BenKEier LIBRARY UNIVERSITY Of CALkfO&H\A iiiiitni LONDON : LONGMAN, GKLLN, LONGMAN, & KOBLKTS. WILD DAYRELL; BIOGRAPHY OF A GENTLEMAN EXILE, JOHN KEMP, Shooting and Fishing ix Lower Brittany," "Sketches from THE South oe France," &c. '•:' ^ SEOonsrr) eiditioist. LONDON: LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, AND ROBERTS. 1862. London : Printed by Truscott, Son, & SiramonS; Suflfolk Lane, City. K3I5- PEEFACE. ^^^^ What has become of them ? What has become of some of our contemporaries, who, as boys, started in the great race of Life on equal terms with ourselves, but in whose career at the University, London, and elsewhere, we saw only " the beginning of the end ?" They have failed, been removed from the scene, and are now for- gotten, save when old comrades call over the roll of men of their day. This true Biography of Wild Dayrell, the author hopes, may supply a missing link in the record of our lives, and clear up any mystery enveloping the fortunes of — to Anglicise a French phrase — the Forgottens. London, Jul^, 1861. 702 WILD DAYEELL CHAPTER I. " Is the favourite to win 1" asked a young lieutenant in one of her Majesty^s crack regiments, of Dayrell, who sat opposite him eating his breakfast. " Did you pick up any news when you went to see the thoroughbreds air themselves on Doncaster moor?^' " You know quite as much as I do/' answered the latter : " that is, what a good horse Sellington is ; how he won the Derby easily, and at York last month beat most of the horses that have to meet him in the race to-morrow. His only dark rivals are Boanerges and Nutmeg, and they, I should think, cannot be of much account, to judge from the dis- graceful way their stable companions were beaten when they tried to get the favourite's measure. I consider it a moral certainty, and, turning a deaf ear 4- 2 WILD DAYRELL. to the shaves of the race-course, shall stand or fall by the fortunes of Sellington/^ '^ I shall follow your example/' said the young lieutenant, ^^ and, if the favourite wins, I have yet six months^ leave, and, after the settling, shall carry on the war for that time ; if, on the contrary, he is beaten, I shall join my regiment in India. To tell the truth, I am tired of the depot at Maidstone, and would just as soon be roughing it on the banks of the Sutlej as stay here without plenty of money to enjoy my leave and hunting in Northamptonshire/^ Thus, over their coffee and muffins, chatted two average specimens of our rising generation in a small lodging at Doncaster, on the morning preceding that which was to witness the great race of the North. Our hero, Dayrell, was now about twenty-five years of age, of good family, prepossessing manners, and, as the ladies would say, decidedly good-looking. At an early age he had been sent to a public school, where he had shone as a leader at foot-ball, cricket, and other games — a fact that tended to exalt him much in the good opinion of the boys, but consider- ably disgusted the head-master, who only tolerated, but by no means loved, such unacademical amusements. His talents were above the average — another fact that rendered other backslidings doubly disturbing to his worthy pedagogue ; and when he did occasionally WILD DAYRELL. 3 put his shoulder to the wheel of learning, and send up a copy of verses or Latin prose worthy even of the notice of the Hertford examiners, his plodding companions had good reason for thinking that he would have been a dangerous rival in the race for honours. His tutor thus graphically summed up his character: "He was a good fellow, with plenty of talent, but ruined by his love of field sports." So on making his bow to the public school, his prizes were not the gift of his master, but of his com- panionsj who testified by a shower of leaving books how deeply they regretted the loss of their cricket captain. Alma Mater, to whose nursing he was soon after- wards confided, was (and, perhaps, is still) a dan- gerous mother for such a character as Dayrell. Untrammelled by the wholesome fear of a father, who died when Dayrell was yet a boy, and supplied with more money than most other men of his college, he did not find his own level, but took a position above his less fortunate compeers. Hence he was quite an oracle to the men of his year, and an object of "attention" to those townsmen of the universit}', who quietly prey upon open-handed youth at the same time that they pander to their tastes. No wonder that Dayrell soon saw more of the interior economy of the old Berkshire kennels than the b2 4 WILD DAYRELL. inside of the musty lecture-room, and thought the chances of the favourite for the ensuing Derby more worthy his attention than an Aristotleian theory or a problem in Euclid. In fact, his idle habits grew upon him to such an extent, that it is difficult to imagine how he scrambled through his Little-go. Some people did affirm, that when he wanted the figure for an Euclidian definition, so kindly set before him by the examiners, he solved the difficulty by tossing : —heads, a parallelogram — tails, a triangle ; and that, acting on the result obtained by that original pro- cess, he selected the right framework for his pro- position. That he escaped rustication was partly owing to his sedulous attendance at chapel — the performance of which duty covers a multitude of sins in the opinion of the authorities — and partly to vague hopes of the Master, that his clever scape- grace might yet do something for the honour of his college. Dayrell did not fulfil any such anti- cipations. He certainly never was plucked, though how he obtained his degree was a greater mystery than his passage of the pons asinorum. The " three- fold" torture now in vogue was, luckily for Dayrell, not invented in his day. At the age of twenty- one our hero left the Uni- versity, and took up his quarters in London, where a larger field was open to his talent for readily WILD DATRELL. 5 calculating the odds, and obtaining a practical acquaintance with the doctrine of chances — a more necessary accomplishment on the Turf than any knowledge of the condition or capabilities of the horses themselves. Here also he earned his soubri- quet of "Wild," not because he was guilty of excesses, such as the epithet might seem to imply ; on the contrary, he was rather a quiet man, and bet more for the eclat of the thing than from love of money ; but simply from the lucky hit he made when the animal of that name won the principal race of the year. His success for three seasons was unparalleled. "Lucky Dayrell" was in everybody's mouth as the rising guide to fortune. Whatever " Lucky Dayrell " did, should, they said, be implicitly followed. If the gentlemen lost by the defeat of the favourite, it was soon bruited about that Dayrell had laid against him, and had reserved the actual winner to carry him through triumphant. If backers of horses, suspicion's and afraid of the intentions of an owner, held aloof from investing on some good public performer, Dayrell appeared in the market, took the odds heavily from some of the ring, and, when the event was over, simply remarked to his chagrined friends, " I told you how it would be." Altogether our hero, in spite of what sagacious old stagers said, was considered to be the b3 6 WILD DAYRELL. man who had at last cut the Gordian knot^ and dis- covered the short and certain road to wealth. The tide^ however, turned at last ; Fortune, weary of her favourite, had been very unkind during the last six months. The results of every great race had been disastrous, and even in those of smaller consequence, where his luck had hitherto been proverbial, his calculations were completely upset. The present St. Leger was to make or mar him. In the former case he had determined to quit the Turf, and take to some less perilous pursuit; for the latter emergency he was not equally prepared, although he clung to the delusive hope that he could still enter upon some plodding path of life, which might offer him a competence, if not steadily lead him on to fortune. Many like him have been led away by the same will-o'-the-wisp, in fancying that, without years of probation and a formed character, they could be received into those professions for which other men qualify by a long course of pre- paration and study. Dayrell, although he attended the first day's racing at Doncaster, took but little interest in the proceedings, albeit a goodly show of jockeys an- swered to the starter's summons, and the decisions of the judge were received with the customary enthusiasm by winners, and ill-concealed regret by WILD DAYRELL. 7 the losers. He regarded it, as we should the tuning of the instruments that preface the grand efforts of the band at an opera — a kind of prelude and foil to the all-absorbing event of the following day. When he felt the morrow would see him " aut Ccesar aut nullus,'' he had no inclination for winning or losing a few pounds, which could make but little diiference in the balance that was to be in his favour or the reverse. So he spent his time in loitering near the ring, where stentorian voices proclaimed their willingness to lay against anything, from the favourite to the most hopeless outsider, and per- suaded himself, from many investments made, that his horse still basked in the sunshine of popular favour. That night there was a mighty gathering in ^' the rooms,^* devoted for the nonce to speculators in racing, and devotees of Mammon in yet more exciting games of chance. Thither had flocked the habitues of the Turf, the gentlemen just returned from the moors, the representatives of the army, and all the mixed assemblage that nobody knows anything about, but who are sure to be present on the evening before the St. Leger. There were the betting men in full evening costume, as though they had just left the most recherche dinners instead of their quiet " chop or steak feed " at the Salutation, B 4s 8 WILD DAYRELL. gliding about the room, book in hand, and plying their trade with untiring energy. Knots of men would suddenly congregate round some well-known speculator, listen eagerly to his offers^ as if they could thus fathom his secrets, and would as quickly disperse to form again elsewhere. At intervals might be seen a well-known character, dressed like the most dapper of linen-draper's assistants, who moved from one circle to another, and invested largely against Sellington, wherever a chance backer could be found. Dayrell recognised him as the agent of a magnate of the ring, and knew the commission looked ominous, when he offered 6,000 to 4,000 against the favourite, and met with no response. " Quem Deus vult perdere, prius dementat." No other explanation could be given for Dayrell being so obstinate as not to take a hint like this. Even Andrews, whose business it is to take subscrip- tions, and see that improper persons do not enter the subscription-room, said to him, winking at the same time, " A deaf man could understand that. Poor Sellington, he is dead to-night; I suppose we shall have his funeral to-morrow." Like a troubled spirit, Dayrell left the large room, and went to one of the smaller, where were roulette WILD DAYRELL. 9 tables covered with sovereigns, which moustachioed gentlemen picked up and relinquished with a non- chalance which savoured strongly of co-operation with the proprietor. But this game was unpopular, so he went up-stairs to the two tables, where the oft- repeated "Make your sets/' and "The main will be," had collected a double row of players. But he did not join them. His mind was pre-occupied. He was not even enticed by the plethoric, gouty-toed Norris, who, with his hands in his pockets, and shaking his head, repeated his old, old story : " The bank, sir, has been nearly ruined to-night by the good luck of the gentlemen ; only five minutes ago Mr. Digwell threw eleven mains." Restless and disgusted with the scene, Dayrell left the rooms and passed through the mob that thronged the entrance, and the knots of idlers who, regardless of the drizzling rain, conversed on the pavement, or the middle of the street, or wherever they could find standing-room, in their anxiety to pick up informa- tion that might be turned into gold on the morrow. He returned to his room, whither the hum of voices from the centre of operations still followed him, and whose interior was rendered more gloomy by the sickly light that came from the gas-lights in the street below. Let us pass over the wearisome night. We have none of us reason to envy the state of the 10 WILD DAYRELL. speculator's mind when awake, or the tossings and unquiet rest, when fitful slumbers at length fall to his share. At the first break of day, Dayrell was aroused by the roll of vehicles and the clamp of feet, betokening the arrival of fresh patrons of the great northern carnival. It was a foggy morning, and from his window he contemplated the living stream that passed below. Here a party of stout graziers, with greasy Macintosh coats on their arms, and their pockets bulging with substantial luncheons, making the best of their way to their customary halting-places. On their heels followed jolly-looking farmers, breeders of short horns, tradesmen, and Yorkshiremen of every grade ; some speculating, in their broad dialect, on the result of the race, others laughing and joking, as true holiday-makers should. In the square oppo- site Dayrell saw the stall of the old game-vendor, sole occupant of that area, who, sticking his hands cabman-fashion against his sides to promote circula- tion of the blood, looked out for customers among the better-dressed, or cracked jokes with his poorer brethren. Looming through the mist, and suspended by the lower mandible, hung the spectral corpses of four grouse, changed, indeed, in appearance since they saluted the rising sun with the proud gestures and shrill crow of their species. Tell us, Mr. Game- WILD DAYRELL. 11 dealer, what superstition inclines you to the mystic number four? Why have we never seen more or less in your stall on any of our visits to Doncaster ? Tell us, are they dummies, or are they the ghosts of their unfortunate predecessors ? Dayrell hastily dressed himself, and, as his custom was, started for the course on foot to see the sheeted strings take their morning canters. Bent on the same errand, a sprinkling of gentlemen, snugly wrapped in coats and comforters, had already made their appearance ; as well as a legion of touts, who occasionally made frantic rushes towards the rails when the horses cantered by, in the hope of gathering information for their credulous employers. Gentle- men sportsmen, as the card-sellers call you, you are not likely to realize much benefit from your early attendance. Any conclusions that you amateurs may form from what you see of the horses at exercise will probably result in delusion and loss. Few of you know one horse from another, swathed as they are from head to knee in their thick clothing. Like an opera-girl reft of her spangles and paint, and removed from the foot-lights, the animal, that you attempt to recognise this morning, is very different to the gleaming satin-coated thorough-bred that you remember to have seen stretched in a preliminary canter on some other race-course. Granted that you 12 WILD DAYRELL. know the horses apart, and that you are good judges of action and style of " going ;." whatever new ideas might be grafted on your germinating mind will bear no fruit ; for, alas, your opinions have been already formed, and certain figures are even now entered in your " little book," which will inevitably warp your better judgment. If you only congregate here this morning pour passer le temps, well and good : the fresh air of Doncaster Moor is as healthful and in- vigorating as that of the mountains you have so lately quitted. " Good morning. Captain." Each new comer was a captain with the individual who now addressed Dayrell, as he leaned on the rails of the course. The intruder on his meditations was one of those Bedouins of the Turf, who are always on the watch to earn half-a-crown, honestly if possible, but at all events to make it somehow. " Si possint recte, si non " He was known to the world by the soubriquet of ^^ Scrapings," and report said that he " lived by his wits ; " but as he had by no means a superabundance of that commodity, it would have been nearer the truth to say that he throve on his consummate im- pudence. His character may be easily guessed, from the answer of a wag who, when asked where Scrap- WILD DAYRELL. ^ 13 ings was likely to be found, replied, " If he is not borrowing a stilling, picking a pocket, or fighting, you may be certain to find him in the nearest horse- pond, being ducked for some piece of rascality." Scrapings, however, had lately had a turn of luck; and, presuming on a new coat, and the possession of a little ready money, had approached Dayrell, and accosted him. " Good morning. Captain," said he ; "I beg pardon, but they do say that you are backing the favourite for this race. Now, I tell you he canH win — no how." " Why, what on earth," exclaimed Dayrell, " can you know about it, you who never told me anything by which I could make a sixpence ? " ''Don't be too hard upon us. Captain; you've given me many half-crowns when I've been out at elbows, and 1^11 just tell you how it is: I've been talking to the lad who exercises Sellington every day, and has ridden him this last eighteen months, and he says as how he does not go free-like in his gallops, and how he seems quite a difi'erent horse to what he was before he won the Derby. Just take my advice this once ; it is all true that I am telling you. Thank'ee, Captain," continued Scrapings, pocketing the dou- ceur tendered him by Dayrell ; and holding up his finger, as if in warning, " Don^t forget ; the favourite will not win." 14 WILD DAYRELL. The sun had cleared away the morning mist, and now shone brightly on the thousands thronging every part of the Doncaster race-course. Ding-dong, ding- dong, from the top of the stand rang the great bell, that never seemed to cease uttering its warning notes, save when the horses were actually engaged in the strife for victory. Ding-dong, ding-dong ; clear and loud it pealed above the hubbub of the betting-ring, the jargon of would-be judges of horse-flesh, the per- suasive vociferation of those who proflPered the odds, as well as of the thousands of less agitated spectators congregated in the wide area near the Grand Stand. Ding-dong, ding-dong ; it was heard above the sten- torian voices and trumpets of booth-proprietors, the shouts of vendors of correct cards, the drums of the juggler- troops, the bones and banjoes of soi-disant Ethiopian melodists, and all the motley herd that strove so incessantly to relieve the visitors of their superfluous cash. Ding-dong, ding-dong ; it drowned the hum of voices proceeding from the crowds of admirers that followed the sheeted quadrupeds, as they were led up the course to be saddled for the part they were to play in the coming struggle. The various scenes in the Turf drama that precede every great race were duly enacted. Formed under their inspector's eye, a solid phalanx of policemen advanced, to clear gently, but efi'ectively, the long WILD DAYRELL. 15 green lane of the gaping multitude. The elastic thoroughbreds were divested of their clothing; the jockey boys, those precocious nondescripts, were hoisted into their tiny saddles. In twos and threes they cantered up the course, ere long returning past the stand at a pace equalling in severity that for the actual race itself. Individuals, who had been separated from their friends, made a rush for the opposite side, pursued by an indignant policeman, fiercely wielding his truncheon, but whose efforts to catch the offender were generally ineffectual, and provoked a burst of laughter from the good-humoured lookers-on. That time-honoured institution, the inevitable dog, was turned out, and, hooted by a thousand voices, rushed hither and thither in frantic haste, to disappear no one knew where, though " Surtees" has attempted to follow his vagaries. The last loiterer — I think the great Mr. Toole, of trowser-making celebrity — has been let into the Stand; the gates are closed, the course is cleared, and even the monotonous bell has stilled its warn- ing notes. All the horses have taken their preliminary canters, the last to pass the Stand being the favourite; he was, of course, the cynosure of a thousand eyes. Good judges saw with suspicion symptoms of lather- ing and hurried training; more than one sage old 16 WILD DAYRELL. lover of horse-flesh shook his head ominously, and pronounced an adverse verdict. The occupants of the ring became quiet, and adjusted their glasses, or listened to the prattle of adventurous souls, who, by their comrades^ help, had mounted the rails of the betting circle, and thus commanded a more extensive view. Dayrell nervously watched the line formed by the sixteen competitors, as they were led up to the post by the skilful, but nonchalant, Hibburd, and his heart beat high, when the flag dropped, and a somewhat straggling start was effected. No reason, however, had he for complaint. Sellington was one of the lucky horses, and in the front rank — a position that his jockey maintained, but did not injure by attempting to force the pace. Hound the hill they sailed, and, as the pace improved, the tail of beaten horses became longer, and the shouts of the backers of the different favourites were redoubled. Down the incline they rattled, a cloud of dust forming as background for the display of the advancing wall of parti-coloured jackets. The shouts soon merged into a roar, till, at the distance post, Sellington was evidently in trouble; his jockey^s ari^s and legs were at work : and " The favourite's beat," was re- echoed by a hundred throats. Past the Stand they rushed like a whirlwind; the three leading horses cleared the winning post, and the hubbub ceased; WILD DAYRELL. 