St. Ronan's Well Page 12

  CHAPTER X.

  RESOURCES.

  Come, let me have thy counsel, for I need it; Thou art of those, who better help their friends With sage advice, than usurers with gold, Or brawlers with their swords--I'll trust to thee, For I ask only from thee words, not deeds.

  _The Devil hath met his Match._

  The day of which we last gave the events chanced to be Monday, and twodays therefore intervened betwixt it and that for which theentertainment was fixed, that was to assemble in the halls of the Lordof the Manor the flower of the company now at St. Ronan's Well. Theinterval was but brief for the preparations necessary on an occasion sounusual; since the house, though delightfully situated, was in veryindifferent repair, and for years had never received any visitors,except when some blithe bachelor or fox-hunter shared the hospitality ofMr. Mowbray; an event which became daily more and more uncommon; for, ashe himself almost lived at the Well, he generally contrived to receivehis companions where it could be done without expense to himself.Besides, the health of his sister afforded an irresistible apology toany of those old-fashioned Scottish gentlemen, who might be too apt (inthe rudeness of more primitive days) to consider a friend's house astheir own. Mr. Mowbray was now, however, to the great delight of allhis companions, nailed down, by invitation given and accepted, and theylooked forward to the accomplishment of his promise, with the eagernesswhich the prospect of some entertaining novelty never fails to produceamong idlers.

  A good deal of trouble devolved on Mr. Mowbray, and his trusty agent Mr.Meiklewham, before any thing like decent preparation could be made forthe ensuing entertainment; and they were left to their unassistedendeavours by Clara, who, during both the Tuesday and Wednesday,obstinately kept herself secluded; nor could her brother, either bythreats or flattery, extort from her any light concerning her purpose onthe approaching and important Thursday. To do John Mowbray justice, heloved his sister as much as he was capable of loving any thing buthimself; and when, in several arguments, he had the mortification tofind that she was not to be prevailed on to afford her assistance, he,without complaint, quietly set himself to do the best he could by hisown unassisted judgment or opinion with regard to the necessarypreparations.

  This was not, at present, so easy a task as might be supposed: forMowbray was ambitious of that character of _ton_ and elegance, whichmasculine faculties alone are seldom capable of attaining on suchmomentous occasions. The more solid materials of a collation were indeedto be obtained for money from the next market-town, and were purchasedaccordingly; but he felt it was likely to present the vulgar plenty of afarmer's feast, instead of the elegant entertainment, which might beannounced in a corner of the county paper, as given by John Mowbray,Esq. of St. Ronan's, to the gay and fashionable company assembled atthat celebrated spring. There was likely to be all sorts of error andirregularity in dishing, and in sending up; for Shaws-Castle boastedneither an accomplished housekeeper, nor a kitchenmaid with a hundredpair of hands to execute her mandates. All the domestic arrangementswere on the minutest system of economy consistent with ordinary decency,except in the stables, which were excellent and well kept. But can agroom of the stables perform the labours of a groom of the chambers? orcan the gamekeeper arrange in tempting order the carcasses of the birdshe has shot, strew them with flowers, and garnish them with piquantsauces? It would be as reasonable to expect a gallant soldier to act asundertaker, and conduct the funeral of the enemy he has slain.

  In a word, Mowbray talked, and consulted, and advised, and squabbled,with the deaf cook, and a little old man whom he called the butler,until he at length perceived so little chance of bringing order out ofconfusion, or making the least advantageous impression on such obdurateunderstandings as he had to deal with, that he fairly committed thewhole matter of the collation, with two or three hearty curses, to thecharge of the officials principally concerned, and proceeded to take thestate of the furniture and apartments under his consideration.

