St. Ronan's Well Read online

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  FORTUNE'S FROLICS.

  _Count Basset._ We gentlemen, whose carriages run on the four aces, are apt to have a wheel out of order.

  _The Provoked Husband._

  Our history must now look a little backwards; and although it is ratherforeign to our natural style of composition, it must speak more innarrative, and less in dialogue, rather telling what happened, than itseffects upon the actors. Our purpose, however, is only conditional, forwe foresee temptations which may render it difficult for us exactly tokeep it.

  The arrival of the young Earl of Etherington at the salutiferousfountain of St. Ronan's had produced the strongest sensation;especially, as it was joined with the singular accident of the attemptupon his lordship's person, as he took a short cut through the woods onfoot, at a distance from his equipage and servants. The gallantry withwhich he beat off the highwayman, was only equal to his generosity; forhe declined making any researches after the poor devil, although hislordship had received a severe wound in the scuffle.

  Of the "three black Graces," as they have been termed by one of the mostpleasant companions of our time, Law and Physic hastened to do homageto Lord Etherington, represented by Mr. Meiklewham and Dr. Quackleben;while Divinity, as favourable, though more coy, in the person of theReverend Mr. Simon Chatterly, stood on tiptoe to offer any service inher power.

  For the honourable reason already assigned, his lordship, after thankingMr. Meiklewham, and hinting, that he might have different occasion forhis services, declined his offer to search out the delinquent by whom hehad been wounded; while to the care of the Doctor he subjected the cureof a smart flesh-wound in the arm, together with a slight scratch on thetemple; and so very genteel was his behaviour on the occasion, that theDoctor, in his anxiety for his safety, enjoined him a month's course ofthe waters, if he would enjoy the comfort of a complete and perfectrecovery. Nothing so frequent, he could assure his lordship, as theopening of cicatrized wounds; and the waters of St. Ronan's springbeing, according to Dr. Quackleben, a remedy for all the troubles whichflesh is heir to, could not fail to equal those of Barege, infacilitating the discharge of all splinters or extraneous matter, whicha bullet may chance to incorporate with the human frame, to its greatannoyance. For he was wont to say, that although he could not declarethe waters which he patronised to be an absolute _panpharmacon_, yet hewould with word and pen maintain, that they possessed the principalvirtues of the most celebrated medicinal springs in the known world. Inshort, the love of Alpheus for Arethusa was a mere jest, compared tothat which the Doctor entertained for his favourite fountain.

  The new and noble guest, whose arrival so much illustrated these scenesof convalescence and of gaiety, was not at first seen so much at theordinary, and other places of public resort, as had been the hope of theworthy company assembled. His health and his wound proved an excuse formaking his visits to the society few and far between.

  But when he did appear, his manners and person were infinitelycaptivating; and even the carnation-coloured silk handkerchief, whichsuspended his wounded arm, together with the paleness and languor whichloss of blood had left on his handsome and open countenance, gave agrace to the whole person which many of the ladies declaredirresistible. All contended for his notice, attracted at once by hisaffability, and piqued by the calm and easy nonchalance with which itseemed to be blended. The scheming and selfish Mowbray, thecoarse-minded and brutal Sir Bingo, accustomed to consider themselves,and to be considered, as the first men of the party, sunk intocomparative insignificance. But chiefly Lady Penelope threw out thecaptivations of her wit and her literature; while Lady Binks, trustingto her natural charms, endeavoured equally to attract his notice. Theother nymphs of the Spa held a little back, upon the principle of thatpoliteness, which, at continental hunting parties, affords the firstshot at a fine piece of game, to the person of the highest rank present;but the thought throbbed in many a fair bosom, that their ladyshipsmight miss their aim, in spite of the advantages thus allowed them, andthat there might then be room for less exalted, but perhaps not lessskilful, markswomen, to try their chance.

