"You put home questions, my friend," replied I, colouring slightly; "however, as Miss Saville tells me you are faithful and trustworthy, and as half-confidences are never ~307~~ of any use, I suppose you must hear all about it." I then told him as concisely as possible of my love for Clara, and my hopes of one day calling her my own; pointing out to him the difficulties that stood in the way, and explaining to him that the only one which appeared to me insurmountable was the probability of Mr. Vernor's attempting to force Clara into an immediate marriage with Cumberland. Having thus given him an insight into the true state of affairs, I showed him the necessity of establishing some means of communication between Clara and myself, as it was essential that I should receive the earliest possible information in regard to Mr. Vernor's proceedings.

"I understand, sir," interrupted Peter, "you want to be able to write to each other without the old 'un getting hold of your letters: well, that's very easily managed; only you direct to Mr. Barnett, to be left at the Pig and Pony, at Barstone; and anything you send for Miss Clara, I'll take care and give her when nobody won't be none the wiser for it; and any letters she writes I'll put into the post myself. I'd do anything rather than let that young villain Cumberland have her, and make her miserable, which his wife is safe to be, if ever he gets one; and if you likes her and she likes you, as seems wery probable, considering you saved her from being burnt to death, as they tell me, and is wery good-looking into the bargain—which goes a great way with young ladies, if you'll excuse the liberty I takes in mentioning of it—why, the best thing as you can do, is to get married as soon as you can."

"Very pleasant advice, friend Peter," returned I, "but not so easily acted upon; people cannot marry nowadays without something to live upon."

"Well, ain't Miss Clara got Barstone Priory, and plenty of money to keep it up with? Won't that do to live upon?"

"And do you imagine I could ever feel content to be the creature of my wife's bounty? prove myself a needy fortune-hunter, as that old man dared to term me?" exclaimed I, forgetting the character of my auditor.

"Barstone Priory to live in, and more money than you know what to do with, ain't to be sneezed at neither," was the answer; "though I likes your independent spirit too, sir: but how do you mean to manage, then?"

"Why, Mr. Vernor hinted that if his ward married without his consent, her fortune was to be forfeited."

"Ah! I believe there was something of that nature in the will: my poor master was so wrapped up in old Wernor that he wrote just wot he told him; if he'd only ~308~~ a lived to see how he was going to use Miss Clara, he'd a ordered me to kick him out of the house instead."

"Perhaps that pleasure may be yet in store for you, Peter," replied I, laughing at the zest with which he uttered the last few words, and an involuntary motion of the foot by which they were accompanied; "but this power, which it seems Mr. Vernor really possesses, of depriving Miss Saville of her fortune, removes my greatest difficulty; for in that case, if he should attempt to urge on this match, I can at least make her the offer of sharing my poverty: there is my mother's roof to shelter her, and, if her guardian refuses his consent to our marriage, why, we must contrive to do without it, that is all. So now, Peter, if you will wait a few minutes, I will give you a note for your young mistress, and then get to horse without further loss of time;" and calling for pen, ink, and paper, I hastily scribbled a few lines to Clara, informing her of the events of the morning, and of my unalterable determination to save her from a union with Cumberland; begging her, at the same time, to continue firm in her opposition, to acquaint me with everything that might occur, and to rely upon me for protection in the event of anything like force being resorted to. I then entrusted my note to old Peter, begged him to watch Master Richard Cumberland closely, told him that upon his care and vigilance depended in great measure the happiness of his young mistress's life; tipped him handsomely, though I had some trouble in making him take the money; and, mounting my ill-disposed horse, rode back to Hillingford, on the whole tolerably well satisfied with my morning's work.

I found two letters awaiting my return: one from my mother, to say that she should be at Heathfield Cottage on the following day, and begging me to meet her; the other from Ellis, telling me that at length he hoped Oaklands was in a fair way to recover, it having been ascertained that a piece of the wadding of the pistol had remained behind when the ball was extracted; this had now come away, and the wound was healing rapidly. As his strength returned, Harry was growing extremely impatient to get back to Heathfield; and Ellis concluded by saying that they might be expected any day, and begging me at the same time to remember that from the first he had always declared, in regard to his patient, that it would have killed any other man, but that it could not kill him.

Days glided by, the absentees returned, and matters fell so completely into their old train again that the occurrences ~309~~ of the last eight months seemed like the unreal creations of some fevered dream, and there were times when I could scarcely bring myself to believe them true.

Harry Oaklands had recovered sufficiently to resume his usual habits; and, except that he was strictly forbidden to over-exert or fatigue himself (an injunction he appeared only too willing to obey), he was nearly emancipated from medical control. Fanny had in great measure regained her good looks again; a slight delicacy of appearance, however, still remained, giving a tone of spirituality to the expression of her features, which was not before observable, and which to my mind rendered her prettier than ever: the listlessness of manner which had made me uneasy about her in the autumn had vanished, and her spirits seemed good; still, she was in a degree altered, and one felt in talking to her that she was a child no longer. Like Undine, that graceful creation of La Motte Fouque's genius, she appeared to have changed from a "tricksy sprite" into a thinking and feeling woman.

One morning Oaklands and Ellis came to the cottage together, the latter in a great state of joy and excitement, produced by a most kind and judicious exercise of liberality on the part of Sir John. About a month before, the grave and pompous Dr. Probehurt had been seized with an illness, from which in all probability he would have recovered had he not steadily refused to allow a rival practitioner to be called in, in order that he might test a favourite theory of his own, embodying a totally novel mode of treatment for the complaint with which he was attacked. Unfortunately, the experiment failed, and the doctor died. Sir John, who had been long anxious to evince his gratitude to Ellis for the skill and attention he had bestowed upon his patient, the moment he heard of the event determined to purchase the business: he had that morning completed the negotiation, and offered the practice to Ellis, stating that he should consider his accepting it in the light of a personal favour, as in that case he would be always at hand, should Harry feel any lasting ill effects from his wound. Ellis's joy was most amusing to witness.

"I tell you what, sir," he exclaimed, seizing me by a button of the coat, "I'm a made man, sir! there isn't a better practice in the county. Why, poor Probehurt told me himself old Mrs. Croaker Crawley alone was worth a hundred pounds per annum to him:—four draughts and two pills everyday—prescription very simple—R. Pil. panis compos, ii. nocte sum.; haust. aqua vitae 1/2, aqua pura 1/2 ~310~~ saccar. viii. grs. pro re nata. She's a strong old girl, and on brandy-and-water draughts and French-roll pills may last for the next twenty years. Noble thing of Sir John, very; 'pon my word, it has quite upset me—it's a fact, sir, that when Mr. Oaklandstold me of it I sat down and cried like a child. I'm not over tender-hearted either: when I was at Guy's I amputated the left leg of a shocking accident, and dissected the porter's mother-in-law (whom he sold us cheap for old acquaintance' sake) before breakfast one morning, without finding my appetite in the slightest degree affected; but when I learned what Sir John had done, I positively cried, sir."

"I say, Ellis," interrupted Harry, "I am telling Miss Fairlegh I shall make you take her in hand; she has grown so pale and thin, I am afraid she has never recovered all the trouble and inconvenience we caused her."

"If Miss Fairlegh would allow me, I should recommend a little more air and exercise," replied Ellis: "are you fond of riding on horseback?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Fanny, smiling, and blushing slightly at thus suddenly becoming the topic of conversation; "that is, I used to delight in riding Frank's pony in days of yore; but he has not kept a pony lately."

"That is easily remedied," returned Harry; "I am certain some of our horses will carry a lady. I shall speak to Harris about it directly, and we'll have some rides together, Fanny; it was only this morning that I obtained my tyrant's permission to cross a horse once more," he added, shaking his fist playfully at Ellis.

"The tyrant will agree to that more willingly than to your first request. What do you think, Fairlegh," continued Ellis, appealing to me, "of his positively wanting to go out hunting?"

"And a very natural thing to wish too, I conceive," replied Harry; "but what do you think of his declaring that, if I did not faithfully promise I would not hunt this season, he would go into the stables and divide, what he called in his doctor's lingo, the flexor metatarsi of every animal he found there, which, being interpreted, means neither more nor less than hamstring all the hunters."

"Well, that would be better than allowing you to do anything which might disturb the beautiful process of granulation going on in your side. I remember, when I was a student at Guy's——"

"Come, doctor, we positively cannot stand any more of your 'Chronicles of the Charnel-house' this morning; ~311~~ you have horrified Miss Fairlegh already to such a degree that she is going to run away. If I should stroll down here again in the afternoon, Fanny, will you take compassion on me so far as to indulge me with a game of chess? I am going to send Frank on an expedition, and my father and Ellis are off to settle preliminaries with poor Mrs. Probehurt, so that I shall positively not have a creature to speak to. Reading excites me too much, and produces a state of—— What is it you call it, doctor?"

