. Certain is it that before Frederick and Emily had concUided their morn- ing's ramble, the ideas of the former had undero'one a thorouoh and com- plete revolution : sensations new and full of rapture crowded on his mind to the total exclusion of all that had before occupied it : and what Imd appeared to him, not an hour before, rather as a manly pursuit, now struck him with disgust and abhorrence; and instead of now being anxious to acquaint his friends at the breakfast- table with the manner in which his night had been occupied, he was employed in devising some means to shrink unperceived into the house, and if possible bury the whole transaction in oblivion. Q 5 150 ^^ It will not be necessary" (said he to Emily at parting) *' to mention that I was one of the party that sat up last night gambling, at breakfast, un- less it should have already' been men- tioned there : — Sir Ralph and Henry might be displeased, perhaps, and Charlotte would be playing ofif her learned jokes upon it — and therefore it's as well not. As for Lowthorpe and Arbuthnot, they will of course not quit their beds till mid-day." Emily readily promised compliance with a request that augured so fa- vourably to her fondest wishes: and our hero repaired to his apartment, if not in love with his fair companion, at least in as advanced a state of that disorder as precedent would justify his being placed in at the end of a seventh chapter. But before we conclude that chapter 131 it may be right to notice the very scurvy treatment which poor Bill met with; notwithstanding his polite at- tentions throughout the affair, and that he was the cause (as he certainly was) of bringing about this fortunate ren- contre. This pigmy warrior, having vrith great difficulty and the loss of one of his jacket skirts repulsed his troublesome antagonist, perceived layino- on the floor of the field of bat- tie, a certain silken note-case ; which we have already heard him describing to Emily as containing quantities of a very useful and negotiable species of paper, about the propriety of circulat- ing which (though I apprehend not of it's utility when circulated) there has been great difference of opinion amongst state financiers. We will not say that, at the sight Q 6 132 of so much money in such a situation, Bill did not feel certain mental pulls and twitches strongly inviting him to make a summary transfer of it to his own pocket; but it is but justice to him to add that these sensations were only m.omentary : indeed Bill was at bottom a very honest lad, and more- over he remembered having heard his mother mention an uncle of his who for a breach of that commandment, which he was now tempted to infringe, had attained a troublesome though exalted situation at Tyburn: and he there- fore, all things considered, thought it his best policy to follow the gentle- tnan, to whom this temptation to evil belonged, and trust to his generosity for a reward . Bill, however, forgot in his haste the old proverb which declares * that 133 there is a time for all things:' for, when with great humility and many bows he held forth his acquisition to it's rightful owner, that gentleman, who had just parted from Emily and was hastening to array himself ia garments that might less remind him of his folly, felt indignant at being presented with what so forcibly brought it back to his mind ; and most uncivilly Commanded the re- storer of his pocket-book *' not to plague him" — adding ^' that he might. take it if he pleased to the Devil !" — nor could any other reply be drawn from him. Bill however thought that the devil was by no means entitled to so rich a prize, and accordingly bore it in triumph to his home. Here again he was shamefully maltreated: for not 134 only was he condemned to suffer a common recovery of the prize in question and instantaneously dispos- sessed of his treasure-trove; hut in a moment arraigned, tried, and found guilty of a similar propensity to his uncle's ; and, notwithstanding all his protestations of innocence, punished accordingly. Bill's unmerited treatment might well justify a soliloquy in this place, but already have his sufferings swell- ed to an unusual length our chapter ; and we shall therefore conclude with observing that, in the course of the day, Mrs. Dermot brought home the pocket-book with numberless apolo- gies and explanations ; that in cooler moments it was thankfully accepted by it's owner who did not fail to re- ward the honesty of the person who restored it him ; but,—- 135 Did Bill get any of this re- ward ? On that head we have no instruc- tlons to give an answer. ]S6 CHAPTER YIIL Very little remains to be said be^* fore we place our hero once more on that theatre to which his genius and character properly appertain, and where he certainly appears to greater advantao-e than on that which he thought fit to exhibit himself upon in the preceding chapters. The short time that elapsed previous to his departure for the continent, was distinguished by nothing very worthy of note ; unless it be thought remarkable that his affection for Emily hourly increased, and in a short time arrived at that height when it is usual 137 to give it another more animating title s or that he faithfully adhered to the promise he had made her of pay- ing forfeit to his Lordship, and was never again tempted, during his stay, to resume his seat at the card-table. Lord Lowthorpe's repeated at- tempts to alter this prudent determi- nation were treated by him with the most stoical indifference : or if tempt- ed for a moment to yield .to the syren allurement, a glance from Emily's expressive eye or a reflection on her avowed fondness for him at once reinstated him in firmness and ba- nished the idea from his thoughts. In no instance is the powerful influ- ence of the fair sex more exemphfied than in the virtuous emotions which the contemplation of their various excellencies rarely fails to excite in us lords of the creation when beloved 158 by tliem. There is scared}' a man >vho has felt real regard for a woman that has not thereby been detehed from the commission of many crimes and follies; for independent of it's employing his vanity (which will not allow him to dress the object of his affection in any thing but bright co- lours) and thereby preventing it's leading him into other errors ; it re- fines his id^as, reclaims each vicious propensity, and animates him to deeds of virtue, in order to render himself worthy of approaching a being whom love teaches him to look upon as pu- rity and excellence personified. Thus, how often do we find, when the ad- vice of parents, the remonstrances of guardians, and all the effects of edu- cation or example have failed, that the spendthrift is reformed, the game- ster brought back to content and 139 felicity, the drunkard soothed into temperance, and in short every de- STadinor vice of our nature forced into the back ground by this single charm — a sincere and reciprocal attachment to a virtuous woman. That these attachments are not more frequent, Ladies ! be it yours to account for ! — Proceed we in our story. The change that very shortly be- came apparent in our heroine's looks and spirits was such as might have created much surprise in the mind of an indifferent spectator. Neither Bai- ley, Halford, or Heberden had attend- ed her, nor liad she, that I can learn, been tempted to try the all-powerful and inrkllible eau medicinale ; yet, in less than three davs, from that which conckided our last chapter, this young lady's disorder had completely dis- appeared; her cheeks resumed tlieir 14U wonted glow of health ; her eyes beamed forth their accustomed lustre; and indeed on one occasion, when Ar- buthnot was giving a ludicrous de- scription of the extreme desespoir of Lord Lowthorpe, when compelled to depart without a prospect of retrieving his losses, Emily's spirits were such as to draw forth from Mrs. Margaret Malaprop (a maiden visitor to the family) some good-natured whispers to her drawing-room neighbour, insi- nuating *^ that Miss Emily was a charming girl to be sure — but it was a pity she laughed so loud." There was, however, now very little to prevent Emily from laughing when such was her inclination : her mind was now perfectly at ease ; for although we cannot say that she would not have been to the full as well pleased had De Montford's profession not sum- 141 moned him away at the very moment that her conquest over his heart seemed about to be completed; yet her fears on this head were but ' trifles light as air' when put into the scale with all she had hitherto felt; — when compared with the agonizing pangs attached to the idea that her love was unrequited by the object for whom it was entertained. Besides Emily, all meek and gentle as she was, had yet no small portion of enthusiasm and romance belonging to her character : the accounts she repeatedly heard her father give of De Montford's bravery and valorous achievements in India, had first forged those chains which his appear- ance and manners subsequently rivet- ted ; and she now felt that, if secure of his regards and affection, she might safely trust to that Guardian Power 142 which shields the person of the soldier in the day of battle, to restore him to her prayers safe and unhurt and covered with additional renown. She already anticipated that return, when he should lay his newly acquired laurels at her feet ; and, at the mo- ment that he claimed her promise to become his wife, confess that it was her image that had cheered him in the hour of toil and danger; her prayers that had preserved and pro- tected him 'y and her inspiriting and ever-present form that had incited him to deeds of fame and enterprise. No novel, perhaps, ever recorded an attachment between two lovers carried on in such a plain and straight forward manner as that which it is our lot to transmit to — (we had very nearly said) — posterity ! Affectation and prudery were perfect strangers to 143 the nature of Emily, nor were they greater favourites in the bosom of De Montford : it is not therefore very wonderful that a short time should suffice to acquaint these young per- sons with the wish that each enter- tained of their affections being ce- mented by an indissoluble union. On this subject however we are obliged to confess that there was some differ- ence of opinion (to use the mildest term) between them : the impetuosity of Frederick, unaccustomed to brook delay in any pursuit wherein his heart took part, could not be brought to comprehend the necessity of delaying his marriage till his return; and with true soldier-like energy and language, he insisted that neither experience or prudence could justify a protracted siege where a final summons of sur- render had been given and agreed to. 144 ** What nonsense it is, my dearest Emily," (he one day exclaimed in somewhat pettish accents,) ** what nonsense to preach up delay that may be fatal to the happiness of us both?