CHAPTER XXIV. From Oakhurst to Tunbridge
Having her lily handkerchief in token of adieu to the departingtravellers, Mrs. Lambert and her girls watched them pacing leisurely onthe first few hundred yards of their journey, and until such time as atree-clumped corner of the road hid them from the ladies' view. Behindthat clump of limes the good matron had many a time watched those sheloved best disappear. Husband departing to battle and danger, sons toschool, each after the other had gone on his way behind yonder greentrees, returning as it pleased Heaven's will at his good time, andbringing pleasure and love back to the happy little family. Besidestheir own instinctive nature (which to be sure aids wonderfully in thematter), the leisure and contemplation attendant upon their home lifeserve to foster the tenderness and fidelity of our women. The men gone,there is all day to think about them, and to-morrow and to-morrow--whenthere certainly will be a letter--and so on. There is the vacant roomto go look at, where the boy slept last night, and the impression of hiscarpet bag is still on the bed. There is his whip hung up in the hall,and his fishing-rod and basket--mute memorials of the brief bygonepleasures. At dinner there comes up that cherry-tart, half of whichour darling ate at two o'clock in spite of his melancholy, and with achoking little sister on each side of him. The evening prayer is saidwithout that young scholar's voice to utter the due responses. Midnightand silence come, and the good mother lies wakeful, thinking how one ofthe dear accustomed brood is away from the nest. Morn breaks, home andholidays have passed away, and toil and labour have begun for him. Sothose rustling limes formed, as it were, a screen between the world andour ladies of the house at Oakhurst. Kind-hearted Mrs. Lambert alwaysbecame silent and thoughtful, if by chance she and her girls walked upto the trees in the absence of the men of the family. She said she wouldlike to carve their names up on the grey silvered trunks, in the midstof true-lovers' knots, as was then the kindly fashion; and Miss Theo,who had an exceeding elegant turn that way, made some verses regardingthe trees, which her delighted parent transmitted to a periodical ofthose days.
"Now we are out of sight of the ladies," says Colonel Lambert, giving aparting salute with his hat, as the pair of gentlemen trotted past thelimes in question. "I know my wife always watches at her window until weare round this corner. I hope we shall have you seeing the trees and thehouse again, Mr. Warrington; and the boys being at home, mayhap therewill be better sport for you."
"I never want to be happier, sir, than I have been," replied Mr.Warrington; "and I hope you will let me say, that I feel as if I amleaving quite old friends behind me."
"The friend at whose house we shall sup to-night hath a son, who isan old friend of our family, too; and my wife, who is an inveteratemarriage-monger, would have made a match between him and one of mygirls, but that the Colonel hath chosen to fall in love with somebodyelse."
"Ah!" sighed Mr. Warrington.
"Other folks have done the same thing. There were brave fellows beforeAgamemnon."
"I beg your pardon, sir. Is the gentleman's name--Aga----? I did notquite gather it," meekly inquired the young traveller.
"No, his name is James Wolfe," cried the Colonel, smiling. "He is ayoung fellow still, or what we call so, being scarce thirty years old.He is the youngest lieutenant-colonel in the army, unless, to be sure,we except a few scores of our nobility, who take rank before us commonfolk."
"Of course of course!" says the Colonel's young companion with truecolonial notions of aristocratic precedence.
"And I have seen him commanding captains, and very brave captains, whowere thirty years his seniors, and who had neither his merit nor hisgood fortune. But, lucky as he hath been, no one envies his superiority,for, indeed, most of us acknowledge that he is our superior. He isbeloved by every man of our old regiment and knows every one of them. Heis a good scholar as well as a consummate soldier, and a master of manylanguages."
"Ah, sir!" said Harry Warrington, with a sigh of great humility; "I feelthat I have neglected my own youth sadly; and am come to England but anignoramus. Had my dear brother been alive, he would have represented ourname and our colony, too, better than I can do. George was a scholar;George was a musician; George could talk with the most learned peoplein our country, and I make no doubt would have held his own here. Do youknow, sir, I am glad to have come home, and to you especially, if but tolearn how ignorant I am."
"If you know that well, 'tis a great gain already," said the Colonel,with a smile.
"At home, especially of late, and since we lost my brother, I used tothink myself a mighty fine fellow, and have no doubt that the folksround about flattered me. I am wiser now,--that is, I hope I am,--thoughperhaps I am wrong, and only bragging again. But you see, sir, thegentry in our colony don't know very much, except about dogs and horses,and betting and games. I wish I knew more about books, and less aboutthem."