"I told you yesterday I thought you were going into a state of coma, when you fell asleep over that interesting paper of mine in the Lancet, 'Recollections of the Knife'; if that's what you call excitement," returned Ellis, laughing——

"Nonsense, Ellis, how absurd you are!" rejoined Oak-lands, half-amused and half-annoyed at Ellis's remark; "but you have not granted my request yet, Fanny."

"I do not think we have any engagement—mamma will, I am sure, be very happy"—began Fanny, with a degree of hesitation for which I could not account; but as I was afraid Oaklands might notice it, and attribute it to a want of cordiality, I hastened to interrupt her by exclaiming, "Mamma will be very happy—of course she will; and each and all of us are always only too happy to get you here, old fellow; it does one's heart good to see you beginning to look a little more like yourself again. If Fanny's too idle to play chess, I'll take compassion upon you, and give you a thorough beating myself."

"There are two good and sufficient reasons why you will not do anything of the kind," replied Oaklands: "in the first place, while you have been reading mathematics, I have been studying chess; and I think that I may, without conceit, venture to pronounce myself the better player of the two; and in the second place, as I told your sister just now, I am going to send you out on an expedition."

"To send me on an expedition!" repeated I—"may I be allowed to inquire its nature—where I am to go to—when I am to start—and all other equally essential particulars?"

"They are soon told," returned Oaklands. "I wrote a few days since to Lawless, asking him to come down for a week's hunting before the season should be over; and this morning I received the following characteristic answer: 'Dear Oaklands, a man who refuses a good offer is an ass (unless he happens to have had a better one). Now, yours being the best offer down in my book ~312~~ at present, I say, "done, along with you, old fellow," thereby clearly proving that I am no ass. Q. E. D.—eh? that's about the thing, isn't it? Now, look here, Jack Basset has asked me down to Storley Wood for a day's pheasant shooting on Tuesday: if you could contrive to send any kind of trap over about lunch-time, on Wednesday, I could have a second pop at the long-tails, and be with you in time for a half-past six o'clock feed as it is not more than ten miles from Storley to Heathfield. I wouldn't have troubled you to send for me, only the tandem's hors de combat. I was fool enough to lend it to Muffington Spoffkins to go and see his aunt one fine day. The horses finding a fresh hand on the reins, began pulling like steam-engines—Muffington could not hold them—consequently they bolted; and after running over two whole infant schools, and upsetting a retired grocer, they knocked the cart into "immortal smash" against a turnpike-gate, pitching Spoffkins into a horse-pond, with Shrimp a-top of him. It was a regular sell for all parties: I got my cart broken to pieces, Shrimp was all but drowned, and Muffington's aunt cut him off with a shilling, because the extirpated squadron of juveniles turned out, unfortunately, to have been a picked detachment of infantry from her own village. If you could send to meet me at the Feathers' public-house, which is just at the bottom of Storley great wood, it would be a mercy, for walking in cover doesn't suit my short legs, and I'm safe to be used up.—Remember us to Fairlegh and all inquiring friends, and believe me to remain, very heartily, yours, George Lawless.'"

"I comprehend," said I, as Oaklands finished reading the note, "you wish me to drive over this afternoon and fetch him: it will be a great deal better than merely sending a servant."

"Why, I had thought of going myself, but, 'pon my word, these sort of things are so much trouble—at least to me, I mean; and, though Lawless is a capital, excellent fellow, and I like him extremely, yet I know he'll talk about nothing but horses all the way home; and not being quite strong again yet, you've no notion how that kind of thing worries and tires me."

"Don't say another word about it, my dear Harry; I shall enjoy the drive uncommonly. What vehicle had I better take?"

"The phaeton, I think," replied Oaklands, "and then you can bring his luggage, and Shrimp, or any of his people he may have with him."

~313~~ "So be it," returned I; "I'll walk back with you to the Hall, and then start as soon as you please.



CHAPTER XL — LAWLESS'S MATINEE MUSICALE

"I was deep in my tradesmen's books, I'm afraid, But not in my own, by-the-by; And when rascally tailors came to be paid, There'll be time enough for that, said I." —Song—The Old Bachelor.

"Here's a knocking, indeed! Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither. ——Come in, tailor—— Knock, knock. Never at quiet! What are you? I had thought to have let in Some of all professions. Anon—anon." —Macbeth.

I SCARCELY know any excitement more agreeable than driving, on a fine frosty day, a pair of spirited horses, which demand the exercise of all one's coolness and skill to keep their fiery natures under proper control. Some accident had happened to one of Sir John's old phaeton horses, and Harry, who fancied that, as he was not allowed to use any violent exercise, driving would be an amusement to him, had taken the opportunity of replacing them by a magnificent pair of young, nearly thorough-bred chestnuts; and these were the steeds now entrusted to my guidance. Not being anxious, however, to emulate the fate of the unfortunate Muffington Spoffkins, I held them well in hand for the first three or four miles, and as they became used to their work, gradually allowed them to quicken their pace, till we were bowling along merrily at the rate of ten miles an hour.

A drive of about an hour and a quarter brought me within sight of the little roadside public-house appointed for my rendezvous with Lawless. As I drew sufficiently near to distinguish figures, I perceived the gentleman in question scientifically and picturesquely attired in what might with great propriety be termed no end of a shooting jacket, inasmuch as its waist, being prolonged to a strange and unaccountable extent, had, as a necessary consequence, invaded the region of the skirt to a degree which reduced that appendage to the most absurd and infinitesimal proportions. This wonderful garment was ~314~~ composed of a fabric which Freddy Coleman, when he made its acquaintance some few days later, denominated the Mac Omnibus plaid, a gaudy repertoire of colours, embracing all the tints of the rainbow, and a few more besides, and was further embellished by a plentiful supply of gent.'s sporting buttons, which latter articles were not quite so large as cheese-plates, and represented in bas-relief a series of moving incidents by flood and field. His nether man exhibited a complicated arrangement of corduroys, leather gaiters and waterproof boots, which were, of course, wet through; while, to crown the whole, his head was adorned with one of those round felt hats, which exactly resemble a boiled apple-pudding, and are known by the sobriquet of "wide-awakes," "cos they av'n't got no nap about 'em". A stout shooting pony was standing at the door of the ale-house, with a pair of panniers, containing a portmanteau and a gun-case, slung across its back, upon which was seated in triumph the mighty Shrimp, who seemed to possess the singular property of growing older, and nothing else; for, as well as one could judge by appearances, he had not increased an inch in stature since the first day of our acquaintance. His attitude, as I drove up, was one which Hunt would have delighted to perpetuate. Perched on a kind of pack-saddle, his legs stretched so widely apart, by reason of the stout proportions of the pony, as to be nearly at right angles with his upper man, he "held aloft" (not a "snowy scarf," but) a pewter pot, nearly as large as himself, the contents of which he was transferring to his own throat, with an air of relish and savoir faire, which would have done credit to a seven-feet-high coalheaver. The group was completed by a gamekeeper, who, seated on a low wooden bench, was dividing some bread and cheese with a magnificent black retriever.

"By Jove! what splendid steppers!" was Lawless's exclamation as I drove up. "Now, that's what I call perfect action; high enough to look well, without battering the feet to pieces—the leg a little arched, and thrown out boldly—no fear of their putting down their pins in the same place they pick them up from. Ah!" he continued, for the first time observing me, "Fairlegh, how are you, old fellow? Slap-up cattle you've got there, and no mistake—belong to Sir John Oaklands, I suppose. Do you happen to know where he got hold of them?"

"Harry wanted a pair of phaeton horses, and the coachman recommended these," replied I; "but I've no idea where he heard of them."

~315~~ "Rising five and six," continued Lawless, examining their mouths with deep interest; "no do there—the tush well up in one, and nicely through in the other, and the mark in the nippers just as it should be to correspond: own brothers, I'll bet a hundred pounds—good full eyes; small heads, well set on; slanting shoulders; legs as clean as a colt's; hoofs a leetle small, but that's the breed. Whereabouts was the figure, did you hear?—five fifties never bought them, unless they were as cheap as dirt, eh?"

"That was about their price, if I remember correctly," replied I. "Harry thought it was too much to give; but Sir John, the moment he saw his son would like to have them, wrote the cheque, and paid for them on the spot." "Well, I'll give him all the money any day, if he's tired of his bargain," rejoined Lawless; "but we won't keep them standing now they're warm. Here, Shrimp, my greatcoat—get off that pony this instant, you luxurious young vagabond. Never saw such a boy in my life to ride as that is—if there is anything that can by possibility carry him, not a step will he stir on foot—doesn't believe legs were meant to walk with, it's my opinion. Why, this very morning, before they brought out the shooting pony, he got on the retriever; and he has such a seat too, that the dog could not throw him, till Basset thought of sending him into the water: he slipped off in double-quick time then, for he has had a regular hydrophobia upon him ever since his adventure in the horse-pond. What, not down yet? I shall take a horsewhip to you, sir, directly."

