St. Ronan's Well Page 44

  CHAPTER XX.

  CONCLUSION.

  Here come we to our close--for that which follows Is but the tale of dull, unvaried misery. Steep crags and headlong linns may court the pencil, Like sudden haps, dark plots, and strange adventures; But who would paint the dull and fog-wrapt moor, In its long track of sterile desolation?

  _Old Play._

  When Mowbray crossed the brook, as we have already detailed, his mindwas in that wayward and uncertain state, which seeks something whereonto vent the self-engendered rage with which it labours, like a volcanobefore eruption. On a sudden, a shot or two, followed by loud voices andlaughter reminded him he had promised, at that hour, and in thatsequestered place, to decide a bet respecting pistol-shooting, to whichthe titular Lord Etherington, Jekyl, and Captain MacTurk, to whom such apastime was peculiarly congenial, were parties as well as himself. Theprospect this recollection afforded him, of vengeance on the man whom heregarded as the author of his sister's wrongs, was, in the present stateof his mind, too tempting to be relinquished; and, setting spurs to hishorse, he rushed through the copse to the little glade, where he foundthe other parties, who, despairing of his arrival, had already beguntheir amusement. A jubilee shout was set up as he approached.

  "Here comes Mowbray, dripping, by Cot, like a watering-pan," saidCaptain MacTurk.

  "I fear him not," said Etherington, (we may as well still call him so,)"he has ridden too fast to have steady nerves."

  "We shall soon see that, my Lord Etherington, or rather Mr. ValentineBulmer," said Mowbray, springing from his horse, and throwing the bridleover the bough of a tree.

  "What does this mean, Mr. Mowbray?" said Etherington, drawing himselfup, while Jekyl and Captain MacTurk looked at each other in surprise.

  "It means, sir, that you are a rascal and impostor," replied Mowbray,"who have assumed a name to which you have no right."

  "That, Mr. Mowbray, is an insult I cannot carry farther than thisspot," said Etherington.

  "If you had been willing to do so, you should have carried with itsomething still harder to be borne," answered Mowbray.

  "Enough, enough, my good sir; no use in spurring a willinghorse.--Jekyl, you will have the kindness to stand by me in thismatter?"

  "Certainly, my lord," said Jekyl.

  "And, as there seems to be no chance of taking up the matter amicably,"said the pacific Captain MacTurk, "I will be most happy, so help me, toassist my worthy friend, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, with my countenanceand advice.--Very goot chance that we were here with the necessaryweapons, since it would have been an unpleasant thing to have such anaffair long upon the stomach, any more than to settle it withoutwitnesses."

  "I would fain know first," said Jekyl, "what all this sudden heat hasarisen about."

  "About nothing," said Etherington, "except a mare's nest of Mr.Mowbray's discovering. He always knew his sister played the madwoman,and he has now heard a report, I suppose, that she has likewise in hertime played the ---- fool."

  "O, crimini!" cried Captain MacTurk, "my good Captain, let us pe loadingand measuring out--for, by my soul, if these sweetmeats be passingbetween them, it is only the twa ends of a hankercher than can serve theturn--Cot tamn!"

  With such friendly intentions, the ground was hastily meted out. Eachwas well known as an excellent shot; and the Captain offered a bet toJekyl of a mutchkin of Glenlivat, that both would fall by the firstfire. The event showed that he was nearly right; for the ball of LordEtherington grazed Mowbray's temple, at the very second of time whenMowbray's pierced his heart. He sprung a yard from the ground, and felldown a dead man. Mowbray stood fixed like a pillar of stone, his armdropped to his side, his hand still clenched on the weapon of death,reeking at the touch-hole and muzzle. Jekyl ran to raise and support hisfriend, and Captain MacTurk, having adjusted his spectacles, stooped onone knee to look him in the face. "We should have had Dr. Quacklebenhere," he said, wiping his glasses, and returning them to the shagreencase, "though it would have been only for form's sake--for he is as deadas a toor-nail, poor boy.--But come, Mowbray, my bairn," he said, takinghim by the arm, "we must be ganging our ain gait, you and me, beforewaur comes of it.--I have a bit powney here, and you have your horsetill we get to Marchthorn.--Captain Jekyl, I wish you a good morning.Will you have my umbrella back to the inn, for I surmeese it is goingto rain?"

  Mowbray had not ridden a hundred yards with his guide and companion,when he drew his bridle, and refused to proceed a step farther, till hehad learned what was become of Clara. The Captain began to find he had avery untractable pupil to manage, when, while they were arguingtogether, Touchwood drove past in his hack chaise. As soon as herecognised Mowbray, he stopped the carriage to inform him that hissister was at the Aultoun, which he had learned from finding there hadbeen a messenger sent from thence to the Well for medical assistance,which could not be afforded, the Esculapius of the place, Dr.Quackleben, having been privately married to Mrs. Blower on thatmorning, by Mr. Chatterly, and having set out on the usual nuptial tour.