*— "Who knows if I ever shall come back ali — now, don't look so wretched ! — I only meant to say — that is, I thought, — I felt — in short — Why should we not be married directly?'* " And so, Sir !'* (replied Emily, wiping a tear, which a certain idea in the above speech had called forth, from her eye,) " without consulting the wishes of my father or any of my family ; or without our regard for each other being scarcely known to them; you would have me, it seems, at once take a step that must infallibly lose me their invaluable good opinion for ever: — at once would you have me confide to your professions, of an 145 attacliment of scarcely a week's growth ; formed without a moment^s deUberation, and which neither time nor reflection have had any opportu- nity to mature or prove the sincerity of' " I should have hoped, Madam ! my sincerity would have been beyond a doubt," said our hero, as he walked away in that state of mental indigna- tion, at his sincerity being called in question, to which our language sometimes affixes the homely term of huff\ He, however, did not get farther than the end of the gravel walk on which they were standing, before his steps were retraced, and pardon earnestly craved for his ab- rupt departure. Nothing, however, could extract from Emily any thing like an alteration of her sentiments on this point.— '* My father's will, Sir/* VOL. I. II 146 was her final answer, " on this, as on every other step that I shall take through life, will be my only guide — his opinions on the subject must be mine." " Your father ?— O ! Til go to him directly — I'll ask his permission at once r — and away he flew to gratify this, as he was in the habit of doing tVGYy impulse that forcibly struck him ; without deigning to consult for a moment those useful agents to the human understanding, Messrs* Reason, Rejlection, and Co, Had he indeed condescended, in this instance, even to apply to the head clerk of this firm, one Recollec- tiorif it w^ould have told him that his journey to the house was useless ; for Sir Ralph and his son were both gone to a county meeting (the latter to take leave of the electors on his leaving 147 England), and were not expected home till late in the evening. *^ Well, be sure. La Place," (he cried when he learned this in tones of much disappointment,) ** be sure you tell Sir Ralph when he comes in, that I should be glad to see him — But what are you putting up there in such a hurry, old fellow ? — Why, La Place ! you have been crying." ** Rien, Moiisieur T replied tliC Frenchman, who certainly had been crying. * Rien^ Monsieur,^ how tvev, did not by any means satisfy our inquisitive hero ; who had rushed into the ba- ronet's study with such rapidity and so unexpectedly, that La Place had no time to put by a miniature paint- ing he was brooding over, nor to con- ceal the tears which the sight of it had clearly brought into his eyes. H 2 148 De Montford did not always com- ply with the Prince of Denmark's advice to ^ suit the action to the word' — and for this very plain reason ; that with him generally the word and the action came at one and the same moment; — or, if any thing, the latter had commonly precedence. On this occasion the words * what are you putting up there?* assuredly were not uttered until after the case which contained the painting in question had surrendered to his grasp. In vain did the aged valet now seream, entreat, and implore — ^^Ah! Mc7isieur ! Monsieur ! de grace ! ne le touchez pas ! Je *vous en prie ! — Celafera tant de peine au Ckeva* Her r The evident agony of this old and faithful domestic might perhaps (we say perhaps) have had some effect 149 in repressing Frederick's curiosity; had not his eye glanced upon a mili- tary uniform whilst the case remained half open in his hand. — What was Eve's temptation compared to this ? — and accordingly, a very few seconds had the honour of introducing to Col. De Montford a brother warrior, dressed in the Hungarian uniform, whose manly eye seemed * to speak unutterable things* and whose coun- tenance and whole appearance were calculated to inspire every beholder with awe and admiration. ** La Place! — who is this drawn for?'* — (broke from Frederick, after some moments anxious and attentive observation of his new acquaintance,) ** It cannot be designed for Sir Ralph when young? — he never was in the German service — at least I never heard that he was-— Who is it ?" H S 150 '* Je nen sals rien^ Monsieur r '* Well ! he's good-looking enough at all events. — I hope my regiment may boast a few such to help in driv- ing those robbers out of Spain ! — What was his rank ?'* La Place^ however, had disappeared before this last question; and was gone out in quest of some one whose influence might prevail on Monsieur Frederick to relinquish possession of the picture ; which the Frenchman wisely enough considered in some danger whilst it remained in the hands of this animated and impetuous young gentleman. De Montford thought that th« person most likely to give him the information he required on the sub- ject of this picture would be the favourite child and confidant of it's owner ; and he therefore repaired to Ul that part of the garden where he had left Emily when he set out on his useless embassy to her father, bearing along in triumph his self- appropriated prize. At the end of one of the avenues he beheld the young lady he was in search of, in earnest conversa- tion with Mr. Arbuthnot ; to whom she seemed to be listening with more than common interest. — ** What bu- siness has Arbuthnot to be talking thus intently with Emily?" indig- nantly muttered our hero, as the new passion of jealousy flashed across his mind, and (as each new passion was wont to operate on that mind) ba- nished for the moment every other feeling from it — even the Hungarian officer; who consigned at once to oblivion, was permitted to tumble on a heap of gravel ; and as La Plape, who, at the moment of the accident u 4 152 was in full chase, screamed out when he saw it happen, *' etolt brish en mille pieces /*' 111 justice to our heroine we must observe, that her conversation with Arhuthnot had nothing in it that ought to have excited, or could justify, this malignant feeling in Frederick's hreast. Accidentally had she met with this gentleman indulging in a solitary ramble, and brooding over his numberless embarrassments. The friendly terms on which Emily knew he was with her brother, and indeed his long iptimacy with all her family ; joined to a species of privilege which his extreme good humour and open-. ness of temper gave all his acquaint- ance, of listening to the half-serious and half-comic accounts he was in the habits of giving of his own follies and embarrassments; must plead her 16S excuse, if excuse be necessary, for listening with much sympathy to a confession which he (not over fond of concealment or reserve on any sub- ject) was now making of the dis- traction caused both in his mind and affairs by his ruinous passion for play. Lord Lowthorpe, previous to his de- parture, had required from him, pur- suant to a gambling statute, hi that case made and provided, a legal secu- rity for the money he had won from him : and, the letter containing a request to this effect, Mr. Arbuthnot was shewing, at the moment of Fre- derick's arrival, to Emily. This was a very curious composition: — the reader shall have it verbatim, ** My dear Arbuthnot, '* I was cursed disappointed at not touching the readi/ I hit you for the other night I am the last person^ H 5 154 I flatter myself, to hurt a fellow's feelings — but hate, I ovVh, playing on I. O. U. terms, I like stumpy^ down upon the nail, that's my idea. — ^ Settled scores heal all sores!' say the Newmarket rhymes — and so say I. — ' Short accounts rnake long friends,' — that's my idea, damme! — I don't mean to distress you though, — but enclose a bill at three weeks ; which please to accept, with interest, and return by bearer. — By the bye, should have no objection to take your Deucalion colts (though they have cursed bad legs to be sure) in part payment. — Shouldn't mind giving about eighty for the three — Perhaps we may make a deal. ** Believe me, my dear Arbuthnot, with sentiments of sincere regard, *' Your's most affectionately, ** LOWTHORPE." •^ P. S. Servant waits for the bill." 155 No sooner had our hero cast his eye over this truly affectionate epistle (which by the bye he did with very little ceremony and without waiting for any invitation so to do) than his jealousy was instantaneously ordered to the right about, and gave way to another feeling more congenial to his nature, and which produced on him the wonted eifectsof every novel sensation ; namely, an immediate compliance with it's first dictates and impression. '* My dear fellow," (he exclaimed, as he dashed from him the peer's pro- duction, seised on Arbuthnot by the coat, and caused an addition to the claims of his tailor by nearly tearing oiFit's lapel,) " do not let that meanj miserly rascal fret you or annoy your feelings half a moment, — send after him and pay him with some of his own 511-gotten pelf — Here, take all I have— H 6 156 take it «//," (he continued pulling out * money from both pockets* and thrusting the note-case on his astound- ed friend,) " take it all — I have plenty beside — two hundred pounds in the agent's hands — and a third dividend due of Seringapatam prize-money.