Thus admonished, Shrimp, who had taken advantage of his master's preoccupation to finish the contents of the pewter pot, tossed the utensil to the gamekeeper, having previously attracted that individual's attention by exclaiming, in a tone of easy familiarity—"Look out, Leggings!"—then, as the man, taken by surprise, and having some difficulty in saving himself from a blow on the nose, allowed the pot to slip through his hands, Shrimp continued, "Catch it, clumsy! veil, I never—now mind, if you've gone and bumped it, it's your own doing, and you pays for dilapidations, as ve calls 'em at Cambridge. Coming, sir—d'rec'ly, sir—yes, sir." So saying, he slipped down the pony's shoulder, shook himself to set his dress in order as soon as he reached terra firma, and unbuckling Lawless's driving coat, which was fastened round his waist by a broad strap, jumped upon a horse-block, and held out the garment at arm's length for ~316~~ his master to put on. The gun-case and carpet-bag were then transferred from the pony to the phaeton, and, resigning the reins to Lawless, who I knew would be miserable unless he were allowed to drive, we started. Shrimp being installed in the hind seat, where, folding his arms, he leaned back, favouring us with a glance which seemed to say, "You may proceed, I am quite comfortable".

"It was about time for me to take an affectionate farewell of Alma Mater," observed Lawless, after he had criticised and admired the horses afresh, and at such length, that I could not help smiling at the fulfilment of Oaklands' prediction—"it was about time for me to be off, for the duns were becoming rather too particular in their attentions. I got a precious fright the other day, I can tell you. I was fool enough to pay two or three bills, and that gave the rest of the fellows a notion that I was about to bolt, I suppose, for one morning I was regularly besieged by them. I taught them a trick or two, though, before I had done with them: they won't forget me in a hurry, I expect."

"Indeed! and how did you contrive to fix yourself so indelibly in their recollections?" asked I.

"Eh! 'though lost to sight, to memory dear'—rather that style of thing, you know. So you want to hear all about it, eh? Well, it was a good lark, I must say; I was telling it to Basset last night, and it nearly killed him. I don't know whether you have seen him lately, but he's grown horribly fat. He has taken to rearing prize bullocks, and I think he has caught it of 'em; rides sixteen stone, if he rides a pound. I tell him he'll break his neck some of these days, if he chooses to go on hunting—the horses can't stand it. However, he went into such fits of laughter when I told him about it, that he got quite black in the face, and I rang the bell, and swore he was in an apoplexy, but the servant seemed used to the sort of thing, and brought him a jug of beer, which resuscitated him. Well, to return to my mutton, as the Mounseers have it—the very day I intended to leave Cambridge, Shrimp came in while I was breakfasting, with a great coarse-looking letter in his hand.

"'Please, sir, Mr. Pigskin has called with his little account, and would be very glad if you could let him have the money.'

"Pleasant, thinks I. 'Here, boy, let's have a look at this precious little account—hum! ha! hunting-saddle, gag-bit for Lamplighter, head-piece and reins to ditto, ~317~~"racing-saddle for chestnut mare,' etc., etc., etc.; a horrid affair as long as my arm—total L96 18s. 2d.; and the blackguard had charged everything half as much again as he had told me when I ordered it. Still, I thought I'd pay the fellow, and have done with him, if I had got tin enough left; so I told Shrimp to show him into the rooms of a man who lived over me, but was away at the time, and there let him wait. Lo! and behold! when I came to look about the tin, I found that, instead of having ninety pounds at the banker's, I had overdrawn my account some hundred pounds or more; so that paying was quite out of the question, and I was just going to ring the bell, and beg Mr. Pigskin to call again in a day or two, by which time I should have been 'over the hills and far away,' when Shrimp made his appearance.

"'Please, sir, there's ever so many more gents called for their money. There's Mr. Flanker, the whipmaker, and Mr. Smokem, from the cigar-shop, and Trotter, the bootmaker, and—yes, sir, there's a young man from Mr. Tinsel, the jeweller: and, oh! a load more of 'em, if you please, sir.'

"This was agreeable, certainly; what to be at I didn't know, when suddenly a bright idea came across me.

"'What have you done with 'em?' asked I.

"'Put 'em all into Mr. Skulker's rooms, sir.'

"'That's the ticket,' said I. 'Now, listen to me. Look out, and see if there are any more coming;—if there are, show 'em up to the others; take 'em a couple of bottles of wine and some glasses, and tell them I must beg them to wait a quarter of an hour or so, while I look over their bills; and as soon as the room is full, come and tell me.'

"In about ten minutes Shrimp reported that he could not see any more coming, and that he thought 'all the gents I dealt with was upstairs'.

"'That's the time of day!' exclaimed I, and taking out the key of the room, which Skulker had left with me, in case I might like to put a friend to sleep there, I slipped off my shoes, and creeping upstairs as softly as possible, I locked the door. 'Now then, Shrimp,' said I, 'run and fetch me some good stout screws, a gimblet and a screwdriver.' He was not long getting them, and in less than five minutes I had them all screwed in as fast as if they had been in their coffins, for they were kicking up such a row over their wine that they never heard me at work. Well, as soon as I had bagged my game, Shrimp and I packed up the traps and sent them to the coach-office—found a coach about to start in half an hour, booked ~318~~ myself for the box, and then strolled back to see how the caged birds were getting on. By this time they had come to a sense of their 'sitivation,' and were hammering away, and swearing, and going on like troopers; but all to no purpose, for the door was a famous strong one, and they had no means of breaking it open. Well, after I had had a good laugh at the row they were making, I tapped at the door, and 'discoursed' 'em, as Paddy calls it. I told them that I was so much shocked by the want of consideration, and proper feeling, and all that sort of thing, which they had shown, in coming and besieging me as they had done, that I felt it was a duty I owed to society at large, and to themselves in particular, to read them a severe lesson; therefore, on mature deliberation, I had sentenced them to imprisonment for the term of one hour, and to wait for their money till such time as I should further decree, which I begged to assure them would not be until I might find it perfectly convenient to myself to pay them; and I wound up by telling them to make themselves quite at home, entreating them not to fatigue themselves by trying to get out, for that they had not a chance of succeeding; inquiring whether they had any commands for London, and wishing them a very affectionate farewell for some time to come. And then down I ran, leaving them roaring and bellowing like so many mad bulls—got to the office just in time, and tipping the coachman, drove three parts of the way to town, feeling as jolly as if I had won a thousand pounds on the Derby."

"And what became of the locked-up tradesmen?" inquired I.

"Oh! why they stayed there above two hours before anybody let them out, amusing themselves by smashing the windows, breaking the furniture to pieces (one of them was an upholsterer, and had an eye to business, I dare say), and kicking all the paint off the door. However, I have written to Skulker, to get it all set to rights, and send me the bill, so no harm's done—it will teach those fellows a lesson they won't forget in a hurry, and the next time they wish to bully a Cantab, they'll recollect my little 'Matinee musicale,' as I call it. Oh! they made a sweet row, I can assure you, sir."

The chestnuts trotted merrily on their homeward journey, and the noble oaks of Heathfield Park, their leafless branches pointing like giant arms to the cold blue sky above them, soon came in sight.

"You are a great deal too early for dinner, Lawless," ~319~~ said I, as we drove up; "suppose you walk down to our cottage, and let me introduce you to my mother and sister; you'll find Oaklands there most likely, for he talked of going to play chess."

"Eh! your mother and sister! by Jove, I never thought of them; I declare I had forgotten there were any ladies in the case—I can't go near them in this pickle, I'm all over mud and pheasant feathers, they'll take me for a native of the Sandwich Islands, one of the boys that cooked Captain Cook—precious tough work they must have had to get their teeth through him, for he was no chicken; I wonder how they trussed him, poor old beggar. No! I'll make myself a little more like a Christian, and then I'll come down and be introduced to them if it's necessary, but I shall not be able to say half a dozen words to them: it's a fact, I never can talk to a woman, except that girl at old Coleman's hop, Di Clapperton; she went the pace with me, and no mistake. By the way, how's the other young woman, Miss Clara Sav——"

"If you really want to dress before you come to the cottage," interrupted I hastily, "you have no time to lose."

"Haven't I? off we go then," cried my companion. "Here, you lazy young imp," he continued, seizing Shrimp by the collar of the coat, and dropping him to the ground, as one would a kitten, "find my room, and get out my things directly—brush along."

So saying, he sprang from the phaeton, and rushed into the hall, pushing Shrimp before him, to the utter consternation of the dignified old butler, who, accustomed to the graceful indolence which characterised his young master's every movement, was quite unprepared for such an energetic mode of proceeding.