  Here he found himself almost equally helpless; for what male wit isadequate to the thousand little coquetries practised in sucharrangements? how can masculine eyes judge of the degree of _demi-jour_which is to be admitted into a decorated apartment, or discriminatewhere the broad light should be suffered to fall on a tolerable picture,where it should be excluded, lest the stiff daub of a periwiggedgrandsire should become too rigidly prominent? And if men are unfit forweaving such a fairy web of light and darkness as may best suitfurniture, ornaments, and complexions, how shall they be adequate to theyet more mysterious office of arranging, while they disarrange, thevarious movables in the apartment? so that while all has the air ofnegligence and chance, the seats are placed as if they had beentransported by a wish to the spot most suitable for accommodation;stiffness and confusion are at once avoided, the company are neitherlimited to a formal circle of chairs, nor exposed to break their nosesover wandering stools; but the arrangements seem to correspond to whatought to be the tone of the conversation, easy, without being confused,and regulated, without being constrained or stiffened.

  Then how can a clumsy male wit attempt the arrangement of all the_chiffonerie_, by which old snuff-boxes, heads of canes, pomander boxes,lamer beads, and all the trash usually found in the pigeon-holes of thebureaus of old-fashioned ladies, may be now brought into play, bythrowing them, carelessly grouped with other unconsidered trifles, suchas are to be seen in the windows of a pawnbroker's shop, upon a marble_encognure_, or a mosaic work-table, thereby turning to advantage thetrash and trinketry, which all the old maids or magpies, who haveinhabited the mansion for a century, have contrived to accumulate. Withwhat admiration of the ingenuity of the fair artist have I sometimespried into these miscellaneous groups of _pseudo-bijouterie_, and seenthe great grandsire's thumb-ring couchant with the coral and bells ofthe first-born--and the boatswain's whistle of some old naval uncle, orhis silver tobacco-box, redolent of Oroonoko, happily grouped with themother's ivory comb-case, still odorous of musk, and with some virginaunt's tortoise-shell spectacle-case, and the eagle's talon of ebony,with which, in the days of long and stiff stays, our grandmothers werewont to alleviate any little irritation in their back or shoulders! Thenthere was the silver strainer, on which, in more economical times thanours, the lady of the house placed the tea-leaves, after the very lastdrop had been exhausted, that they might afterwards be hospitablydivided among the company, to be eaten with sugar, and with bread andbutter. Blessings upon a fashion which has rescued from the claws ofabigails, and the melting-pot of the silversmith, those neglected_cimelia_, for the benefit of antiquaries and the decoration ofside-tables! But who shall presume to place them there, unless under thedirection of female taste? and of that Mr. Mowbray, though possessed ofa large stock of such treasures, was for the present entirely deprived.

  This digression upon his difficulties is already too long, or I mightmention the Laird's inexperience in the art of making the worse appearthe better garnishment, of hiding a darned carpet with a newfloor-cloth, and flinging an Indian shawl over a faded and threadbaresofa. But I have said enough, and more than enough, to explain hisdilemma to an unassisted bachelor, who, without mother, sister, orcousin, without skilful housekeeper, or experienced clerk of thekitchen, or valet of parts and figure, adventures to give anentertainment, and aspires to make it elegant and _comme il faut_.

  The sense of his insufficiency was the more vexatious to Mowbray, as hewas aware he would find sharp critics in the ladies, and particularly inhis constant rival, Lady Penelope Penfeather. He was, therefore,incessant in his exertions; and for two whole days ordered anddisordered, demanded, commanded, countermanded, and reprimanded, withoutpause or cessation. The companion, for he could not be termed anassistant, of his labours, was his trusty agent, who trotted from roomto room after him, affording him exactly the same degree of sympathywhich a dog doth to his master when distressed in mind, by looking inhis face from time to time with a piteous gaze, as if to assure him thathe partakes of his trouble, though he neither comprehen
ds the cause orthe extent of it, nor has in the slightest degree the power to removeit.

  At length when Mowbray had got some matters arranged to his mind, andabandoned a great many which he would willingly have put in betterorder, he sat down to dinner upon the Wednesday preceding the appointedday, with his worthy aide-de-camp, Mr. Meiklewham; and after bestowing afew muttered curses upon the whole concern, and the fantastic old maidwho had brought him into the scrape, by begging an invitation, declaredthat all things might now go to the devil their own way, for so sure ashis name was John Mowbray, he would trouble himself no more about them.