  But while the Earl thus withdrew from public society, it was necessary,at least natural, that he should choose some one with whom to share thesolitude of his own apartment; and Mowbray, superior in rank to thehalf-pay whisky-drinking Captain MacTurk; in dash to Winterblossom, whowas broken down, and turned twaddler; and in tact and sense to Sir BingoBinks, easily manoeuvred himself into his lordship's more intimatesociety; and internally thanking the honest footpad, whose bullet hadbeen the indirect means of secluding his intended victim from allsociety but his own, he gradually began to feel the way, and prove thestrength of his antagonist, at the various games of skill and hazardwhich he introduced, apparently with the sole purpose of relieving thetedium of a sick-chamber.

  Meiklewham, who felt, or affected, the greatest possible interest in hispatron's success, and who watched every opportunity to enquire how hisschemes advanced, received at first such favourable accounts as made himgrin from ear to ear, rub his hands, and chuckle forth such bursts ofglee as only the success of triumphant roguery could have extorted fromhim. Mowbray looked grave, however, and checked his mirth.

  "There was something in it after all," he said, "that he could notperfectly understand. Etherington, an used hand--d----d sharp--up toevery thing, and yet he lost his money like a baby."

  "And what the matter how he loses it, so you win it like a man?" saidhis legal friend and adviser.

  "Why, hang it, I cannot tell," replied Mowbray--"were it not that Ithink he has scarce the impudence to propose such a thing to succeed,curse me but I should think he was coming the old soldier over me, andkeeping up his game.--But no--he can scarce have the impudence to thinkof that.--I find, however, that he has done Wolverine--cleaned out poorTom--though Tom wrote to me the precise contrary, yet the truth hassince come out--Well, I shall avenge him, for I see his lordship is tobe had as well as other folk."

  "Weel, Mr. Mowbray," said the lawyer, in a tone of affected sympathy,"ye ken your own ways best--but the heavens will bless a moderate mind.I would not like to see you ruin this poor lad, _funditus_, that is tosay, out and out. To lose some of the ready will do him no great harm,and maybe give him a lesson he may be the better of as long as helives--but I wad not, as an honest man, wish you to go deeper--youshould spare the lad, Mr. Mowbray."

  "Who spared _me_, Meiklewham?" said Mowbray, with a look and tone ofdeep emphasis--"No, no--he must go through the mill--money and money'sworth.--His seat is called Oakendale--think of that, Mick--Oakendale!Oh, name of thrice happy augury!--Speak not of mercy, Mick--thesquirrels of Oakendale must be dismounted, and learn to go a-foot.--Whatmercy can the wandering lord of Troy expect among the Greeks?--TheGreeks!--I am a very Suliote--the bravest of Greeks.

  'I think not of pity, I think not of fear, He neither must know who would serve the Vizier.'

  And necessity, Mick," he concluded, with a tone something altered,"necessity is as unrelenting a leader as any Vizier or Pacha, whomScanderbeg ever fought with, or Byron has sung."

  Meiklewham echoed his patron's ejaculation with a sound betwixt awhine, a chuckle, and a groan; the first being designed to express hispretended pity for the destined victim; the second his sympathy with hispatron's prospects of success; and the third being a whistle admonitoryof the dangerous courses through which his object was to be pursued.

  Suliote as he boasted himself, Mowbray had, soon after thisconversation, some reason to admit that,

  "When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war."

  The light skirmishing betwixt the parties was ended, and the seriousbattle commenced with some caution on either side; each perhaps,desirous of being master of his opponent's system of tactics, beforeexposing his own. Piquet, the most beautiful game at which a man canmake sacrifice of his fortune, was one with which Mowbray had, for hismisfortune perhaps, been accounted, from an early age, a greatproficient, and i
n which the Earl of Etherington, with less experience,proved no novice. They now played for such stakes as Mowbray's state offortune rendered considerable to him, though his antagonist appeared notto regard the amount. And they played with various success; for, thoughMowbray at times returned with a smile of confidence the enquiring looksof his friend Meiklewham, there were other occasions on which he seemedto evade them, as if his own had a sad confession to make in reply.