Forgetting that politeness required me to wait for my companion, I threw the reins to a groom, and started off at a brisk walk in the direction of the cottage.

Lawless's concluding words had aroused a train of thought sufficiently interesting to banish every other recollection. Sweet Clara! it was quite a month since I had parted from her, but the soft tones of her silvery voice still lingered on my ear—the trustful expression of her bright eyes—the appealing sadness of that mournful smile, more touching in its quiet melancholy, than many a deeper sign of woe, still presented themselves to my imagination with a vividness which was almost painful. I had received a note from her about a week before, in which she told me that Cumberland had been absent from the Priory for some days, and, as long as this was the case, ~320~~ she was comparatively free from annoyance, but that Mr. Vernor's mind was evidently as much set upon the match as ever; nothing, however, she assured me, should induce her to consent, for much as she had always disliked the scheme, she now felt that death were far preferable to a union with a man she despised; and she ended by saying, that whenever she felt inclined to give way to despair, the remembrance of my affection came across her like a sunbeam, and rendered her happy even in the midst of her distress.—Oh! what would I not have given, to have possessed the dear privilege of consoling her, to have told her that she had nothing to fear, that my love should surround and protect her, and that, under the hallowing influence of sympathy, happiness for the future would be increased twofold, while sorrow shared between us would be deprived of half its bitterness!—in fact, long before I arrived at the cottage, I had worked myself up into a great state of excitement, and had originated more romantic nonsense than is promulgated in a "seminary for young ladies," in the interval between the time when the French teacher has put out the candle, and the fair pupils have talked themselves to sleep, which, if report does not belie them, is not until they have forfeited all chance of adding to their attractions by getting a little beauty-sleep before twelve o'clock.

"Ah, Frank! back already! what have you done with Lawless?" exclaimed Oaklands, raising his eyes from the chessboard as I entered our little drawing-room.

"He will be here shortly," replied I, "but he positively refused to face the ladies till he had changed his shooting costume, so I left him up at the Hall to adonise. But how goes the game? who is winning?"

"As was certain to be the case, I am losing," answered Fanny.

"Well, I won't disturb you," returned I, "and perhaps you will have finished before Lawless makes his appearance; where is my mother, by-the-by?"

"She only left the room just as you returned," replied Fanny quickly; "she has been sitting here ever since Mr. Oaklands came."

"I do not wish to know where she has been, but where she is," rejoined I; "I want to tell her that Lawless is coming to be introduced to her; is she upstairs?"

"I believe she is," was the reply, "but you will only worry her if you disturb her; mamma particularly dislikes being hunted about, you know: you had better sit still, and she will be down again in a few minutes."

~321~~ "There is no such thing as free-will in this world, I believe," exclaimed I, throwing myself back in an easy-chair; "however, as you do not very often play the tyrant, you shall have your own way this time. Harry, the chestnuts did their work to admiration; Lawless was delighted with them, and talked of nothing else half the way home."

"I don't doubt it—your queen's in danger, Fanny," was the answer.

Seeing that my companions appeared entirely engrossed by their game, I occupied myself with a book till I heard the ominous sounds, "Check! excuse me, the knight commands that square; you have but one move—checkmate!"

"Who has won? though I need not ask. How dare you beat my sister, Master Harry?"

"I had some trouble in doing it, I can tell you," replied Oaklands; then turning to Fanny, he continued, "had you but moved differently when I castled my king to get out of your way, the game would have been entirely in your own hands, for I was so stupid, that up to that moment I never perceived the attack you were making upon me."

"Really I don't think I had a chance of beating you: Frank must take you in hand next, he is a much better player than I am."

"Indeed I am not going to be handed over to Frank, or any one else, in that summary way, I can assure you; I intend to have another game of chess with you tomorrow, after we come in from our ride.—I forgot to tell you that Harris says the little grey Arab carries a lady beautifully—however, 1 left orders for one of the boys to exercise her well this afternoon, with a side-saddle and a horse-cloth, to enact the part of a lady. At what hour shall we ride to-morrow? it is generally fine before luncheon at this time of year, I think."

"Oh! you are very kind," replied Fanny hurriedly, "but I am afraid I cannot ride to-morrow."

"Why not? what are you going to do?" inquired Oaklands.

"I am not going to do anything particularly," returned Fanny, hesitating, "but I don't know whether my habit is in wearable order, and—well, I will talk to mamma about it. By-the-by, I really must go and see what has become of her all this time," she continued, rising to leave the apartment.

"I thought there was nothing my mother disliked so ~322~~ much as being hunted about," rejoined I; "I wonder you can think of disturbing her."

A playful shake of the head was her only reply, and she quitted the room.



CHAPTER XLI — HOW LAWLESS BECAME A LADY'S MAN

"Doublet and hose should show itself courageous to petticoats. Therefore, courage!" —As You Like It.

"From the crown of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; For what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. "I hope he is in love." —Much Ado about Nothing.

"FRANK, I am not at all satisfied about your sister," began Oaklands, as the door closed after her. "She does not look well, and she seems entirely to have lost her spirits."

"I thought as you do before I went up for my degree," replied I; "but since my return I hoped she was all right again. What makes you imagine her out of spirits?"

"Oh! several things; she never talks and laughs as she used to do. Why, all this afternoon I could scarcely get half a dozen words out of her; and she seems to have no energy to do anything. How unwilling she appeared to enter into my scheme about the riding! She evidently dislikes the idea of exertion of any kind: I know the feeling well; but it is not natural for her; she used to be surprisingly active, and was the life and soul of the party. But what, perhaps, has caused me to notice all this so particularly, and makes me exceedingly uncomfortable, is, that I am afraid it is all owing to me."

"Owing to you, my dear Harry! what can you mean?" inquired I.

"Why, I fear that business of the duel, and the great care she and your mother took of me (for which—believing as I do that, under Providence, it saved my life—I can never be sufficiently grateful), have been too much for her. Remember, she was quite a girl; and no doubt seeing an old friend brought to the house apparently dying, must have been a very severe shock to her, and depend upon it, her nerves have never recovered their proper tone. However, I shall make it my business to endeavour to interest and amuse her, and you must do ~323~~ everything you can to assist me, Frank; we'll get all the new books down from London, and have some people to stay at the Hall. She has shut herself up too much; Ellis says she has; I shall make her ride on horseback every day."

"Horseback, eh!" exclaimed Lawless, who had entered the cottage without our perceiving him. "Ay, that's a prescription better than all your doctor's stuff; clap her on a side-saddle, and a brisk canter for a couple of hours every day across country will set the old lady up again in no time, if it's your mother that's out of condition, Frank. Why, Oaklands, man, you are looking as fresh as paint; getting sound again, wind and limb, eh?"

"I hope so, at last," replied Harry, shaking Lawless warmly by the hand; "but I've had a narrow escape of losing my life, I can assure you."

"No; really I didn't know it had been as bad as that I By Jove, if he had killed you, I'd have shot that blackhearted villain, Wilford, myself, and chanced about his putting a bullet into me while I was doing it."

"My dear Lawless, I thank you for your kind feeling towards me; but I cannot bear to hear you speak in that light way of duelling," returned Oaklands gravely; "if men did but know the misery they were entailing on all those who cared for them by their rash acts, independently of all higher considerations, duelling, and its twin brother, suicide, would be less frequent than they are. When I have seen the tears stealing down my father's grief-worn cheeks, and witnessed the anxious, painful expression in the faces of the kind friends who were nursing me, and have reflected that it was by yielding to my own ungoverned passions that I had brought all this sorrow upon them, my remorse has often been far harder to bear than any pain my wound has caused me."

At this moment, my mother and Fanny making their appearance, I hastened to introduce Lawless, who, being greatly alarmed at the ceremony, grew very red in the face, shuffled my mother into a corner of the room, and upset a chair against her, stumbling over Harry's legs, and knocking down the chessboard in the excess of his penitence. Having, with my assistance, remedied these disasters, after stigmatising himself as an awkward dog, and comparing himself to a bull in a china-shop, he turned to Fanny, exclaiming:—

"Delighted to have the pleasure of seeing you at last, Miss Fairlegh; it is several years since I first heard of ~324~~ you. Do you remember the writing-desk at old Mildman's, eh, Frank? no end of a shame of me to spoil it; I have often thought so since; but boys will be boys, eh, Mrs. Fairlegh?"

My mother acquiesced in this obstinate adherence to their primary formation on the part of the junior members of the nobler sex with so much cordiality that Lawless was encouraged to proceed. "Glad to find there's a chance of seeing you out with us some of these days, ma'am; shall we be able to persuade you to accompany us to-morrow?"

"Yes, I think it very likely that I may go," returned my mother, who imagined he was referring to some proposed drive; "in what direction will it be, pray?"