17 for no one, but the judge, could tell who had won. This breathless suspense, however, was but for a second; the number of the winner upon the tele- graph was the signal for half a dozen hats to fly into the air, and for a general rush to the exit from the stand, when all was over, save the exuberant joy of the Yorkshire lads, who thronging round their pet, as he returned to scale, shouted at the top of their voices, " Now, boys, one cheer more. Malton, Malton, for ever." With an almost insupportable load at his heart, Dayrell threaded his way through the ground sacred to stick-throwers, proprietors of gorgeous aunt Sallys, exhibitors of the noble game of prick the garter, and, heedless of all invitations to try his luck, made his way to a carriage drawn up on the opposite side of the course. Here he found his friends, elated, or depressed, as they^happened to have won or lost, and listened apathetically to the stories, already passed from one to another, accounting for the defeat of the favourite, many of them as incredible as they were false. That cunning reader of physiognomies, the tall, sun-burnt, gipsey Ellen, guessed what had happened from simply seeing Dayrell's dejected air, and wisely forbore to ask for her accustomed present. That quiet, respectably-dressed individual yonder, whom the London club waiters designated " Mr. 18 WILD DAYRELL. Dayrell's agent" (meaning touter), prudently stood aloof and waited for a more convenient moment to offer consolation and to borrow a fiver. Even that short man with the red face and black whiskers, Mr. Wiley's assistant, took the hint, and did not present his card of invitation for an afternoon visit to what he called " his place for a little amusement." Dayrell must indeed have been hopelessly out of sorts, otherwise he would have been amused with the new manoeuvre for raising money that Scrapings was practising upon the occupant of a neighbouring carriage. This worthy, in making his rounds, had spied a pale-faced, mild-looking young man of five and twenty, who held the responsible situation of trusty clerk to the famous house of Silvercorn and Co. He sat on the box of the family four-wheel, and detailed to his mother and sisters some particulars respecting the horses and their riders. The scoundrel marked him as a victim, and sidehng up with a wink and a leer, exclaimed, "Ah, Captain, here we are again. You don't forget your old pal, I see. You'll give him some- thing for the sake of old times." " Go away, man," said Paleface ; " I don't know you." " How can you say that, Captain ? " said Scrapings, in a louder key; "have you forgotten our good WILD DAYUELL. 19 luck at Hampton and Chesterfield, and how you gave me a sovereign and said, * Scrapings, if ever you want a trifle, come to me?^ " "Go away, man," reiterated Paleface, his com- plexion changing rapidly from white to red, for he had been to Hampton races unknown to his family, who thought at the time that he was paying a visit to an old schoolfellow in the country. " What ! have forgotten, Captain," continued Scrapings, "the fifty half-crowns we won at roulette, and how, after the races, you and 1, and the la — " Down dropped poor Paleface from his perch, and rushed across the course to speak to a friend (as he said afterwards), in a state of hopeless horror at the advent of so terrible a dream; and before he hid his head again in the family carriage, he had made a three-mile circuit round the course. In the good old days when noblemen and gentle- men attended races in greater numbers than at present, the wholesome practice of settling debts of honour on the morning after they were incurred was rigidly adhered to. Then, if Major McSwindle or Captain O'Tryon did not put in an appearance and liquidate their heavy liabilities, the usual penalties were inflicted on them as defaulters, viz. — they were prevented from entering the Grand c2 20 WILD DAYRELL. Stand, and perhaps compelled to leave the town by the importunate demands of their creditors. Hence the beautiful allegory, oft quoted by the veterans of the ring, that describes an insolvent gentleman, the morning after the race, as having been seen crossing London Bridge — his only luggage a carpet-bag, his face set towards the Continent. Mais nous avons change tout cela, much to the disgust of the legitimate speculator. By tacit agreement the settling hour is postponed, and bills do not fall due till the next gathering at Tatter sails. A few sanguine individuals, however, still cling to the old system, attend early in the subscription- room, produce their books, and by make-believe settling try to induce a tyro at least to part with his cash; but their efforts are unavailing. They may look hungry, and expect, but their debtors know better than to come and be bled. The pleasure and grief connected with paying and receiving must stand adjourned till the following Monday. Of this new system unprincipled adven- turers, who have lost quite as much as they can pay, if not more, take unfair advantage; they know thej^ cannot be in a worse position than they are at present, and so make fresh bets, with a view of recovering the whole of their previous losses. But Dayrell, now that the great event had come WILD DAYRELL. 21 off against him, laid down his book and pencil, and thought only how best he might satisfy his nume- rous creditors. This was not an easy matter, seeing that a ring-man loves deeds better than words. He owed some small sums. Such creditors are inclined to be troublesome and clamorous, so they were paid at once. Luckily he found those to whom he owed most in a good humour, being large winners on the race. They did not object to a piece of stamped paper, a promise to pay at some not-far- removed future. As to interest — "A trifle like that, Mr. Dayrell would not refuse," they said ; and the trifle, which turned out to be sixty-five per cent., was accordingly added to the amount. "Well," thought Dayrell, as he handed the last bill to the plethoric Norris, " there ^s the end of my folly; it did not require a prophet to tell the result of my betting. What is the use of blaming myself for not backing Scott^s horse, or the Field, when the real question I have to ask myself is. Why did T bet at all? Does not common sense tell me that every gentleman in the long run must lose ? Has cleverness, age, or brains ever been able to cope with chicanery and unfair odds ? How is it possible to win without associating with people below one's station, without departing from the ho- nourable principles that govern gentlemen ; without c3 22 WILD DAYEELL. Sacrificing health, heart, and every moment of one*s time to that abomination — the betting-book ? " "No, thank you, Pavis," said Dayrell to the leviathan speculator, of the eagle eye and unim- peachable integrity, who proffered a bet in tens, ponies, or hundreds. " Will you do anything ? " enquires the sprightly Spleen, and stands aghast at hearing Dayrell say he intends to give up betting ; then he slinks back into the crowd, concluding that Mr. D. has either no more money to lose, or that he will change his mind next week. "You may have the favourite against the field,^' says Bunt on, the grey-headed layer of short odds, the soi-disant commissioner of a marquis, and ever on the heels of speculative youth. " You must win of me," he adds ; " I am so unlucky this meeting. I have only won 15/. on the week's balance " — an announcement that did not, it is needless to add, induce our hero to change his mind. The races are over; the Doncaster of 185 — is numbered with the things that have been. Noble- men, gentlemen, — " patrons of the national pastime," the newspapers call them, — hangers on to the Turf, ringmen, and the indescribable 6t ttoXXoI of the race-course, hurry to the railway station, just as anxious to quit the old Yorkshire town, as they WILD DAYRELL. 23 were to come. Dayrell is amongst the number who await the express-train. Ten minutes may elapse before it arrives ; not an instant must be lost. Although the Leger is over — nay, well nigh for- gotten, is there not a great handicap at Newmarket in a fortnight? On this the layers are occupied; they are offering the same odds nearly as yesterday, the names of other horses only being substituted. They never cease, never rest. The more the races, the merrier for them, for they know they must win in the long run. Hence with careless indifference they count up their losses, should they extend over a month, or even six months. Their turn must come ; it is only a question of time and industry. The train arrives; they shut up their books, and take their places. But speculation is only scotched, not killed. A dozen boards are dragged from their hiding places by the railway guards : between this and London the ringman will not lift his eyes from the cards dealt him at whist. Let the curtain fall on this the first act of the drama, in which the performers are not of high repute, or their mode of living sans reproche. Let us not, however, be too hard upon them. Let us remember that what they do is for their livelihood, and that of their families; that there are honest men in the ranks, and that this is the only employ- c 4 24 WILD DAYRELL. ment now open to their talents. This necessary evil or blot upon the pleasant pastime of racing must and will flourish so long as " young blood " feeds the arteries of the betting corporation. Until popular opinion makes itself heard, and votes it infra dig, for the better classes to consort and bet with men whose social standing is far below their own, many, a mother must tremble for the fate of her high- spirited son, when he launches into London life, and has to run the gauntlet of this most perilous and alluring pursuit. WILD DATRELL. 35 CHAPTER II. From the race-course to a lawyer's office is a wide jump. What can be the connection between the two? you ask. Wait a moment, and you will see by following Dayrell to Mr. Tales' house in the secluded and quiet county-town of shire. But few lawyers have allowed modern innovations to usurp the place of the ink-stained desk or table, the well-worn arm-chair, the uncleaned windows, and other seedy appurtenances of their council- chambers. Should there be a carpet, it will, in the majority of cases, be thread -bare ; should maps decorate the walls, they will probably be fly-blown ; should you look into the paper on the walls,^the original colour will hardly be settled to your satis- faction. Ominous parchments and be-taped deeds, methodically arranged in front of the master mind, are still the stock-in-trade that frighten clients as with a nightmare. Some day, I suppose, we shall have fashionable lawyers, living in the midst of plate-glass and gilded cornices, and receiving us in 26 WILD DAYHELL. their drawing-rooms. Liveried servants will take up our cards, and, who can tell (?), perhaps a glass of sherry and a pickled sandwich will close the interview. Members of other professions_, mer- chants, &c., emerging from their chrysalis state, flit about in carriages, and attract fresh customers by fine offices and grand houses at the West-end. Why should the disciples of Coke and Blackstone be behind their time? Why should they have gloomy chambers, over the entrance of which Fancy may see inscribed — " Abandon hope, all ye who enter here ! " Tales^ habitation was furnished after the ancient model ; it had all the gloomy air of its fellows. Its windows were dirty, and its pigeon-holes were full of dust ; its carpet was well-worn, and its table was ink-stained. There was but one redeeming point in that room, one bit of Nature amid all that mass of musty, dusty paper — a few flowers on the mantel- piece, placed each morning, from time immemorial, by the old housekeeper in a cracked jug: wall- flowers in spring, China roses in summer, and two heavy dahlias in autumn. They bloomed and faded by old Tales' almanack. Dayrell arrived in the " dahlia ^^ season, and for him the old house was full of memories. Here was WILD DAYRELL. 27 the room where the senior partner (now deceased) met him, a white-trowsered and blue-jacketed boy, with the extended hand of friendship, and let fall a perfect avalanche of sixpences. Munificent act ! heirs to good clients do meet with such slices of good luck. On the left was the hall-table, whereon he had once espied a mutton chop, or rather, the bone of what, at one p.m., had been an underdone speci- men of its kind, picked as clean as knife and fork, and teeth, could effect. Thus spake his aged friend on that occasion : " Do you see it ? That is the way a lawyer does business. He never leaves the bone till every morsel of meat is removed ; then the value- less remnant is cast out of doors." Again, when released from the comfortless waiting- room, he was ushered into "the presence;'* more old familiar friends were ready to greet him — " Jorums' securities,^' as the letters on an iron safe record, still occupied their ancient niche. " Easy's Trust " was still in that japanned box, and carried Dayrell back to the days of pinafores, when he curiously peeped into it, and, in place of deeds, found only a paper of seed-biscuits, probably intended for Tales' luncheon. His faith in outward appearances suffered much by that discovery. " Estate of Crabtree," " In re Bla- zer," " Spendthrift's Mortgage," would fain renew their old acquaintance, and appear to be sitting round 28 WILD DAYEELL. the room, in solemn conclave, to hear what their old comrade had to say. And Tales, the mainspring of of the whole, greeted him in his own frigid, quiet way, scarcely changed himself these five years, in garments, manner, or face. Those pepper-and-salt trowsers of his, dated from remote ages; those shoes could have told a tale of many a weary mile "tra- versed." We could make an affidavit about that blue coat with brass buttons, we could select it out of a thousand in Mr. Nose's emporium. In antiquity it could give many years to the hat and leather gloves, to which latter it would be more difficult to assign an age than to any maiden aunt of our acquaintance. Tales, however, was a great man of business. Leave matters to him, and he wiU pull you round. It is his repelling manner, his for- bidding frown, and somewhat sarcastic conversation, that make us lament the necessity of paying him a visit. Meet him, as Dayrell did, one first of Sep- tember, in the stubbles and turnips. What a trump the old boy was then! How he mowed down his doubles with unerring accuracy ! How, when under the infiuence of the nut-brown ale, he actually smoked Haycock's black pipe, totally regardless of the internal inconvenience it afterwards occasioned. " Punctual to a minute, Mr. Tales," said Dayrell, glancing at his watch. " If punctuality is the soul WILD DAYRELL. 29 of business^ I ought to succeed in anything I under- take.'^ The lawyer's bow and smile gave but a qualified assent to the assertion. He, however, said nothing, but, somewhat impatiently, demanded the object of his client's visit. Dayrell, without any circumlocution, entered into the details of the Doncaster catastrophe. He men- tioned his settlement of all minor claims on his purse, and gave the names of three or four persons to whom he owed large sums, but who consented to wait till it was quite convenient for him to pay. He re- minded Tales of certain securities on which money might be raised, and finished with a sketch of the mode of life he intended in future to pursue, " I have made up my mind," he said, " to abjure gambling. The last two days at Doncaster I did not make a bet." (Smile on Tales' face.) " And, if my debts are paid, I will begin hfe again, and in quite a different manner. I don't think I am deficient in talent ; at all events I understand addition and sub- traction, and can write as well as the clerks in your office, for instance. I intend entering some line of business in which, if there be no chance of re- trieving my fortunes, there will be a certainty of earning a fair competence.'^ The lawyer nervously turned his pencil round and 30 WILD DAYRELL. round, and listened to his client's plans, with in- credulity written on his face. " I am glad to hear/' he said, '' that you have made such good resolutions, and hope you will be able to keep them. But your present liabilities are the first objects for consideration. I must tell you candidly, that I do not think your securities sufficiently good for me to advise any of my clients to advance money. And, although your word may be as good as your bond, I am afraid nobody will be willing to take that as a basis for affording you the required relief." A long conversation ensued. Papers were ex- amined; residuary estate and reversionary interest valued, and calculated, without arriving at any solu- tion of the knotty point. After many pros and cons it was agreed that Tales was to have time to recon- sider the question, and that Dayrell was to use his best endeavours to pacify his creditors, and to retire to some quiet spot, where, by studious economy, he might be prevented from making matters worse. At that date, "the advantages of a cheap and com- fortable home, combined with the amusement of sporting over an extensive domain, and fishing in a celebrated and unnetted (?) river," attracted the attention of those who perused the advertisements in the weekly newspapers. " The comfortable home '' was at Aberdovey, in North Wales. The Torpid WILD DAYRELL. 31 Arms was the actual residence, whose landlord prof- fered his generous hospitality to the public at the moderate rate of thirty shillings a- week. There was also " a carefully selected assortment of foreign wines, spirits, and cigars," awaiting the stranger who might drift so far west. " The very thing," thought Day- rell. ^^ Twice thirty make sixty, and twice sixty are one hundred and twenty, and one hundred and twenty shillings make 61. a month ; economy and shooting, fishing and saving money ; 1 will start at once/' Theory, however, is one thing, and practice an- other. There certainly was an extensive domain to shoot over in the vicinity of the inn, but there was no game. The landlord thought it had been a bad breeding season for the " birds." There was a river near the house, and another three miles distant, but very few fish. In fact, although a woodcock, a few snipe, or a wild duck, might occasionally be bagged, the sporting was a dead letter. Dayrell had a com- panion in the sanded coffee-room — a fellow- sufferer, from impecuniosity — one Crippleby,anold gentleman, whose declining years were dedicated to the extinc- tion of fowl and fish. Not that he did much either in that way ; for his movements were slow, and his aim uncertain. Dayrell once watched him kicking tufts of grass to find a jack snipe that had alighted in the next field. He found it, and great sport he had with 32 WILD DAYRELL. that bird. He bagged it at two p.m._, after an exciting chase of three hours and fourteen minutes. Crippleby was a man of few words, and slept in his chair after dinner, with his gin and water untouched before him, and a long churchwarden pipe, at one moment slipping from between his lips, and recovered at the critical moment by a convulsive start of the sleeper. Beau camerade this for Dayrell, accustomed as he was to the fun of the " Rag" and the jokes of the " Garrick." Weeks rolled on in the dull routine of shooting, when the weather was fine; smoking, or playing bilUards with four coloured balls, when it was wet, and adding but little to the register of game killed and wounded. A Christmas ball was given at Aberystwith. It was opened by the county members "stepping" it in a quadrille. It was enlivened by pretty Miss Jones and coquettish Miss Wilhams, who polkaed with one-ball-a-year energy. Those young ladies' papas asked DayreU to dine at " the Warren" and " the Retreat/' Alas, even bright eyes and fair complexions could not persuade him, a second time, to face the perils of the road. Twelve miles in an open chaise is no joke, especially, if the quadruped objects to cross an overflowing torrent, but sniffs at it as suspiciously as a Frenchman does a cold bath. Spring time arrived, and Crippleby WILD DAYRELL. 33 impaling the ruby worm^ cast it hopefully into whirling torrents, while Dayrell threw a fly, but seldom persuaded a fish to look at his feathers. Rain is not a thing unknown in Tafiyland. For days together, at times, will the clouds roll down the sides of Cader Idris and deluge the plains with water. It was during one of these playful freaks of "the clerk of the weather," when Crippleby had gone to read, for the fiftieth time, in the pages of the Sporting Mag., what " Hoarey Frost " had done in the fens and Linton in German preserves, when Dayrell had rejected the county newspaper, eight days old, and the Welsh guide-book — sole literature of the inn — as stale and unprofitable, that an idea struck our hero. Yes, through the smoke, as in rings and curls it ascended ceiling-wards, he saw his way to a " good thing ; " and he pondered, and struck out a path. In that smoky room, and when looking on the rain-bespattered tiles, the future suddenly partook of couleur de rose. He remembered a certain evening spent at that princely establishment, the " Bedford," at Brighton, when the claret of '44, owing to quick consumption, did not long sparkle on the board, and when a particular friend retailed a story about his model nephew. " I tell you, sir, he was a good boy, a brave boy;" and the old veteran's eyes sparkled. 34 WILD DAYRELL. ^' He was in difficulties, and he was in debt. He went abroad ; he lived in a garret — 'pon honour, sir, he denied himself all but the necessaries of life; returned here, and paid his creditors with the money he had saved." ^'Why should not I do the same?" thought Dayrell. " Bother this country ; if it does not rain it blows a hurricane, or vice versa; abroad, I am sure to have fine weather. As to living, that is even cheaper than at the ^ Torpid Arms.^ Upon my word I'll try.^' And he puffed more furiously at his pipe, and suddenly recollected a tale that a chronicler declares to be true — far be it from me to assert the contrary — how a stranger, by a well-timed piece of civility to an old lady in a railway carriage, was taken into her confidence, and ultimately rewarded by a munificent bequest. And how, again — and this is a fact — an old gentleman dined one evening at Meurice's, in the company of fifteen Englishmen, all unknown to him ; and when the dessert was put on the table, the old man got upon his legs, and made the following announcement: — ^'Gentlemen, my car- riage is at the door — (great silence) — I am going to Marseilles to-night; whoever will accompany me thither shall live, and be brought back to Paris, free of expense." There was no answer, till a young man at the bottom of the table, thinking he might WILD DATRELL. 