** Arbuthnot, however, resolutely de- clined this loan, and De Montford as resolutely forced it upon him ; until, between them, this particularly ill- starred pocket-book resumed it*s former ignominious station on the ground; both gentlemen declaring that there it might remain : — fche deli- cacy of the one and the generosity of the other conceiving it incompatible >vith their honour to remove it from it's lowly situation. Had Lord Lowthorpc witnessed this amicable dispute, it is difficult to say what feeling would have pre- 157 domioated most in his manly bosom : — extreme astonishment that such disinterested contempt of money could exist upon earth; — or extreme regret that so much money should thus, as it were, * go begging' for an owner; coupled probably with some anxiety to remove that difficulty, and restore to it a possessor. What his Lordship might have felt, however, is foreign to our purpose to inquire : certainly the person who was present ut this scene did feel a great deal ia- deed ; as the starting tears in her eyes amply testified. *' Generous ! noble-minded Frede- rick !" — whispered a certain little bird into her ear. ** Sadly impetuous" — croaked out a second. '' Will nat such impetuosity hurry 158 him into a thousand scrapes and et- rors ?'' — demanded a third. " I dearly, tenderly love him !" — said a fourth, and — at once put to si- knce all the rest. Whilst this scene was acting at one end of the avenue, not a hundred miles off were heard sounds of deep distress and woe. They proceeded from Monsieur de La Place, as he dole- fully ruminated over the scattered fragments of tlie glass (for the glass only had suffered by the fall) that once covered the Hungarian's coun- tenance; and anxiously meditated on the best excuse to make au chevalier for having placed the miniature in such a perilous situation. Made- moiselle Emile, however, promised her powerful interposition, and in some degree pacified the Frenchman. — 159 *' But who is it drawn for, La Place?" asked this young lady as she took the picture from the reluc- tant grasp of the valet. '* It is strange I never heard my father mention even such a thing." The reader will assuredly think this * a chapter of accidents ;' for scarcely had Emily cast one glance on this ap- parently enchanted picture, than she gave a sudden start of surprise, very nearly fatal again to it's safety and well-being, and cast a look full of astonishment first at Arbuthnot and then at De Montford. Arbuthnot's eyes, which had caught a glimpse of the miniature over Emily^s shoulder, went through similar evokitions : — and in short, both seemed to be im- pressed at the same instant with the same sensations* 100 What could be, what can be, the meaning of this ? — Daughters of Eve! Sir Ralph is waiting to tell you in the next chap- ter. 161 CHAPTER IX. bcARCELY had the votaries of the breakfast- table dispersed to their re- spective occupations and amusements, on the morning of the day succeeding that which concluded our last chap- ter; ere De Montford was officially informed by La Place that Sir Kalph was waiting to receive him in the library : and thither, after casting some significant looks ?t Emily, who blushed and •trembled not a little when she heard the message delivered, he flew, on the wings of love, hope, and joyous expectation. Wt have put him on these Dcedalean assistants, 162 on this occasion, as being best de- scriptive of the extremes of each of the above three passions — of love> of hope, and of joyous expectation. And here we must admit that had our hero stopped to consider (which how often must we say he never did ? ) it might have struck him that he was about to make rather a bold request ; and one which the most brazen-faced fortune-hunter that Hibernia ever yet sent forth to captivate the Misses of Bath, Cheltenham, or Harrowgate, might have been abashed at preferring. He was now in fact going to say to the most affectionate parent in the world, give me, who am just two-and- twenty years of age, *who have no fortune but my sword, whose birth is enveloped in mystery, and whose infancy has been reared by your bounty alone, — give me — at once. 16S immediately, without a momentV thought or reflection give me, your charming, much-loved, favourite daughter; who has the face of an angel, a soul all purity, and a fortune of one hundred thousand pounds. — This is all that I wish you to give to my attachment, which by the bye has been of the long standing of eight days ! These reflections we say might on some certain minds have produced some certain awkward sensations ; on De Montford's they made none, for they never were admitted : or, had they been, one answer would in all probability have sufficed to put them at once to flight, — ' am I not com- mander of a British I'egiment of dragoons f "^diwd where exists his superior upon earth ?' Such probably would have been his answer for such 164 assuredly were his sentiments on his own situation. — But return we to our text. Our hero found the baronet seated in his study with a countenance ex- pressive of more than his usual melan- choly. On the table beside him lav the picture that had caused De Montr ford so much surprize, and La Place so much uneasiness; and in his lund he held a letter which he seemed at the moment of Frederick's entry into the apartment, to be intently perus- ing; — so intently, that, although that gentleman's method of entering a room was- not the most gentle, he yet was suffered, in the present in- stance, to remain unnoticed and un- observed for some moments. . ** This reserve and these grave looks,** immediately thought Frede- rick;» "proceed doubtless from my 165 having stolen a peep at that minia- ture;" and accordingly we find him, with his wonted earnestness of man- ner, beginjiing an exculpation of La Place and a declaration of his own deHnquency in that unlucky affair — *' It was I that broke it, Sir," (said he to the baronet, who now for the first time raised his eyes from the paper before him) " I snatched it from La Place — He said you would be very angry — it was all my fault, Sir, — it was indeed." The expression of Sir Ralph's coun- tenance and the look of inexpressible benignity with which he checked De Montford's apologies, soon, however, made it appear that another feeling than displeasure had caused his melan- choly. " Frederick," (at length broke from him, as he took our hero's hand and mildly forced him into a chair beside him,) ** your unexpected in- terruption of my faithful servant's sor- rows, which he was pouring forth to the memory of a former patron and benefactor, has but forced upon me, a day or two sooner than I should have done otherwise, the necessity of revealing to you what it would be cri- nunal in my longer keeping a secret, — I mean all that I know of your origin and history. I shall therefore endea- vour, as well as the many painful feelinors and recollections which such an account must of necessity call into my mind, will permit me, to put you in immediate possession of the myste- rious circumstances which attended your being intrusted to my care when an infant. ** You have beard me often say that in my younger days I followed the pro- fession of arms ; and without, I hope, being chargeable with vanity or egotism, I may assert that not even yourself, enthusiastic in admiration as you are, can reverence or look up to the name of a soldier more than I then did. My family connexions and fortune procured for me early in hfe (what in those days were their inseparable attendants) rank and dis- tinctions ; and in the unfortunate dispute between Great Britain and her American colonies, although but young in age and experience, I found myself intrusted with an important command. In this situation I f^rst became acquainted with Count Leo- pold de Montford the author of j^our existence" " My father, Sir?" — said Fre- derick, lialf rising from his seat. Sir Ralph's extended hand checked ]6S his emotions and claimed silence whilst he thus proceeded. ** He was one of the number of those noble-minded foreigners who, spurning the inglorious ease which then reigned throughout the Euro- p??an continent, and ambitious of military renown, repaired to the theatre of war and joined the British standard as volunteers ; to assist it in crushing that upstart band of rebel- mechanics, who had dared to unite in scandalous rev^olt against tlieir sove- reign and their country ; and leagued with her inveterate and treacherous foes, had, with true felon-like depra- vity, erected the flag of rebellion in opposition to the dictates of reason, the claims of gratitude, or the voice of Nature. Possessing similar opinions on most subjects, and constantly em- 169 ployed on tlie same services, an inti- macy of the warmest nature was contracted between your regretted parent and myself. Often and often have we, as side by side we opposed our bosoms to these armed reprobates, cheered each other with that inspirit- ing glance which links the soldier to his fellow in the hour of danger ; at once expresses every feeling of the warrior's soul; and binds him to his comrade in a bond, which, made in the day of battle, can never be subse- quently cancelled. *^ But my feelings lead me from my subject. — To be brief in n^y account; — at the termination of this disastrous war, when our convicts became a nation and our jails were compelled to seek a fresh spot whereon to pour the dregs of vice and infamy, De Mont- ford and myself returned to our re- VOL. I. I 170 spective countries ; and, after an unin- termitted correspondence of some years, met (alas ! for the last time on this side the grave,) at Paris; then the centre of European gaiety and dis- sipation, and the spot to which it was the fashion for every thing English to crowd with an avidity scarcely to be credited, much less accounted for. I here found my friend bereft of much of his natural gaiety and apparently but little charmed with the fascina- tions of this bewitching metropolis, or the numberless attentions which his rank, manners, and many amiable qualities could not fail to ensure him from it's volatile inhabitants. '* The source of this grief and me- lancholy I soon found to be a violent attachment he had conceived for the person of Harriet Manly, the daughter of a wealthy English merchant, whose 171 curiosity had been unable to with- stand the temptation, so general amongst his countrymen, of visit- ing the French capital. Mr. Manly brought with him, however, into it sentiments truly English and a de- termination to abuse every thing fo- reign that might chance to offend his eye-sight during his abode there. Having letters of introduction he contrived to thrust himself into the best society, and the extreme beauty of his daughter and his own im- mense wealth secured to him a large circle of acquaintance. He had not the sense nor the inclination to per- ceive how much ridicule was bestowed on his rude and vulgar self-sufficien- cy ; nor did the fickle Parisians think it necessary to renounce his magnifi- cent entertainments and the society I S 172 of his lovely daughter * parcegue le bourgeois etoit vraiment sawcage* *' The attachment of your father for the beauteous Harriet Manly was not long in discovering itself or in meeting with a return. To a mind rationally constituted and not