"Direction, eh? Why that of course depends very much on what line he may happen to take when he breaks cover," returned Lawless. My mother, who had been previously advised of Lawless's sporting metaphors, concluding that the "he" referred to Sir John Oaklands, calmly replied:—

"Yes, certainly, I was mentioning the ruins of Saworth Abbey to Sir John yesterday; do you know them?"

"I should think I did—rather," exclaimed Lawless, forgetting his company manners in the interest of the subject. "Why, I have seen more foxes run into in the fields round Saworth than in any other parish in the country. Whenever the meet is either at Grinder's End or Chorley Bottom, the fox is safe to head for Saworth. Oh! I see you're up to the whole thing, Mrs. Fairlegh; we shall have you showing all of us the way across country in fine style to-morrow. 1 expect there'll be some pretty stiff fencing though, if he should take the line you imagine, but I suppose you don't mind anything of that sort; with a steady, well-trained hunter (and a lady should never ride one that is not), there's very little danger—take care to keep out of the crowd when you're getting away; don't check your horse at his fences; have a little mercy on his bellows over the heavy ground; and with a light weight like yours you might lead the field. Why, Frank, you ought to be proud of Mrs. Fairlegh. I tell you what—the first time the hounds meet near Leatherly, I'll have my mother out, whether she likes it or not. I'll stand no nonsense about it, you may depend; she shall see a run for once in her life, at all events. Mrs. Fairlegh, ma'am," he continued, rising and shaking her warmly by the hand, "excuse my saying so, but you're a regular brick—you are indeed!"

~325~~ The scene at this moment would not have made a bad study for a painter. Oaklands, having struggled in vain to preserve his gravity, was in fits of laughter. Fanny, who had from the first perceived the equivoque, was very little better, while my mother, completely mystified, sat staring at Lawless, whom she evidently considered a little insane, with an expression of bewildered astonishment, not unmixed with fear. As soon as I could contrive to speak (for Lawless's face, when he had discovered the effect he had produced, completely finished me, and I laughed till the tears ran down my cheeks), I explained to him that it was my sister, and not my mother, who was thinking of riding, while the notion of hunting originated wholly and solely in his own fertile imagination.

"Eh? What! she doesn't hunt?—ah! I see, put my foot in it pretty deep this time; beg pardon, Mrs. Fairlegh—no offence meant, I assure you. Well, I thought it was a very fast thing for an old——I—that is, for a lady to do. I fancied you were so well up in the whole affair, too: most absurd, really; I certainly am not fit for female society. I think, when the hunting season's over, I shall put myself to one of those tip-top boarding-schools to learn manners for a quarter; the sort of shop, you know, where they teach woman her mission—(how to get a rich husband, eh, Frank?)—for three hundred pounds a year, washing and church principles extra, and keep a 'Professor' to instruct the young ladies in the art of getting out of a carriage on scientific principles, that is, without showing their ankles. Didn't succeed very well with my sister Julia, though; the girl happens to be particularly clean about the pasterns, so she declared it was infringing on the privileges of a free-born British subject, vowed her ankles were her own property, and she had a right to do what she liked with 'em, and carried out her principles by kicking the Professor's shins for him. Plucky girl is Julia; she puts me very much in mind of what I was when I was her age at Eton, and pinned a detonating cracker to old Botherboy's coat-tail, so that, what between the pin and the explosion, it's my belief he would have found himself more comfortable in the battle of Waterloo, than he felt the first time he sat down. Ah! those were happy days!"

Thus running on, Lawless kept us in a roar of laughter, till Oaklands, pulling out his watch, discovered it was time to return to the Hall, and prepare for dinner. It turned out, on examination, that the habit did require altering, so the ride was put off till the necessary repairs ~326~~ should be executed. As the next day proved too frosty to hunt, Lawless and I, under the auspices of the head-keeper, set to work to slaughter the supernumerary pheasants, Sir John and Harry joining us for a couple of hours, though Ellis would not allow the latter to carry a gun. We had a capital day's sport, and got home just in time to dress, and Sir John having contrived in the course of the afternoon to carry off my mother and Fanny, we were a very comfortable little party. Sir John took my mother down to dinner, and Lawless paired off with Fanny, an arrangement which, as his eccentricities evidently afforded her great amusement, I was not sorry for.

"Why, Fanny," whispered I, when we joined the ladies in the drawing-room, "you are growing quite frisky; what a row you and Lawless were making at dinner-time! I have not heard you talk and laugh so much for many a day."

"Oh! your friend is famous fun," replied Fanny—"perfectly irresistible; I assure you I am delighted with him—he is something quite new to me."

"I am so glad you have asked Lawless here," observed I to Oaklands; "do you see how much pleased and amused Fanny is with him?—he appears to have aroused her completely—the very thing we were wishing for. He'll be of more use to her than all of us put together."

"He seems to me to talk a vast deal of nonsense," replied Harry, rather crossly, as I fancied.

"And yet 1 can't help being amused by it," replied I; "I'm like Fanny in that respect."

"I was not aware your sister had a taste for that style of conversation. I confess it's a sort of thing which very soon tires me."

"Splendid old fellow, Sir John," observed Lawless in an undertone, seating himself by Fanny; "I never look at him without thinking of one of those jolly old Israelites who used to keep knocking about the country with a plurality of wives and families, and an immense stud of camels and donkeys: they read 'em out to us at church, you know—what do you call 'em, eh?"

"One of the Patriarchs, I suppose you mean," replied Fanny, smiling.

"Eh—yes, that's the thing. Noah was rather in that line before he took to the water system, wasn't he? Well, now, if you can fancy one of these ancients, decently dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons, knee shorts and silk stockings, like a Christian, it's my belief he'd be the very moral (as the old women call it) of Sir John; uncommonly ~327~~ handsome he must have been—even better looking than Harry, when he was his age."

"Mr. Oaklands is so pale and thin now," replied Fanny.

"Eh! isn't he just?" was the rejoinder. "Many a man has been booked for an inside place in a hearse for a less hurt than his; and I don't know that he is out of the wood, even yet."

"Why, you don't think him worse?" exclaimed Fanny anxiously. "Nothing has gone wrong—you have not been told—are they keeping anything from me?"

"Eh! no! 'pon my word; Ellis, who is getting him into condition, say's he's all right, and will be as fresh as a colt in a month or two. Why, you look quite frightened."

"You startled me for a moment," replied Fanny, colouring slightly; "any little relapse renders Sir John so uncomfortable that we are naturally anxious on his account."

"I am sure Lawless is boring your sister," observed Oaklands, who had been sitting quite at the farther end of the drawing-room, cutting open the leaves of a new book. "I know that worried look of hers so well:—I shall go and interpose on her behalf.—Lawless," he continued, crossing over to him, "the billiard-room is lighted up, if you like to challenge Fairlegh to a game."

"Billiards, eh?" returned Lawless; "why, really, if you had walked as many miles to-day as I have, I don't think you'd much fancy trotting round a billiard-table. Besides, I'm very well off where I am," he added, with what was intended for a gallant glance towards Fanny; "here's metal more attractive, as the fellow says in the play."

Oaklands' only reply was a slight curl of the lip, and, turning to Fanny, he said, "Are you at all inclined to take your revenge? We shall have time for a good game if we begin at once; will you come into the music-room, or shall I fetch the chess-men here?"

"Is it not rather late?" replied Fanny hesitatingly.

"Not if we begin now," returned Oaklands.

"Mr. Lawless was offering to show me some tricks with cards; as they will not take so long a time as a game of chess, perhaps that would be most advisable this evening."

"Whichever you prefer; I will ring for cards," replied Oaklands coldly. He then waited until the servant had executed the order, and, as soon as Lawless had attracted public attention to his performance, left the room unobserved.

~328~~ Wonderful things did the cards effect under Lawless's able management—very wonderful indeed, until he showed you how they were done; and then the only wonder was that you had not found them out for yourself, and how you could have been stupid enough to be taken in by so simple a trick: and very great was Lawless on the occasion, and greater still was Ellis, who was utterly sceptical as to the possibility of performing any of the tricks beforehand, and quite certain, as soon as he had seen it, that he knew all about it, and could do it easily himself, and who, on trying, invariably failed; and yet, not profiting one bit by his experience, was just as sceptical and just as confident in regard to the next, which was of course attended by a like result. Very wonderful and very amusing was it all, and much laughter did it occasion; and the minutes flitted by on rapid wings, until my mother discovered that it was time for us to start on our walk to the cottage, a mode of progression of which Sir John by no means approved; he therefore rang the bell, and ordered the carriage. While they were getting it ready Harry's absence was for the first time observed, and commented on.

"Did anybody see when he left the room?" inquired Sir John.

"Yes," replied I, "he went away just as Lawless began his performances."

"Dear me! I hope he was not feeling ill," said my mother.