  These alternations, though frequent, did not occupy, after all, manydays; for Mowbray, a friend of all hours, spent much of his time in LordEtherington's apartment, and these few days were days of battle. In themeantime, as his lordship was now sufficiently recovered to join theParty at Shaws-Castle, and Miss Mowbray's health being announced asrestored, that proposal was renewed, with the addition of a dramaticentertainment, the nature of which we shall afterwards have occasion toexplain. Cards were anew issued to all those who had been formerlyincluded in the invitation, and of course to Mr. Touchwood, as formerlya resident at the Well, and now in the neighbourhood; it beingpreviously agreed among the ladies, that a Nabob, though sometimes adingy or damaged commodity, was not to be rashly or unnecessarilyneglected. As to the parson, he had been asked, of course, as an oldacquaintance of the Mowbray house, not to be left out when the friendsof the family were invited on a great scale; but his habits were wellknown, and it was no more expected that he would leave his manse on suchan occasion, than that the kirk should loosen itself from itsfoundations.

  It was after these arrangements had been made, that the Laird of St.Ronan's suddenly entered Meiklewham's private apartment with looks ofexultation. The worthy scribe turned his spectacled nose towards hispatron, and holding in one hand the bunch of papers which he had beenjust perusing, and in the other the tape with which he was about to tiethem up again, suspended that operation to await with open eyes and earsthe communication of Mowbray.

  "I have done him!" he said, exultingly, yet in a tone of voice loweredalmost to a whisper; "capotted his lordship for this bout--doubled mycapital, Mick, and something more.--Hush, don't interrupt me--we mustthink of Clara now--she must share the sunshine, should it prove but ablink before a storm.--You know, Mick, these two d----d women, LadyPenelope and the Binks, have settled that they will have something likea _bal pare_ on this occasion, a sort of theatrical exhibition, and thatthose who like it shall be dressed in character.--I know theirmeaning--they think Clara has no dress fit for such foolery, and so theyhope to eclipse her; Lady Pen, with her old-fashioned, ill-set diamonds,and my Lady Binks, with the new-fashioned finery which she swopt hercharacter for. But Clara shan't borne down so, by ----! I got thataffected slut, Lady Binks's maid, to tell me what her mistress had sether mind on, and she is to wear a Grecian habit, forsooth, like one ofWill Allan's Eastern subjects.--But here's the rub--there is only oneshawl for sale in Edinburgh that is worth showing off in, and that is atthe Gallery of Fashion.--Now, Mick, my friend, that shawl must be hadfor Clara, with the other trankums of muslin and lace, and so forth,which you will find marked in the paper there.--Send instantly andsecure it, for, as Lady Binks writes by to-morrow's post, your order cango by to-night's mail--There is a note for L.100."

  From a mechanical habit of never refusing any thing, Meiklewham readilytook the note, but having looked at it through his spectacles, hecontinued to hold it in his hand as he remonstrated with hispatron.--"This is a' very kindly meant, St. Ronan's--very kindly meant;and I wad be the last to say that Miss Clara does not merit respect andkindness at your hand; but I doubt mickle if she wad care a bodle forthae braw things. Ye ken yoursell, she seldom alters her fashions. Od,she thinks her riding-habit dress eneugh for ony company; and if youwere ganging by good looks, so it is--if she had a thought mair colour,poor dear."

  "Well, well," said Mowbray, impatiently, "let me alone to reconcile awoman and a fine dress."

  "To be sure, ye ken best," said the writer; "but, after a', now, wad itno be better to lay by this hundred pound in Tam Turnpenny's, in casethe young lady should want it afterhend, just for a sair foot?"

  "You are a fool, Mick; what signifies healing a sore foot, when therewill be a broken heart in the case?--No, no--get the things as I desireyou--we will blaze them down for one day at least; perhaps it will bethe beginning of a proper dash."

  "Weel, weel, I wish it may be so," answered Meiklewham; "but this youngEarl--hae ye found the weak point?--Can ye get a decerniture againsthim, with expenses?--that is the question."

  "I wish I could answer it," said Mowbray, thoughtfully.--"Confound thefellow--he is a cut above me in rank and in society too--belongs to thegreat clubs, and is in with the Superlatives and Inaccessibles, and allthat sort of folk.--My training has been a peg lower--but, hang it,there are better dogs bred in the kennel than in the parlour. I am up tohim, I think--at least I will soon know, Mick, whether I am or no, andthat is always one comfort. Never mind--do you execute my commission,and take care you name no names--I must save my little Abigail'sreputation."