35 as well go to the south as stay in the capital with fifty francs in his pocket, said he was ready to go. The proprietor of the carriage was taken ill at Marseilles, and was nursed by his companion, to the best of his ability, for three months, when he died. The will was opened, and young B found himself the heir to 20,000/., " as a return," the document said, ^^ for kindness shown to a friendless old man." " Why shouldn't I meet with some such windfall," thought Dayrell. "I'll start next month — I'll go to France," when his meditations were disturbed by rosy-cheeked, slipshod, slatternly Betty opening the door, and announcing that the boiled leg of mutton and trimmings, the oft-recurring piece de resistance of the " Torpid Arms,'' was ready. d2 36 WILD DAYRELL* CHAPTER III. The exile has ever been a favourite subject for historians and rhymers. When bidding a long fare- well to the land of his birth, touching and pathetic words have been put into his mouth. The pious ^Eneas — hardened sinner, though he afterwards proved himself to be in re Dido — wept, we are told, on quitting burning Troy. Caius Marius, balancing himself on a hillock, looked back on Rome, and told its unconscious citizens that they would "want" him some day. Even Bill Styles, the convicted pilferer of watches and handkerchiefs, the ballad tells us, leaned over the taffrail, and made a gushing appeal to the sea-gull to lend him her wings, and waft him back to the arms of his "Polly love.^^ But the gentleman in Queer-street — the gentleman with six children and a scolding wife, in search of a foreign clime and mutton at 4d, a pound — has somehow been forgotten. Surely, their feelings at leaving the white cliffs of old England might be made a theme by some sentimental pen. Take the WILD DAYUELL. 37 hint, authoress of the "Bleeding Heart" and the '^Washerwoman's Lament ;'' yes, see what you can do. Dayrell was quite as sad and lugubrious as any of those we have named when on board the good ship " Seahorse," bound from Newhaven to Dieppe. It was one of those days in early summer when the winds, for once, are hushed, and a lands- man would pooh-pooh the idea of making harbours of refuge. A shadowy haze enveloped Mr. Ains- wortVs much-loved Sussex downs, and the clumps of trees that nestled in the valleys, each in turn becoming small by degrees and beautifully less, as the engines, performing I-dont-know-how-many revolutions a minute, propelled the steamer on her course. Pleasant day for you passengers, who fear the sea, and the malady that will, in spite of liba- tions of pale brandy and water, affect those who ven- ture to cross it. Happy are you (apparently) unpro- tected female, who, in be-nailed Balmoral boots, imitate on deck the sailor's short walk, so unlike your usual sweeping stride on " the slopes '^ of Brighton. Lucky are you, Frenchman of the yellow and bilious visage, who need not wrap your face in a pocket handkerchief, groaning, " Mon Dieu, Mon D'leu^^ but art able to light thy cigar — mind, on this side the funnel — and wistfully watch for the d3 38 WILD DAYRELL. low shore of your beautiful country. Eejoice, ye occupants of the tarpaulined sheds on deck, that you are well enough to ask questions about the sea-birds as they skim past, and the probable length of the passage. Even yon poor lady's-maid smiles, and has not to lay her aching head against the bulwarks, and wish herself in a premature grave. It signifies little where a man travels. If he has been at a public school, or one of our universities, and vegetated afterwards in the metropolis, he will meet men he knows in all parts of the world. Is it not a fact, that Duster, who we remember at Corpus, is chopping wood at this moment at Bal- larat ? Should we not find Dumpling, of Brasenose, wielding the managerial baton if we went into the mines at Alton ? Can we visit a German watering- place without meeting Choperkin, late of the Blues, or stay in Quebec an hour without rubbing shoulders with the notorious Starter ? Shall " auld acquaint- ance be forgot ? " We meet and ask them, " How goes it,'^ and pass on, wondering. Who next, and next ? Just so, when Dayrell had finished his observations on deck, a well-known face appeared on the top of the cabin stairs. "Limmerit is, by all the powers !'* ejaculated Dayrell, and, in two minutes, the pair were deep in Oxford reminiscences, and pacing the deck in all the pride of university clanship. WILD DAYRELL. 39 Limmer was one of those men whose destiny it appears to be to fall into numberless scrapes and difficulties, to extricate themselves no one knows how, and reappear on the scene without material loss of reputation. Of his early life no one knew anything; even his exact place of residence, when at home, was a mystery to his friends. What brought him prominently before the public occurred during his second term at Oxford. At that time ^^the drag" was in great favour; the highest honours awaited him who came in first in those cross-country events. Of the winner of the "Wet Waterperry" fast men spoke with reverence; and reading men have been known to sit down, at twelve o'clock at night, and write an essay for the "first past the post^' in "the Wheatley.'^ To make a long story short, Limmer, one afternoon, in the tightest of buckskins and most slovenly of boots, slipped away from lecture to the meet. He rode one of Symon's hacks with unquestionable pluck, was the first to catch the eye of Judge Aniseed, and was forthwith invested with the Oxford Victoria Cross. He was not the man to let such an opportunity slip without further im- proving his position. He could talk fluently, if not wisely, on almost any subject. From the prestige he had acquired, youth listened, open- D 4 40 WILD DAYHELL. moathed, to his stories,, and did not care to question his veracity. What^ though his need of ready- money should have become proverbial? though his well-worn purse never carried anything more valuable than a sixpence and a rusty key? Are not poole (at which he was a proficient) and betting (at which he took long credit) specially provided as instruments for replenishing the purses of our modern gownsmen ? True, he had a rich uncle in the far West — a sort of Mrs. Harris — often mentioned, but never seen. Some such person must have befriended him in the hours of his direst need. One episode in Limmer's life, as bearing upon his character, we must give. It was the day on which the greatest match of modern times was decided, that a party of undergraduates had assembled in a room to await the telegram announ- cing the result. He had backed the Richmond, the others the Middleham horse ; Limmer suggested that they should hedge. "Put down five shillings each on the table," he said, "and I will cover them." When the news arrived that Middleham had won, the unblushing Limmer swept all the money off the table, so doing a clever stroke of business. He had realized a small sum, but it was ready money; he had lost a larger, but that pay- ment might be postponed. WILD DAYRELL. 41 In spite of his talent, great grief awaited him in London; and, of his career in Paris afterwards, report did not speak favourably. Still, neither the one circumstance, nor the other, prevented his obtaining a commission in a colonial regiment ; nor did the lessons he had received prevent him initiating his fellow passengers in the mysteries of roulette. His next appearance in England was as a cheery subaltern in one of her Majesty's line regiments. Bnt time had made no alteration in his manners or habits ; if anything, it had rendered him more indifferent to public opinion and preju- dice. Some intricate money affairs — a regimental fracas — had compelled the colonel to request him to exchange ; whereupon, glad enough to receive four months' leave, he left the matter in the hands of his agent, and started on this speculative con- tinental trip. So here was this hero of many a drama in public and private life — the reckless, unchangeable Limmer of other days — in person redivivus. Dearly bought experience — no, we can hardly say dearly bought, for the avuncular Mrs. Harris, not he, must have paid — has not checked his ever-rolling tongue; on the contrary, his travels, adventures, and all the events of his past life seemed to add fuel to the flame. 42 WILD DAYRELL. "I know Dieppe very well/^ lie said to Dayrell, after listening to the plans of the latter. "I can show you where you may live economically. There are two hotels : one T call the aristocratic, the other democratic. The former is kept by Mr. Horgan, about whose birth and parentage some mystery exists." Here Limmer winked his eye. " He was confidential valet to some nobleman: hence the reason why rank and fashion patronize his estab- lishment. Unless you are anxious to pay ten francs for cutlets, and five extra for looking at the waiter, we won't go there. We will visit monami Blossom, whose hotel is on the quay. He is a real good fellow; you should only hear him talk about Horgan — pauvre enfant, he calls him — and see him shrug his shoulders when he compares his rival's means with the trifle in the funds, the horses, and the house in the country, of which he is the pro- prietor. Still, both the hypocrites are most polite to one another, and elevate their hats to an angle of ever-so-many degrees when they chance to meet in the street." Dayrell agreed to Limmer's suggestions, and, now that the chalky cliffs of Dieppe were in sight, began to prepare for disembarcation, Already the scent of the new-mown hay was wafted across the water. Already the sea was dotted with herring boats, their WILD DAYRELL. 43 sails flapping against the mast, and their sides dis- figured by a capital letter and number. Already upon the faces of the passengers smote the hot air, driven thither by a thunderstorm that had burst over the town, and sorely perplexed an old lady on board, who believed — and was strengthened in that belief by Limmer's assertions — that the steel beads in her bonnet would prove lightning conductors. "Ease her," cries Captain Bunting from his perch. " Ease her," re-echoes the cabin-boy, as the " Sea- horse " enters the harbour. ' " Stop her,^' and the paddle-wheels, ceasing their revolutions, drive for- ward a great wave over the hitherto tranquil surface. The rain, descending in torrents, deterred the English and French loungers from witnessing, as is their wont, the disembarcation. The com- missaire of police, in his frock coat and Legion of Honour decoration, was alone there to greet them, and slipped, like an evil, yet affrighted spirit, down the ladder. Safe from the wet himself in the cook's den — by courtesy, I suppose, called a cabin — he and his subordinate took notes of the passports. Un- fortunate passengers, however, were grouped outside — old and young, men and maidens, healthy and strong, sound and unsound — in close proximity to the chimney, which dropped its blacks in profusion, near an engine-room that emitted rank odours of 44 WILD DAYRELL. oil and grease, and " suh Jove " — in this case truly pluvio — subjects for pity, almost to the stoker, the only man who, for fpleasure's sake, balanced him- self on a rail, and cooled his smoke-begrimed and heated brow in this summer bath. Come hither, man of the wondrous name — Grandguillot, and any other subordinate of the news- paper called the Constitutionnel. You may be past the middle age, and, if so, probably are rheumatic. Try the effects of fifteen minutes under a black cloud, awaiting the official ticket-of-leave to enter free and enlightened France. In your next number, perhaps, you will be kind enough to give us your experiences of the system. I think you may draw in your horns, or, at any rate, talk less confidently of that " useful, necessary (vide Constitutionnel) and harmless protection for society." " Votre passeport" demands the gensd'arme, and reading Mons. Lemkre (as he pronounced it) and Madame, asks, "Mais, ou est, Madame?" ^' La voila" answered the ever-ready Limmer, pointing to a nice-looking English girl, who stood next him, shivering in the rain, and awaiting her turn. " Bien, Monsieur/' said the gensd'arme; and Limmer in two minutes had transported the young lady out of the wet into the luggage-room, to her WILD DAYRELL. 45 own momentary gratification, but to the horror of her mother, who, separated from her by the crowd, helplessly wrung her hands upon deck, at seeing her daughter carried off in this summary manner. Quite a master-stroke of Limmer's, just such as his complete savoir-faire enabled him at any minute to accomplish. Miss Emily is seated in the shed allotted to short-haired douaniers, passengers, and piles of luggage. Then, from not seeing her mother, she remembers the isolation of her position, and, like a good daughter, expresses great anxiety on the subject. Limmer disappears, and presently re- turns with that breathless but not over-pleased matron, whose displeasure, however, is but momen- tary. In the face of custom-house officers, who look as if they would rummage the boxes to the last pair of socks, and with servants who cannot speak a word of French, the services of a polyglot like Limmer cannot be cast aside. Nobly does he do his duty. By means of a five-franc piece he gains first entree to the sanctum. Hat in hand, and with the polite- ness of a Chesterfield, he addresses the head official. In fifteen minutes the family boxes are upon a truck. The search has been nominal — unruffled silks and crinolines are on their way to the hotel. But who and what is the young lady ? ^Tis Emily Trelawney, well-known at Cheltenham, as young 46 WILD DAYRELL. ladies generally are at any place if they happen to be good-looking, and have money of their own in that noble institution — the Three per Cents. More than one hopeful individual had lingered about a certain house, with a green verandah and well-kept garden, not a hundred miles from Pittville. More than one had waited for a glimpse of a muslin dress, when its owner should please to come out and " do" the daily watering of heliotrope and nasturtiums. People did say that certain Irish adventurers, with more brains than money, had sworn fealty after a very short acquaintance, and been summarily remanded. At Tenby (where ladies are rather scarce) she was voted a belle the summer after she came out. Old Staggers, the horse-dealer, made quite a fortune out of the officers at Pembroke Dock, so many dog-carts did they require to take them to that western water- ing-place. As to Ensign Noodles, age^ nineteen, he refused to be comforted with bitter beer and vingt-un, but was so terribly hit that he never left the espla- nade for three whole days and nights, and would have been there now, perhaps, had not his superior officer put him under arrest. The year preceding this the young lady had visited Dieppe ; and we all know how Frenchmen will, even without encourage- ment, prostrate themselves before gilded beauty. This time it was Bellegarde, the Prefet^s deputy, who WILD DAYHELL. 47 was the devotee. That elderly gentleman — the wags called him the " dissipated crow^^ — ought to have known better. Thrice he seized opportunities to drop upon his knees, and ask her to become Madame La Comtesse. She refused the honour in the kindest manner. Undeterred by failure he came again, and, in impassioned language, besought her to change her mind. Emily was vexed at his persistence, and re- plied, rather harhsly, '^ Monsieur Le Comte, I am astonished that you have asked me a fourth time to do what I never will do. I really thought you were old enough to know better." Bellegarde after this went " on leave," and Dieppe knew him no more ; and, pleased with their first visit, Emily and her mother intended to spend a second season amongst the Dieppois. But we have landed on a foreign shore; we are amongst th& gabled ends and the quaint old houses, the gamins in blouses and the red-trousered ^' infan- terie terrible,^' the be-capped and be-ribboned shop- girls, and the old ladies with towers of laces upon their heads. We meet Frenchmen (in the season) from all parts, and stumble on our countrymen at every corner — residents, visitors for the day, the week, and the month ; and, before we continue our tale, have a word to say about English society on the Continent. 48 WILD DAYRELL. Dieppe, patronised thougli it is by our country- men, is not like some Englisli colonies in provincial towns of France — those stagnant pools, which, no clear, fresh stream of Life ever enters and purifies — those strongholds whither flit the gay spirits of bye- gone days to escape the inconvenience of poverty, debt, or some faux pas. If, as is often too true, there be a " history" attached to individuals residing in the latter : if there be a stain on their escutcheon, such as time can scarcely wipe out, one would think that such a fact would render all more kind and charitable to their neighbour's faults and short- comings. On the contrary, nowhere is the war of scandal and back-biting so actively carried on; nowhere is the hand of each so perseveringly raised against his friend, to tear away the last shred of character he may still retain. Elderly ladies, will nothing induce you to put on the cloak of Christian charity ? Gentlemen, young and old, are your ante- cedents and present mode of life respectable enough to justify you in throwing the first stone ? Are you to be the self-constituted judges of others? — you, who, some with the bloom of youth on your brow, some in the very prime of life, are dragging on an aimless, hopeless existence? Was it for this that the talent of masters and a university education were lavished upon you? Was it for this that parents WILD DAYRELL. 49 denied themselves, and struggled to give you a fair start in the world ? True, on your first arrival, you bore up against the ennui and demoralization which surrounded you. Still your fall, though slow, was sure. By degrees you dropped into the dull routine of billiards, cards, and brandy-and-water. By de- grees you became more negligent in your dress, more careless of shaven locks and beard, more deaf to what the world might say, and more oblivious of self- respect. Not many months elapsed ere you had inherited the listless, jail-bird air of your fellows, that now seems to sit upon you quite naturally. How are ye fallen, ye " good fellows" of other days ! You, who, at your midnight gatherings, are content to listen to the oft-told, dreary tale of scandal, or the stale anecdotes of some quondam fast man, in whose muddy brain the reminiscences of demirep triumphs, and perhaps racing robberies, still hold high place. And yet in your social degradation, you, the Toms and Harrys of your respective circles, must sometimes sorrowfully remember that you are the objects of yearning solicitude to a mother in old England, who, unknown to her husband, deprives herself, good woman, of her last five-pound-note to save her son from the consequences of low extra- vagance. Nor are these transmarine republics free from E 50 WILD DAYRELL. occasional '^ emeutes,'' innocent indeed of bloodshed, but safety-valves for sncb bad feelings as inveterate idleness engenders. Let us state an instance : an individual and bis wife^ owners of a good English name_, and tolerably well off, arrive. Straightway flock the little society to their gate, drop their paste- boards, and strive to be on good terms with people, whom, in their heart of hearts, they consider to be in a better social position than themselves. Anon, whispers begin to circulate, and, forgetting minor squabbles, people gather together to discuss certain vague reports. By degrees the spark is blown into a flame, and the individual, so lately courted, meets with cold looks from former friends, yet cannot help smiling at the solicitude of mothers, who, like hens do their chickens, gather their daughters around them, when lo ! the monster appears. Explanations are demanded, and society sends forth its champion to a conference. There is a strong altercation, a production of marriage certificates, a fierce rally, and the old talk about pistols, to which every one with little honour must appeal, but which, like the pica- dor's red flag, are but a mockery and delusion, only intended to frighten one of the belligerents. Next, society, trumpet-tongued, proclaims its victory. It has established the paltry fact, that the stranger's wife once gained her livelihood on the stage, and WILD DAYRELL. 51 accords her cliampion a trumph, for, I suppose, the same reason as the K/oman senate of old accorded it to one of her consuls, ^^ Because he had not despaired of the Republic/' O society of little mind and cramped ideas, when will you be less exacting and unkind? When will you learn to imitate the example of your clergyman, who lives in peace, and shows good-will to all his neighbours? When will you, like some brilliant exceptions to the general rule, devote your- selves to your families and household duties, and forbear to meddle with other people's affairs? As at present constituted, you well deserve the rebuke of a celebrated authoress, administered by her through the columns of the Court CirculaVj when she gave her ^'reasons in writing" as excuses for a lengthened residence amongst you. There are 66,000 British residents in France, [vide "Murray"). We are not sure about the page, nor can we tell into how many brigades or " colonies " that number is divided. This we do know, that there are some amongst whom, the plague-spot we have just denounced, seldom breaks out, or, if it does, only in a mild and harmless form, and that the Dieppe colony is one of the number. Thanks, perhaps, to Mr. Maples, promoter of steam- boats constructed on the wave principle, or to the railway that brings such hosts of passengers, society e2 52 WILD DAYEELL. changes every month — nay, every week. People come, stay for a few days, and hurry on. Smith, with brass inimitable, dances with Miss Fanfare five times at one ball. On the morrow, he leaves with- out giving Miss Fanfare' s mamma an opportunity of asking his intentions, or society time to invent some scandalous story. ^' Cui bono ? " we ask, who know the impoverished state of Smith's exchequer, for the mother to put herself forward? His flight is best for both parties. Smith's departure, and that of other birds of passage, is soon forgotten. When we asked the Dieppe doctor about our friend Jones, a good- looking, black whiskered man, who the preceding summer had stayed three weeks at Dieppe, and thrice partaken of the medico's hospitality, he had quite forgotten him. When pressed on the subject, he said, " Oh yes, Jones, Jones ; let me see, a short, thick-set man, with red hair and spectacles. Oh yes, I remember." On which we had nothing to do but smile feebly, seeing the utter inutility of vindicating friend Jones' personal appearance, and pointing out his error to the doctor. It is the same thing with the French ; they have no time for gossip. They come to Dieppe for a dip into the ocean and " to be seen." At the end of three weeks the Mayor of Lisieux reads the riot act to his wife, and denounces this expensive place. WILD DAYRELL. 