  Keeping this doughty resolution, he sat down to dinner with his counsellearned in the law; and speedily they dispatched the dish of chops whichwas set before them, and the better part of the bottle of old port,which served for its menstruum.

  "We are well enough now," said Mowbray, "though we have had none oftheir d----d kickshaws."

  "A wamefou' is a wamefou'," said the writer, swabbing his greasy chops,"whether it be of the barleymeal or the bran."

  "A cart-horse thinks so," said Mowbray; "but we must do as others do,and gentlemen and ladies are of a different opinion."

  "The waur for themselves and the country baith, St. Ronan's--it's thejinketing and the jirbling wi' tea and wi' trumpery that brings ournobles to nine-pence, and mony a het ha'-house to a hired lodging in theAbbey."

  The young gentleman paused for a few minutes--filled a bumper, andpushed the bottle to the senior--then said abruptly, "Do you believe inluck, Mick?"

  "In luck?" answered the attorney; "what do you mean by the question?"

  "Why, because I believe in luck myself--in a good or bad run of luck atcards."

  "You wad have mair luck the day, if you had never touched them," repliedhis confident.

  "That is not the question now," said Mowbray; "but what I wonder at isthe wretched chance that has attended us miserable Lairds of St. Ronan'sfor more than a hundred years, that we have always been getting worse inthe world, and never better. Never has there been such a backslidinggeneration, as the parson would say--half the country once belonged tomy ancestors, and now the last furrows of it seem to be flying."

  "Fleeing!" said the writer, "they are barking and fleeing baith.--ThisShaws-Castle here, I'se warrant it flee up the chimney after the rest,were it not weel fastened down with your grandfather's tailzie."

  "Damn the tailzie!" said Mowbray; "if they had meant to keep up theirestate, they should have entailed it when it was worth keeping: to tie aman down to such an insignificant thing as St. Ronan's, is liketethering a horse on six roods of a Highland moor."

  "Ye have broke weel in on the mailing by your feus down at the Well,"said Meiklewham, "and raxed ower the tether maybe a wee bit farther thanye had ony right to do."

  "It was by your advice, was it not?" said the Laird.

  "I'se ne'er deny it, St. Ronan's," answered the writer; "but I am such agude-natured guse, that I just set about pleasing you as an auld wifepleases a bairn."

  "Ay," said the man of pleasure, "when she reaches it a knife to cut itsown fingers with.--These acres would have been safe enough, if it hadnot been for your d----d advice."

  "And yet you were grumbling e'en now," said the man of business, "thatyou have not the power to gar the whole estate flee like a wild-duckacross a bog? Troth, you need care little about it; for if you haveincurred an irritancy--and sae thinks Mr. Wisebehind, the advocate, uponan A. B. memorial that I laid before him--your sister, or your sister'sgoodman, if she should take the fancy to marry, might bring adeclarator, and evict St. Ronan's frae ye in the course of twa or threesessions."

  "My sister will never marry," said John Mowbray.

  "That's easily said," replied the writer; "but as broken a ship's cometo land. If ony body kend o' the chance she has o' the estate, there'smony a weel-doing man would think little of the bee in her bonnet."

  "Harkye, Mr. Meiklewham," said the Laird, "I will be obliged to you ifyou will speak of Miss Mowbray with the respect due to her father'sdaughter, and my sister."

  "Nae offence, St. Ronan's, nae offence," answered the man of law; "butilka man maun speak sae as to be understood,--that is, when he speaksabout business. Ye ken yoursell, that Miss Clara is no just like otherfolk; and were I you--it's my duty to speak plain--I wad e'en gie in abit scroll of a petition to the Lords, to be appointed Curator Bonis, inrespect of her incapacity to manage her own affairs."

  "Meiklewham," said Mowbray, "you are a"----and then stopped short.

  "What am I, Mr. Mowbray?" said Meiklewham, somewhat sternly--"What am I?I wad be glad to ken what I am."

  "A very good lawyer, I dare say," replied St. Ronan's, who was too muchin the power of his agent to give way to his first impulse. "But I musttell you, that rather than take such a measure against poor Clara, asyou recommend, I would give her up the estate, and become an ostler or apostilion for the rest of my life."