  They parted, Meiklewham to execute his patron's commission--his patronto bring to the test those hopes, the uncertainty of which he could notdisguise from his own sagacity.

  Trusting to the continuance of his run of luck, Mowbray resolved tobring affairs to a crisis that same evening. Every thing seemed in theoutset to favour his purpose. They had dined together in LordEtherington's apartments--his state of health interfered with thecirculation of the bottle, and a drizzly autumnal evening renderedwalking disagreeable, even had they gone no farther than the privatestable where Lord Etherington's horses were kept, under the care of agroom of superior skill. Cards were naturally, almost necessarily,resorted to, as the only alternative for helping away the evening, andpiquet was, as formerly, chosen for the game.

  Lord Etherington seemed at first indolently careless and indifferentabout his play, suffering advantages to escape him, of which, in a moreattentive state of mind, he could not have failed to avail himself.Mowbray upbraided him with his inattention, and proposed a deeper stake,in order to interest him in the game. The young nobleman complied; andin the course of a few hands, the gamesters became both deeply engagedin watching and profiting by the changes of fortune. These were so many,so varied, and so unexpected, that the very souls of the players seemedat length centred in the event of the struggle; and, by dint of doublingstakes, the accumulated sum of a thousand pounds and upwards, upon eachside, came to be staked in the issue of the game.--So large a riskincluded all those funds which Mowbray commanded by his sister'skindness, and nearly all his previous winnings, so to him thealternative was victory or ruin. He could not hide his agitation,however desirous to do so. He drank wine to supply himself withcourage--he drank water to cool his agitation; and at length benthimself to play with as much care and attention as he felt himselfenabled to command.

  In the first part of the game their luck appeared tolerably equal, andthe play of both befitting gamesters who had dared to place such a sumon the cast. But, as it drew towards a conclusion, fortune altogetherdeserted him who stood most in need of her favour, and Mowbray, withsilent despair, saw his fate depend on a single trick, and that withevery odds against him, for Lord Etherington was elder hand. But how canfortune's favour secure any one who is not true to himself?--By aninfraction of the laws of the game, which could only have been expectedfrom the veriest bungler that ever touched a card, Lord Etheringtoncalled a point without showing it, and, by the ordinary rule, Mowbraywas entitled to count his own--and in the course of that and the nexthand, gained the game and swept the stakes. Lord Etherington showedchagrin and displeasure, and seemed to think that the rigour of the gamehad been more insisted upon than in courtesy it ought to have been, whenmen were playing for so small a stake. Mowbray did not understand thislogic. A thousand pounds, he said, were in his eyes no nutshells; therules of piquet were insisted on by all but boys and women; and for hispart, he had rather not play at all than not play the game.

  "So it would seem, my dear Mowbray," said the Earl
; "for on my soul, Inever saw so disconsolate a visage as thine during that unluckygame--it withdrew all my attention from my hand; and I may safely say,your rueful countenance has stood me in a thousand pounds. If I couldtransfer thy long visage to canvass, I should have both my revenge andmy money; for a correct resemblance would be worth not a penny less thanthe original has cost me."

  "You are welcome to your jest, my lord," said Mowbray, "it has been wellpaid for; and I will serve you in ten thousand at the same rate. Whatsay you?" he proceeded, taking up and shuffling the cards, "will you doyourself more justice in another game?--Revenge, they say, is sweet."

  "I have no appetite for it this evening," said the Earl, gravely; "if Ihad, Mowbray, you might come by the worse. I do not _always_ call apoint without showing it."

  "Your lordship is out of humour with yourself for a blunder that mighthappen to any man--it was as much my good luck as a good hand would havebeen, and so fortune be praised."

  "But what if with this Fortune had nought to do?" replied LordEtherington.--"What if, sitting down with an honest fellow and a friendlike yourself, Mowbray, a man should rather choose to lose his ownmoney, which he could afford, than to win what it might distress hisfriend to part with?"