53 Adolphe, of the monied firm of Argent Freres, is summoned to Paris, ere lie has sunned half the wide-awakes and salmon-coloured bottines,^ that he bought in the Palais Eoyal to astonish the natives of Dieppe. For a short three weeks does Madame Tete-k~Tete occupy the post of honour at the table d'hote, and talks " little nothings '' with young France with the cold politeness of la grande nation. " Monsieur," repeated at the beginning of all her sentences, and all his beginning with " Madame," does not sound well in our ears. Whatever the French may do in private, their conversation in public is common-place enough. And Madame the Procureur ImperiaFs wife, comes from Rouen, bringing with her her forty changes of raiment. Never dressed two days alike, she flits about the promenades, and then returns home to tell her poor friends Marie, and Angelina, who could not go aux eaux^ of the conquests she made, causing their poor hearts to rankle with jealousy at the new bonnets and dresses she has brought back with her. * A French lady on a visit to a fashionable watering-place boasted publicly that she had brought forty dresses with her, so that she might never wear the same twice during her stay. Her husband, also, had an equal number of suits of clothes. If he had not forty hats, his collection of caps, smoking and lounging, certainly made up the average. e3 54 WILD DAYRELL. A late luncheon at Blossoms', and Dayrell and Limmer did the promenade between the Pier and the Etablissement. On the beach to the right are the rows of sentinel boxes, whence issue figures male and female, and who, even in the afternoon, clad in variegated oilskins, pick their way daintily over the shingle, and take a dip in the sea. Some float, some swim, some converse by the edge of the TroXv^Xot? ^010 9aXao-(T7}^, and not a few, even in the water, puff their twopenny cigars. On the right are the walls of the town, and between them and the shore is a strip of grass. " Well hit, run it out ; " and a cricket-ball descends with a thud in the long grass close to where Dayrell is standing. A smart leg-hit can be made even at Dieppe, and is watched, though scarcely understood, by coquettish nursery-maids, who look on from a distance, and by knots of soldiers, who we have seen receive a pretty hard blow from the ball with the utmost good humour. " C'est drSle," remarks an exquisite from Paris, with a glass in his eye ; " mais je riy comprend^ rien'^ The pair arrive at the Etablissement, in front of which the band discourseth sweet music, and the crowd of fashionables sit on chairs hired at one sou a-piece. The dandy leans back dreamily on his chair, or taps his patent leather boots with his cane; the ladies ply their crochet WILD DATRELL. 55 needles ; the mercliant walks up and down and chat- ters with a friend from the " woollen districts ;" and the epicier, less proud than his neighbours, lifts his flounced and furbelowed children on to his knee, and gives them a halfpenny each to invest in Cerise's choleratic pears. Should any of the company be dull for a moment, they play at toupie Hollandaise, and spin the top, whence the luckiest, after expending a franc, will triumphantly return with a prize of the the exact value of five centimes ! Here, too, is the billiard room, which they enter, and watch the match between Carambole, champion player of the Palais Royal, and an English captain, whose strokes have often astonished the frequenters of the " Cocoa Tree" and the " Rag/^ The game is this : Monsieur Carambole has to make sixteen cannons at one " break." Failing in this, he has to begin again. His adversary, on the contrary, scores every cannon he may make. This is the critical moment. The Frenchman has scored thirteen : the balls are wide apart, and it looks impossible to do anything more. Still there is an air of confidence about Carambole^s cleanly-shaven face; there is something in the way he chalks his cue that half tempts Dayrell to take the tempting odds that the representative of the firm of Paring Brothers is anxious to lay. Slowly, amidst the dead silence that prevails, the master hand poises his E 4 56 WILD DAYRELL. cue, then striking his ball on the lowest edge, sends it full against the red, and, as the term is, " screws back," without touching a single cushion. '' Bravo", bursts from the lips of the bystanders as Carambole, with the greatest nonchalance, finishes the game in two easy strokes. The band have ;"eturned their instruments to their cases : the chairs are deserted : and the beau monde has retired, some to their lodgings, some to the Cafe to do justice to well-cooked dishes and Cunningham's claret. Anon, in that balcony, will appear well- dressed figures, and the Bohemians of the street will gaze and wonder if all Parisiennes are fair like those. The professional beggar will take up a position oppo- site, and plead for sous ; a wandering minstrel will collect a crowd of Ms admirers underneath, and so a gorgeous July sun sets upon life in Dieppe, to be renewed in another form an hour later in the ball- room, or perhaps in a small apartment, which we shall have occasion to visit presently. " The Dayrell at his old Oxford games, making play with the heiress of the far West," remarked Limmer to his friend, as the two made the best of Blossoms' ordinary, rather than extraordinary, claret after din- ner. "You followed up the first attack, and held your own, I will say, against all comers. More than one Frenchman would have willingly changed places WILD DAYRELL. 57 with you/' added Limmer, in his usual bantering way. • " Of course I did the agreeable as well as I could, especially when you kept out of the way. You would not have a poor girl walk alone on the sands of Dieppe — I was going to say, * by the sad sea waves," but that expression might be inappropriate this fine weather." " Not at all," answered Limmer ; ^' only T happened to hear Lyatt tell you that she was an heiress, and my own eyes bear witness to her good looks; so I put this and that together, and wondered how many tetes-a-tetes would bring you to your old state of matchless despondency. Then I thought I would give you a timely warning." " How absurdly you talk," said Dayrell. '^ Just because I spoke to Miss Trelawney, and so whiled away an hour at Dieppe, I must be trying to marry her. Ton my word, Limmer, I think you are jea- lous." " Not I, my dear fellow, I only wish to give you a bit of advice, which, like other wise people, you will of course reject. Now, don't make any mistake; she is far too clever to lose her heart to a man who lost his money on the last St. Leger. You will be victim number three or four, and be left in the same state as you were after the Traherne catastrophe. 58 WILD DAYHELL. Have you forgotten the lesson, my boy, you received then, and how you made a bet that you would not be married for ten years ? Do as I do. Enjoy your- self, and leave the other sex alone." And Limmer drew himself back in his chair, his hands in his pockets, and congratulated himself on the improba- bility of any woman ever getting the better of him. " Thank you much, but I am not so green as I was in those youthful days. There can be no harm in my amusing myself with a pretty girl, while you are playing billiards and ecarte ; — at the same time, Limmer, it was hardly worth while referring to such unpleasant scenes." One retrospective glance at the love-failures of our hero. On entering into life — so, I believe, he inter- preted his first assumption of coat tails — he met, at his mother^s house, a lady some years older than himself, and destined to give him many a sleepless night. Her quiet demure face, and her good figure artfully draped in blue, were generally irresistible ; in addition to these charms, there was something about her that made a stranger turn round and re- mark, "That is what I call lady-like." Young Dayrell was her chaperone in daily walks and rides ; and, in appointing him as her guardian, I think his mother acted foolishly. Yet the latter might only have been carrying out the idea of the sage matron, WILD DAYKELL. 59 who, when asked if she was not afraid of her son going too far with Miss Flirt-by-night, replied^ with the greatest sang froidj " I will take care he does not marry a person I disapprove, but will give him every opportunity of getting his hand into practiced Day- rell was properly "paralysed" before he went back to school, and the bystanders had occasion to remark, with some truth but greater malice, how Miss was making a fool of that boy. But the boy returned to his college-meads, and knowing no better, indulged in his day-dream, selecting as his confidant a comrade bigger, but not wiser than himself. It was, doubt- less, all very childish, but the sequel was very pain- ful, when his sister wrote and told him that Miss had married " some one from Liverpool," and had expressed a hope that he would come and pay her a long visit after the honeymoon. Dayrell had plenty of time to recover from the shock of his first disappointment. Enchantress num- ber two did not appear on the scene till the middle of his second year at Oxford. He had retired, more Owoniensium, to the country to read, and had selected as his retreat the district famed, as Mr. Dickens tells us, for hops, cherries, and pretty women. DufPers- ville was slow — as most suburban localities in Eng- land are ; no wonder if he was on the look-out for something to relieve its dullness. This came in the 60 WILD DAYRELL. shape of a Miss Wilson- — the subject of Limmer's rhapsody — who he met one afternoon in the fashion- able emporium of Miss Bandoline. He was intro- duced, the following week, at the county ball, and was duly entered on the list of her admirers. Of a verity had he fallen into the hands of a " queen of men/' a flirt of the first water, whose lustrous brown eyes, braided hair, and merry laugh drew to her side the most impervious of the sterner sex, and whose cleverness prevented her from indulging her love of fun and repartee to such an extent as to make her admirers break the silken cord, and retire imme- diately from the contest. People did say — "but then,^^ as the wise man remarked, " people will say anything now-a-days, except their prayers" — that she had refused more than one good offer — still, if the report were true, the ''No, thank you,'' must have dropped from her lips with inimitable grace. Dayrell fell without a struggle. The victress had not need to stoop to conquer, or waste much time in bringing this new fish into her net. Then followed the usual episodes in a lover's existence, — the fre- quent morning calls at the counting-house, sedulous attention at balls which Annie was expected to patronize, the selection of Mary Johnson's most mag- nificent and high-priced bouquets, and swift pursuit of her when she retired with her father to London fogs WILT) DAYBELL. 61 and Wimpole Street. Dayrell's infatuation was at its height, when he travelled a hundred miles — the greater part on the outside of a coach — to the Lady- Patroness's ball at Richmond, when laughing Annie honoured him with but two dances in the course of that long evening, and, on handing her to her car- riage, would grant neither gloves nor floral sprig as a reward for his devotion. In the ensuing spring Oxford met Cambridge on the old course between Putney and Mortlake. Day- rell, like a good patriot, took a ticket on board that swift steamer, the " Pride of the Ocean," and saw the race. But while lustily cheering for Oxford, when her boat came in three lengths ahead of her oppo- nent ; while laughing on his return to the " British" at facetious waiter James, who met him on the door- step and asked him if he was going " 'Ome for the 'olidays" — a scene which friend "Punch" was kind enough to immortahze ; and while chatting with light and dark blue-tied undergraduates, who thronged that be-mirrored yet tarnished coffee-room, previous to serving as jurymen for the Chief Baron, or being addressed as " My dear boys" by the ubiquitous Mr, Green, an untoward event had happened in Wimpole Street. " Master is at home," said the servant who answered Dayrell's summons at Mr. Wilson^s door 62 WILD DAYRELL. on the morning after the race; '^but he can see no one." *'Is Miss Wilson upstairs?" asked he; "and dis- engaged ?" / "Have you not heard the news, sir?" stammered out the old domestic. *' How yesterday morning our young lady went out for a walk, and has never re- turned, and how they say she has eloped with a gentleman, a Mr. D , who you may have seen here sometimes, and how" Dayrell heard no more. He received a shock that morning which it took many a weary month to heal. In few cases is unrequited love fatal, Mr. Thackeray tells us. We " come again" with feelings somewhat blunted, but, perhaps, the chastening we have re- ceived makes us all the stronger to receive the buffets Life has in store for us. After all, Annie was the greatest sufferer. She who, by her numerous flirta- tions, had hoodwinked her relations, had taken unto herself a new home with a penniless barrister — albeit, her first and only love — and who had been pensioned by an unforgiving father with a hundred pounds a year. It was chance that led Dayrell, some time after this, to a small lodging not a hundred miles from Lincoln^s Inn, whose penetralia a charwoman was scouring at mid-day, while from the kitchen ascended WILD DAYRELL. 63 odours of unappetising cookery. How were the mighty fallen ! Poor Annie sat in an ill-furnished apartment, her whilom lustrous eyes so dim, and her look so careworn, as she toiled at some sketches which Mr. Etching would probably refuse to buy, and rebuked her children, who, with their prattlings, would fain hinder her task. Difficult, indeed, was it to recognise in that figure the pride of the ball-room, the belle of other days ! It was a painftd and touch- ing sight for Dayrell. Glady would he have dropped a five-pound-note on the floor as though by mistake, or left all his loose cash in some place where she might find it after his departure. But he was far too considerate to hurt her feelings by a gift. Through Mr. Etching came money for her drawings, and a request for more. In them that eminent printseller seemed suddenly to have discovered some intrinsic value. But we happen to know the person who created the demand, and we also know that the initials "A. D./' in the corner of each, were a sine qua non with the purchaser, and hope that his disin- terested kindness may some day meet its reward. 64 WILD DATRELL. CHAPTER IV. The savans declare that gambling hardens, smoking dries up, and early disappointment in love withers the human heart. If so, there must have been an " ORS triplex'' about DayrelFs breast. Verily had he run the gauntlet of all three. How can Emily hope to find a hole in the breastplate, bring our doughty hero on his knees, and make him utter sentiments such as are fully expressed in the grand old motto, '^ Ich Dien ? " A band, too large for so limited an audience, played in the Dieppe ball-room. Danc- ing, even in la belle France, is not in high favour during the dog-days. We beg pardon, we must except Sunday evenings, when French meets French, and make up for lost time by dancing till long past midnight. The new comers — Dayrell, Limmer, and the Tre- lawneys — were present that evening, prepared, as good dancers ought to be, to make the most of the unlimited space allotted to the deux temps walses. " Mamma talks of staying here three weeks, and WILD DAYRELL. 65 going afterwards to Ems/' confided Emily to Dayrell at tlie conclusion of their second quadrille. " The doctors say that my chest is weak, and that I ought to try a little German air, and drink the waters. I am sure it is all nonsense. I can walk, ride, and dance as well as anybody, but mammas always will take such ideas into their heads." '' I cannot imagine that any great hole has been pierced here as yet," answered Dayrell, innocently placing his hand upon his heart instead of his lungs. " I am sure there can be very little the matter, to judge from the rapidity with which you executed that last waltz under the auspices of that queer- looking Frenchman.^' '^ Don't abuse the Frenchmen, Mr. Dayrell ; they dance much better than some English I could name. Still, I like to choose my partners ; for some of the former say very odd things at times. Fancy, one day last year, when I told Monsieur Bracque that his long-haired spaniel was not a gentleman's dog, and that he ought to give it to some lady, he replied, * If the prettiest lady in France offered to give me six kisses, and the prettiest lady in England offered to give me a dozen, I would not part with my little pet ! ' Still, most of them are amusing, and if not allowed to have their own way, can be kept in pretty good order. But here comes the only Frenchman I 66 WILD DAYRELL. detest. I am sure he is going to teaze me to dance with him." " Say you are engaged," said Dayrell. The next moment he of the pinched-in waist and short- cropped hair dropped back discomfited, and Miss Trelawney and her partner were embarked in a graceful mazurka. " As you are a stranger, Mr. Dayrell/' said Emily, when the music ceased, " I must make you acquainted with the customs and habits of Dieppe. This ball- room is lighted three times a-week for our special gratification. Yet the English do not attend, except when they can make up a party, and, even then, re- fuse to dance with people they don't know. Singular custom, is it not ? But, then, insular we are by name and insular in habits. There was a silly little girl, called Kate Turner, here last year, who refused at first to dance with Monsieur Grandjambe, a man every bit as respectable as her papa ; but when he said he was sorry such a pretty demoiselle could not waltz, she jumped up and spun round the room with him like a teetotum. You see that young lady with the cherry ribbons at the end of the room. That is Mademoiselle Galette, an especial favourite with all my partners. She presides over the refreshment department, and supplies us with champagne and soda-water. You have only to open a bottle of the former, and, having quenched your thirst, confide it WILD DAYRELL. 67 to her care. At the end of the dance, you return to Mademoiselle, and she has a second tumbler ready for you. She is an obliging and good girl. Out of the profits she supports her infirm mother, and three brothers of tender age. Up stairs there is, they say, a small room, where they play ecarte all night. I hope, Mr. Dayrell, you never gamble ? '^ " I have quite given it up, I assure you," answered Dayrell, " and I hope never to play again. I have good reason for making such a resolution," added he, with a sigh. " I am delighted to hear you say so. I cannot tell you how I dislike gamblers. Play makes you all so selfish and distrait, that you become quite un- bearable in society. Besides, of the men you play with, so many are cheats. There was a very gentle- manly man here last season, and such a good dancer, who lost and won large sums of money every night. Most people thought him very rich, and so made private parties, at which even the ladies joined in a game called lansquenet. Of course there was a grand supper and champagne given on each occasion ; and one evening the play was very high, or he very un- lucky, but he left the table, having lost six thousand pounds. I was so sorry that such a young man should have been in the hands of people who play, if they do nothing worse, every night of their lives." f3 68 WILD DAYRELL. " Up to everything, as I live/' thought Dayrell ; " she has travelled to some purpose/^ " Then/' re- plied he, " I must give a hint to my friend Limmer, who is hopelessly attached to all games of chance, and save him from the same .untoward fate." As this was not a gala night, the hand left the orchestra at an early hour. Now, as Hansoms, four- wheeled cabs, or any sort of conveyance. — with the exception of travelling-carriages under the guidance of jack-booted postilions — are unknown in Dieppe, ball-goers must follow the example of our ancestors, and submit to be lighted to their respective houses by lantern-bearing domestics. And a grand sight it is, at the break-up of a ball, to glance down the principal street at the lights moving hither and thither, and see white satin shoes daintily picking their way over uneven pavement and dangerous gully-holes. But Dayrell trod "the lantern-lit path of sentiment," when escorting daughter and mother to their lodg- ings. Emily had taken his proffered arm — her other being found sufficient to keep her ample folds of muslin off the pavement. Yet, had ill-favoured Brown or Smith awkwardly tendered her such assist- ance, how kindly she would have declined, with " Thank you, Mr. B., but I require both my hands to hold up my dress." What though mamma was a close follower behind, and the lantern-bearing servant WILD DAYRELL. 