"Nay. Dogs and horses are very good books, too, in their way, and we mayread a deal of truth out of 'em. Some men are not made to be scholars,and may be very worthy citizens and gentlemen in spite of theirignorance. What call have all of us to be especially learned or wise, orto take a first place in the world? His Royal Highness is commander, andMartin Lambert is colonel, and Jack Hunt, who rides behind yonder, was aprivate soldier, and is now a very honest, worthy groom. So as we alldo our best in our station, it matters not much whether that be highor low. Nay, how do we know what is high and what is low? and whetherJack's currycomb, or my epaulets, or his Royal Highness's baton, maynot turn out to be pretty equal? When I began life, et militavi nonsine--never mind what--I dreamed of success and honour; now I think ofduty, and yonder folks, from whom we parted a few hours ago. Let us troton, else we shall not reach Westerham before nightfall."
At Westerham the two friends were welcomed by their hosts, a statelymatron, an old soldier, whose recollections and services were offive-and-forty years back, and the son of this gentleman and lady, theLieutenant-Colonel of Kingsley's regiment, that was then stationed atMaidstone, whence the Colonel had come over on a brief visit to hisparents. Harry looked with some curiosity at this officer, who, youngas he was, had seen so much service, and obtained a character so high.There was little of the beautiful in his face. He was very lean and verypale; his hair was red, his nose and cheek-bones were high; but he hada fine courtesy towards his elders, a cordial greeting towards hisfriends, and an animation in conversation which caused those who heardhim to forget, even to admire, his homely looks.
Mr. Warrington was going to Tunbridge? Their James would bear himcompany, the lady of the house said, and whispered something to ColonelLambert at supper, which occasioned smiles and a knowing wink or twofrom that officer. He called for wine, and toasted "Miss Lowther." "Withall my heart," cried the enthusiastic Colonel James, and drained hisglass to the very last drop. Mamma whispered her friend how James andthe lady were going to make a match, and how she came of the famousLowther family of the North.
"If she was the daughter of King Charlemagne," cries Lambert, "she isnot too good for James Wolfe, or for his mother's son."
"Mr. Lambert would not say so if he knew her," the young Coloneldeclared.
"Oh, of course, she is the priceless pearl, and you are nothing," criesmamma. "No. I am of Colonel Lambert's opinion; and, if she brought allCumberland to you for a jointure, I should say it was my James's due.That is the way with 'em, Mr. Warrington. We tend our children throughfevers, and measles, and whooping-cough, and small-pox; we send them tothe army and can't sleep at night for thinking; we break our hearts atparting with 'em, and have them at home only for a week or two in theyear, or maybe ten years, and, after all our care, there comes a lasswith a pair of bright eyes, and away goes our boy, and never cares a figfor us afterwards."
"And pray, my dear, how did you come to marry James's papa?" saidthe elder Colonel Wolfe. "And why didn't you stay at home with yourparents?"
"Because James's papa was gouty, and wanted somebody to take care ofhim, I suppose; not because I liked him a bit," answers the
lady: and sowith much easy talk and kindness the evening passed away.
On the morrow, and with many expressions of kindness and friendship forhis late guest, Colonel Lambert gave over the young Virginian to Mr.Wolfe's charge, and turned his horse's head homewards, while the twogentlemen sped towards Tunbridge Wells. Wolfe was in a hurry to reachthe place, Harry Warrington was, perhaps, not quite so eager: nay, whenLambert rode towards his own home, Harry's thoughts followed him witha great deal of longing desire to the parlour at Oakhurst, where hehad spent three days in happy calm. Mr. Wolfe agreed in all Harry'senthusiastic praises of Mr. Lambert, and of his wife, and of hisdaughters, and of all that excellent family. "To have such a good name,and to live such a life as Colonel Lambert's," said Wolfe, "seem to menow the height of human ambition."
"And glory and honour?" asked Warrington, "are those nothing? and wouldyou give up the winning of them?"
"They were my dreams once," answered the Colonel, who had now differentideas of happiness, "and now my desires are much more tranquil. I havefollowed arms ever since I was fourteen years of age. I have seen almostevery kind of duty connected with my calling. I know all the garrisontowns in this country, and have had the honour to serve wherever therehas been work to be done during the last ten years. I have done prettynear the whole of a soldier's duty, except, indeed, the command ofan army, which can hardly be hoped for by one of my years; and now,methinks, I would like quiet, books to read, a wife to love me, and somechildren to dandle on my knee. I have imagined some such Elysium formyself, Mr. Warrington. True love is better than glory; and a tranquilfireside, with the woman of your heart seated by it, the greatest goodthe gods can send to us."
Harry imagined to himself the picture which his comrade called up. Hesaid "Yes," in answer to the other's remark; but, no doubt, did not givea very cheerful assent, for his companion observed upon the expressionof his face.