  "Supposing a case so far out of supposition, my lord," answered Mowbray,who felt the question ticklish--"for, with submission, the allegation iseasily made, and is totally incapable of proof--I should say, no one hada right to think for me in such a particular, or to suppose that Iplayed for a higher stake than was convenient."

  "And thus your friend, poor devil," replied Lord Etherington, "wouldlose his money, and run the risk of a quarrel into the boot!--We willtry it another way--Suppose this good-humoured and simple-mindedgamester had a favour of the deepest import to ask of his friend, andjudged it better to prefer his request to a winner than to a loser?"

  "If this applies to me, my lord," replied Mowbray, "it is necessary Ishould learn how I can oblige your lordship."

  "That is a word soon spoken, but so difficult to be recalled, that I amalmost tempted to pause--but yet it must be said.--Mowbray, you have asister."

  Mowbray started.--"I have indeed a sister, my lord; but I can conceiveno case in which her name can enter with propriety into our presentdiscussion."

  "Again in the menacing mood!" said Lord Etherington, in his former tone;"now, here is a pretty fellow--he would first cut my throat for havingwon a thousand pounds from me, and then for offering to make his sistera countess!"

  "A countess, my lord?" said Mowbray; "you are but jesting--you havenever even seen Clara Mowbray."

  "Perhaps not--but what then?--I may have seen her picture, as Puff saysin the Critic, or fallen in love with her from rumour--or, to savefarther suppositions, as I see they render you impatient, I may besatisfied with knowing that she is a beautiful and accomplished younglady, with a large fortune."

  "What fortune do you mean, my lord?" said Mowbray, recollecting withalarm some claims, which, according to Meiklewham's view of thesubject, his sister might form upon his property.--"What estate?--thereis nothing belongs to our family, save these lands of St. Ronan's, orwhat is left of them; and of these I am, my lord, an undoubted heir ofentail in possession."

  "Be it so," said the Earl, "for I have no claim on your mountain realmshere, which are, doubtless,

  ----'renown'd of old For knights, and squires, and barons bold;'

  my views respect a much richer, though less romantic domain--a largemanor, hight Nettlewood. House old, but standing in the midst of suchglorious oaks--three thousand acres of land, arable, pasture, andwoodland, exclusive of the two closes, occupied by Widow Hodge andGoodman Trampclod--manorial rights--mines and minerals--and the devilknows how many good things besides, all lying in the vale of Bever."

  "And what has my sister to do with all this?" asked Mowbray, in greatsurprise.

  "Nothing; but that it belongs to her when she becomes Countess ofEtherington."

  "It is, then, your lordship's property already?"

  "No, by Jove! nor can it, unless your sister honours me with herapprobation of my suit," replied the Earl.

  "This is a sorer puzzle than one of Lady Penelope's charades, my lord,"said Mr. Mowbray; "I must call in the assistance of the Reverend Mr.Chatterly."

  "You shall not need," said Lord Etherington; "I will give you the key,but listen to me with patience.--You know that we nobles of England,less jealous of our sixteen quarters than those on the continent, donot take scorn to line our decayed ermines with the little cloth of goldfrom the city; and my grandfather was lucky enough to get a wealthywife, with a halting pedigree,--rather a singular circumstance,considering that her father was a countryman of yours. She had abrother, however, still more wealthy than herself, and who increased hisfortune by continuing to carry on the trade which had first enriched hisfamily. At length he summed up his books, washed his hands of commerce,and retired to Nettlewood, to become a gentleman; and here my muchrespected grand-uncle was seized with the rage of making himself a manof consequence. He tried what marrying a woman of family would do; buthe soon found that whatever advantage his family might derive from hisdoing so, his own condition was but little illustrated. He next resolvedto become a man of family himself. His father had left Scotland whenvery young, and bore, I blush to say, the vulgar name of Scrogie. Thishapless dissyllable my uncle carried in person to the herald office inScotland; but neither Lyon, nor Marchmont, nor Islay, nor Snadoun,neither herald nor pursuivant, would patronise Scrogie.--Scrogie!--therecould nothing be made out of it--so that my worthy relative had recourseto the surer side of the house, and began to found his dignity on hismother's name of Mowbray. In this he was much more successful, and Ibelieve some sly fellow stole for him a slip from your own family tree,Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, which, I daresay, you have never missed. Atany rate, for his _argent_ and _or_, he got a handsome piece ofparchment, blazoned with a white lion for Mowbray, to be bornequarterly, with three stunted or scrog-bushes for Scrogie, and becamethenceforth Mr. Scrogie Mowbray, or rather, as he subscribed himself,Reginald (his former Christian name was Ronald) S. Mowbray. He had a sonwho most undutifully laughed at all this, refused the honours of thehigh name of Mowbray, and insisted on retaining his father's originalappellative of Scrogie, to the great annoyance of his said father'sears, and damage of his temper."