  "Ah, St. Ronan's," said the man of law, "if you had wished to keep upthe auld house, you should have taken another trade, than to become anostler or a postilion. What ailed you, man, but to have been a lawyer asweel as other folk? My auld Maister had a wee bit Latin about _rerumdominos gentemque togatam_, whilk signified, he said, that all lairdsshould be lawyers."

  "All lawyers are likely to become lairds, I think," replied Mowbray;"they purchase our acres by the thousand, and pay us, according to theold story, with a multiplepoinding, as your learned friends call it, Mr.Meiklewham."

  "Weel--and mightna you have purchased as weel as other folk?"

  "Not I," replied the Laird; "I have no turn for that service, I shouldonly have wasted bombazine on my shoulders, and flour upon mythree-tailed wig--should but have lounged away my mornings in theOuter-House, and my evenings at the play-house, and acquired no more lawthan what would have made me a wise justice at a Small-debt Court."

  "If you gained little, you would have lost as little," said Meiklewham;"and albeit ye were nae great gun at the bar, ye might aye have gotten aSheriffdom, or a Commissaryship, amang the lave, to keep the banesgreen; and sae ye might have saved your estate from deteriorating, if yedidna mend it muckle."

  "Yes, but I could not have had the chance of doubling it, as I mighthave done," answered Mowbray, "had that inconstant jade, Fortune, butstood a moment faithful to me. I tell you, Mick, that I have been,within this twelvemonth, worth a hundred thousand--worth fiftythousand--worth nothing, but the remnant of this wretched estate, whichis too little to do one good while it is mine, though, were it sold, Icould start again, and mend my hand a little."

  "Ay, ay, just fling the helve after the hatchet," said his legaladviser--"that's a' you think of. What signifies winning a hundredthousand pounds, if you win them to lose them a' again?"

  "What signifies it?" replied Mowbray. "Why, it signifies as much to aman of spirit, as having won a battle signifies to a general--no matterthat he is beaten afterwards in his turn, he knows there is luck for himas well as others, and so he has spirit to try it again. Here is theyoung Earl of Etherington will be amongst us in a day or two--they sayhe is up to every thing--if I had but five hundred to begin with, Ishould be soon up to him."

  "Mr. Mowbray," said Meiklewham, "I am sorry for ye. I have been yourhouse's man-of-business--I may say, in some measure, your house'sservant--and now I am to see an end of it all, and just by the lad thatI thought maist likely to set it up again better than ever; for, to doye justice, you have aye had an ee to your ain interest, sae far as yourlights gaed. It brings tears into my auld een."

  "Never weep for the matter, Mick," answered Mowbray; "some of it willstick, my old boy, in your pockets, if not in mine--your service willnot be altogether gratuitous, my old friend--the labourer is worthy ofhis hire."

  "Weel I wot is he," said the writer; "but double fees would hardly carryfolk through some wark. But if ye will have siller, ye maun havesiller--but, I warrant, it goes just where the rest gaed."

  "No, by twenty devils!" exclaimed Mowbray, "to f
ail this time isimpossible--Jack Wolverine was too strong for Etherington at any thinghe could name; and I can beat Wolverine from the Land's-End to JohnnieGroat's--but there must be something to go upon--the blunt must be had,Mick."

  "Very likely--nae doubt--that is always provided it _can_ be had,"answered the legal adviser.

  "That's your business, my old cock," said Mowbray. "This youngster willbe here perhaps to-morrow, with money in both pockets--he takes up hisrents as he comes down, Mick--think of that, my old friend."

  "Weel for them that have rents to take up," said Meiklewham; "ours arelying rather ower low to be lifted at present.--But are you sure thisEarl is a man to mell with?--are you sure ye can win of him, and that ifyou do, he can pay his losings, Mr. Mowbray?--because I have kend monyare come for wool, and gang hame shorn; and though ye are a clever younggentleman, and I am bound to suppose ye ken as much about life as mostfolk, and all that; yet some gate or other ye have aye come off at thelosing hand, as ye have ower much reason to ken this day--howbeit"----

  "O, the devil take your gossip, my dear Mick! If you can give no help,spare drowning me with your pother.--Why, man, I was a fresh hand--hadmy apprentice-fees to pay--and these are no trifles, Mick.--But what ofthat?--I am free of the company now, and can trade on my own bottom."