69 was in front, they could not see that a fair round arm was pressed oftener than was necessary, giving cor- rect emphasis to feebly expressed ideas. "I hope you will call to-morrow," said mamma, as Dayrell shook hands with them on the steps ; "we shall be glad to see you, and talk over the ball. — Good night." And Dayrell turned on his heel as their door closed. His white kids dropped into his pocket, and, after the manner of us mo- derns, the cigar-case was fished up, and our hero walked along the quay pensively thinking but furi- ously smoking. " The very thing," soliloquised he, " pretty, agree- able, and has money. Yet people say that the three are never united in the same person. Bah ! so much for what the world says. But what will the mother think — kind old lady though she is now — when I tell her that I am hard up, and that I have been unlucky on the turf? By Jove, it must all come out. Ah, never mind; I'll let things take their course, sail with the tide, and vive la fortune! ' It may, after all, turn out as Limmer prophecied. But that reminds me I must go and look for him ;" and Dayrell with much reluctance quitted the open air, climbed a narrow staircase in the etablissement, and entered a small room, hot, close, and full of cigar smoke, — of cigar smoke from thirty full-sized regalias in the f3 70 WILD DAYRELL. mouths of adventurers from every country in Europe, and card-players of home growth. Amongst others the figures of Limmer, Tomkins, and Simpkins, loom through the hazy cloud. They are in high spirits, and joking about the cards, the changes in the game, and the quaint French characters. They are very hard upon one in particular, known to the brotherhood by the soubriquet of " the mangey pointer/' Not doubting the respectability of the members of this establishment, they are throwing down their Napo- leons, as though they were playing with capitalists of almost European celebrity. There is no good angel to whisper in their ears, that one is a sharper from Marseilles, a second a bankrupt manufacturer from Lyons, a third a keeper of a Casino on the Italian Boulevard, a fourth a ruined broker from the Bourse ; or that of those that remain a dozen are professional gamblers who live at Dieppe and by ecarte. So Limmer and Company play unconscious of the his- tories attached to their opponents. Not that it is probable that Simpkins would refrain from giving his sovereigns away, or Tompkins forbear to hang up his bank-notes in the money-changers' shops,* matu- * A gentleman who visited Dieppe, and used to play at the rooms, had a peculiar manner of folding his English bank-notes. When unfolded they retained the marks. As the money-changers always display their wealth in their windows, the fashionable world of Dieppe WILD DATUELL. 71 tinal reminders of an over-niglit folly, if they knew all. The infatuation of gambling and the folly of such gentlemen is so great, that they will play till they have scarcely enough to pay their fare to Eng- land. More than that ; the lesson they receive now will probably be forgotten a twelvemonth hence. With refilled purses they will visit one of the thousand foreign towns, so glad to receive the beaux joueurs of England. Again they lose, and return home ashamed of themselves, and afraid to register another vow that they will not be robbed a third time by foreign sharpers. " You are new to this," said Lyatt to Dayrell, as he entered the room. '' I don't think your friend, Mr. Limmer — that is his name, is it not? — can plead the same ignorance.^' '' I am so, and only a looker on," he replied. " I want to see how my friend yonder weathers the storm. Fortune does not seem to favour its Limmer to-night," he added, as that lover of games of chance rose from his seat discomfited, and took his place amongst the bystanders. " You must let me initiate you into the mysteries," used to stop every morning in front of the shop to see how many- notes Mr. had changed that day. It became at last the most important feature in the morning lounge. r 4 72 WILD DAYRELL. said Lyatt. " 'Gad, I ought to know something ahout the game, considering how dearly I bought my ex- perience. When a youngster, I used to watch the Frenchmen in a kind of silent awe at the way they handled their cards. They seemed more like wizards than men. They knew what was in their hand by simply looking at the inside edges of the cards, Then I had heard of sauter-le-coup, bridging cards, turning kings, pricking fingers and anointing them with lemon juices, so as to make them sensitive enough to feel the difference between kings, queens, knaves, and aces. I believed that one of these tricks decided every game I saw played. I longed to discover an agile finger in an overt act ; needless to add, I never did. Yet I know every one believes them to be guilty of such faux pas, whenever it is worth their while to practice them. I heard young Morton innocently tell a party of elders the other day, that he thought that Frenchmen, at least some of them, could turn a king when they liked, when Major Lanark took him up quite fiercely, and said, 'Why on earth mention such a stale old story? Don't you know that at Paris last month a man was turned out of a club, because, on an emergency, he could not turn a king ! ' My opinion is, that they are capable of practising such tricks, but are afraid of doing so in public. Every Frenchman suspects WILD DAYRELL. 73 his neighbour, and watches him too closely to allow of any deception. In a private house they might exercise their talents, especially if playing with unsuspicious people. No, Mr. Dayrell, they have a much better system by which winning becomes a certainty. The rules of ecarte at the club ordain that two players shall take the cards for one game only. When that is finished the loser vacates his chair, and one of the bystanders fills his place. The winner retains his, and, as it is technically termed, passes. Now at all games of chance, the luck follows one or other side of the table. For instance, the players on our right hand will probably pass twenty times, and their adversaries not more than three or four in the next two hours, because the vein appears to be with the former. Hence the backers of the right side will be winners in the proportion of four to one. Now, it is the special idiosyncrasy of the speculative Briton to support the losing party, either, I suppose, on the broad principle, that the weaker requires his assistance, or, that the run of luck will shortly change. A Frenchman, on the contrary, is prepared to bet heavily, so long as the cards are in his favour ; if he finds matters going against him, he either retires, or joins the ranks of the winners. Thus, at some period of the evening, he must reap the benefits of one good f 74 WILD DAYRELL. ' pass ;' and no sooner has he realized that, and his champion has been vanquished, than, like a shade on the banks of the Acheron, he ' melts into thin air,' or betakes himself to supper and thin sliced sausages, leaving the unfortunate English, who have all along been staking their money on the losing side, to lament the absence of capital, when it is their turn to win. A happy notion this, Mr. Dayrell, is it not ? It so completely realizes our idea of ' Heads, I win — tails, you lose.' " " Upon my word it does," said Dayrell. " But, tell me, who is the little man, who sits at the head of the table, twirling his pencil, and looking so drowsy and uninterested." " That is Descartes, whose business it is to make out a list of such as wish to take a hand, to prevent any one playing out of his turn, and to see that the stakes on each side are evenly balanced. It is his business also to prevent the frequent repetition of what they call ' erreurs' In this he totally fails. At the end of every game, when the happy winners divide the spoils, there is always a deficiency of some ten or fifteen francs. A nice little harvest the robber must make. Supposing he sits out five hundred winning games in the course of the season, and takes up ten francs that don't belong to him on each occasion, he will net a snug income of two WILD DAYRELL, 75 hundred pounds a year. That old colonel yonder, with the decoration, who sits by the money, is popularly supposed to be the pi underer-in- chief. Nobody ever saw him stake anything ; still, at the end of every game he claims, and takes, ten francs, and the deficiency thus created is made good by the other winners. I asked Monsieur Le Bas, the other day, why somebody did not accuse the old gentleman of the robbery. The Frenchman simply shrugged his shoulders, and remarked, * Que voulez vous ? Do you think that any of us, for a few miserable francs, are going to run the risk of having three inches of cold steel in our sides to-morrow morning?^ But look ! your friend Limmer has just taken his seat. Let us watch the game.'' The cards are dealt to Limmer. This, his first hand, is easy to play. Do what he will, he cannot lose the trick. The bystanders look over his shoulder, and in dignified silence watch the game. A moderate outburst of remarks as England scores one. Then Limmer deals, but gives himself a very difi'erent hand to the last, one that requires a moment's thought, and necessitates some hesitation before closing with his adversary's proposal to have fresh cards. Advice is freely tendered by everybody at the same moment. " Jouez qa,'^ says an old veteran who has grown grey in card service. *' Non, 76 WILD DAYRELL. Monsieur, Jouez 9a/' implores a young clerk, who, beardless though he be, is no mean authority on a game that he has studied in bed and out of bed, in dressing-gown and evening clothes, since he was eight years old. Limmer is bewildered. Up go his arms spasmodically into the air. He shakes off the crowd of Frenchmen, as he would a swarm of bees buzzing about his ear, plays what he thinks best, and loses the trick. (Frightful crash of voices and Babel of bystanders' tongues.) Again the cards are dealt. Again Limmer loses, and retires to the back-ground to listen to the upbraidings of some, the execrations of others, and the consolations of nobody. " Come away, Limmer," said Dayrell. " Take a glass of my champagne and then away to Blossom's. Your wide-awake is not destined, this evening at least, to be filled with five-franc pieces. Now, Mr. Solomon," added he, as they walked down the street, ^^who was the wisest man, — ^you, who were ruining your health in a hot, smoky atmosphere, and paying dearly for the precious indulgence, — or I, who had a dance, a pleasant talk, and now have a quiet conscience to go to bed with ? Allons, Mr. Limmer, if I had not done the same thing in my younger days, I would read you a homily that you would not soon forget." WILD DAYRELL. H CHAPTER V. There are few places so unsatisfactory for a court- ship as Dieppe. There are no special advantages in the shape of shady walks, sequestered arbours, or murmuring streams, whither a pair of wanderers can go and congratulate themselves on being un- molested and unseen. " Pleasant and airy is the pier," you say, — so it is ; but the invalids and old gentlemen hold the same opinion, and taking their camp-stools thither, snuff the breeze from early morn to dewy eve, watching with obtrusive eyes any lovers who may chance to invade their sanc- tuary. There are objections to the promenade. For, supposing it to be, as yet, too early for the fair dames of Dieppe to turn out in their variegated plumage, one is safe to meet a host of bathers returning from their dip, or the blouse- clad gamins who everlastingly flirt with the nursery-maids. " Why not go into the country," you ask ? Bah ! and find nothing but dusty roads, and mutilated trees that give no shade, to say nothing of the 78 WILD DAYRELL. chance of a stroke from the " sun's perpendicular rays." After such a trip, with the thermometer probably at ninety, Cupid himself might be expected to drop his wings, and feel his hair to be sadly in want of Mr. Marsh's washing and cleansing apparatus. Enthusiastic mothers may " get up '^ pic-nics, but pic-nics, pleasant as they are, cannot be compassed every day. No matter how anxious Mrs. Hooker may be to give Captains Plantagenet and Fitz James an opportunity of " speaking out " to her Bessie and Margaret, she would be a bold woman to exhibit her daughters too often, and make the smitten ad- mirer too conversant with their undoubted charms. Besides, should we wish oftener to partake of warm champagne and indifferently cooked potatoes under the wide-spreading beech-tree, appropriate spots for the purpose near Dieppe are scarce. True, the Castle of Arques is a delightful old ruin, but toujours Castle of Arques would become very stale. What is there left but the ball-room, and what we started from — the lodgings ? The former, in the absence of balconies and conservatories, we summarily dismiss. The latter, — yes — something may be done there. But bear in mind, Mr. Adonis, mammas cannot always be leaving the room on pretence of rectifying some mistake in their dinner orders, or be continually WILD DATRELL. 79 fetching scent or pocket handkerchiefs from a neigh- bouring apartment; nor run away with the idea, that, in her absence, you are free from interlopers. Spooner, in such a sanctuary, was interrupted when approaching the most tender and touching part of a lover's advances. A.t the end of the room there was a glass door, veiled, in French fashion, by a muslin curtain, which was supposed to prevent the actions of the people inside being seen. A chance glance in this direction assured him that two female heads, belonging either to the domestic or family portion of the establishment, were flattening their noses against the glass, and attempting to fathom the mysteries of Spooner's conference with his in- amorata; and, although on being discovered, the sight-seers scuttled off with marvellous celerity, and Spooner regained his seat with as small an amount of awkwardness as could be expected, it was a long time before that bashful youth screwed up courage enough to make a second attempt. In spite of such local drawbacks, Emily and Dayrell had frequent interviews. By occasionally drifting on to the beach, where mamma certainly sat hard by, but, immersed in the pages of a brown- paper covered volume, was unconscious of the passing scene, and by assisting at the balls and pic-nics, op- portunities arose of which our hero took advantage. 80 WILD DAYRELL. Luckily too for him, Emily was mistress at home. She was an only child, and, what is of more account to those who love to have their own way, an invalid. If an honest professor of the art of healing, one of the tell-you-his-mind Esculapii of the old school, had been consulted about her bodily ailments, he would have abruptly answered, " Stuff" and nonsense ; she is as well as I am." But her relations had once been told that she was delicate, and having imbibed this notion, Mrs. Trelawney would have been untrue to the stubborn principles of her sex, had she refused to adhere to, and do battle for, the idea. Emily's wishes, therefore, were the law of the household. She could persuade her mother to do whatever she wished ; but it is right to add, that she reigned less absolutely and tyranically than might be supposed. The exercise, however, of even a mild form of des- potism tends to the production of a somewhat for- ward and precocious young lady. Not that this exotic, as a rule, fascinates the sterner sex. On the contrary, the peach-blossom cheek, the languishing eye, and the most milk-and-water conversation, will often wrest the palm from those who can think for themselves, and give an opinion which we Solons would be better for listening to. But Emily was not one of these forward girls. It was only when her advice was asked, that she showed she could speak to WILD DAYRELL. 81 the purpose; or wlien some young gentleman, in over-joyousness of spirits, jumped over the traces, that she could administer a rebuke. " Do your friends call you 'mentor/ or 'menteur?^'^ slipped out of her mouth one evening, in answer to a well- known raconteur of stories and adviser of youth. Thus Emily, being mistress of the household, planned country excursions and walks, at all of which Dayrell somehow assisted. Had Mrs. Tre- lawney been acquainted with his antecedents, and the miserable state of his exchequer, she could not have done otherwise than act the prudent mother, and put a veto upon her daughter's arrangements. But here Fortune befriended Dayrell. Stapley, who knows everybody, and who, spring, summer, and winter, is gadding about the watering-places, hap- pened this summer to be at Dieppe, and, having known Dayrell in his palmy days, gave flourishing accounts of his resources and family, which, coming in the way of friendly gossip to the ears of Mrs. Trelawney, had lulled to sleep any natural feeling of curiosity or suspicion. So pleasantly sped the days for Dayrell, and in such good spirits did he write to his sister, that she, good soul, guessed that there was a lady in the case ; and, balancing her foot on the fender, and gazing into the fire-place, wondered whether her future sister was fair or dark, tall or 82 WILD DAYRELL. short, and, in her answer, hoped *'that everything would be for the best^^ — a general, not to say enig- matical, phrase, suggestive of further confidences. Nor were the warm summer evenings mis-spent. Often would Dayrell join the family circle, and, if not ^^hit" at back-gammon, or check-mated at chess, listen to the Spanish and French ditties for which Emily's voice was well adapted. Rare performer she was on the piano. Gladly did the old Dieppoise^ as she clanked along the streets in her cumbrous sabots, stop under the open window, through whose muslin curtains the subdued lamplight struggled, and, hearing a favourite native air, muttered cest ravissant, and stumbled off, a thought happier, to her confined, but old-fashioned garret. One evening Mrs. Trelawney sat on the sofa toil- ing at yards of canvas, to be turned, albeit at some very distant date, into a border for her curtains. Kate was at the piano, and Dayrell stood by in the constrained attitude that a gentleman generally cul- tivates, when Mademoiselle sings from memory, and there are no music pages to be turned over. It was a Spanish air she was singing, in which a Seville girl was supposed to be standing at an open casement and lamenting the loss of her lover. " Somebody in Dieppe must be doing this evening much the same as my Spanish heroine, eh ! Mr. WILD DAYRELL. 83 Dayrell V^ and Miss Emily slily glanced at him, and finished her performance with the customary run over the notes. " They say you are mixed up in it, if not the principal concoctor of the plot. I con- gratulate you on being able to keep a secret better than most people. Still I think you might have made us your confidants." " So it is known already," he answered. " Well, I am prepared to meet my fate — even to be torn to pieces by the infuriated Mr. Sandes in the cause of disinterested friendship. Excuse me, Miss Tre- lawney, for my silence. However much T may admire a legitimate thirst after knowledge, I never could persuade myself to put a lady in possession of any important secret. Please don't frown. If you'll forgive my silence, I will now give you a true and correct version of the aff'air. You must recollect Captain Splice — a thin, good-looking man, with light downy moustaches — generally to be seen in front of Horgan's Hotel with an immense regalia in his mouth. He met Miss Sandes last winter in England, and followed her here from Leamington. They were a charming couple, just made for one another, I should say. It was quite afi'ecting to see them making love, like a couple of doves on the eaves of a house. Neither said much, but the way they looked at one another reminded me of a little boy and girl, g2 84 WILD DAYRELL. of the mature ages of nine and eight, exchanging timid sentimental glances at a juvenile dance. The only obstacle to their happiness was a stern father, who intended making over Miss Sandes and the 20,000/. she has on coming of age, to a youthful cousin. These family arrangements are all very well, but not viewed in the same light by my friend the Captain. He feels, Miss Trelawney, that the best feelings of his nature are being trifled with. If he could, he would, like a friend of mine, relieve him- self by shedding tears ; but his romance takes an- other turn. He preserves a dogged silence, and, the more unhappy he is, the more tobacco he consumes. Now, what advice would you have given to any one who came at midnight, told you he was in love, that his passion was returned, and that the only obstacle to his happiness was a crusty, unnatural papa V " In the first place, Mr. Dayrell, I would not have seen a person at that unreasonable hour ; and, in the second, I would not listen to any one who hinted at rope-ladders, a chaise down the lane, and Gretna. Suppose I " " Wouldn't do such a thing for the world, Miss Trelawney. You won't see it in the right light. Just consider what are even a parent's wishes to blighted affection? What is married life without Love? And how miserable the poor wife must be WILD DAYHELL. 85 till husband number one is removed from this busy- scene. Besides, when the knot is once tied, the run- aways can return to the parent, and the latter, when he sees how useless all opposition and anger must be, forgives, if he does not forget." " What shocking ideas you have to-night, Mr. Dayrell ; and I am sure you must be quite wrong. No one elopes now-a-days. Besides, thanks to the spoil-sport electric wires, the blacksmith^s occupation is gone — at least they told us so when we passed the Gretna Station on the Northern line last autumn." '^ I must enlighten you on that subject, Miss Tre- lawney. There are Gretnas under another name, where couples in a hurry can be expeditiously and cheaply married — for instance, the loyal, free, and independent states, as the inhabitants say, of Jersey. With this harbour of refuge in my mind's eye, I formed a plan for our gallant captain. A steamer leaves this place every week for St. Helier's. I found out that she was to sail on the day of the ball (yes- terday), at 11 A.M. This would not suit my plans, so I induced the captain for a consideration to delay his departure till 11 p.m. Papa was in the habit of playing two rubbers of whist at every ball; and if any Englishman would cut in, and put up with his mistakes, would sit out four or five games. This task I undertook. I then told Splice that, when g3 86 WILD DAYRELL. he saw us comfortably seated at the table, he and Miss Sandes might slip out, meet the servant who brought her cloak, bonnet, and boots, and trot off to the vessel with the utmost celerity. I, moreover, hired a duenna — such an acid-looking monster — to accompany them, and make it all proper. On the night of the ball I met Sandes, and conducted him to the whist-table. We cut, and I became his part- ner. Just as we were winning the second game he made a revoke. Of course he was found out, and, like most criminals when detected in such an act, was horribly angry. ' I tell you, sir,' he said to his adversary, a Frenchman of sinister and Barabbas- like aspect, ' I did not play that card.