over- whelmed with prejudice, such an union would have held out the brightest prospects of felicity ; Count de Montford's virtues and many ad- vantages over the generality of man- kind, both mental and personal, be- ing the general theme of conversation whereever he was known. But the obstinacy of Mr. Manly could not be overcome : — to every entreaty on the subject he returned the same sullen and repugnant answer ; ' that no child of his should ever marry a foreigner ;' and he commanded his daughter, as 175 she valued his future love and regard, not for a moment to entertain an idea of the count as a husband. But, alas ! how seldom are commands of this nature availing or attended to ! the consequences of this harsh re- fusal were that the young couple were clandestinely united ; and, when Mr. Manly prepared for his return to England, his trembling daughter threw herself at his feet, acknowledged the rash step she had taken, entreated his forgiveness and declared the impossi- bility of quitting her husband by whom she avowed herself pregnant ! " Mr. Manly, at thh intelligence, acted in the precise manner that it might be supposed a being, without education and with all the importance inspired by egregious and trade-ac- quired wealth, Vv^ouid have conducted himself in. With a semblance of the T S 174 atmost composure, though inwardly writhing under a host of contending agonies, he at first aflfected to treat the information with complete calm- ness, — * Well Madam !' (said he, cast- ing a horrible and ghastly smile on his prostrate child,) ' you have acted quite right to marry this out-landish ragamuffin if you please ; aiul I hope you'll enjoy the frogs and the sour kroiit and other precious provender of hisd — n'd country. — He has plenty of money I take it for granted ; for you know, I suppose' — (as he said this, tri- umphantly thrusting both hands into his pockets as if his boasted money was thence to wing it's flight imme» diately,) — ' you know, I suppose, that not one sixpenny-piece of mine do you ever see the sight of. — No ! not one penny by G — d, or my name's not Bob Manly/ — And then unable 175 longer to contain his rage, he became ahiiost frantic : — he raved and swore and blustered ; called upon all the powers of Heaven to visit with it's heaviest punishments his disobedient offspring; and when your excellent and unhappy mother clung to his knees still praying for forgiveness, with the barbarity of a ruffian, he struck her to the ground" ** Struck her?" — re-echoed Frederick :-^and, in a second, the chair on which he was sitting was in the middle of the room ; the ink- stand emptied it*s black contents upon the carpet ; and a heap of papers were snatched from their quiet re- pose upon the table, and condemned to suffer that grasp intended for the unfeeling Manly. '* Qjuesque cest, Messieurs f" broke from the terrified La Place, who, I 4 176 alarmed by the noise, now entered the apartment; and gazed on our hero's in- dignant countenance, as he stood in the middle of the room, his eyes flashing fire arid so nianv contendinc: emotions distracting him that he scarcely knew which to attend to first. La Place was at length informed by the baronet that his presence was unnecessary, and with much difficulty De Montford was re- stored to a degree of composure suffi- cient to attend to the sequel of the me- lancholy history of his parents. ** Those transports," continued Sir Ralpli, ** my dear Frederick, do ho- nour to your heart and feelings, and are cliaracteristic of that proud spirit wliich, like your lamented father's, scnrns to conceal the en;otions that nature dictates, and prudence, in the present instance, can scarcely venture to repre'^s. But io proceed in my sad 177 story : Indignant at the treatment which his beloved wife had been sub- jected to by her father's brutality, my friend resolved to repair to Vienna with his bride; and on liis own paternal estate, in the neighbourhood of that city, dedicate his whole time to the studj^ of her future happiness, and in endeavouring to obliterate from her mind the harsh treatment she had experienced from her parent. — This treatment, however, had made too deep an impression on her sus- ceptible heart, to be thus erased : — the execrations of a father still sounded in her ears, and in bringing you into the world, this lovely, this much- injured woman resigned her pure spirit into the hands of it's omniscient Creator: with her latest breath entreating forgiveness for the only act of disobedience which could I 5 178 be laid to her charge during her short sojourn in this world of probation and misery ; and imploring from Heaven those blessings for her husband and her child which had been denied to herself. But to be brief in my tale of wretchedness :" — (continued Sir Ralph, as he wiped the fast flowing tears from his eyes and cast them on his youthful auditor, whose bursting heart had that moment called to it's aid a friendly shower of grief and was sobbing forth it's unutterable agonies :) — **Pass we by, De Montford/' (he proceeded,) ** the feelings of your father on this heart-rending occasion : —Let me not attempt to think of, much less describe, the alternate feeU ings of grief and rage that now dis- tracted my hapless friend's bosom — grief at the loss of such a woman in such a manner — and rage at the mer- 179 ciless barbarity tbat could thus tram- ple on so fair a flower; and, ere it had scarcely blossomed, pluck it up in the very bloom of fragrance and beauty and remorseless cast it amongst the noisome weeds of the grave. These feelings will best be explained to you by the letter which I hold in my hand, and which was written about six months after the lamentable event, of which we have been speak- ing, took place. It was given to me by La Place (then your father's do- mestic) at the same time that he con- signed you to my care. — I had then just arrived from Paris where Lady DelavaFs accouchement had detained me; and which had alone prevented my before flying, as my heart prompt- ed me, to sooth my friend's sorrow^s. Whilst I attempt to recover the com- T)0suic which this distressing account 1 6 180 and the reflections unavoidably at- tached to it have deprived me of, you may peruse this truly melancholy description of extreme woe. — It will speak for itself With a trembling hand our hero took the proffered epistle — it was as follows : ** Why bid me live ?— Why, my dearest Delaval ! tell m.e that I am still bound to crawl upon the face of this wretched earth ? — W^hen beaten down, in the field of battle, by a victorious opponent, what war- rior, in such a situation, would accept the proffered gift of life from the hand of his conqueror ? — who on such terms would condescend to exist ? — Would you ? — I know you would not. — How then shall I, beaten down, vanquished, overcome as I am, by the strong hand of despair — shall I, 1 say, re- 181 ceive from my ruthless adversary the hoon of hfe, to endure all that his tor- turing auxiliaries may choose to inflict upon nie ? — I will not — can not. — A few days will see me in the fore- most ranks of our army, now in array against the Turks, and the swords of the Janissaries shall forge for me a passport to a second, and more last- ing union, with my beloved Harriet. — Dear dej)arted excellence ! every object that I gaze upon, — every sound that I hear — brings back to my re- collection thy angehc countenance and thy musical voice ! — now lost to me for ever! — E\qx\ the hapless babe which thou hast bequeathed me, serves but to remind me of my loss and aggravate my wretchedness. To you, Delaval ! I consign my child — by our former friendship, by the never- broken faith that has so long subsisted between us, I charge you with the task of rearing up to fame and emi- nence my infant offspring. — Let him early in life embrace that profession which his wretched father once so revered. — Yes ! once ! —when a be- loved wife was at home to cheer with her smiles my return from the toils and dangers of the field ; and animate me to deeds of high emprize by a confession that she loved me yet bet- ter for my valour. — But now who there awaits to cheer my return from battle? — What beating heart, what wistful eye now occupy my threshold to catch the earliest glimpse of my form as weary and fatigued it seeks it*s happy resting-place — it's much- Jovcd home ? — Alas ! no one ! — Once more my best and earliest friend fare- well ! we shall meet doubtless here- after on a happier scene, and where 183 your attention to my orphan son will meet it's clue recompense. I send by La Place the jewels which in more bliss- full moments I presented to his adored mother : those and my sword must constitute his fortune. — My faithful servant will inform you any further particulars you may wish to know.— To-morrow I fly to the army. Fare- well ! *' Leopold de Monteord." *' And did my father, Sir,*' (asked Frederick, as soon as his feelings would permit him to speak,) " did he adhere to his desperate resolu- tion r '- Alas !" (answered the baronet,) '' Too truly had he described his in- tentions : for notwithstanding La Place and the rest of his attendants a.nd domestics employed every strata- 184 gem and used every argument to de- tain him till the paroxysm of his grief should have gone by; — he contrived, with the cunning incidental to that state of insanity into which his grief had plunged him, to elude their vigi- lance ; and, after performing the most desperate prodigies of valour, fell covered with wounds and glorying in the idea of having accomplished his purpose, and thereby, as he conceived, secured to himself an inseparable union with his departed consort. It was not till after this melancholy event had taken place that I opened that letter of your father's at his own mansion, whither I had repaired, the moment Lady Delaval's health per- mitted me to leave her ; but alas ! arrived only time enough to witness the agonizing spectacle of my friend's funeral and to assist m depositing his 185 earthly reaiains by the side af his wife. I found every thing in that state of confusion which such a dis- tressing event could not fail to create j ' — and the count's estate moreover litigated (and by the despotic laws of that country subsequently vested in) an inhuman elder brother. After having fruitlessly attempted to obtaia from the court of Vienna a restitution of my lamented friend's property, I repaired with my infant charge and the faithful La Place (whom I took into my own service,) to my family at Paris, and from ihence to