  "Aweel, aweel, I wish it may be sae," said Meiklewham.

  "It will be so, and it shall be so, my trusty friend," replied Mowbray,cheerily, "so you will but help me to the stock to trade with."

  "The stock?--what d'ye ca' the stock? I ken nae stock that ye haveleft."

  "But _you_ have plenty, my old boy--Come, sell out a few of your threeper cents; I will pay difference--interest--exchange--every thing."

  "Ay, ay--every thing or naething," answered Meiklewham; "but as you aresae very pressing, I hae been thinking--Whan is the siller wanted?"

  "This instant--this day--to-morrow at farthest!" exclaimed the proposedborrower.

  "Wh--ew!" whistled the lawyer, with a long prolongation of the note;"the thing is impossible."

  "It must be, Mick, for all that," answered Mr. Mowbray, who knew byexperience that _impossible_, when uttered by his accommodating friendin this tone, meant only, when interpreted, extremely difficult, andvery expensive.

  "Then it must be by Miss Clara selling her stock, now that ye speak ofstock," said Meiklewham; "I wonder ye didna think of this before."

  "I wish you had been dumb rather than that you had mentioned it now,"said Mowbray, starting, as if stung by an adder--"What, Clara'spittance!--the trifle my aunt left her for her own fancifulexpenses--her own little private store, that she puts to so many goodpurposes--Poor Clara, that has so little!--And why not rather your own,Master Meiklewham, who call yourself the friend and servant of ourfamily?"

  "Ay, St. Ronan's," answered Meiklewham, "that is a' very true--butservice is nae inheritance; and as for friendship, it begins at hame, aswise folk have said lang before our time. And for that matter, I thinkthey that are nearest sib should take maist risk. You are nearer anddearer to your sister, St. Ronan's, than you are to poor SaundersMeiklewham, that hasna sae muckle gentle blood as would supper up anhungry flea."

  "I will not do this," said St. Ronan's, walking up and down with muchagitation; for, selfish as he was, he loved his sister, and loved herthe more on account of those peculiarities which rendered his protectionindispensable to her comfortable existence--"I will not," he said,"pillage her, come on't what will. I will rather go a volunteer to thecontinent, and die like a gentleman."

  He continued to pace the room in a moody silence, which began to disturbhis companion, who had not been hitherto accustomed to see his patrontake matters so deeply. At length he made an attempt to attract theattention of the silent and sullen ponderer.

  "Mr. Mowbray"--no answer--"I was saying, St. Ronan's"--still no reply."I have been thinking about this matter--and"----

  "And _what_, sir?" said St. Ronan's, stopping short, and speaking in astern tone of voice.

  "And, to speak truth, I see little feasibility in the matter ony way;for if ye had the siller in your pocket to-day, it would be a' in theEarl of Etherington's the morn."

  "Pshaw! you are a fool," answered Mowbray.

  "That is not unlikely," said Meiklewham; "but so is Sir Bingo Binks, andyet he's had the better of you, St. Ronan's, this twa or three times."

  "It is false!--he has not," answered St. Ronan's, fiercely.

  "Weel I wot," resumed Meiklewham, "he took you in about the saumon fish,and some other wager ye lost to him this very day."

  "I tell you once more, Meiklewham, you are a fool, and no more up to mytrim than you are to the longitude.--Bingo is got shy--I must give hima little line, that is all--then I shall strike him to purpose--I am assure of him as I am of the other--I know the fly they will both riseto--this cursed want of five hundred will do me out of ten thousand!"

  "If you are so certain of being the bangster--so very certain, I mean,of sweeping stakes,--what harm will Miss Clara come to by your havingthe use of her siller? You can make it up to her for the risk ten timestold."