"You say 'Yes' as if a fireside and a sweetheart were not particularlyto your taste."
"Why, look you, Colonel, there are other things which a young fellowmight like to enjoy. You have had sixteen years of the world: and I ambut a few months away from my mother's apron-strings. When I have seena campaign or two, or six, as you have: when I have distinguished myselflike Mr. Wolfe, and made the world talk of me, I then may think ofretiring from it."
To these remarks, Mr. Wolfe, whose heart was full of a very differentmatter, replied by breaking out in a further encomium of the joys ofmarriage; and a special rhapsody upon the beauties and merits of hismistress--a theme intensely interesting to himself, though not so,possibly, to his hearer, whose views regarding a married life, ifhe permitted himself to entertain any, were somewhat melancholy anddespondent. A pleasant afternoon brought them to the end of their ride;nor did any accident or incident accompany it, save, perhaps, a mistakewhich Harry Warrington made at some few miles' distance from TunbridgeWells, where two horsemen stopped them, whom Harry was for charging,pistol in hand, supposing them to be highwaymen. Colonel Wolfe,laughing, bade Mr. Warrington reserve his fire, for these folks wereonly innkeepers' agents, and not robbers (except in their calling).Gumbo, whose horse ran away with him at this particular juncture, wasbrought back after a great deal of bawling on his master's part, and thetwo gentlemen rode into the little town, alighted at their inn, and thenseparated, each in quest of the ladies whom he had come to visit.
Mr. Warrington found his aunt installed in handsome lodgings, with aguard of London lacqueys in her anteroom, and to follow her chair whenshe went abroad. She received him with the utmost kindness. His cousin,my Lady Maria, was absent when he arrived: I don't know whether theyoung gentleman was unhappy at not seeing her: or whether he disguisedhis feelings, or whether Madame de Bernstein took any note regardingthem.
A beau in a rich figured suit, the first specimen of the kind Harry hadseen, and two dowagers with voluminous hoops and plenty of rouge, wereon a visit to the Baroness when her nephew made his bow to her. Sheintroduced the young man to these personages as her nephew, the youngCroesus out of Virginia, of whom they had heard. She talked about theimmensity of his estate, which was as large as Kent; and, as she hadread, infinitely more fruitful. She mentioned how her half-sister, MadamEsmond, was called Princess Pocahontas in her own country. She nevertired in her praises of mother and son, of their riches and their goodqualities. The beau shook the young man by the hand, and was delightedto have the honour to make his acquaintance. The ladies praised himto his aunt so loudly that the modest youth was fain to blush at theircompliments. They went away to inform the Tunbridge society of the newsof his arrival. The little place was soon buzzing with accounts of thewealth, the good breeding, and the good looks of the Virginian.
"You could not have come at a better moment, my dear," the Baroness saidto her nephew, as her visitors departed with many curtseys and congees."Those three individuals have the most active tongues in the Wells. Theywill trumpet your good qualities in every company where they go. I haveintroduced you to a hundred people already, and, Heaven help me! havetold all sorts of fibs about the geography of Virginia in order todescribe your estate. It is a prodigious large one, but I am afraid Ihave magnified it. I have filled it with all sorts of wonderful animals,gold mines, spices; I am not sure I have not said diamonds. As foryour negroes, I have given your mother armies of them, and, in fact,represented her as a sovereign princess reigning over a magnificentdominion. So she has a magnificent dominion: I cannot tell to a fewhundred thousand pounds how much her yearly income is, but I have nodoubt it is a very great one. And you must prepare, sir, to be treatedhere as the heir-apparent of this royal lady. Do not let your head beturned. From this day forth you are going to be flattered as you havenever been flattered in your life."
"And to what end, ma'am?" asked the young gentleman. "I see no reasonwhy I should be reputed so rich, or get so much flattery."
"In the first place, sir, you must not contradict your old aunt, whohas no desire to be made a fool of before her company. And as for yourreputation, you must know we found it here almost ready-made on ourarrival. A London newspaper has somehow heard of you, and come out witha story of the immense wealth of a young gentleman from Virginia latelylanded, and a nephew of my Lord Castlewood. Immensely wealthy you are,and can't help yourself. All the world is eager to see you. You shallgo to church to-morrow morning, and see how the whole congregation willturn away from its books and prayers, to worship the golden calf in yourperson. You would not have had me undeceive them, would you, and speakill of my own flesh and blood?"
"But how am I bettered by this reputation for money?" asked Harry.