Eng- land. '^ Few words will suffice for the sequel of this truly distressing story. Your paternal estates did not long reward tlieir unprincipled usurper, the troops of France in a few years after- 186 wards overrunning witli their victo- rious arms the wliole of that part of Austria, and finally annexing it to their own country." *' But anly, Sir! — The vile the detestable, the monster Manly ?' —-exclaimed Frederick — " Manly," (replied Sir Ralph as he mildly placed his hand on that of our hero's to repress his rising indigna- tion,) ^' yet survives: — wretched but still implacable, he returned to England ; and in hopes of forgetting the loss of his amiable daughter, united himself to one of his female domes- tics j and, governed completely by this woman and enduring all that her vulgar tyranny chooses to inflict upoDj- his infirmities, — he drags out a miser- able existence ; as it were, merely to be a plague to himself and to those 187 around him, who have long since anxiously anticipated the moment of his departure to seize upon his riches. A son has, of course, been produced by this woman to inherit these riches : — there are, howev^er, circumstances attending the introduction of this young gentleman which are very sus- picious and which will make it my duty whenever he asserts his claim to his pretended parent's property to oppose it on your behalf. — But be the result of that claim what it may, my dear Frederick/' (the baronet's coun- tenance brightened as he spoke,) ** your own excellent conduct, in every way worthy of my departed friend, has put the necessity of a for- tune out of the question to ensure you happiness or reputation: you have but to persevere as you have 188 began and both will be at your com- mand. These jewels, — this picture, the representative of your father such as he was when I first remember him, and this sword which his intrepid arm was wont to wield in the day of battle, belong to you of right. You are now of an age when the sad story which my duty has compelled me this day to lay before you will doubtless pro- duce it's right impressions, and these inestimable gifts of your parents be duly appreciated.'* De Montford dropped involuntarily upon one knee as his benevolent guar- dian held forth to him the record of his father*s bravery; and as he prest the briglit beaming weapon to his heart, lie cast his expressive eyes to Heaven in speechless supplication — Then gazed upon the picture th.at 189 lay before him — bestowed on it a few hasty and burning kisses — agaia looked up to Heaven and — burst into tears. 190 CHAPTER X XT has doubtless been observed be- fore this, by some of the disappointed perusers of my last chapter, that, in the scene it was destined to represent, the avowed object of De Montford's solicited interview with his guardian has been totally overlooked; and that, with a want of politeness, inex- cusable to a heroine, the name of Emily has not been even once men- tioned during the whole course of that tedious period in which the above two personages remained closetted together in the library. 191 A lady who is now standing at my elbow, herself an authoress — (indeed no less a one than the immortal com- piler of ' The Indiscretions of Cosies^ tina,') assures me that if I venture to put down some of the sensations wliich ag-itated the breast of my gen- tle heroine, during the aforesaid te- dious period, my work will at once be discarded. Truth, however, in spite of my fair monitor^s advice, must be spoken : and the truth is, that nothing could be more (I blush to use so vulgar a word) fidgetty, than Emily was, during the whole of this- said interview. First she walked to the window and by throwing it open admitted a current of air fatal to every paper employment of the par- lour table, and then begging pardon hastily ran to shut it again ; — then she quitted the apartn;ent as if on 2 192 urgent business but almost imme- diately returned; — then she pretended to look over her sister Charlotte's shoulder (who was busily employed in making a sketch from Tacitus of Corbuio's last victory over the Bar- barians) and observed how pretty those Frenchmen looked ! — In short, as Arbuthnot, whose similes were too often from his stable, remarked, she was as restless as Deucalion when brought out to start for the Derby— *' which," added that gentleman with considerable emphasis, ** he won, you know I suppose, in a canter !" At length, when her eye had glanced for the hundredth time down the passage that led to the library, it rested on the object it had so long been in search of: of course , it was immediately withdrawn and a proper speech forthwith got ready to justify 193 this accidental m-eeting. Very soon however, was every feeUng but one banished from Emily's mind: and that produced an immediate and ex- treme anxiety to be made acquainted with, and if possible to alleviate, the poignant sorrow displayed on her lover's countenance ; and the effects of which were sufficiently visible in the unusually dim appearance of those radiant orbs where joy and animation had hitherto been wont to reign un- controlled. A faint gleam of pleasure passed across the visage of De Montford at the sight of his mistress; and taking her hand with a look of in- dcicribable tenderness he led her in silence towards the garden. Of what nature was the conversation that there ensued between them, we presume not to determine, much less to re^ VOL, I. K 194 count ; we, however, conjee iure that the cause of our hero's melancholy was not long kept a secret from the ohject of his affections : and the grounds of our conjecture are, — that when they appeared at dinner it was most evident that Emily's eyes had imitated the example set them by those of DeMontford, and frequently even then required the assistance of her pocket-handkerchief to banish the pearly drops that occasionally suffused them : it was also evident how by a thousand little nameless attentions she strove to draw her lover's mind insensibly away from the subject that annoyed him ; and, at once laying aside that reserve, which had some- times marked her behaviour towards him, she now seemed anxious only to sooth, cheer, and amuse him. These efforts could not fail of 195 success : and towards the close of the evening our hero had recover- ed a sufficient degree of composure to enable him to converse with his friend Henry on the subject of their approaching departure; the day for which was now irrevocably tixed. ** This letter/' said he, ** sum- mons us away, Henry, from inac- tivity and ease, to the plains of glory. — My regiment I find is already at Falmouth, awaiting to embark and anxiously expecting the presence of it's new commander/' — Then turning to Emily, in whom these direful words had created some paleness and some trembling, he forced a smile into his countenance and added in a half whisper — *' A 'it^ months will more than suffice to drive that banditti out of Spain and then" — his lips here ended : but his eyes finished the sen- K 2 196 tence in (I am told;) a very eloquent manner : nor did those of the young lady, to whom they addressed them- selves, fail to return their best thanks for the kind assurance conveyed by them ; although not until they had been cast upwards and made the me- dium of expressing to the throne of grace their possessor's earnest sup- plications and wishes on particular points. Henry Delaval must have been very deficient in sense (which he assuredly was not) if such scenes as these could have been daily acting, as they were before his eyes, withoirt sufficiently revealing to him the attachment that subsisted between De IMontford and ijis sister. The plain truth is, (how- ever much either of the parties would have been shocked at being told so) that to no one person in the family 197 was tliis attaehment now a secret: on the contrary, it was a topic on which all considered themselves at full hberty to display their powers of wit and make jocose comments. Al- ready had Mr. Arhuthnot dedicated many of his idle moments (of which be had no scarcity) to the composition of divers comic epigrams on the suh- iect Charlotte had more than once provokingly alluded to the story of Py ramus and Thisbc, and notwith- standing the evident confusion of her sister, pertinaciously persisted in re- citing the adventures of that unfor- tunate couple, and demanding her Qpinion thereon. And even La Place had considerably enlivened the tenants of the housekeeper's apartment, by the various facetious shrugs and gallic witticisms which he thought ht to exhibit at the expense of Monsieur i9S Frederick and Mademoiselle Emile* The baronet and his son had also had many conversations on the sub- ject ; and had both agreed that, if De Montford persevered in his meri- torious career, of which there ap- peared little doubt, nothing could give either of them more pleasure than his being admitted a member of their family ; and forming an union which seemed so calculated to ensure both the parties to it uninterrupted felicity. Sir Ralph did, indeed, make a cursory remark * that Frederick was "very young,* and we believe that Henry might slightly allude to his being rather impetuous; but both con- cluded by declaring * that it was exactly the thing they could wish.' When our hero therefore asked the baronet's permission to unite himself to his amiable daughter, instead of 199 meeting with a start of surprize, a look of indignation or a repulsive frown,, (all which we are aware would have been proper for such an occasion) he was told in plain and affectionate terms that, provided lie had obtained Emily's consent, (at which by the bye Frederick impudently enough thought fit to smile) he had Sir Ralph's full per- mission to address his daughter *' Address her ? — Sir ! — " said Frederick much disappointed, ** I thought — perhaps, Sir, — you would have had no ob — ^jec — tion to my marrying her."— '*- Nor shall I,** rejoined Sir Ralph, ** provided you continue in the same sentiments on your return — Why surely, my young friend," — he continued, observing Frederick's do- lorous and disappointed visage at the word * return,* " Surely, you would K 4 -200 not espouse Emily between this and Thursday, the day of your depar- ture!'