  "And so I can, by Heaven!" said St. Ronan's. "Mick, you are right, and Iam a scrupulous, chicken-hearted fool. Clara shall have a thousand forher poor five hundred--she shall, by ----. And I will carry her toEdinburgh for a season, or perhaps to London, and we will have the bestadvice for her case, and the best company to divert her. And if theythink her a little odd--why, d---- me, I am her brother, and will bearher through it. Yes--yes--you're right; there can be no hurt inborrowing five hundred of her for a few days, when such profit may bemade on't, both for her and me.--Here, fill the glasses, my old boy, anddrink success to it, for you are right."

  "Here is success to it, with all my heart," answered Meiklewham,heartily glad to see his patron's sanguine temper arrive at thisdesirable conclusion, and yet willing to hedge in his own credit; "butit is _you_ are right, and not _me_, for I advise nothing except on yourassurances, that you can make your ain of this English earl, and of thisSir Bingo--and if you can but do that, I am sure it would be unwise andunkind in ony ane of your friends to stand in your light."

  "True, Mick, true," answered Mowbray.--"And yet dice and cards are butbones and pasteboard, and the best horse ever started may slip ashoulder before he get to the winning-post--and so I wish Clara'sventure had not been in such a bottom.--But, hang it, care killed acat--I can hedge as well as any one, if the odds turn up against me--solet us have the cash, Mick."

  "Aha! but there go two words to that bargain--the stock stands in myname, and Tam Turnpenny the banker's, as trustees for Miss Clara--Now,get you her letter to us, desiring us to sell out and to pay you theproceeds, and Tam Turnpenny will let you have five hundred pounds_instanter_, on the faith of the transaction; for I fancy you woulddesire a' the stock to be sold out, and it will produce more than sixhundred, or seven hundred pounds either--and I reckon you will beselling out the whole--it's needless making twa bites of a cherry."

  "True," answered Mowbray; "since we must be rogues, or something likeit, let us make it worth our while at least; so give me a form of theletter, and Clara shall copy it--that is, if she consents; for you knowshe can keep her own opinion as well as any other woman in the world."

  "And that," said Meiklewham, "is as the wind will keep its way, preachto it as ye like. But if I might advise about Miss Clara--I wad saynaething mair than that I was stressed for the penny money; for Imistake her muckle if she would like to see you ganging to pitch andtoss wi' this lord and tither baronet for her aunt's three per cents--Iken she has some queer notions--she gies away the feck of the dividendson that very stock in downright charity."

  "And I am in hazard to rob the poor as well as my sister!" said Mowbray,filling once more his own glass and his friend's. "Come, Mick, nosky-lights--here is Clara's health--she is an angel--and I am--what Iwill not call myself, and suffer no other man to call me.--But I shallwin this time--I am sure I shall, since Clara's fortune depends uponit."

&nbs
p; "Now, I think, on the other hand," said Meiklewham, "that if any thingshould chance wrang, (and Heaven kens that the best-laid schemes willgang ajee,) it will be a great comfort to think that the ultimate loserswill only be the poor folk, that have the parish between them andabsolute starvation--if your sister spent her ain siller, it would be avery different story."

  "Hush, Mick--for God's sake, hush, mine honest friend," said Mowbray;"it is quite true; thou art a rare counsellor in time of need, and hastas happy a manner of reconciling a man's conscience with hisnecessities, as might set up a score of casuists; but beware, my mostzealous counsellor and confessor, how you drive the nail too far--Ipromise you some of the chaffing you are at just now rather abates mypluck.--Well--give me your scroll--I will to Clara with it--though Iwould rather meet the best shot in Britain, with ten paces of green sodbetwixt us." So saying, he left the apartment.

  CHAPTER XI.

  FRATERNAL LOVE.

  Nearest of blood should still be next in love; And when I see these happy children playing, While William gathers flowers for Ellen's ringlets, And Ellen dresses flies for William's angle, I scarce can think, that in advancing life, Coldness, unkindness, interest, or suspicion, Will e'er divide that unity so sacred, Which Nature bound at birth.

  _Anonymous._