  In return for this intelligence, Captain MacTurk communicated the fateof Lord Etherington. The old man earnestly pressed instant flight, forwhich he supplied at the same time ample means, engaging to furnishevery kind of assistance and support to the unfortunate young lady; andrepresenting to Mowbray, that if he staid in the vicinity, a prisonwould soon separate them. Mowbray and his companion then departedsouthward upon the spur, reached London in safety, and from thence wenttogether to the Peninsula, where the war was then at the hottest.

  There remains little more to be told. Mr. Touchwood is still alive,forming plans which have no object, and accumulating a fortune, forwhich he has apparently no heir. The old man had endeavoured to fix thischaracter, as well as his general patronage, upon Tyrrel, but theattempt only determined the latter to leave the country; nor has he beensince heard of, although the title and estates of Etherington lie vacantfor his acceptance. It is the opinion of many, that he has entered intoa Moravian mission, for the use of which he had previously drawnconsiderable sums.

  Since Tyrrel's departure, no one pretends to guess what old Touchwoodwill do with his money. He often talks of his disappointments, but cannever be made to understand, or at least to admit, that they were insome measure precipitated by his own talent for intrigue andmanoeuvring. Most people think that Mowbray of St. Ronan's will be atlast his heir. That gentleman has of late shown one quality whichusually recommends men to the favour of rich relations, namely, a closeand cautious care of what is already his own. Captain MacTurk's militaryardour having revived when they came within smell of gunpowder, the oldsoldier contrived not only to get himself on full pay, but to induce hiscompanion to serve for some time as a volunteer. He afterwards obtaineda commission, and nothing could be more strikingly different than wasthe conduct of the young Laird of St. Ronan's and of Lieutenant Mowbray.The former, as we know, was gay, venturous, and prodigal; the latterlived on his pay, and even within it--denied himself comforts, and oftendecencies, when doing so could save a guinea; and turned pale withapprehension, if, on any extraordinary occasion, he ventured sixpence acorner at whist. This meanness, or closeness of disposition, preventshis holding the high character to which his bravery and attention to hisregimental duties might otherwise entitle him. The same close andaccurate calculation of pounds, shillings, and pence, marked hiscommunications with his agent Meiklewham, who might otherwise have hadbetter pickings out of the estate of St. Ronan's, which is now at nurse,and thriving full fast; especially since some debts, of rather anusurious character, have been paid up by Mr. Touchwood, who contentedhimself with more moderate usage.

  On the subject of this property, Mr. Mowbray, generally speaking, gavesuch minute directions for acquiring and saving, that his oldacquaintance, Mr. Winterblossom, tapping his morocco snuff-box with thesly look which intimated the coming of a good thing, was wont to say,that he had reversed the usual order of transformation, and was turnedinto a grub after having been a butterfly.
After all, this narrowness,though a more ordinary modification of the spirit of avarice, may befounded on the same desire of acquisition, which in his earlier dayssent him to the gaming-table.

  But there was one remarkable instance in which Mr. Mowbray departed fromthe rules of economy, by which he was guided in all others. Havingacquired, for a large sum of money, the ground which he had formerlyfeued out for the erection of the hotel, lodging-houses, shops, &c., atSt. Ronan's Well, he sent positive orders for the demolition of thewhole, nor would he permit the existence of any house of entertainmenton his estate, except that in the Aultoun, where Mrs. Dods reigns withundisputed sway, her temper by no means improved either by time, or herarbitrary disposition by the total absence of competition.

  Why Mr. Mowbray, with his acquired habits of frugality, thus destroyeda property which might have produced a considerable income, no one couldpretend to affirm. Some said that he remembered his own early follies;and others, that he connected the buildings with the misfortunes of hissister. The vulgar reported, that Lord Etherington's ghost had been seenin the ball-room, and the learned talked of the association of ideas.But it all ended in this, that Mr. Mowbray was independent enough toplease himself, and that such was Mr. Mowbray's pleasure.

  The little watering-place has returned to its primitive obscurity; andlions and lionesses, with their several jackals, blue surtouts, andbluer stockings, fiddlers and dancers, painters and amateurs, authorsand critics, dispersed like pigeons by the demolition of a dovecot, havesought other scenes of amusement and rehearsal, and have deserted ST.RONAN'S WELL.[II-12]

  FOOTNOTE:

  [II-12] Note III.--Meg Dods.