^ To this very puzzhng and dis- agreeable question our hero returned no answer : but assuredly in this in- stance silence did not convey his assent to the unnecessary delay (as he conceived it) which his guardian was imposing upon him : and his down-cast looks and the eagerness with which he pulled to pieces his innocent watch-ribbon, clearly evinced that the above answer had by na means proved satisfactory to his im- patient feelings. Nay, to speak the whole truth, a feeling very like anger obtruded itself into his mind at ob- serving that Sir Ralph smiled at the bare idea of a compliance with his wishes ; and he went away muttering o mething about it's being very odd. 201 He was, however, treated worse by Emily when he unfolded the baronet's answer to her : for that young lady not a little delighted at finding that no. objection had been made to his proposal, and in her joy at that event forgetting all ideas of his departure, could not refrain from absolutely laughing at the sombre gloom that overspread his countenance; and, play- fully rallying him, she pronounced his suUenness a mere subject for ridicule. " I don't see what there is to laugh at, Emily !" said he rather peevishly, and resigning for a moment her hand, *' or, how mirth can be excited at the idea of our parting before o ir union takes place." Emily, however, soon succeeded in bringing back his good humour; and, by dwelling on the happiness of future prospects,— con- cealing all her own fears and appre^ K 5 hensions, which were not a few,— and answering over and over again his often repeated questions, as to the state of her heart, by declaring (what certainly was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth) that no possibility existed of it*s ever feeling love for any but himself; — she. succeeded, ere they had finished their conversation, in making him ac- knowledge the propriety, if not the necessity, of their marriage being de- layed till his return. Thus was every thing, to use the town phrase, completely settled; and Mrs. Margaret Malaprop had the feli- city of announcing to the card assem- bly in the neighbouring town of D that Colonel De Montford was cer- tain It/ to marry Miss Emily Delaval on his return from Spain. — *' My ^ear Lady Bourchier ! how can you SOS contradict rae ?" (continued this com- municative maiden) ^* when I tell you that I was at the Hall only yesterday myself on purpose to wish Miss Emily joy — and told her what a nice young man I thought her lover was — and how sincerely I hoped that he would not be slaughtered as my poor dear brother George was under Wolfe at Quebec 1" How our heroine received this con- gratulatory address we presume not, nor indeed have we time, to describe : for already has the chaise, the unfeel- ing chaise, driven from the door and is even now conveying down the avenue the two youthful warriors. Sir Ralph has quitted the sorrowful groupe at the door, who are following with their tearful gaze the dep'arting vehicle, and flown, forgetful of his rheu« matism, and other ailments, up stairs to K 6 204 his daughter Emily ; whom the screams of a terrified maid declare to have fainted. — Pincher has bitten the fingers of the servant who was ordered to prevent his following the carriage and is already snuffmg up the dust of it's hinder wheels. — De Montford and Henry are still seen from their respective windows waving their ex- tended hands, wliilst the displayed 'kerchiefs of Arbuthuot and Charlotte return the melancholy signal. — And now, they have reached the lodge— and now they pause! — it is owing to old Susan who is crying and cannot open the gates — and now the fatal turn is made- -and now the whirling eddies of the dust above the envious pailings bespeak them on the turnpike- road. " Don't cry, old fellow !" after a mournful silence, broke from Mr, Ai-r 205 buthnot (himself in tears) as he af- fected to comfort the veteran La Place; who stood a short way off sobbing forth his unutterable grief, " they'll be back again in a few months and then — we shall have as much laughing —though to be sure," (he muttered to himself) ^' I had rather have seen Deucalion again break down a hundred times, and — that was bad enough." In parting with Henry Delaval, Arbuthnot had indeed lost a sincere friend ; it will be supposed that the former did not fail to offer some most disinterested counsel to this gentle- man at bidding him adieu. Indeed not only counsel did he offer him; — but every thing that warmth of heart, .sj^mpathy, or friendship could sug- gest, was uttered by this truly amiable youth to induce his friend to forsake g06 the paths of folly that had so long disgraced his better nature. And yet, strange as it must appear to those un- acquainted with the effects of extrava- gance and vice on even the most ingenuous dispositions, all Henry's kind entreaties to know the real state of his friend's affairs — all his repeated proffers of assistance in every way — all his affectionate expostulations were of no avail ; nor could they extract from that friend any thing like truth with regard to the extent of his em- barrassments. A species of unac- countable pride, the offspring of the worst sort of vanity, and to which the distressed man clings as if it had power to preserve him, whereas in fact it usually operates as the death- warrant to all his prospects, still actu- ated the unfortunate youth, of whom we speak, and induced him to returp 3 20/ ambiguous answers to all Mr. Dela- vaFs many earnest entreaties to be made acquainted with the truth : and he suffered his best friend to depart in perfect ignorance of the fate that awaited him inevitably on his return to London. But we have forgotten the melan* choly assemblage at the Hall-door, Although, in truth, little remains to be said now we have rejoined them : for extreme woe admits not of description, and imagination must do more for us than expression possibly can. All we shall say is, that fjr some days subse- quent to this afflicting scene nothing could exhibit a picture of acuter grief than the whole Delaval family : the members of it seldom met, except at meals, when a gloomy silence too clear- ly pourtrayed the feehng that was uppermost in every bosom ; the post 208 was now the only thing that had power to call forth any expression of pleasure, or dispel for a moment the universal gloom -, and the intelligence which it conveyed was sought after with a species of jealous eagerness understood only by those whose hearts have felt the pangs of absence from beloved objects. Now, with regard to these letters, we do not think it necessary to copy any of those which passed between the hero and lieroine of this story : — they were all upon one subject ; and that subject by no means an uncommon one, and where again fancy will make by far the most faithful transcript. But from one of Henry Delavafs epistles to his sister Charlotte we will make an extract. This gentleman wrote very well ; and as he has not yet fallen into love, his intelligence is 509 more to be relied upon, than that of his companion ; whose state of mind might possibly render his style ob- scure and incoherent, save only to her whose business it was to expound it. — But then Cupid assisted her in the task which he perhaps will not the reader. *^ In this part of our journey," (said Mr. Delaval to his sister in the extract above alluded to,) ** a curious adven- ture befel us. In our front a cloud of dust proclaimed a cavalcade, or rather a procession, of carriages, which from the grandeur of the leading equipage, the number of domestics that on horseback followed the train, and other marks of wealth and mag- nificence, we of course concluded to belong to some nobleman travelling for amusement, and choosing to make this pompous display of his riches as he proceeded. ** On a nearer inspection we found the cavalcade preceded by an ele- gant barouche, built in a peculiar style^ sind driven by a young gentleman who seemed to be fully sensible of his own importance : — so determined was he indeed to retain the foremost situation, that, on our post-boys attempting to pass by him, he instantly struck his four steeds into a gallop ; and, notwithstanding my screams to the drivers of our carriage to decline the contest, a perilous race ensued between the two vehicles. Our youth- ful opponent seemed to enjoy this contest beyond description -, and, shouting forth a volley of oaths, he declared he would sooner forfeit his life than his honour^ and * where was that honour/ (as lie roared to the servant that sat beside him on the box,) ' if four posters were once to tip him the go-by f A narrow part of the road brought this affair to the crisis which usually attends upon such exploits : the tw^o carriages be- came entangled, and the barouche, the lighter of the two, justified the old proverb and literally ' went to the wall;' discharging it's unhappy owner into a neighbouring field, where a muddy ditch received hipi. A volley of oaths, however, convinced us, upon going up to him, that his vocal powers were at least uninjured. Forgetting that the whole accident originated with himself, he began to threaten vengeance on our post-boys ; and, had not my friend's appearance a little awed him, it is possible we might not have escaped our share of 212 abuse : — more especially as De Mont- ford^, not apt, as we know, to com- mand his emotions, was so forcibly struck with the singular appearance of the youth that he scarcely could refrain from laughing in his face. Tell me, my dear Charlotte, if, in the course of your reading, either amongst antients or moderns, you have oftea met with a character like the follow- ing; a face exactly resembling that of a bull- dog, only setting forth di- vers bloated marks of intemperance unknown to those animals, fastened, or rather stuck upon, (without the appearance of any neck to aid the junction,) a body which boasted about four feet two inches of length,, but was swelled to an enormous breadth by the rrany curious vestments wrap* ped around it. The legs that were de- stined to carry this Lilliputian mass of ^13 deformity were assuredly not co': ; tuted for either use or ornament , for the utmost that a pair of hugeous Hessian boots could effect in their appearance, was to increase them to about the size and thickness of the s-purs which glittered at their heels. A coachman's coat, adorned with countless capes had the honour of encir- cling this fair frame, and, when open, revealed a spy- glass suspended by a gold -chain and a variety of different broaches emblematic of their wearer's favourite diversions. ** Such a figure, plaistered with mud and foamin"^ with rao;e and indiiyna- tion, might well at any time have excited mirth in the beholders : but imagine Frederick's surprise, and I may say horror, when his caricature -on human nature declared hiraself a 214 newly appointed cornet in bis own regiment ! and announced the accom- * panying train of liveried myrmidons, prancing steeds and gaudy equipages, as pai^t of what he intended to take with him upon service ! — ' I under- stand, Colonel!