^ ' Monsieur se trompe* answered Barabbas, quite affably, follow- ing up his remark with explanations far too profuse and intricate to be comprehended by any ordinary intellect. ' Then bon soir^ said Mr. Sandes, me- nacingly throwing the francs he had lost on the table ; ' perhaps you will be able to play without partners,' and he stalked away, and looked for his daughter amongst the dancers. As ill-luck would have it. Splice's scapegrace boy had been late in coming with the necessary disguise. The anxious pair were looking into the court-yard, when Mr. Sandes burst upon them with, ' Why are you not dancing, Fanny?' *We were only looking at the WILD DATRELL. 87 stars, papa dear/ answered the little deceiver ; ' how beautiful they are to-night!' 'J am going home immediately/ said papa angrily, not because he sus- pected anything, but simply because the loss of thirteen francs annoyed him exceedingly. ' Go in and win/ I had just time to say to Splice, as he led Miss Sandes to the robing-room ; ' tell Mr. Sandes everything ; ' but I could not add more without being overheard. They left the rooms, and I soon after- wards started for Blossom's Hotel. I went to bed and fell asleep. I had a dream. An object ap- peared to me, with hair scattered promiscuously over a manly forehead. A cigar protruded from the corner of its mouth. Evening clothes adorned its person, and a white tie, but the bows of the latter were twisted under the ear, not the chin, of the object. A composite candle, guttered by the draft from the door, flickered in its hand. This apparition stood at the bottom of my bed. * It 's all up,' I heard, and in the sepulchral accents recognised the voice of Splice. 'No /am not,' I managed to answer from between the sheets. ' I can see that,' he sorrowfully replied ; ' but you soon will be, and ready to do me a favour.' (' Shall I ?' I thought, thoroughly hating him for thus disturbing my slumbers.) 'I have seen Mr. Sandes myself, and spoken to him, but he will not give his consent. I G 4 88 WILD DAYRELL. start for England this morning. Will you go to Paris on my account ? * ' Paris ! I go to Paris ! ' I an- swered, starting up in the bed. * Are you mad, or am I dreaming ? ' ' Yes, old fellow ; I want you to go to Paris. It is no distance from here. You would be back in less than a week. You see, my plan is this. As soon as I arrive in England, I shall go to my uncle's. Sir E. Splice, — he is very fond of me, — always used to give me tips when I was a boy, — I shall ask him to write a letter — a proper letter, you know, all about our family and connections — to Mr. Sandes ; this I will forward to you at Paris, and if you will give it to him, and in a quiet conversation talk of me as an exemplary character, or throw out hints about a slate quarry or coal mine that may be my property some day, you will render me a service I never will forget. Then, if Sandes receives the proposition kindly, telegraph to me, and I will be in Paris in twelve hours.* A cool proposition, was it not, at that early hour of the morning ? '* " And what answer did you give ? " asked Emily. ^* He bothered me so, that in a weak moment I assented." " I thought we should have had the pleasure of your company as far as Ems,'' said mamma. " You said, the other day, you should like to see that part of Germany .'' WILD DATRELL. 89 "Indeed I did/' he answered; "and, upon my word, if I had a shilling about me, instead of these shabby franc-pieces, I would make an affidavit, as Paul Pry says, never to do another good natured thing as long as I lived, much less attempt to run a young couple into matrimony. But when poor Splice is in extremis, — when pretty Miss Sandes is in the depths of anxiety and misery, and I have given my promise, — how can I retract ? " "You might go to Paris, and join us at Ems,'^ suggested mamma. " Yes, I might,^' replied Dayrell, hardly satisfied with the solution of the difficulty. " But not till after the races, mamma,'' said Emily. " Mr. Dayrell promised the Prefet he would take us to the course." " That is a prior engagement, and shall be faith- fully kept,'' he replied. " Splice cannot command my services till the end of the week. But I think I have interfered sufficiently with your night*s rest— I will only add, good night, and may we have a fine day for the races." " Am I dreaming, or is it all true ?" thought Day- rell, as he left the house. " Can it ever he ? She was indeed anxious about my trip to Paris, and mamma invited me to Ems. Can I reasonably hope ? Bah ! They must have made some mistake — been led astray 90 WILD DAYRELL. by some report of a fortune that I do not possess — take me for my rich cousin, perhaps — yet, after what I told them, they could hardly be so foolish. How am I to face the expose of my affairs ? How present my nil in presently and not too much in futuro^ to the scrutiny of an inquisitive mother, or the Argus eye of an own-brother-to-Tales ? And the consequences I rejection with ignominy; proved to be an impostor by my own showing ; turned off by mamma, and for- gotten in a week by the daughter. By heavens " '^ Walking into the sea with the calm deliberation of a blind man," uttered the well known voice of Lyatt, from the opposite side of the street. *^ Am I to be an eye-witness of a suicide, and be the first to carry the harrowing news to the Rue St. Martin ? " "Where it might be received with more com- posure than you imagine," replied Dayrell. " What made you mention the Trelawneys, just as though I had the slightest chance of succeeding in that quarter ? '' "Another bashful specimen of humanity," said Lyatt in tones of pity, " discovered by accident, not to say, by moonlight. For you, the envy of the Frenchmen, and the subject of conversation for the loungers of Dieppe, to tell me that you have not the pluck to carry off the heiress of this and the last season. 'Gad, Dayrell, at your age, you ought to be WILD DAYRELL. 91 ashamed of yourself; you, who cannot be numbered amongst the juveniles, the *Fortunati nimium, sua si bona norint ;' the happy but timid youths, who, in excess of mo- desty, block up the doorways of ball rooms, and gaze with longing eyes at heiresses and beauties, yet are afraid to speak to them. Look at me. I am not rich, you know that ; I am not good-looking ; I am not young; I am not strong in conversation, though T may be blessed with a certain amount of impu- dence. Still, if Mrs. Lyatt were removed from this sublunary sphere, and I happened to meet such a ^ood partie as Miss Trelawney, do you think I should shrink from speaking my mind ? Why I would pro- pose, and be accepted, before you bashful non- dancers had made up your minds to solicit the honour of the next quadrille.^' " Talk on. It 's very easy to say what you would do. But tell me, supposing you were accepted, how are you going to multiply the great round into something substantial, when the lawyers are called in and settlements have to be made ? Besides, you don't know how I have been taken in on other occa- sions ; " and DayrelPs thoughts reverted to his pre- vious failures. " Poor boy ! " said Lyatt, mistaking DayrelFs 92 WILD DAYRELL. meaning. '^ Do you imagine that I am a convert to Lady Scatter cash's logic, ' if she has nothing, and he has nothing, nothing could be better?' That would not suit my constitution. No, if I were in the country I should take the train ; if in London, a Hansom cab; and by proffering a shilling to a guardian of last wills and testaments, should become the momentary possessor of a parchment, whose con- tents would inform me how much a father did be- queath unto his much-loved daughter, and under what conditions. But you may keep your shilling in your pocket. Miss Trelawney is an heiress. Take my word for it." " Granted ; but that is not the point. I want to know how to parry the usual enquiries made by an anxious mamma on the morning after the proposal. I don't mind telling you, Lyatt, that any letter ad- dressed to my lawyer, asking for information re- specting my pecuniary resources, will be shortly, nay, curtly, answered." "Is that the difficulty?*' answered the mentor. " It was you that gave such excellent advice to Splice the other day, surely the same is applicable to your case.'' '* Not at all. His was quite different. He has a rich uncle and relations who might help him." " So have you, doubtless. Write to them — give WILD DATRELL. 93 them full particulars, and a mother and a sister will manage it for you. Stay, it will suit you better to inveigle the Trelawneys across the Channel'. Let them meet your family. Let mamma meet mamma Let a sister pour her gushing experiences into Miss Emily's ear. Let them talk for a week, if they will. 1^11 answer for the result. Do you still say no, and shake your head? I understand it now — you have been too long in the same society. You want a change of scene — a few of those cobwebs swept out of your brain. Come to the ecarte room, back Lim- mer's hand, distract your thoughts by winning or losing a few Napoleons. Wonderful results have sometimes flowed from such a chance visit to the tables." ^^ Perhaps so," answered Dayrell; "but not to- night. Here is my hotel, and I shall retire upstairs. Thanks for your advice. Till the races, adieu !" Limmer, in the meantime, had not been idle. A few pages back his gift of eloquence was fully recog- nised; and, as he spared not the flower of his rhe- toric when conversing with his inferiors, besides being liberal in promises of future douceurs, it is not to be wondered at if he was very much " thought of " by the uneducated masses. Landlord Blossom, albeit ofttimes bitten by plausible adventurers in the matter 94 WILD DAYRELL. of his bill, succumbed in forty-eight hours, and in glowing terms described him to his wife, as *' le brave garqon Anglais J' But Limmer, as he took his candlestick and retired to his room, after making this impression on the facile heart of Blossom, winked knowingly at himself in the glass, and had already decided on turning it to his advantage. It happened that, in the stables of the hotel, there stood an Irish horse — ugly and ragged hipped, 'tis true — but of great size and power. It caught the eye of Limmer in his first matutinal ramble. He prosecuted enquiries, and received answers in the flowery language in which ostlers of every country are wont to indulge. " Can he jump ?" enquired our speculator. " Oui, par exempUj haut comme qa,*' replied the glazed-hatted attendant, flourishing his fork a yard above the corn-rack. '^ Can he gallop?^' " Qui, Monsieur, like the wind." But we need not stop to ask how that element performs such a feat. Then Limmer leaned his chin on his hand, and took counsel with himself touching this noble qua- druped. Buy? No ; he would not buy — perhaps, we might add, he could not, except by a bill at six months, a species of payment not exactly suited to WILD DAYRELL. 95 the tastes of our lively neighbour the Gaul. Besides, experience had shown him the folly of investing in such uncertain property as horse-flesh. As hiring or borrowing were the only other means at his disposal, he had an interview with Blossom, the owner, the result of which will presently appear. " Chacun a son gout" said Limmer, as Dayrell and he sat one evening after dinner discussing their wine, and the former concluded the account of his adven- tures in the Rue St. Martin. " Since you have given me the details of your proceedings, perhaps you would like to Hsten to mine. You will be sorry to hear that, owing to sudden creditorial pressure, the Honourable Mr. Fakenham has been obliged to leave Dieppe. But Blossom did not allow him to depart without leaving some security for his kittle' bill. In the place of money, the hon. gentleman left his famous horse, Casse-cou, intended to start and win the Dieppe Steeplechase, and now under the control of me, Limmer, surnamed ' the Lucky.' Blossom's knowledge of horse-flesh is very limited; his ma- nagement is worse. Casse-cou was allowed his full feeds of corn, but was seldom exercised. Casse-cou, in the exuberance of his spirits, kicked the ostler. Casse-cou was harnessed to the landlord's gig, and kicked it to pieces. Then Blossom's heart was sad ; Mrs. B. was visibly affected unto tears, and urged 96 WILD DAYRELL. her lord and master to make away with ce vilain monstre. Then I came to Blossom as a saviour; rescued him from the slough of despond, by taking the whole care and responsibility of Casse-cou, and am to pay fourteen francs a week for his keep. Fur- thermore, we have agreed that the horse is to be entered for the gentleman's race ; that if he wins, the stakes are to be divided ; and if he loses, he is to be again under the care of Blossom. I assured him that the horse must win, and some rich Parisian would give a thousand pounds for him. * A thousand pounds 1 how many francs is that ? ' he exclaimed, as the commercial mind of Blossom expanded. 'I will send the receipt to Monsieur Fakenham to- night, and I shall gain the whole thousand pounds for myself/ Thus, I have not spent any of that precious commodity, ready-money; I am the quasi- owner of a horse ; I may win a great race, and as much money as your gaudy wide-awake will hold. Shake hands, Dayrell, order another bottle of Mou- ton, and drink to my success/^ " A remarkably nice boy you are, Limmer, not to say clever. But this time you may find that you have overreached yourself. Do you believe, for one instant, that the French will allow an Englishman to win one of their races ? If you come in first, a distance a-head of the others, they will prove you to WILD DAYRELL. 97 have gone the wrong side of a post ; and if you win by a length, obliquity of vision on the part of the judge will give the victory to the second horse." " Never fear, Mr. Dayrell, I know all about that ; I didn't attend La Marche races for nothing, and see the English-trained, English-ridden horse, the Curate, proclaimed the winner, though, to my cer- tain knowledge, he was not the first to pass the post. The man in the judge's box was not a genius, like our Mr. Clarke -, he was only an amateur, and was terribly flurried by * a near thing.' So half-a-dozen confederates assisted him to form his judgment by shouting under the box, as the horses passed, * Bravo the Curate ! the Curate ! ' and, strangely enough, up went the Curate's number. It is as well to be pre- pared for all contingencies. Perhaps I shall be, per- haps not ;" and here Limmer chuckled. " Allow me to say, Limmer, that in a parliamentary sense> you are nothing better than a robber." " Don't flurry yourself, my dear fellow," said the other, noways disconcerted at the compliment. " I was only talking of what was done at La Marche. I shall win without any assistance of the kind. It is only in case of accidents,'' and here a succession of winks closed Limmer's sentence. From the date of this conversation up to the morning of the race, it would be difficult to say 98 WILD DAYRELL. when Limmer took his natural rest. His training summoned him twice a day to the race-course. There, on Casse-cou's back, he galloped at a furious pace, standing up in his stirrups, and shouting to the workmen to get out of his way. " Diable,*' muttered the natives as he passed them at full gallop, and strained their eyes, expecting a man who did not sit down in his saddle to fall off any moment. Not- withstanding all this, his seances at the ecarte table were not foreshortened. He even found time for further schemes in connection with the race. There was a spice of romance about the ostler's summary of Casse-cou's capabilities. True, he could jump a fence of any reasonable height, but he lacked the quiet "on and off^^ of the accustomed steeple- chaser. He could "stay" for ever, but he was deficient in pace ; a failing that in winter might not be of much account, but in summer, when the ground was hard, would materially interfere with his chances. Limmer soon discovered this defect in his horse, and hit upon a plan for remedying it. He obtained an introduction to the race committee, and singling out more particularly that working member, Monsieur Paille-foin, inundated him with so many compliments, that had not Limmer, from motives of his own, declined the honour, he certainly would have been elected honorary steward. WILD DAYRELL. 99 " Really, Monsieur Paille-foin/' said Limmer one morning on the Place, *Hlie fences now-a-days on the steeple-chase courses are simply ridiculous ; there is not one on ours that I could not hop over. I am sure your grey mare would not stop to look, but take them all in her stride. You remember our Leicestershire gates and timber jumps; you should have one or two like them, and, depend upon it, your mare, who is such a splendid fencer, would have a better chance of winning." "I have seen Leicestershire myself, — I know it well, Monsieur Leemare," replied Paille-foin, who, in a railway carriage y had once travelled through that country, and was therefore a competent autho- rity. "I think it will be as well to make some alterations. I will give orders to the workmen to make some of the fences stronger and higher.'^ Which no doubt he did. But, to make assurance doubly sure, Limmer changed a five-franc piece, and distributing the smaller coins amongst the peasants, caused two or three superlative '^ obstacles ^' to be reared and propped up with extra stakes and pali- sades, so that the committee, should they change their minds, might be hindered by the trouble of reducing so formidable a barricade. O, Limmer ! well may you look at yourself in the glass with satisfaction, on this, the eventful morning h2 100 WILD DAYRELL. of the race. Well does the Oxford-blue jacket sit upon you; well do the shining tops and Barclay- breeches adorn your little short legs. Does the complacent smile upon your countenance forebode success, or is it only one of satisfaction at your elaborate " get up ? " You deserve to win ; you, who in a business and commercial point of view, have left no stone unturned, and have risked much capital on the result. We saw you in conversation with members of the Jockey Club, and the gentle- men riders from Paris. You knew that no accom- modating ring would offer you the chance of winning money, so you depreciated your equestrian talents ; you spoke with modesty, and they fell into the snare. We looked over your book, and saw the entries on the second page, and we have been credibly informed how many hundred francs Mr. Dayrell has invested for you. All honour to your talents, but we cannot help thinking how sadly they are misapplied. " What a funny race course," exclaimed Miss Tre- lawney to Dayrell, as, under the guardianship of mamma, they drove up in their carriage. "They have marked out the course with soldiers instead of flags. What can they want with their guns and bayonets? Not to make the horses jump better, I hope." "No, no, Miss Trelawney," replied Dayrell. "They 4 WILD DATRELL. 101 are there to prevent the country people being ridden over; in fact, to keep the course clear. There is your friend the Prefet in the stand, in cocked hat and official coat." "Is he the judge, Mr. Dayrell? '' " No, he only distributes the laurel crowns to the happy winners. I must tell you that the promoters of races in France being classical scholars, have read of the Isthmian games, and imitate the Grecian practice of decorating the winner with a floral tro- phy — so much honour for the animal. For the owner, or rider, there are a couple of bags full of coin. It will add much to our amusement, if Lim- mer should win, to see him carrying his bags of metal to the town ; for his proverbial craftiness will prevent him entrusting them to any one else, and I suppose Mrs. Trelawney will not spoil sport by offering him a seat in our carriage." " I am quite ashamed of you, Mr. Dayrell ; I am sure mamma will behave better than that : if she does not, I shall myself ask the poor man to come back with us/' "Then I shall tell him you intend to commit a petty larceny. Ah ! there is the trumpet. Act the first, scene the first — two horses upon the stage, and both horses belong to the same stable. You may choose which you like for six pair of Pivet's gloves — h3 102 WILD DAYRELL. Yes — you have selected the right one — yellow jacket and black cap. Now_, Mr. Yellow Jacket, do your best ; you are carrying Miss Caesar and some of her fortunes." " How very stupid ! " exclaimed Emily, as Yellow Jacket trotted in, a distance a-head of its opponent. "If I had been the Prefet, I should have been ashamed to put a collar of evergreens about that animal's neck. How foolish too it looks — even the Prefet is smiling. Why don^t they take the poor creature to its stable, before everybody dies of laughing ?'' " If they couldn^t raise a cheer for the winner, they might have hissed the loser," said DayrelL "I remember, when I was an undergraduate, our college started twenty-one horses in an amateur race on Abingdon course. The proctors heard of it, and sent an emissary to take the names of the riders. * Bravo, Stunner ! Stunner wins ! ' shouted the crowd, as the gentleman, rejoicing in that soubriquet, went first past the post. ^ Get away home, Lobbs ! Ah, ah, Lobbs ! ' they ex- claimed in derision, as that unfortunate undergra- duate toiled in last. The names of Stunner and Lobbs were duly reported. But Stunner, the win- ner, could not be traced ; — there was no person of that name. Lobbs only was discovered, and rusti- . WILD DAYHELL. 