"Ill, ma'am!" exclaimed Ellis, "impossible; you don't know Mr. Oaklands' constitution as well as I do, or such an idea could never have occurred to you; besides, you can't for a moment suppose he would think of being taken suddenly ill without having consulted me on the subject. I must go and see after him, ma'am, directly, but it's quite impossible that he should be ill;" and as he spoke he left the room with hurried steps.

"My dear Fanny, how you made me jump! I hope you haven't done any mischief," exclaimed my mother, as Fanny, moving suddenly, knocked down the card-box, and scattered the contents on the carpet.

"I am sadly awkward," returned Fanny, stooping to pick up the box; "I do not think it is injured."

"My dear child, it does not in the least signify," said Sir John, taking her kindly by the hand; "why, you have quite frightened yourself, you silly little thing; you are actually trembling; sit down, my dear, sit down—never mind the cards. Frank, if you'll ring the bell, Edmunds will see to that."

~329~~ "No, no! we'll pick 'em up," exclaimed Lawless, going down on all fours; "don't send for the butler; he's such a pompous old boy; if I were to see him stooping down here, I should be pushing him over, or playing him some trick or other. I shouldn't be able to help it, he's so jolly fat. What a glorious confusion! kings and queens and little fishes all mixed up together!—here's the knave of clubs—hail-fellow-well-met with a thing that looks like a salmon with a swelled face! Well, you have been and gone and done it this time, Miss Fairlegh—I could not have believed it of you, Miss Fairlegh, oh!"

"Mind you pick them up properly," retorted Fanny; "if you really were such a conjurer as you pretended to be just now, you would only have to say 'hocus pocus,' and the cards would all jump into the box again in proper order."

"Then I should lose the pleasure of going on my knees in your service. There's a pretty speech for you, eh! I'll tell you what—you'll make a lady's man of me now, before you've done with me. I'm polishing rapidly—I know I am."

"It's all right!" exclaimed Ellis, entering. "I found Mr. Oaklands lying on the sofa in the library; he says he feels a little knocked up by his walk this morning, and desired me to apologise for his absence, and wish everybody good-night for him. I say, Fairlegh," continued he, drawing me a little on one side, "has anything happened to annoy him?"

"Nothing particular, that I know of," replied I; "why do you ask?"

"I thought he looked especially cross; and he called our friend Lawless an intolerable puppy, and wondered how any woman of common sense could contrive to put up with him—that's all," rejoined Ellis.

"Fanny refused to play chess with him, because she thought it too late in the evening;—that cannot have annoyed him?"

"Oh, no!" was the reply. "I see exactly what it is now: since the granulating process has been going on so beautifully in the side, his appetite has returned, and as he must not take any very active exercise just yet, the liver is getting torpid. I must throw in a little blue pill, and he'll be as good-tempered as an angel again; for, naturally, there is not a man breathing with a finer disposition, or a more excellent constitution, than Mr. Oaklands. Why, sir, the other day, when I had been relating a professional anecdote to him, he called me a 'bloodthirsty butcher,' and I honoured him for it—no hypocrisy there, sir."

~330~~ At this moment the carriage was announced, and we proceeded to take our departure, Lawless handing Fanny in, and then standing chattering at the window, till I was obliged to give him a hint that Sir John would not like to have the horses kept standing in the cold.

"You've made a conquest, Miss Fan," said I, as we drove off: "I never saw Lawless pay such attention to any woman before; even Di Clapperton did not produce nearly so strong an effect, I can assure you."

"I am quite innocent of any intention to captivate," replied Fanny. "Mr. Lawless amuses me, and I laugh sometimes at, and sometimes with, him."

"Still, my dear, you should be careful," interposed my mother; "though it's play to you, it may be death to him, poor young man! I got into a terrible scrape once in that way myself, when I was a girl; laughing and joking with a young gentleman in our neighbourhood, till he made me an offer one morning, and I really believe I should have been persuaded into marrying him, though I did not care a bit about him, if I had not been attached to your poor dear father at the time: now you have nothing of that sort to save you; so, as I said before, my dear, mind what you are about."

"I don't think Mr. Lawless's heart will be broken while there is a pack of hounds within reach, mamma dear," replied Fanny, glancing archly at me as she spoke.

As we were about to proceed to our several rooms for the night, I contrived to delay my mother for a moment under pretext of lighting a candle for her, and closing the door, I said:—

"My dear mother, if, by any odd chance, Fanny should be inclined to like Lawless, don't you say anything against it. Lawless is a good fellow; all his faults lie on the surface, and are none of them serious; he is completely his own master, and might marry any girl he pleased tomorrow, and I need not tell you would be a most excellent match for Fanny. He seems very much taken with her; and no wonder, for she is really excessively pretty; and when she is in spirits, as she was to-night, her manner is most piquante and fascinating."

"Well, my dear boy," was the reply, "you know your friend best, and if he and Fanny choose to take a fancy to each other, and you approve of it, I shall not say anything against it."

Whereupon I kissed her, called her a dear, good old mother, and carried up for her, in token of affection, her work-box, her reticule, her candle and a basket, ~331~~ containing a large bunch of keys, sundry halfpence and three pairs of my own stockings which wanted mending, a process which invariably rendered them unwearable ever after.



CHAPTER XLII — THE MEET AT EVERSLEY GORSE

"We'll make you some sport with the fox Ere we case him." —All's Well that Ends Well.

"Oh! for a fall, if fall she must, On the gentle lap of Flora; But still, thank Heaven, she clings to her seat." —Hood.

"She held his drooping head, Till given to breathe the freer air, Returning life repaid their care; He gazed on them with heavy sigh— I could have wished e'en thus to die." —Rokeby.

IT had been arranged between my mother and Oaklands, in the earlier part of the evening on which the events described in the last chapter took place, that Fanny should have her first ride on the day but one following, by which time it was supposed that the habit would be fit for service, and the young lady's mind sufficiently familiarised with the idea, to overcome a rather (as I considered) unnecessary degree of alarm which I believe would have led her, had she been allowed to decide for herself, to relinquish it altogether. The only stipulation my mother insisted on was, that I should accompany my sister in the character of chaperon, an arrangement to which, as it was quite evident that Lawless intended to form one of the party, I made no objection. Accordingly, on the day appointed, Oaklands made his appearance about ten o'clock, mounted on his favourite horse, and attended by a groom, leading the grey Arab which was destined to carry Fanny, as well as a saddle-horse for me.

"Bravo, Harry! it does one good to see you and the 'Cid' together again," exclaimed I, patting the arched neck of the noble animal; "how well he is looking!"

"Is he not?" replied Oaklands warmly; "the good old horse knew me as well as possible, and gave a neigh of pleasure when first I spoke to him. Is Fanny nearly ready?"

"She will be here directly," replied I; and the words had ~332~~ scarcely escaped my lips when she made her appearance, looking so lovely in her hat and habit, that I felt sure it would be all over with Lawless as soon as he saw her.

"Why, Fanny," exclaimed Oaklands, dismounting slowly and with effort, for he was still lamentably weak, "I have not seen you in a habit so long, I declare I should scarcely have known you; the effect is quite magical."

A smile and a blush were her only reply; and Oaklands continued, "Will you not like to mount now? Lawless will join us; but he means' to abandon us again when we get near Eversley Gorse, for the superior attractions of a run with the subscription pack."

"Oh, I hope the hounds will not come in our way," exclaimed Fanny; "if you think there is any chance of their frightening my horse, I had better not ride to-day."

"I do not think you need feel the least alarm; though spirited, Rose Alba is perfectly quiet; besides, we are not bound to ride towards Eversley, unless you approve of doing so," replied Oaklands.

As he spoke, Lawless rode up just in time to catch the last few words. He was dressed in an appropriate hunting costume, and sat his horse (a splendid black hunter, whose fiery temper rendered all those in whom the bump of caution was properly developed remarkably shy of him) as easily as if he formed part of the animal. As he checked his impatient steed, and taking off his hat, bowed to Fanny, his eyes sparkling, and his whole countenance beaming with pleasure and excitement, he really looked quite handsome. The same idea seemed to strike Fanny, who whispered to me, "If ever your friend has his picture taken, it should be on horseback".

"Good-morning, Miss Fairlegh!" cried Lawless, as flinging the rein to a groom, he sprang from the saddle, and bounded towards us; "glad to see you in what I consider the most becoming dress a lady can wear—very becoming it is too," he added, with a slight bend of the head to mark the compliment. "What did I hear you say about not riding to Eversley? You never can be so cruel as to deny me the pleasure of your company, and I must go there to join the meet. I would not have hunted to-day, though, if I had known you wished to ride in another direction."

"It was only that Fanny was afraid the hounds might frighten her horse," replied I.

"Oh, not the least danger; I'll take care of all that," returned Lawless; "the little white mare is as gentle as ~333~~ a lamb: I cantered her across the park myself yesterday on purpose to try—the sweetest thing for a lady I ever set eyes on. You have got some good cattle in your stables, Harry, I must own that."