  "Why, faith, betwixt the two," said Mowbray, "I own I should havepreferred my own name, and I think the old gentleman's taste ratherbetter than the young one's."

  "True; but both were wilful, absurd originals, with a happy obstinacy oftemper, whether derived from Mowbray or Scrogie I know not, but whichled them so often into opposition, that the offended father, Reginald S.Mowbray, turned his recusant son Scrogie fairly out of doors; and thefellow would have paid for his plebeian spirit with a vengeance, had henot found refuge with a surviving partner of the original Scrogie ofall, who still carried on the lucrative branch of traffic by which thefamily had been first enriched. I mention these particulars to account,in so far as I can, for the singular predicament in which I now findmyself placed."

  "Proceed, my lord," said Mr. Mowbray; "there is no denying thesingularity of your story, and I presume you are quite serious in givingme such an extraordinary detail."

  "Entirely so, upon my honour--and a most serious matter it is, you willpresently find. When my worthy uncle, Mr. S. Mowbray, (for I will notcall him Scrogie even in the grave,) paid his debt to nature, everybody concluded he would be found to have disinherited his son, theunfilial Scrogie, and so far every body was right--But it was alsogenerally believed that he would settle the estate on my father, LordEtherington, the son of his sister, and therein every one was wrong. Formy excellent grand-uncle had pondered with himself, that the favouredname of Mowbray would take no advantage, and attain no additionalelevation, if his estate of Nettlewood (otherwise called Mowbray-Park)should descend to our family without any condition; and with theassistance of a sharp attorney, he settled it on me, then a
schoolboy,_on condition_ that I should, before attaining the age of twenty-fivecomplete, take unto myself in holy wedlock a young lady of good fame, ofthe name of Mowbray, and, by preference, of the house of St. Ronan's,should a damsel of that house exist.--Now my riddle is read."

  "And a very extraordinary one it is," replied Mowbray, thoughtfully.

  "Confess the truth," said Lord Etherington, laying his hand on hisshoulder; "you think the story will bear a grain of a scruple of doubt,if not a whole scruple itself?"

  "At least, my lord," answered Mowbray, "your lordship will allow, that,being Miss Mowbray's only near relation, and sole guardian, I may,without offence, pause upon a suit for her hand, made under such oddcircumstances."

  "If you have the least doubt either respecting my rank or fortune, I cangive, of course, the most satisfactory references," said the Earl ofEtherington.

  "That I can easily believe, my lord," said Mowbray; "nor do I in theleast fear deception, where detection would be so easy. Your lordship'sproceedings towards me, too," (with a conscious glance at the bills hestill held in his hand,) "have, I admit, been such as to intimate somesuch deep cause of interest as you have been pleased to state. But itseems strange that your lordship should have permitted years to glideaway, without so much as enquiring after the young lady, who, I believe,is the only person qualified as your grand-uncle's will requires, withwhom you can form an alliance. It appears to me, that long before now,this matter ought to have been investigated; and that, even now, itwould have been more natural and more decorous to have at least seen mysister before proposing for her hand."

  "On the first point, my dear Mowbray," said Lord Etherington, "I am freeto own to you, that, without meaning your sister the least affront, Iwould have got rid of this clause if I could; for every man would fainchoose a wife for himself, and I feel no hurry to marry at all. But therogue-lawyers, after taking fees, and keeping me in hand for years, haveat length roundly told me the clause must be complied with, orNettlewood must have another master. So I thought it best to come downhere in person, in order to address the fair lady; but as accident hashitherto prevented my seeing her, and as I found in her brother a manwho understands the world, I hope you will not think the worse of me,that I have endeavoured in the outset to make you my friend. Truth is, Ishall be twenty-five in the course of a month; and without your favour,and the opportunities which only you can afford me, that seems a shorttime to woo and win a lady of Miss Mowbray's merit."