103 cated for the heinous crime, the University face- tiously remarked, of being last in a race." The Gentleman's race stands next on the card. There is a stir amongst the crowd in front of the stand, as the horses are led round. Gentlemen rider and their friends fill the weighing tent, and chatter about kilogrammes as they sit down in the scales, and about the fences. When the official has declared them " all right," La Belle France simmers up into a kind of enthusiasm, more particularly the ladies, who have come to see their particular fancies ride. Their faces are somewhat paler than usual, at the sight of those formidable posts and rails. Made- moiselle Delahay^s merry laugh — such as she in- dulges in when she trips into the sea — is suddenly hushed. The fate of Baron Longchamps is in the balance. Perhaps, she thinks, he is taking off his white coat for the last time. Mademoiselle Mille- fleur regrets she ever came — only think, should her wealthy fiance be brought home on a hurdle, where will be her trousseau, her equipage, her opera-box next season? At the same moment the object of her thoughts gallops past the stand, charges the hur- dles, and scarcely saves a fall by clutching the neck of his astonished horse. A little shriek is heard in the stand, but Monsieur Lupin recovers himself, and walks to the starting post. Limmer is the only one H 4 104 WILD DAYRELL. who starts uncared for and unwept — a circumstance somewhat in his favour, as removing all cause for nervousness. The bugle sounds. ''They're off!" exclaimed the English in the stand. " Which will you have for a dozen pair of gloves, Miss Trelawney/' cried Dayrell? "England or France?" " England/' Mr. Dayrell. " A patriotic selection, but the odds are seven to one against you," he replied. The horses started at a moderate canter. The first jump was a flight of hurdles bushed with furze, a rood of which Lupin's horse knocked down, and the others followed through the gap. Limmer puts on the steam, and clears a brace of fences without accident. They are approaching the rails that caused such terror to Mademoiselles Delahay and Millefleur. Limmer sits down in his saddle, and shakes old Casse-cou. "Bravely done! bravely done V' shouted Lyatt in the stand ; and the feelings of the crowd found vent in a buzz of applause, as horse and rider landed safely on the right side. " Get on — don't look back ; please don t look back, and throw away the race," cried Lyatt imploringly; as though the distant Limmer could hear him. Limmer did not hear, but did look back, and. WILD DAYRELL. 105 doubtless, chuckled at what he saw. Flourishing his whip, and muttering between his teeth " AUez, villain, allez/' Lupin upset his horse, who, if left alone, might have done well enough, and had a stunning fall. Luckily for her, Mademoiselle did not recognise the colours, till the unfortunate French- man had picked himself up, and mounted his animal, which had been caught by one of the soldiers. The hesitating Longchamps came next. Feebly he put his horse at the stiffest part of the fence ; but that sagacious animal, knowing that greater pluck and pace were required, stopped suddenly on the taking- off side, and shot the Baron on to the green turf beyond, a contretemps that, of course, made the others refuse. By the time that three or four had scrambled over, Limmer was a quarter of a mile a-head. A little further, and he disappeared from the sight of the occupants of the stand, yet hotly pursued by the mare Penelope and two others. Four minutes elapse and Limmer re-appears, still with a commanding lead. "He must win, I tell you; he must win,'* cries Lyatt ; " it is all over, and they never can catch him." Wait a minute, Sir, do you see Penelope creeping up, and she has a turn of speed, and is taking the smaller fences in gallant style. One field from home Limmer is still leading, and Penelope drawing nigh. 106 WILD DATRELL. Over the last hurdles flies the former, flourishes his whip, and sits down in his saddle for the finish. "Casse-cou wins ! ^^ shout the English; '^AUez, Penelope ! " shriek the Frenchmen. But the latter stumbles, as she lands over the last hurdle, — she comes again, but too late to prevent her rival passing the chair, a winner by two good lengths. One hat flies into the air — a peculiar hat, one with a broad brim, evidently the property of an elderly gentleman, who ought to know better than to be so reckless. One voice is heard above all the rest, — " One tousand pounds ! je le vendrai, Mons. Leemare, I will sell, I will sell," and we recognise the hatless head of Blossom, as he leads back his horse to scale. " I will sell, I tell you," continued the landlord, flourishing his arm, and the crowd fell back, awed by his gesticulations, or the evident desire of Casse-cou to lash out and damage a by- stander. '^Oh, but he is a good beast, and worth one tousand pounds," contined Blossom, patting, and almost hugging, the old steeple-chaser. '•' So he may be, man ; sell him, if you like, but don't make such a fuss about it," said Limmer, as he returned from the scales. The auctioneer posted himself in the front of the stand. A circle was formed, and Casse-cou led round, exposed to the gaze of the multitude. The WILT) DAYKELL. 107 conditions of the sale were read, — " What price shall I put upon this celebrated horse, pur sang Anglais, winner of the last race? Dix mille francs?'^ asked the auctioneer. "One tousand pounds," muttered a voice by his side. " Cinq milk for this valuable animal; a gentleman says cinq milled "He is asking nothing for my horse," muttered the same voice. " Six — sept — huit,'' continued the auctioneer. " Allez bon homme,'' exclaimed the voice ; but the bon homme would not bid more than huit mille cinq cent francs, and at that figure the hammer fell. A note was put into the auctioneer's hand, which he read, and look perplexed. "Is this your horse I have just sold?" enquired he of Blossom, who was standing near. " Qui, Monsieur'' " Will you have the goodness to read this ? " Blossom read, — " Mr. Fakenham presents his com- pliments to the auctioneer, and requests him to keep the amount realized by the sale of his horse, Casse- cou, till he has heard further from Mr. Fakenham.'^ " Je suis vole'' exclaimed Blossom. " I am robbed ! Where is that perfidious English? He owes me money, — he gave me the horse, — ^he would rob me of my own :" and Blossom's abject state of misery was piteous to behold. But suddenly recollecting himself, he cried out, "Where is Mons. Leemare? 108 WILD DAYRELL. He is my witness; I will bring him to prove it;" and poor Blossom left tlie stand to search for Lim- mer. ^Tis needless to add, without success; for, disgusted with the landlord's greedy rapacity and eccentric behaviour, Limmer, to avoid further scenes, had left the course while the auction was going on. And bfttimes of a summer evening, when smok- ing his pipe under the gateway of his hotel, has Blossom recounted to chance strangers his romantic tale, and as he comes to the end, he smiteth his leg vehemently with his right hand, and calls to witness the disgraceful conduct of that canaille Anglaise Fakenham, who paid him the amount of his bill out of the proceeds of the sale, and, as an Irishman w6uld say, " sarra a rap beside." As a matter of course, after the races there was a ball, this time worthy of the name. The crush, the dresses, the heat — three criterions of excellence — were unparalleled. The French came in a body, and as it was not Sunday, the English also. Dancing was almost out of the question; and chaperones, once separated from their charges, might look for them in vain. For once the scandal-collectors were at fault, as the crowd limited the area of their obser- vation. Even Belle-garde, had he been present, might have bent the knee for the first time, and escaped the notice of all but his nearest neighbours. WILD DAYEELL. 109 It is high change with Mademoiselle Galette — ^lemon- ades, ices, cakes, all quickly disappear. The frequent pop of champagne corks bear witness to an unpa- ralleled consumption. She 11 win, not her spurs, but her cherry ribbons, and we shall see her, decore with that harmless finery, on her way to St. Jaques next Sunday morning. " Will you take me to mamma ? I should like to go home. No, I am not ill; it is only the heat — and — and — I feel very tired after the races; and, Mr. Dayrell, please, find mamma, I cannot stay in this room any longer." "I want to go home, mamma dear," continued Emily ; " Mr. Dayrell was kind enough to find you in the crowd, and, I am sure, will excuse me for leaving so early." "If I may only have the pleasure of seeing you quite recovered to-morrow," he answered. " But you must not escort us home to-night ; the servant is here with a light," said Emily. " Mamma will see you to-morrow, and perhaps I may be at the station before you leave for Paris. — Go back to the ball room, Mr. Dayrell; you will, I know, if I wish it." Dayrell stood as one entranced on the steps, watched them until they turned the corner, and then re-entered the ball-room. No wonder he was 110 WILD DATRELL. restless and uncomfortable, roaming amongst the dancers without a fixed purpose, and not even making an attempt to engage one of the " talents " in the waltzing line. While the quadrille — the most crowded one of the evening — was going on, he had proposed to Emily, not in the sentimental high-flown language of the modern novelist, but simply asking the ques- tion " Will you ?" To which the reply might have been equally short and explicit, had the scene not been in the second tier of benches in the ball- room, where dowager ladies were within earshot, and their eyesight confined to their own immediate neighbourhood. But there happened to be a French lady on the bench above them, whom nobody asked to dance, and whose dress nobody admired, and to whom scarcely any one spoke, although she ofttimes rattled her sandal-wood fan, and attempted to attract to herself one of the passers-by. Her eye lighted on Emily and Dayrell, and though ignorant of the English language, she instinctively guessed the sub- ject of their conversation. Emily started on finding that sinister look directed towards her ; she felt that her secret was in another's keeping, — in the keeping of one who had envy and malevolence written in her face ; so she rose hastily, asked to be taken to her mother, and left Dayrell without giving him a de- finite answer. WILD DAYRELL. Ill " I cannot stand this any longer/' said Dayrell to himself, after three or four rounds of the ball-room, during which he came in contact with half-a-dozen couples starting in a waltz, and was set down at once by the French as a rude, unpolite Anglais. " I will leave Dieppe to-morrow ; but I will do one good act first — take Limmer, if possible, from the ecarte-table. I wish it could be for ever/' There is a great crowd in the card-room. The habitues are lost in the vast influx of fresh faces. Strangers range themselves on both sides of the table, and invest notes and gold in place of the accustomed five-franc pieces. Descartes no longer sleeps, or mechanically puts down the names of the players. His eye is on the notes, and gloats over the pile of gold on either side of him. " Erreurs^* to-night are of no account. The winners settle them without a murmur. Time is precious, the loss of a few francs a trifle to the winners of hundreds. A dead silence prevails as Dayrell enters the room. Limmer holds the cards that are to decide whether he passes for the sixth time. There is the old smile of confidence on his face, such as he wore when making the last stroke and winning a hundred pounds in his match with Carambole, or when he cleared the Aylesbury brook on the redoubtable Nimrod. " Quatre 2i" is all the anxious spectators 112 WILD DATRELL. can exclaim, and draw a long breath while Limmer shuflles the pack for the last deal. " Trois a vous," says Limmer. " Trois a moi ; deux a vous; deux a moi; et, monsieur, je vous salue. Le roi/' Limmer has won again. He carries all before him to-night, and pursues his triumphant way. Are you, Dayrell, going to warn him when in the heyday of luck and good fortune ? What folly, what presump- tion for you to think that a gambler when winning will do aught but laugh at your advice. If in a vein of ill-luck, he might listen, he might be decoyed from the table, though oft-times then the tempter would whisper, " Remember your success last year : this bad luck must change some day." No greater curse can befall a young man than to win. Better to lose half a fortune, while youth sits hghtly on the brow : better to receive some hard knocks on a race-course before sitting down to the hard business of life, than be induced by a transient gleam of sunshine to gamble on, until, sinking deeper and deeper in the mire, he falls into that abyss whence there is no recovery — no resurrection. WILD DAYRELL. 113 CHAPTER VI. Once more on the wide world — cut off again from the civilizing influences of a domestic circle — in an express train moving at the moderate rate of twenty- five miles an hour, sits, must it be owned, the miserable, disconsolate Dayrell. Why so miserable? — with the pace for France considerably above par, with soft, luxurious cushions to loll in, with warm bottles for the feet, with per- mission to smoke granted by the one other passenger in the carriage. As times go, such travelling is not to be despised. Compare it with a trip in a yellow- panelled diligence fifteen years ago. In very truth that was a weary, dreary voyage. The dusty roads, the jolting pavement, the walks up hill and the " shoots " down inclines, the delays while postilions tinkered the rope harness, the crowds of loathsome beggars at the relays, the interminable lines of poplars, and the cramped position even in the coupe ; the infamous dinner at Abbeville, and the still worse breakfast at Beauvais, and the arrival at the Porte 114 WILD DAYRELL. St. Denis, tired, bilious, with a fearful headache, thirty hours after leaving the inhospitable Calais. Compare that with the rapid, comfortable railway, with no stoppage between Calais and your hotel in Paris but what the octroi choose to impose. What if the latter do want to look into your portmanteau for a defunct rabbit or a slimy John Dory ? They will only keep you a minute. Let us be thankful for being let off so easily. But Dayrell had been spoilt in the last month. He had tasted the sweets of domestic life. The con- trast came too suddenly, and at an inopportune mo- ment. So his fellow-traveller — a commis-voyageur — receiving but curt replies to his questions, slunk back into his corner, and endured the torture (to a Frenchman) of a prolonged silence. Doubtless, when he joined the circle of admiring comrades at the cafe that evening, he told a terrible story about ces betes Anglaises; and, perhaps, concocted an artful tale about the scene he witnessed at the Dieppe station, of which he made himself the hero, and a heroine of the pretty English girl kissing her hand to him ! When does a Frenchman not believe himself the centre of attraction to woman's eyes ? " Hotel des Juifs," said Dayrell to the driver of a Parisian cab ; and as that model conveyance rattled over the pavement, by the lines of tall, gloomy WILD DAYRELL. 115 houses, his thoughts reverted to Splice and his reasons for visiting Paris. Lyatt must have made some mistake. He never could have meant me to come to such a gloomy place as this. Is it the Hotel des Juifs ? Yes, there is the name, and here the porter. " Hallo ! Sir," he ex- claimed to that aged Israelite, as he sulkily emerged from his den, '^what is the fare from the station here ?" " Quarante sous/' was the reply, with a strong em- phasis on the last two syllables, and the old man fell upon Dayrell's luggage, and bundled it within the gates, which he carefully closed on the new prisoner. The bell was answered by a Hebrew maiden, whom some might called ill-favoured, and every one vote unclean. From the rack on the wall, she selected one of the 160 keys. " AUons," she said to Dayrell, and led him across a dreary courtyard, where no life was seen, save when a slipshod waiter, with the strongly marked features of the despised race, flitted from one side to the other, through a gloomy quad- rangle of curtained windows, suggestive of robbery, if not the murder, of the last tenants — up the old oak staircase, and along an echoing corridor, till she came to No. 65. Then the key turned gratingly in the lock, the door opened, and an odour of '^ unoccupa- tion" saluted the nose of the visitor. i2 116 WILD DAYRELL. ^^ Le voilttj' said the maiden, showing Dayrell his room, and unprepared for the assault he ma^e on the windows, so as to bring a little air and light on the bed in the recess, the gorgeous, but fly-blown, mirror, the cold marble-topped table, and the pie dish for washing, execrated by tourists, and every man who has ever put pen to paper. " Is there any one in the hotel ?'^ he asked, seating himself at tlie same time on his portmanteau. " The rooms look empty on both sides of the courtyard." " There is scarcely anybody," said the girl. *^ Where 's the landlord?" '' In the country." " Is there a table d'hote V "No; but you can have some dinner." *' Can I have a bath? Here, I mean.'' " Monsieur !" ejaculated the maid. Her mouth opened, and she stood aghast at the idea of her polished floor being soiled. But suddenly changing her mind, she thought there was one down stairs that would suit Monsieur. For an instant she disappears, and returns, bearing in triumph a tin vessel, twelve inches in depth and twenty-eight in circumference. " Is that what you call a bath ?" asked Dayrell, in disgust. "Take it away. But stay; you may as well tell the people of the house that I don't dine here to-day ;" and he descended the staircase with the WILD DAYRELL. 117 comfortable Cafe Anglais in his mind's eye, and wish- ing every thing but long life to the present dynasty of the Hotel des Juifs. To the gain of the Bordelais (there was a great vintage that year), and the detriment of fair com- plexions, the heat during that summer was more than usually oppressive. In Paris, the glare of the Boule- vards made the eyes ache; the asphalte pavement melted, and waved under foot ; the leaves in the Champs Elysees changed colour before their time ; and even the maize in the country became sickly from the continued drought. Paris — i. e., monied Paris — every one who could scrape a few francs together — had retired auo! eaux. Shopkeeping, mendicant Paris, with a few visitors, had it to themselves. Jean Racine, of the cropped head and obese figure, who is serenely smoking in front of his shop ; Baptiste, aini^ who is wrangling over dominoes, and gathering in- spiration from eau sucre (O, printer, beware lest thou change a vowel of the French adjective) ; and Adolphe, who spends five hours at his cafe for one in shaving chins, would have all departed, had the god of trade been kind. Passing these philosophers of the Italian Boulevards, our hero strolled into the Cafe Anglais. The proprietor of these whilom comfortable quarters is also taking advantage of the dead season. Painters i3 118 WILD DAYRELL. ply their brushes on the outside of the edifice ; the oily perfume sneaks through the folding doors. But half the tables in the dining-rooms are covered with the snow« white linen; pyramidically- shaped serviettes^ and cool-looking water bottles, attract no guests. The waiter, who has not leave of absence, sleeps, with his head on a table, and dreams of Mabille, or perhaps a square-shouldered sabotted paysanne, far away in a snug valley of the Cotes d^Or. But he awakes at the oft-heard summons of Garqon, He hurries with his carte. His " bieriy Monsieur,'' follows each selection of a dish ; and he quite respects Dayrell for doing something different to his countrymen, i. e,, ordering three French dishes in the place of the conventional bifstek aux pommes ; while Jeanette at the buffet, astonished at the unwonted order, lays aside her crotchet, and produces a bottle of Chambertin. "Monsieur is a stranger in Paris," begins the waiter, with all the volubility of his clan, on receiving some encouragement to converse. " He will find it very triste — everybody is absent — the operas are closed — and the cafes-chantants are vilains ; — but the Cirque Imperiale — Monsieur has never been? ah! never seen Mademoiselle Caracole ride twelve horses, jump through twelve hoops, and fall again hght as a souffle on their backs. Oh, but Mademoiselle is wonderful ! " And he threw up his hands, twisted WILD DAYRELL. 119 his mouth into strange shapes,, and indulged in ges- tures indicative of intense admiration of that talented lady. Luckily for him, we might imagine, that Marie of the Cotes d'Or is out of hearing. So Dayrell finished his Burgundy, lit his cigarette, and went to see this equestrian phenomenon. There was no difficulty ahout a seat, most of the benches were tenantless. He selected one near the arena, and looking round, watched the arrivals with the critical gaze of an English occupant of a stall. Three officers, in lancer uniform and extravagantly bandolined as to their moustaches, four bright-eyed wives of well-to-do bourgeois, one gens-d'arme on his own account, and another on that of the govern- ment, with as much business on hand as a Belgrave Square policeman in September, arrived. Next, a female figure delicately descended the steps; it hovered for a moment, uncertain where to place itself (here the gens-d'arme on duty winked to his comrade), and finally dropped into a seat near Dayrell. Like a partridge, when it has fled from a sportsman and alighted close to an enemy armed also with a gun, it started and cowered in its timidity as it recognised him. But shortly recovering itself, it carefully ad- justed its crinoline, and, by its movements, invited him to a conference. It was Miss Sandes' maid, or body- guard, and of course she recognised Dayrell. Often, i4 120 WILD DAYRELL. at Dieppe^ had she dropped in to tea with her fellow- servant at Mrs. Trelawney'Sj and discussed, with true spinsterian fervour, the wedding that was to be ; the more so as she herself, although of unprepossessing appearance, was embarked on a like speculation, and did not despair of bringing to book one " James," confidential valet to a baronet, and expected by her this evening at the Cirque. *' I hope Miss Sandes is well," said Dayrell, luckily recollecting the lady's-maid's face, and unhesitatingly jumping into the breach. " Very well, Sir ; that is to say, pretty well," an- swered the abigail, not knowing how far she might unburthen herself to a friend of the family. " And Mr. Splice ; have you seen him lately ? " he asked, with well-feigned unconcern. She looked at him searchingly for an instant. He did not wince. She banished all reserve, and told her piteous tale, beginning with the failure of the Dieppe scheme ^' of which master had heard, and was owdacious angry," down to their arrival at Paris. ^^ And you can't imagine, Sir," she added, "how my poor dear missus do take on ; it makes me quite un- happy to see her, it does." "You would do anything for your mistress?'' he asked. " Anything, Sir." WILD DAYRELL. 