"You are making your entry into the world, and the gold key will openmost of its doors to you. To be thought rich is as good as to be rich.You need not spend much money. People will say that you hoard it, andyour reputation for avarice will do you good rather than harm. You'llsee how the mothers will smile upon you, and the daughters will curtsey!Don't look surprised! When I was a young woman myself I did as allthe rest of the world did, and tried to better myself by more than onedesperate attempt at a good marriage. Your poor grandmother, who was asaint upon earth to be sure, bating a little jealousy, used to scold me,and called me worldly. Worldly, my dear! So is the world worldly; andwe must serve it as it serves us; and give it nothing for nothing. Mr.Henry Esmond Warrington--I can't help loving the two first names, sir,old woman as I am, and that I tell you--on coming here or to London,would have been nobody. Our protection would have helped him but little.Our family has little credit, and, entre nous, not much reputation. Isuppose you know that Castlewood was more than suspected in '45, andhath since ruined himself by play?"
Harry had never heard about Lord Castlewood or his reputation.
"He never had much to lose, but he has lost that and more: his wretchedestate is eaten up with mortgages. He has been at all sorts of schemesto raise money:--my dear, he has been so desperate at times, that I didnot think my diamonds were safe with him; and have travelled to and fromCastlewood wit
hout them. Terrible, isn't it, to speak so of one's ownnephew? But you are my nephew, too, and not spoiled by the world yet,and I wish to warn you of its wickedness. I heard of your play-doingswith Will and the chaplain, but they could do you no harm,--nay, I amtold you had the better of them. Had you played with Castlewood, youwould have had no such luck: and you would have played, had not an oldaunt of yours warned my Lord Castlewood to keep his hands off you."
"What, ma'am, did you interfere to preserve me?"
"I kept his clutches off from you: be thankful that you are come out ofthat ogre's den with any flesh on your bones! My dear, it has been therage and passion of all our family. My poor silly brother played; bothhis wives played, especially the last one, who has little else to liveupon now but her nightly assemblies in London, and the money for thecards. I would not trust her at Castlewood alone with you: the passionis too strong for them, and they would fall upon you, and fleece you;and then fall upon each other, and fight for the plunder. But for hisplace about the Court my poor nephew hath nothing, and that is Will'sfortune, too, sir, and Maria's and her sister's."
"And are they, too, fond of the cards?"
"No; to do poor Molly justice, gaming is not her passion: but when sheis amongst them in London, little Fanny will bet her eyes out of herhead. I know what the passion is, sir: do not look so astonished; I havehad it, as I had the measles when I was a child. I am not cured quite.For a poor old woman there is nothing left but that. You will see somehigh play at my card-tables to-night. Hush! my dear. It was that Iwanted, and without which I moped so at Castlewood! I could not win ofmy nieces or their mother. They would not pay if they lost. 'Tis best towarn you, my dear, in time, lest you should be shocked by the discovery.I can't live without the cards, there's the truth!"
A few days before, and while staying with his Castlewood relatives,Harry, who loved cards, and cock-fighting, and betting, and everyconceivable sport himself, would have laughed very likely at thisconfession. Amongst that family into whose society he had fallen, manythings were laughed at, over which some folks looked grave. Faith andhonour were laughed at; pure lives were disbelieved; selfishness wasproclaimed as common practice; sacred duties were sneeringly spoken of,and vice flippantly condoned. These were no Pharisees: they professed nohypocrisy of virtue, they flung no stones at discovered sinners:--theysmiled, shrugged their shoulders, and passed on. The members of thisfamily did not pretend to be a whit better than their neighbours, whomthey despised heartily; they lived quite familiarly with the folks aboutwhom and whose wives they told such wicked, funny stories; they tooktheir share of what pleasure or plunder came to hand, and lived from dayto day till their last day came for them. Of course there are no suchpeople now; and human nature is very much changed in the last hundredyears. At any rate, card-playing is greatly out of mode: about thatthere can be no doubt: and very likely there are not six ladies offashion in London who know the difference between Spadille and Manille.
"How dreadfully dull you must have found those humdrum people at thatvillage where we left you--but the savages were very kind to you,child!" said Madame de Bernstein, patting the young man's cheek with herpretty old hand.
"They were very kind; and it was not at all dull, ma'am, and I thinkthey are some of the best people in the world," said Harry, with hisface flushing up. His aunt's tone jarred upon him. He could not bearthat any one should speak or think lightly of the new friends whom hehad found. He did not want them in such company.
The old lady, imperious and prompt to anger, was about to resent thecheck she had received, but a second thought made her pause. "Those twogirls," she thought, "a sick-bed--an interesting stranger--of coursehe has been falling in love with one of them." Madame Bernstein lookedround with a mischievous glance at Lady Maria, who entered the room atthis juncture.
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