  "And what is the alternative if you do not form this proposed alliance,my lord?" said Mowbray.

  "The bequest of my grand-uncle lapses," said the Earl, "and fairNettlewood, with its old house, and older oaks, manorial rights, HodgeTrampclod, and all, devolves on a certain cousin-german of mine, whomHeaven of his mercy confound!"

  "You have left yourself little time to prevent such an event, my lord,"said Mowbray; "but things being as I now see them, you shall have whatinterest I can give you in the affair.--We must stand, however, on moreequal terms, my lord--I will condescend so far as to allow it would havebeen inconvenient for me at this moment to have lost that game, but Icannot in the circumstances think of acting as if I had fairly won it.We must draw stakes, my lord."

  "Not a word of that, if you really mean me kindly, my dear Mowbray. Theblunder was a real one, for I was indeed thinking, as you may suppose,on other things than the showing my point--All was fairly lost andwon.--I hope I shall have opportunities of offering real services, whichmay perhaps give me some right to your partial regard--at present we areon equal footing on all sides--perfectly so."

  "If your lordship thinks so," said Mowbray,--and then passing rapidly towhat he felt he could say with more confidence,--"Indeed, at any rate,no personal obligation to myself could prevent my doing my full duty asguardian to my sister."

  "Unquestionably, I desire nothing else," replied the Earl ofEtherington.

  "I must therefore understand that your lordship is quite serious in yourproposal; and that it is not to be withdrawn, even if upon acquaintancewith Miss Mowbray, you should not perhaps think her so deserving of yourlordship's attentions, as report may have spoken her."

  "Mr. Mowbray," replied the Earl, "the treaty between you and me shall beas definite as if I were a sovereign prince, demanding in marriage thesister of a neighbouring monarch, whom, according to royal etiquette, heneither has seen nor could see. I have been quite frank with you, and Ihave stated to you that my present motives for entering upon negotiationare not personal, but territorial; when I know Miss Mowbray, I have nodoubt they will be otherwise. I have heard she is beautiful."

  "Something of the palest, my lord," answered Mowbray.

  "A fine complexion is the first attraction which is lost in the world offashion, and that which it is easiest to replace."

  "Dispositions, my lord, may differ," said Mowbray, "without faults oneither side. I presume your lordship has enquired into my sister's. Sheis amiable, accomplished, sensible, and high-spirited; but yet"----

  "I understand you, Mr. Mowbray, and will spare you the pain of speakingout. I have heard Miss Mowbray is in some respects--particular; to use abroader word--a little whimsical.--No matter. She will have the less tolearn when she becomes a countess, and a woman of fashion."

  "Are you serious, my lord?" said Mowbray.

  "I am--and I will speak my mind still more plainly. I have good temper,and excellent spirits, and can endure a good deal of singularity inthose I live with. I have no doubt your sister and I will live happilytogether--But in case it should prove otherwise, arrangements may bemade previously, which will enable us in certain circumstances to livehappily apart. My own estate is large, and Nettlewood will beardividing."

  "Nay, then," said Mowbray, "I have little more to say--nothing indeedremains for enquiry, so far as your lordship is concerned. But my sistermust have free liberty of choice--so far as I am concerned, yourlordship's suit has my interest."

  "And I trust we may consider it as a done thing?"

  "With Clara's approbation--certainly," answered Mowbray.

  "I trust there is no chance of personal repugnance on the young lady'spart?" said the young peer.

  "I anticipate nothing of the kind, my lord," answered Mowbray, "as Ipresume there is no reason for any; but young ladies will be capricious,and if Clara, after I have done and said all that a brother ought to do,should remain repugnant, there is a point in the exertion of myinfluence which it would be cruelty to pass."