"Hadn't we better think of mounting? Time will not stand still for us," observed I.

"Let me assist you, Fanny," said Oaklands, advancing towards her.

"Thank you," replied Fanny, drawing back: "but I need not give you the trouble; Frank will help me."

"Here, get out of the way!" cried Lawless, as I hesitated, fancying from the shade on Oaklands' brow that he might not like to be interfered with; "I see none of you know how to help a lady properly. Bring up that mare," he continued, "closer—that's it; stand before her head. Now, Miss Fairlegh, take a firm hold of the pummel; place your foot in my hand—are you ready?—spring! there we are—famously done! Oh, you know what you are about, I see. Let me give you the rein—between the fingers; yes—the snaffle will manage her best; the curb may hang loose, and only use it if it is necessary; let the groom stand by her till I am mounted; the black horse is rather fidgety; soh! boy, soh! quiet!—stand you brute!—there's a good boy; steady, steady—off we go!"

As Lawless pushed by me at the beginning of this speech, Oaklands advanced towards him, and his pale cheek flushed with anger. Apparently, however, changing his intention, he drew himself up haughtily, and, turning on his heel, walked slowly to his horse, mounted, and reining him back a few paces, sat motionless as an equestrian statue, gazing on the party with a gloomy brow until we had started, when, suddenly applying the spur, he joined us in a couple of bounds, and took his station at Fanny's left hand. Lawless having appropriated the off side, devoted himself to the double task of managing the Arab and doing the agreeable to its fair rider, which latter design he endeavoured to accomplish by chattering incessantly.

After proceeding a mile or two, Lawless sustaining the whole burden of the conversation, while Oaklands never spoke a word, we came upon a piece of level greensward.

"Here's a famous place for a canter, Miss Fairlegh," exclaimed Lawless; "lean a little more towards me—that's right. Are you ready?—just tickle her neck with the whip—not too hard—jerk the rein slightly—gently, mare, gently!—there's a good horse, that's it! Eh! don't ~334~~ you see she settles into her pace as quietly as a rocking-horse—oh! she's a sweet thing for a feather-weight;" and restraining the plunging of the fiery animal he rode, he leaned over, and patted the Arab's arched neck, as they went off at an easy canter.

I was about to follow their example, but observing that Oaklands delayed putting his horse in motion, it occurred to me that this being the first ride he had taken since his illness, the exertion might possibly be too much for his strength; I waited, therefore, till he joined me, when I inquired whether he felt any ill effects from the unwonted exertion.

"No," was the reply. "I feel an odd kind of fluttering in my side, but it is only weakness."

"Had you not better give it up for to-day, and let me ride back with you? I dare say Lawless would not care about hunting for once, and would see Fanny home."

"I will not go back!" he replied sternly; then checking himself, he added in a milder tone, "I mean to say it is not necessary—really I do not feel ill—besides, it was only a passing sensation, and is already nearly gone."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, "How very dictatorial and disagreeable Lawless has grown of late, and what absurd nonsense he does talk when he is in the society of ladies! I wonder your sister can tolerate it." "She not only tolerates it," returned I, slightly piqued at the contemptuous tone in which he spoke of Lawless, "but is excessively amused by it; why, she said last night he was quite delightful."

"I gave her credit for better taste," was Oaklands' reply; and striking his horse impatiently with the spur, he dashed forward, and in a few moments we had rejoined the others.

"I hope illness has not soured Harry's temper, but he certainly appears more prone to take offence than in former days," was my inward comment, as I pondered over his last words. "I am afraid Fanny has annoyed him; I must speak to her, and give her a hint to be more careful for the future."

Half an hour's brisk riding brought us to the outskirts of a broad common, a great portion of which was covered by the gorse or furze from which it took its name. Around the sides of this were gathered from sixty to eighty well-mounted men, either collected in groups, to discuss the various topics of local interest which occupy the minds of country gentlemen, or riding up and down in parties of two and three together, impatient for the ~335~~ commencement of their morning's sport; while, in a small clear space, nearly in the centre of the furze-brake, were stationed the hounds, with the huntsman and whippers-in. "There!" exclaimed Lawless, "look at that! Talk about operas and exhibitions! where will you find an exhibition as well worth seeing as that is? I call that a sight for an empress. Now are not you glad I made you come, Miss Fairlegh?"

"The red coats look very gay and picturesque, certainly," replied Fanny; "and what loves of horses, with their satin skins glistening in the sunshine! But I wish Rose Alba would not prick up her ears in that way; I'm rather frightened."

While Lawless was endeavouring to convince her there was no danger, and that he was able and willing to frustrate any nefarious designs which might enter into the graceful little head of the white Arab, a young man rode up to Oaklands, and shaking him warmly by the hand, congratulated him on being once more on horseback.

"Ah, Whitcombe, it's a long time since you and I have met," returned Harry; "you have been abroad, I think?" "Yes," was the reply; "Charles and I have been doing the grand tour, as they call it." "How is your brother?"

"Oh, he's all right, only he has grown a great pair of moustaches, and won't cut them off; he has taken up a notion they make him look killing, I believe. He was here a minute ago—yes, there he is, talking to Randolph. Come and speak to him, he'll be delighted to see you." "Keep your eye on Fanny's mare," said Oaklands, as he rode past me, "she seems fidgety, and that fellow Lawless is thinking more about the hounds than he is of her, though he does boast so much of the care he can take of her. I shall be with you again directly."

"Do you see the gentleman on the bright bay, Miss Fairlegh?" exclaimed Lawless; "there, he's speaking to Tom Field, the huntsman, now; he has got his watch in his hand; that's Mr. Rand, the master of the hounds; you'll see some fun directly. Ah! I thought so."

As he spoke, at a signal from the huntsman, the hounds dashed into cover, and were instantly lost to sight in a waving sea of gorse, save when a head or neck became visible for a moment, as some dog more eager than the rest sprang over a tangled brake, through which he was unable to force his way.

"Oh, you beauties!" resumed Lawless ~336~~ enthusiastically, "only watch them; they're drawing it in first-rato style, and there's rare lying in that cover. Now see how the furze shakes—look at their sterns nourishing; have at him there—have at him; that's right, Tom—cheer 'em on, boy—good huntsman is Tom Field—there again!—a fox, I'll bet five hundred pounds to a pony—hark!—a whimper—now wait—a challenge! another and another—listen to them—there's music—watch the right-hand corner—that's where he'll break cover for a thousand, and if he does, what a run we shall have! Look at those fools," he added, pointing to a couple of cockney-looking fellows who were cantering towards the very place he had pointed to, "they'll head him back as sure as fate; hold hard there—why does not somebody stop them? By Jove, I'll give them a taste of the double thong when I get up with them, even if it's the Lord Mayor of London and his brother. Look to your sister, Frank, I'll be back directly."

"Wait one minute," shouted I, but in vain; for before the words were well out of my mouth, he had driven the spurs into his eager horse, and was galloping furiously in the direction of the unhappy delinquents who had excited his indignation. My reason for asking him to wait a minute was, that just as the hounds began drawing the cover, I had made the agreeable discovery that the strap to which one of my saddle-girths was buckled had given way, and that there was nothing for it but to dismount and repair the evil; and I had scarcely concluded the best temporary arrangement I was able to effect, when Lawless started in pursuit of the cockneys. Almost at the same moment a countryman, stationed at the outside of the gorse, shouted "Tally-ho!" and the fox broke cover in gallant style, going away at a rattling pace, with four or five couple of hounds on his traces. In an instant all was confusion, cigars were thrown away, hats pressed firmly down upon the brow, and, with a rush like the outburst of some mighty torrent, the whole field to a man swept rapidly onward.

In the meanwhile Fanny's mare, which had for some minutes shown symptoms of excitement, pawing the ground with her fore-foot, pricking up her ears, and tossing her head impatiently, began, as Lawless rode off, to plunge in a manner which threatened at every moment to unseat her rider, and as several horsemen dashed by her, becoming utterly unmanageable, she set off at a wild gallop, drowning in the clatter of her hoofs Fanny's agonised cry for help. Driven nearly frantic by the ~337~~ peril in which my sister was placed, I was even yet prevented for a minute or more from hastening to her assistance, as my own horse, frightened by the occurrences I have described, struggled so violently to follow his companions as to render it very difficult for me to hold, and quite impossible to remount, him, so that when at length I succeeded in springing on his back, the hounds were already out of sight, and Fanny and her runaway steed so far ahead of me, that it seemed inevitable some accident must occur before I could overtake them, and it was with a sinking heart that I gave my horse the rein, and dashed forward in pursuit.