* (said he to Dc Montford — for I had purposely taken an opportunity of stating my friend^s name and rank) — * Fm told, that there is some dev'lish good hunting in Spain — I mean to take over a few dogs — ha ! ha ! — Slashing work I suppose there'll be — Well ! we sol- diers must make up our minds, as Wirgman says, when I look over his broaches, for blood and slaughter — besides it's prime to talk about fight- ing at supper after the thing's over — that's what I like — but come let's be jogging ! as we say, down the road,— S15 Colonel ! youVl better come with me in the dog-cart — A spanking tit in it I promise you — a rare nag to go.' '* This invitation you will suppose was not complied with on the part of the colonel; whom I had no small dif- ficulty in restraining from the expres- sion of all he felt at the contempla- tion of this puppy's affectation and impertinence. On our arrival, how- ever, at the place of our destination, my friend's military feelings were destined to receive another equally severe shock, at finding his regiment so differently ot^cered from what his ardent imagination and Indian ex- perience had led him to expect. He found that he was about to take the command of a set of high-spirited youths, all panting for military re- nown, yet without having taken any ^ne step requisite to ensure it ; — who £16 liad erroneously supposed a soldier's life and a life of pleasure the same ; and, studying only amusements, yet expected to acquire reputation. In this awful moment when about to be led against the enemy, some are em- ployed in scrutinizing their ornamen- tal accoutrements ; some wasting the few days previous to their embarka- tion in scrambling after the neigh- bouring hounds, or riding races; others indulging an ^absurd rage for theatric representations; and others distiJignishing themselves by noctur- nal broils and feats of midnight re- velry : in short, few seem to be aware of the importance of the duties they will shortly have to perform ; or inclined to study what alone will at- tain their object in the pursuit they have volunteered in." Such was Henry Delaval's opinion 217 of our hero's new companions in arms : — it was certainly a highly coloured picture; and if it thus struck the calm and considerate Henry, it may be con- jectured that De Montford felt also not a httle. He did indeed feel a great deal — almost as much as my read- ers will if I lengthen any more this chapter. vou i. 218 CHAPTER XL iiOWEVER unpleasant to his feelings> a biographer is bound to speak the truth : notwithstanding that truth may chance to mihtate against the good opinion which he wishes his readers to entertain of the person whose character he pourtrays. We should have been glad, — very glad, to state that our hero made himself a favourite in his new situation as shortly as he has contrived to do in all those we have hitherto placed him in 'y but we are in candour bound to admit that no such success attended 219 luQi with bis present regimental asso- ciates. All his conceptions on mili- tary subjects — all his ideas of disci- pline were so completely at variance with those formed by the warlike band, it was his lot to command, that it was impossible to assimilate them in any way, or (to use a very homely phrase) get them ' to pull toge- ther.' Scarcely had he worn the honours of his high situation a month before murmurs were heard in all quarters respecting his rigid (or, as Cornet Sir Splinter-bar Spirey wtU expressed it, * his d V itngentlemanllke' ) no- tions of duty: parties were formed, plots laid, suppers given, toasts drank, all in furtherance of one object — and that the best method of annoying him : or — ^(again to quote from the above titled cnrn^.t) J 220 ^ to shew the Nabob colonel that he had not gpt a set of Sepoys to deal with,' Between ourselves, — he did do some very odd things. In the first place, he thought fit to give the va- cant troop to Lieutenant Nathaniel Stock, a man with particularly vulgar notions of obedience and duty, who had been eighteen years adjutant of the regiment and was the son of a man who had been a quartermaster of it for two-and-twenty more. This man indeed, seemed to be a special favourite with the colonel ; for, more than once, in the course of the voy- age, did he, accompanied by that gawkij member of parliament (we speak the general language) walk the deck with Stock till a late hour ; and listen with apparent pleasure to his very dry description of the landings in Holland and Egypt. But proba- 2211 bly, the best method of explaining to the reader the sentiments of disgust, which these and similar unaccountable actions of De Montford created, will be to give him a copy of the letter that announced the intention of the aforesaid Sir Sphnter-bar Spirey, (whom we may here also announce as the unsuccessful candidate in that comic race which Henry Dclaval described in the last chapter,) to deprive his majesty of his most valuable ser- vices. This letter, which was the produce of no less than five refractory brains, w-as as follows ; ** On his Majesty's service. '' Sir, " Having been informed by Captain Stock that it is your pleasure that I do not continue to walk the quarter- deck of the transport, (at least during L 3 22S a parade,) in my four-iii-hand great-* coat: * it's many capes and large mother-of-pearl buttons being, (as he said you wished him privately to no- tify to me,) in your humble opinion, inconsistent with the appearance of a British officer :' — 1 take this opportu- nity of notifying to you that, not being a boy in leading-strings, not a Sepoy slave, I have resolved no longer to put up with such usage — jior will I stand it — that's another thing — by G — d. ** I have therefore to request that you will take the earliest opportunity of acquainting the commander in chief, on our arrival in Spain, with mv intention and wish to retire from the service. As I flatter myself that such a determination on my part will not be heard without emotion by those who wish well to the army and the country, I think it but justice to open their eyes and justify myself by an exposition of some few of the tyrannical acts that have compelled me to adopt this resolution. " I believe, Sir, indeed I know, that you were no stranger to the wish I had of taking my pointers to Spain with me. Notwithstanding which, you refused obstinately to allow them to occupy any of the births set aside for the use of the common soldiers — nor even part of the cabin of an in- fantry ensign. Moreover, when Bas- to, (a dog that cost me twenty- five guineas at the hammer — I was offered twenty more for my bargain) was thrown overboard, because he hap- pened merely to bite off the finger of a quartermaster of artillery — so far from picketing or reprimanding the man who did this atrocious act, L 4 224 yua absolutely smiled as the animal went a-stern : nor would you listen to my complaint oF Captain Stock, who on the same occasion had the audacity to say publicly, * that he should have liked to have seen my Swiss valet going after him !* *' Need I, Sir, for the hundredth time, bring to your recollection that the chest containing my snutf- boxes and broaches still remains, where your arbitrary mandate first placed it, in the hold of the ship; where in consequence, my servants cannot have access to it in order to clean, inspect, arrange, or organize it's valu- able contents, nor myself to use them : — three days have I now dined with- out a pinch of Prince of Wales's mix- lure ! ** Such, Sir, and many others I could name, are the acts by which 225 you perhaps expect to govern a set of gentlemen : but permit nie to observe, that I do not conceive it consistent with my rank in Hfe, or my character as an original member of the * Clip- persj* ^ Screws y* smd * IndepenckfitSy' any longer to endure tamely such attacks on ray personal comforts — I have no idea of such a thing — Slavery may do in India — but not amongst Gentlemen, — D — mn— e if it shall ! — *' I have the honour to be, Sir, *' fwith great respect J *' Yourobedient humble servant, '' Splinter-bar Spirey, ** Cornet Regt. of Dragoons.'* " To Col. De Montforch ** commanding Regt, of Dra^ '^ goons. These and similar disputes between our hero and his new associates were, L 5 2£6 however, very speedily banished from the mind of the former, the instant that his foot touched that soil he was to assist in defending;. Nor in- deed did those associates long con- tinue discontented with their youth- ful commandant: a very few days sufficed to shew these gmtkmen the difference between country quarters and actual service — the wide distinc- tion between the real game of war, and that imitation of it played off on dusty heaths and shew parades at home. The Bond-street lounger here soon discovered how useless was his 'studied four o'clock stroll to keep pace with the double quick time of light infantry. — Heaven's azure ca- nopy, parching with it's emitted heat every surrounding object, or pouring down a drenching deluge on the desert plain beneath, presented but a 227 dreary prospect to an eye accustomed to the painted ceilings and tasteful ornaments of London drawing-rooms. — A cup of brackish water from a muddy ditch or stagnant pool was little relished by lips wont to quaff Champagne and Burgundy. The roar of artillery disturbed the ear attuned to Catalani's soothing sounds. — And the only coffee-house here open for the reception of idlers, was one, where surgeons officiated as waiters — where the medicine-chest displayed a dismal bill of fare — and where death too often was the exacted price of bad accommodation. In moments like these it is that the difference between the soldier and the coxcomb becomes instantaneously perceptible — the superiority of the former at once acknowledged and appreciated. It is then that the pro- L 6 228 fes^ion of arms stands forth in it's true colours; and, disclaiming the imputation, so often cast upon it by the vain and ignorant, of being learned by any one at any moment, proves that it will' open the temple of Fame to none but those who have a claim to it's favours by long study and intent application. In moments like these, how does the youthful enthusiast, ambitious of renown, and panting for the acquirement of glory, wish that he had attended to the only means of securing either 1 — How does he then