  The Earl of Etherington walked a turn through the apartment, thenpaused, and said, in a grave and doubtful tone, "In the meanwhile, I ambound, and the young lady is free, Mowbray. Is this quite fair?"

  "It is what happens in every case, my lord, where a gentleman proposesfor a lady," answered Mowbray; "he must remain, of course, bound by hisoffer, until, within a reasonable time, it is accepted or rejected. Itis not my fault that your lordship has declared your wishes to me,before ascertaining Clara's inclination. But while as yet the matter isbetween ourselves--I make you welcome to draw back if you think proper.Clara Mowbray needs not push for a catch-match."

  "Nor do I desire," said the young nobleman, "any time to reconsider theresolution which I have confided to you. I am not in the least fearfulthat I shall change my mind on seeing your sister, and I am ready tostand by the proposal which I have made to you.--If, however, you feelso extremely delicately on my account," he continued, "I can see andeven converse with Miss Mowbray at this fete of yours, without thenecessity of being at all presented to her--The character which I haveassumed in a manner obliges me to wear a mask."

  "Certainly," said the Laird of St. Ronan's, "and I am glad, for both oursakes, your lordship thinks of taking a little law upon this occasion."

  "I shall profit nothing by it," said the Earl; "my doom is fixed beforeI start--but if this mode of managing the matter will save yourconscience, I have no objection to it--it cannot consume much time,which is what I have to look to."

  They then shook hands and parted, wi
thout any farther discourse whichcould interest the reader.

  Mowbray was glad to find himself alone, in order to think over what hadhappened, and to ascertain the state of his own mind, which at presentwas puzzling even to himself. He could not but feel that much greateradvantages of every kind might accrue to himself and his family from thealliance of the wealthy young Earl, than could have been derived fromany share of his spoils which he had proposed to gain by superioraddress in play, or greater skill on the turf. But his pride was hurtwhen he recollected that he had placed himself entirely in LordEtherington's power; and the escape from absolute ruin which he hadmade, solely by the sufferance of his opponent, had nothing in itconsolatory to his wounded feelings. He was lowered in his own eyes,when he recollected how completely the proposed victim of his ingenuityhad seen through his schemes, and only abstained from baffling thementirely, because to do so suited best with his own. There was a shadeof suspicion, too, which he could not entirely eradicate from hismind.--What occasion had this young nobleman to preface, by thevoluntary loss of a brace of thousands, a proposal which must have beenacceptable in itself, without any such sacrifice? And why should he,after all, have been so eager to secure his accession to the proposedalliance, before he had even seen the lady who was the object of it?However hurried for time, he might have waited the event at least of theentertainment at Shaws-Castle, at which Clara was necessarily obliged tomake her appearance.--Yet such conduct, however unusual, was equallyinconsistent with any sinister intentions; since the sacrifice of alarge sum of money, and the declaration of his views upon a portionlessyoung lady of family, could scarcely be the preface to any unfairpractice. So that, upon the whole, Mowbray settled, that what wasuncommon in the Earl's conduct arose from the hasty and eagerdisposition of a rich young Englishman, to whom money is of littleconsequence, and who is too headlong in pursuit of the favourite plan ofthe moment, to proceed in the most rational or most ordinary manner. If,however, there should prove any thing farther in the matter than hecould at present discover, Mowbray promised himself that the utmostcircumspection on his part could not fail to discover it, and that infull time to prevent any ill consequences to his sister or himself.

  Immersed in such cogitations, he avoided the inquisitive presence of Mr.Meiklewham, who, as usual, had been watching for him to learn howmatters were going on; and although it was now late, he mounted hishorse, and rode hastily to Shaws-Castle. On the way, he deliberated withhimself whether to mention to his sister the application which had beenmade to him, in order to prepare her to receive the young Earl as asuitor, favoured with her brother's approbation. "But no, no, no;" suchwas the result of his contemplation. "She might take it into her headthat his thoughts were bent less upon having her for a countess, than onobtaining possession of his grand-uncle's estate.--We must keep quiet,"concluded he, "until her personal appearance and accomplishments mayappear at least to have some influence upon his choice.--We must saynothing till this blessed entertainment has been given and received."