The course which Lawless had taken when he started on his wildgoose chase was down a ride cut through the furze, and it was along this turfy track that Rose Alba was now hurrying in her wild career. The horse on which I was mounted was a young thorough-bred, standing nearly sixteen hands high, and I felt certain that in the pursuit in which I was engaged, the length of his stride would tell, and that eventually we must come up with the fugitives; but so fleet was the little Arab, and so light the weight she had to carry, that I was sorry to perceive I gained upon them but slowly. It was clear that I should not overtake them before they reached the outskirts of the common, and then who could say what course the mare might take—what obstacles might not be in her way!

On—on we go in our headlong course, the turf reechoing to the muffled strokes of the horses' feet, while the furze, waving in the wind, seemed to glide by us in a rapid stream. Onward—still onward; the edge of the gorse appears a dark line in the distance—it is passed; we are crossing the belt of turf that surrounds it—and now, in what direction will the mare proceed? Will she take the broad road to the left, which leads again to the open country by a gentle ascent, where she can be easily overtaken and stopped; or will she turn to the right, and follow the lane, which leads across the terrace-field to the brook, swollen by the late rains into a river? See! she slackens her pace—she wavers, she doubts—she will choose the road! No; by Heaven! she turns to the right, and dashing down the lane like a flash of lightning, is for a moment hidden from view. But the space of time, short as it was, when her speed slackened, has enabled me to gain upon her considerably; and when I again catch sight of her she is not more than fifty yards ahead. Forward! good horse—forward! Life or death hangs upon thy ~338~~ fleetness. Vain hope! another turn brings us in sight of the brook, swollen by the breaking up of the frost into a dark, turbulent stream. Fanny perceives it too, and utters a cry of terror, which rings like a death-knell on my ear. There seems no possibility of escape for her; on the left hand an impenetrable hedge; on the right a steep bank, rising almost perpendicularly to the height of a man's head; in front the rushing water; while the mare, apparently irritated to frenzy by my pursuit, gallops wildly forward. Ha! what is that? a shout! and the figure of a man on horseback appears on the high ground to the right, between Fanny and the stream. He perceives the danger, and if he dare attempt the leap from the bank, may yet save her. Oh! that I were in his place. Hark! he shouts again to warn us of his intention, and putting spurs to his horse, faces him boldly at it. The horse perceives the danger, and will refuse the leap. No! urged by his rider, he will take it yet—now he springs—it is certain destruction. A crash! a fall! they are down! No; he has lifted his horse with the rein—they are apparently uninjured. Rose Alba, startled by the sudden apparition, slackens her pace—the stranger, taking advantage of the delay, dashes forward, seizes the rein, and succeeds in stopping her; as he does so, I approached near enough to recognise his features—



Unlooked for happiness! Fanny is saved, and Harry Oaklands is her preserver!

My first act on joining them was to spring from my horse and lift Fanny out of the saddle. "Are you really unhurt, my own darling?" exclaimed I; "can you stand without assistance?"

"Oh yes!" she replied, "it was only the fright—that dreadful river—but—" and raising her eyes timidly she advanced a step towards Oaklands.

"But you would fain thank Harry for saving you. My dear Harry," continued I, taking his hand and pressing it warmly, "if you only knew the agony of mind I have suffered on her account, you would be able to form some slight idea of the amount of gratitude I feel towards you for having rescued her. I shudder to think what might have been the end had you not so providentially interposed; but you do not listen to me—you turn as pale as ashes—are you ill?"

"It is nothing—a little faint, or so," was his reply, in a voice so weak as to be scarcely audible; and as he spoke, his head dropped heavily on his shoulder, and he would have fallen from his horse had not I caught him in my arms and supported him.

~339~~ Giving the horses into the custody of a farming lad (who had seen the leap, and run up, fearing some accident had occurred), I lifted Oaklands from the saddle, and laying him on the turf by the roadside, supported his head against my knee, while I endeavoured to loosen his neckcloth. Neither its removal, however, nor the unfastening his shirt-collar, appeared to revive him in the slightest degree, and being quite unaccustomed to seizures of this nature, I began to feel a good deal frightened about him. I suppose my face in some degree betrayed my thoughts, as Fanny, after glancing at me for a moment, exclaimed, wringing her hands in the excess of her grief and alarm, "Oh! he is dead—he is dead; and it is I who have killed him!" Then, flinging herself on her knees by his side, and taking his hand between both her own, she continued, "Oh, Harry, look up—speak to me—only one word;—he does not hear me—he will never speak again! Oh! he is dead!—he is dead! and it is I who have murdered him—I, who would gladly have died for him, as he has died for me." As she said this, her voice failed her, and, completely overcome by the idea that she had been the cause of Harry's death, she buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly.

At this moment it occurred to me that water might possibly revive him, and rousing Fanny from the passion of grief into which she had fallen, I made her take my place in supporting Oaklands' head, and running to the stream, which was not above fifty yards from the spot, filled my hat with water, sprinkled his face and brow with it, and had the satisfaction of seeing him gradually revive under the application.

As consciousness returned, he gazed around with a bewildered look, and passing his hand across his forehead, inquired, "What is all this? where am I? Ah! Frank, have I been ill?"

"You fainted from over-exertion, Harry," replied I, "but all will be well now."

"From over-exertion?" he repeated, slowly, as if striving to recall what had passed; "stay, yes, I remember, I took a foolish leap; why did I do it?"

"To stop Fanny's mare."

"Yes, to be sure, the water was out at the brook, and I thought the mare might attempt to cross it; but is Fanny safe? Where is she?"

"She is here," replied I, turning towards the place where she still knelt, her face hidden in her hands. "She is here to thank you for having saved her life."

~340~~ "Why, Fanny, was it you who were supporting my head? how very kind of you! What! crying?" he continued, gently attempting to withdraw her hands; "nay, nay, we must not have you cry."

"She was naturally a good deal frightened by the mare's running away," replied I, as Fanny still appeared too much overcome to speak for herself; "and then she was silly enough to fancy, when you fainted, that you were actually dead, I believe; but I can assure you that she is not ungrateful."

"No, indeed," murmured Fanny, in a voice scarcely audible from emotion.

"Why, it was no very great feat after all," rejoined Harry. "On such a jumper as the Cid, and coming down on soft marshy ground too, 1 would not mind the leap any day; besides, do you think I was going to remain quietly there, and see Fanny drowned before my eyes? if it had been a precipice, I would have gone over it." While he spoke, Harry had regained his feet; and, after walking up and down for a minute or so, and giving himself a shake, to see if he was all right, he declared that he felt quite strong again, and able to ride home. And so, having devised a leading-rein for Rose Alba, one end of which I kept in my own possession, we remounted our horses, and reached Heathfield without further misadventure.



CHAPTER XLIII — A CHARADE—NOT ALL ACTING

"And then, and much it helped his chance— He could sing, and play first fiddle, and dance— Perform charades, and proverbs of France." —Hood.

"I have often heard this and that and t'other pain mentioned as the worst that mortals can endure—such as the toothache, earache, headache, cramp in the calf of the leg, a boil, or a blister—now, I protest, though I have tried all these, nothing seems to me to come up to a pretty sharp fit of jealousy." —Thinks I to Myself.

LAWLESS'S penitence, when he learned the danger in which Fanny had been placed by his thoughtlessness and impetuosity, was so deep and sincere that it was impossible to be angry with him; and even Oaklands, who at first declared he considered his conduct unpardonable, was obliged to confess that, when a man had owned his fault frankly, and told you he was really sorry for it, ~341~~ nothing remained but to forgive and forget it. And so everything fell into its old train once more, and the next few days passed smoothly and uneventfully. I had again received a note from Clara, in answer to one I had written to her. Its tenour was much the same as that of the last she had sent me. Cumberland was still absent, and Mr. Vernor so constantly occupied that she saw very little of him. She begged me not to attempt to visit her at present; a request in the advisability of which reason so fully acquiesced, that although feeling rebelled against it with the greatest obstinacy, I felt bound to yield. Harry's strength seemed now so thoroughly re-established, that Sir John, who was never so happy as when he could exercise hospitality, had invited a party of friends for the ensuing week, several of whom were to stay at the Hall for a few days; amongst others Freddy Coleman, who was to arrive beforehand, and assist in the preparations; for charades were to be enacted, and he was reported skilful in the arrangement of these saturnalia of civilised society, or, as he himself expressed it, he was "up to all the dodges connected with the minor domestic enigmatical melodrama". By Harry's recommendation I despatched a letter to Mr. Frampton, claiming his promise of visiting me at Heathfield Cottage, urging as a reason for his doing so immediately, that he would meet four of his old Helmstone acquaintance, viz., Oak-lands, Lawless, Coleman, and myself. The morning after Coleman's arrival, the whole party formed themselves into a committee of taste, to decide on the most appropriate words for the charades, select dresses, and, in short, make all necessary arrangements for realising a few of the very strong and original, but somewhat vague, ideas, which everybody appeared to have conceived on the subject.