regret that, in lieu of having occupied himself in studying his card- rack and court-guide, he had not dedicated some of his idle moments to imbibing instruction in his profes- sion from the Roman General, or the Prussian Monarch. But it is now too late to do so : and the youth of ardent 229 imagination, high spirits, and dis* tinguished rank, will, and does fre- quently, find himself superseded by a being possessing haply none of these attributes: — but still acquainted with his duty, and therefore of necessity preferred before him. Was an illustration or example of the truth of these remarks necessary, we might give one or two modern military ignoramuses as very sufficient ones : but our business is not to lecture on military tactics : — we pro- fess to write a- liistory, and accord- ingly we proceed on our journey. Our hero newfound himself on his own element; he was on that stage where Nature had evidently designed him to signalize himself; and, if ex- traordinary bravery, great knowledge of his profession, and unequalled in- tellectual quickness, can distinguish 230 any one in such a situation — as- suredly Frederick De Montford might be fairly said to have fulfilled Nature's utmost expectations. Not a gazette nor a general order but what bestowed applause on the youthful colonel of the regiment : — not a hazardous attempt was to be made of any kind — not a convoy to be intercepted — not a retreat to be covered — but what application was made to his enter- prizing genius to perform the service ; which when intrusted to his hands was considered as already accomplish- ed. Fortune, moreover, seemed to smile on every thing that he under- took, and appeared determined to exempt him from those chances which are the lot of all who play the game of war. The enemy fully aware of the im- portance of such a character, devised 231 several stratagems to secure his per- son, which it must be owned his im- petuosity and daring spirit of adven- ture too often placed in danger. Henry Delaval frequently trembled for his friend, whose ear was shut against all counsel not to expose himself; and who considered any thing like a consideration of that na- ture as little better than cowardice: soir.etimes, indeed, when the above gentleman had alluded to a certain young lady at home, and for her sake entreated his friend not to hazard his person so wantonly and unnecessarily on all occasions, he would faintly promise more caution for the future : — which promise he generally kept by riding within pistol-shot of the French lines, or singling himself out in a charge, an object for any marksman who chose to level a musket at him 23Q or point a sabre to his breast. A thousand instances might be given of this headstrong spirit, which was daily running him into the most emi- nent perils, and placing him in situa- tions whence nothing but a miracu- lous good fortune extricated him. On one occasion, having, with a small reconnoitring party, charged and dispersed a troop of the enemy's cavalry, he was tempted to pursue it's commander, who fled from him with the agihty so natural to Frenchmen on such an occasion, far beyond the limits that prudence could justify, or indeed the prize was worth ; and com- pletely out of sight of his own party. He was at length gaining ground on the fugitive, who had already began piteously to vociferate "je me rends'' and other similar submissive exclama- tions, indicating that he was by no ^33 means tired of life, when suddenly both the pursuer and pursued disap- peared — vanished from the face of the earth — not a vestige of either was to be seen ! Where can they be gone to ? Inquiring fair one ! — in that coun- try, as indeed in some parts of this, are interspersed a number of deep pits and subterranean caverns, (either the remains of exhausted mines no longer able to supply avarice or excite in-v dustry, or dug out by the peasants in time of peace for many purposes of commercial utility,) the mouths of which are so overgrown with wild flowers and brush- wood, and other- wise so concealed, as to be scarcely perceptible to even the most inquisi- tive stranger; much less so, to two persons travelling that pace which fear on the one hand and hoDCS of 234 conquest on the other in the present instance inspired : and into one of these sepulchral caverns our hero and his runaway antagonist (to speak literally) tumbled ' neck and heels.' Their situation, when they arrived at the bottom of this unexpected pri- son, was far from being agreeable : the lofty and perpendicular sides of it precluded the possibility of egress ; and very little probability existed of any human being feeling inclined to peep down an apparently bottomless abyss, or being accidentally led to examine such a spot for their extrica- tion. To add to De Montford's dis- tress, the Frenchman was so lacerated by his fall, and by his horse having tumbled upon him, that it soon be- came evident he was to add one more to the many of his countrymen doom- ed to fall a sacrifice to their emperor's 235 mad ambition on this devoted ser- vice. Our hero, though himself severely wounded by this premature and rapid burial, awhile forgot his own calamities in commiseration for those of his unfortunate enemy ; whom he used every means the situa- tion would admit of, but in vain, to reanimate : the poor fellow expired in his arms, and left hi« more wretch- ed opponent to indulge in a solitary meditation on all the horrors of his situation. For the first time in his life our hero began to despair : — now, first, did < That heart of adamant and soul of fire,* shrink from the contemplation of the prospect before them. 256 " Thus to perish,'* exclaimed the desponding warrior, *' thus to meet an untimely and a lingering death- unnoticed ! undistinguished ! — What will Emily feel ? — What will Henry say ? — What torturing suspense will they not both endure! — And all this brought upon myself by my own inconsiderate rashness ! Alas ! poor Guido/' (he proceeded, as he cast a melancholy look on his iavourite horse, who stood beside him, and significantly extended one of his disabled limbs as if to claim compas- sion from his lord,) *' you and I shall never pursue a Frenchman any more — our fighting days are over. — ** He paused ; for Guido here pricked up his ears, forgetful of his lameness stood erect, and neighed. — ** A band ! —a British band !" exclaimed the 23/ enraptured Frederick as the sounds of martial music caught his ear and echoed faintly round iiis dreary prison. It was indeed a band and a British band : but alas ! little did those who composed it, or those who marched beneath it's animating* influence, think that it's sounds were heard by the army's idol, — by Colonel De Montford. The regiment to which it belonged passed by the mouth of the cavern without guessing who was there incarcerated ; — the inspiriting sounds died away ; — Guide's ears re- sumed their lowly station ; — and De Montford once more gave himself up to despair. Again were the same sounds heard and a second time they died away : and thus, as if to aggra- vate his wretchedness, did regiment S38 after regiment pass by, without his be- ing enabled to give his comrades any token of his miserable condition. At every interval he shouted forth his entreaties; but the sounds scarcely scared away the birds that rested on the branches which overhung and concealed his prison's mouth. A thousand times did he essay to climb the mouldering sides of the cavern; but no footing could be gained, and clouds of crumbling dust bade de- fiance to every such attempt. In de- spair he flung his pocket-hand- kerchief on high, childishly suppos- ing it miglit reach the top and attract some friendly eye; but the flimsy messenger ascended not half way, and seemed to mock the puerile effort that dispatched it. Already had the dim light, which the entrance of the S30 cave adTiitted, began to fade — Night was evidently approaching — What a night for De Moniford ! Impetuous to the List, he resolved not to submit to the hngering death that awaited him ; and drawing his sword he prepared to adopt the atheist^s resource, and coward-hke put an end to his suspense and exis- tence. In the action of removing the weapon from it*s sheath, a letter accidentally /ell from his pocket : it was one which he had only that morning received from Emily; and the well-known signature, as the epistle lay half open on the ground, attracted his blood-shot eye. At this sight the sword dropped from his grasp and clanged upon the ground with a noise that made the faithful Guido start.— '* Poor Emily!'* (at length broke from De Montford with 240 a deep sigh,) *^ once more before I perish, let me think upon all thy love and affection for me — once more, ere they close for ever, shall these eyes regale themselves with thy generous avowals of regard !" With great difficulty, by the dim light which the cavern afforded, he made shift to decypher the following words : '* Once again, my dear Frederick,'* (said this amiable girl in conclusion to a long epistle, breathing nothing but love and tenderness throughout,) ** Adieu 1 — Again let me entreat you for my sake, not to expose yourself unnecessarily. Daily and hourly do I address the Throne of Grace for your safety ; and I feel a confident hope that that providence which watches over all it's creatures, but especially shields the person of the ^41 soldier, when generousiy exposed in such a cause as you are fighting in, will listen to my earnest supplications and restore you safe from injury, and covered with renown to the prayers of *' Your ever affectionate ^' Emily Delaval " DelaraUHall, February." I am perfectly aware that had Frederick De Montford been Mrs. Hannah More's hero, instead of mine> he would long ago have embraced eagerly that resource which this letter of Emily must immediately have pointed out to his consideration ; and tliat had Coelebs been thus un- expectedly entombed, (although, by the bye, I much doubt whether any thing would have persuaded the pru- dent Mister Coelebs to venture his precious person where there were wicked swords and muskets at work,) VOL. T. M 242 he would not have required any such stimulus to devotion as that which the above letter could not fail to excite in the bosom of De Mont- ford. Our object, however, throughout these pages, has been and will con- tinue to be, to state plain facts exactly as they did occur — and not as we could wish they had occurred : and to describe human nature a^^:^^r;:^o^^>:;;^,:^,^„. m UNIVERSITY OF ILLIN0I9-URBANA 3 0112 046408107