121 '^ And you are not afraid of your master ? " " Me, Sir ? O no, Sir ; I hate him ; he is a mon- ster. He never lets my poor dear missus go out. He has nothing but bad words for her and me. I'll give up my place soon, if he goes on so much longer.^^ "Perhaps I can help you, I shall be at Mr* Sandes' to-morrow, or the next day; call on me the same evening at the Hotel des Juifs, and I shall have something to tell you." Here he dropped a piece of gold into her hand, in nowise reluctant to receive it. " Remember, not a word to anybody, unless you wish to hurt your mistress and yourself." By this time the three mountebanks, rejoicing in the names of Achille, Hercule, and Samson, re- spectively, had mounted on each other^s backs, and, in the form of a perambulating pillar, had dis- appeared through the curtain. Our abigail, too, waxed uncomfortable lest " James " should find her conversing with a stranger, so she turned uneasily in her seat, and glanced at the door, as a sign to Dayrell that the conference should be at an end. He dropped into his former seat just as the popular idol. Mademoiselle Caracole, glided into the sanded arena, and treated her enthusiastic admirers to a curtsey and a smile. But Mademoiselle, though in her gauze and wings supposed to represent an angel, is, after all, but 123 WILD DAYRELL. mortal. Naturally good-looking, she must borrow something for stage effect. There is the rouge upon her cheek and the puff-powder upon her brow, of which the departing daylight is an unfavourable ex- ponent. And although with lightsome foot she dances to a wild Hungarian melody on the back of her piebald, though she jumps through the twelve hoops with astonishing accuracy, the heat tells upon her borrowed colours, and gives her a sad, jaded air as she sinks exhausted into her saddle. But the Faubourgs are pleased. Hands are clapped, and an encore de- manded, the latter followed by a shower of bouquets — a signal to the poor old piebald to stop and nibble at the nearest, till, detected by the " master of the whip," he receives a notice to be more careful for future. " Good night," said Dayrell, softly, as he passed the lady's-maid, now deep in conversation with James of " the loving *art," as that confidential valet described himself. " Mine, Mary Ann, is a loving 'art," he whispered, and skilfully wormed himself into her affections. It was not till her assets at the savings' bank were found to be small that the heart forgot its affectionate character and clung to another — ^behaving shamefully to our abigail — a record en- dorsed by many Marys and Susans in an English servants* hall assembled. WILD DAYRELL. 123 On leaving the Cirque, Dayrell returned to his hotel. In deep thought he paced up and down his room, occasionally stopping at the open window, but oftener opposite four queer daubs upon the walls. Their subject matter seemed to fascinate him. Pic- ture I., scene 1 : Genevievre, happy child, distributes spare half-pence amongst the poor ; castle in the dis- tance; peasants in the foreground, clad in green, yellow, and red night-shirts, holding out their hands and begging. Picture II., scene 2, is the same maiden bivouacking in the forest, tended by stags and other wild animals. Subaudito, stern father has told miserable G. to marry a bearded marquis she does not like — hence her escape from the paternal mansion. Picture III., scene 3, is G. discovered by her true love, when hunting, after his return from India with boxes of sovereigns. Picture IV., scene 4 : Happy marriage of G., and intense delight of the parties in red, yellow, and green night-shirts ; papa relents, and points to the castle in the distance, evi- dently meaning to give it as a dower to the injured Gene vie vre. " Good omen for Splice,^^ said Dayrell, chuckling over the moral of the painter. " Spite of papa, he shall marry his Genevievre. As to his bringing the boxes of sovereigns, like that baron in the picture, I doubt it much. Uncles are kind sometimes, but 124 WILD DAYKELL. would sooner promise a reversion than part with R.M.D. — ready money down. To-morrow, however, I shall know all." And he went to bed with many plans and schemes revolving in his brain. ^' Senior partner at Vichy — ^junior at Eaux Bonnes — head clerk out," answered the boy, left in charge of Messieurs Viguerie's well known firm, in the Rue St. Honore, to our hero's enquiry. " Is there a letter for me ? Dayrell, Anglais. You understand." But the youth would not, or did not understand ; and Dayrell left the house, fully im- pressed with the worthless character of French gen- tlemen of commerce, to spend an hour of idleness till the clerk might return. " Call them men of busi- ness," muttered he, ^^ and not to be found at this time of day. Why, in England ." Well, Mr. Dayrell, and what would you find in your model father-land ? Not Mr. Lappin and Mr. Toole in their respective emporiums at the end of August. I rather expect that the former is leaving his card on Monsieur Mocquard at the Tuileries, and the latter at Winslow, is looking over his stud, and settling what horses he shall keep, and what he shall dispose of before the hunting season begins. So do the "Johns" of French extraction leave their desks and counting- houses, and flit where mineral waters bubble, and WILD DATEELL. 125 where the provincial " Place" collects a crowd of jabbering, cofFee-drinking, holiday-makers. " Here they are at last/' said Dayrell, an honr later^, as he tore open a packet the head clerk gave him. " Here is a letter in an elderly gentleman's hand for Mr. Sandes. I understand. Splice and his uncle mean business. Here is my letter. Now for par- ticulars, and a convenient bench.'' " Cool hand, Splice — remarkably cool," he mut- tered, on coming to the " Yours for ever, sincerely," of the letter. " So, I am to be his ambassador. Why not come himself? He tells me his uncle re- ceived the news very kindly — all the more reason for him to throw himself at the feet of the obdurate parent to confess and be forgiven. And I am to telegraph the result. By Jove, he will be on tenter hooks until that arrives. Well, I '11 do as he wishes — beard the lion in his den. It may be great fun after all." And Dayrell, letter in hand, went to Mr. Sandes' house in the Rue Vivienne. He was shown into a room. Splice's beloved had but just left it. Her workbox was open on the table. " I wonder," thought he to himself, '' if there is a lock of hair inside. Splice's * hay,' as it was ignp- miniously called at school, would look funny with a piece of blue ribbon round it. I should like to see." 126 WILD DAYRELL. But the search was frustrated by Mr. Sandes, who entered the room, looking quite the reverse of the affable, agreeable English gentleman. "May I know the object of this visit/' asked the elder, repelling any advances, and neither offering his visitor a chair, or taking one himself. " A letter, Mr. Sandes, that I was to deliver into your hands, and ask you to read. I would not in- trude, only I was to be sure that you received it.^' Sandes looked at the writing suspiciously. " Has it anything to do with Mr. Splice ?" he asked. " You had better read it," replied Dayrell, taking a position near the mantelpiece, his attention being equally divided between the contemplation of his hat and Mr. Sandes perusing this missive from Splice's uncle. " You know the contents of this," said the elder, carefully folding the epistle. " By Jove, I don't; the seal was not broken, was it?" " No trifling with me. Sir," answered Sandes. " I ask you, if you know the object — contents, if you like — of this* letter? Further, I wish to know, if you and Mr. Splice intend to continue this persecu- tion of my daughter and myself? For, I'll put a stop to it, mark my word, if I do not. I '11 have no more of your Dieppe scheme and plot — yes, Sir, your plot. You need not trouble yourself to deny it." WILD DAYHELL. 127 " Mr. Sandes, listen to me for an instant ; I will speak/' And he commenced an oration, the remem- brance of which caused him many a laugh in after days. " I don't wish to deny anything. I will confess as much as you like — confess that Splice is foolish — yourself in the wrong" ("Thank you for nothing/' from Mr. S.), "and myself foolish; oh! horribly foolish. This was, as you justly observe, my plot ; it was my intention to make two people happy ; it was my idea to bring the couple back to a certain parent, and ask his forgiveness. Blame my exuberance of spirits and inventive brain; but do not give Splice credit for taking the initiative in a plot ; his talents, Sir, I as- sure you, are of a different order. He is the good fellow of social life, the man to be appreciated in the domestic circle. As to his morals, they must be good. Since he was introduced to your daughter, I know he smokes less every day by two cigars. Then, he is no bad match — good looking,, has some money (Oh, fie, Dayrell), has also an uncle, a bond fide uncle, with slate quarries, a saving disposition, and the ripe old age of 74. Let me make it up between you both. Let " — here he waved his hand in the air, — " the tele- graph carry the olive branch " But further confusion of metaphor was avoided by the hasty interposition of Mr. Sandes. " Confound your impudence ; if you have nothing 128 WILD DATRELL. further to say^ you may leave this room ! You come here to talk about ^making it up' and *^ olive branches;' I'll olive branch you, — 1^11 — I'll horse- whip you, Sir ! " "Have a care, elderly gentleman; don't, please, lose your temper," said Dayrell, laughing in spite of himself, but at the same time moving towards the door. " Don't put yourself into fighting position ; youth must win if it comes to blows. — Good morn- ing, Mr. Sandes — poor Mr. Sandes. To our next meeting, which I have a melancholy foreboding will be a second Philippi/' " Show him out — I mean, turn him out," said the frantic old gentleman, as Dayrell emerged on the landing. "Don't trouble yourself," returned the other; adding in a louder key, for the benefit of a young lady whose crinoline had just disappeared round the corner, — " Send to the Hotel des Juifs if you want me ; this evening, if you like : " but any answer Mr. Sandes may have given was lost upon Dayrell, who had descended the staircase and gained the street. " A nice kettle of fish,^' said Dayrell to himself, as he puffed his after-dinner cigar in the ante-room of the hotel. " I\e done my best, however, telegraphed for Splice and his special license. This is his last chance ; the wedding may come off in spite of that WILD DAYRELL. 129 rusty old governor. He is a good plucked one, never- theless. Wanted to horsewhip me, eh ! and I am not a baby. I wish he had tried. I wonder what Emily will think of this. Like it immensely, I'll be bound. Women like an emeute got up for the ultimate benefit of one of their sex." " A lady vrishes to speak to you. Monsieur Anglais," said a grinning waiter. " Shall I show her in ? " "Yes, directly," answered Dayrell, throwing his cigar into the grate. " The plot thickens,^' thought he to himself. The waiter placed a chair for the new arrival, withdrew for a moment, and returned with Miss Sandes* servant, mysteriously disguised in a thick veil and cloak. He officiously offered his services as lady's-maid, but, on being rebuked by Dayrell, re- luctantly glided out of the room. "Now that impudent man is gone, let me hear what you have to say. You are not ill?'' he added, as the abigail lifted her veil, and disclosed a pale and sallow face. " Let me order some lemonade gazeuse, or some coffee ; or would you like anything else ? I suppose we can get what we want in the hotel?'' " Nothing, thank you. Sir," she answered ; " I cannot stay long. I only came to tell you about my poor mistress, who is in such a way, and so unhappy about you, and your visit to her papa. He has been K 130 WILD DAYRELL. SO unkind to her, and was so rude to her at dinner, that she came crying to her room, and told me to come here and ask you to leave Paris. And you are to tell Mr. Splice not to think of her any more, and that she would rather he did not come to see her; and oh ! Mr. Dayrell, she cried, poor thing, as though her heart would break.^^ '^ She won't do so any more, when she hears Mr. Splice is here," he said. *^ Listen to me ; you must cheer your mistress. Tell her that better times are coming; and, remember, the when depends upon you.- " Upon me !" " Yes, you." '' TeU me how." "You are fond of your mistress, are you not? You would do anything for her?" " Yes, Sir." " You can't bear your master, and you said the other night you would be glad to return to England. Somebody else is going back there. Ah ! well, you need not blush. Now wiU you go to England with your mistress ?" "Alone?" " No, with Mr. and Mrs. Splice. It all depends on you, whether he marries her before the end of the week. You must see your mistress this evening ; WILD DAYRELL. 131 you must cautiously break my plan to her ; persuade her to run away with him, and tell me to-morrow the result of your conference. Leave the rest to me; this time there is no chance of failure." And Dayrell straightway unfolded his plans, which, after a long lesson, the lady's-maid learnt by heart, and agreed to do her best. ^' You had better return home now; and remember, you will not be forgotten," said Dayrell, significantly touching his pocket. So the servant departed on her errand, thought- fully, as became the guardian of a great secret, but with a mind more at ease than when introduced into that room. " Awful night this. Stretcher ; just the one for a runaway match. Jingle was not more befriended by the weather in his evening excursion with the spinster aunt, eh! There's a gust of wind! How the old casement rattles," said Dayrell, as he peered into the outer darkness, rendered more visible by the flickering lamps, while the person addressed, a clergy- man and old Oxford friend, looked first at his watch, and then at his thin boots, with a melancholy pre- sentiment of a wet walk home. " Does it not seem like a dream ?" continued Dayrell. " Only four days back I telegraphed to Splice. In the interval he has, he tells me, drained poor Cox to the uttermost farthing, bought his license, come to Paris, and is at k2 132 WILD DAYRELL. this moment awaiting 'the veiled female form' of Miss Clara in the Rue Vivienne. Give me some credit, my jolly parson; haven't I arranged it well? SandeSj I was told, went every evening to some club. Mademoiselle and her maid are to take advantage of his absence to-night, slip into a cab that Splice has ready, and drive here. I have a travelling carriage engaged. In it they are to drive to the first station on the Northern Railroad; the six o'clock train will pick them up, — at which time may Sandes, the governor, still repose unconscious." "What will you do?" asked Stretcher. "That is the question. Methinks, retire with a brisk and airy step. I cannot visit that irascible old gentleman again ; still I have a presentiment that we two must meet once more." " Are you quite sure,'* asked the divine, " that this marriage is legal ? Ought they not to be married at the Hotel de Ville, and sign the papers in the pre- sence of the Mayor ?" " Not if they have a special license ; I have asked about that." " I have my doubts," said Stretcher ; " but that is not our afi'air. But what 's that V he exclaimed, as the rumbling of wheels in the court-yard was heard, and Dayrell disappeared down the staircase two steps at a time to reconnoitre. WILD DAYRELL. 133 " Only tlie travelling carriage come too soon. I have spoken to and tipped the jack-booted postillion, a politic measure such a night as this. I hope the runaways will soon be here. She cannot have de- clined at the last moment." " Here, Stretcher/^ he continued, " bear a hand. Let us make this room look more like a bridal cham- ber. You used to have good taste; your rooms at Oxford were admirably furnished. They only wanted a Eosa Bonheur or two, in the place of those Fare- brothers and Ceritos, to have made them the gem of our * quad.' Let's first make the place a little less gloomy. Where shall I put the candles ? — the paper won't light up. Move that sofa, and put the easy chair on this side, convenient for the bride to drop into should she wish to faint. There, that's better. Now for our visitors.^^ An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed, during which Stretcher looked alternately at his watch and his companion, who paced the room uneasily, in fear lest his plot had miscarried. Presently there was a stir on the staircase; the door opened, and Splice rushed in. ''They will be here directly," he said, shaking both their hands at the same moment. " It is all right.'' An announcement followed by the en- trance of two females, so lavishly veiled, as to make it difficult to distinguish mistress from maid. k3 134 WILD DAYRELL. To prevent Miss Sandes feeling the awkwardness of a sudden introduction to strangers, Dayrell, in his capacity of master of the ceremonies, marshalled bride and bridegroom into their places, and handed the book to Stretcher as a hint for him to commence the service. Bravely did little Clara perform her part; her conduct on this occasion deserves a passing word. Barely twenty years of age — just escaped from her father's roof — in a foreign city — with none of her sex about her, with the exception of her maid — she stood at the table, and unhesitatingly responded, " I will.*' No emotion was visible in that pale face. No sign of timidity in that compressed lip ; her mind once made up she took the final plunge, without, so to speak, a shiver on the bank. No use now for the father to forbid the banns ; the irrevocable words, "let no man put asunder," have gone forth. And Splice, you are a lucky man ; with that little heroine by your side you may go bravely through the world. Little did you think, the evening you met a shy timid girl at the Leamington ball, of the pluck and courage that lay concealed in the bosom of the embryo Mrs. Splice. The service ended, there was but little time for congratulation. " Cut it short, old boy," said Dayrell, as Splice pro- WILD DAYRELL. 135 fasely poured forth his thanks. "One glass of cham- pagne all round, and you must go. By Jove, if that isn't the governor !" he exclaimed, as a well-known voice was heard on the stairs. '^Lock the door. Stretcher — take your wife, Splice, through these folding doors, cross the tahle d'hdte room — mind the chairs in the dark — you'll find a staircase — and get away as quick as you can. I haven't a slipper, or I would, even now, throw it after you both. I '11 en- tertain the gentleman till you are out of Paris ; leave him to me. Good-bye." " Open this, or I'll break it down," exclaimed the angry voice outside, and at the same time certain knuckles descended on the panels with alarming violence. « Hallo ! " exclaimed Dayrell. '' Who's there ? " " It's me. Sir. I will come in. By heavens — " and other thumps descending on the unfortunate woodwork, drowned the rest of his speech. "You are a nice sort of person," said Dayrell, opening the door, ^^ to come and interrupt a gentle- man's repose at this time of night." "Where's my daughter? " gasped the other. "I have traced her here ; the porter saw her come in. No prevarication. Sir ; answer that question. I will find her." " Will you," said Dayrell, as his quick ear caught K 4 136 WILD DAYRELL. the sound of departing wheels. " Pray search the cupboards, look under the sofa. You might find her under the table/' he added, seeing his visitor glance at that light piece of furniture. " You may talk,^^ said Sandes ; *' but only let me find him— your friend — that villain, Splice." " You are a nice specimen of the Christian parent," began Dayrell, rightly supposing that the happy pair were by this time out of the house. " Do you know, Sir, what you are saying? Do you know that Mr. Splice is your son-in-law, and would you take his life ? Yes, they are married, and far enough away by this time. Run down to Bordeaux, you might catch them ; but let me tell you one thing, you are too late to prevent the marriage ;" and he snapped his fingers at Sandes. " Be quiet," said Stretcher to Dayrell, and, turn- ing to Sandes, attempted to soothe him. " Stop a minute," he began, " and I will tell you everything. Mr. Dayrell has told you the truth; they are married, and out of your reach. It is no use being in a pas- sion ; what is done, cannot be altered." "Who are you?" furiously interposed Sandes. "Are you in this plot too? I'll make short work of this. I'll call in the police." "Who will turn you out of this hotel, and, per- haps, lock you up as a disorderly chai'acter," an- WILD DAYKELL. 137 swered Dayrell. "No wonder you are in a rage, you who wanted your daughter to remain unmarried and keep the money yourself. Splice will have it, and he is a good fellow — much too good to be your son-in-law." " I '11 prosecute you both/' exclaimed Sandes. "If there be any justice in England, I will have you up for — for—a libel ; " and, seeing Dayrell laugh at such a notion, added, " You may laugh. Sir, now, but you won't when we meet again." " At Philippi ?" asked Dayrell ; but Sandes did not hear him. He only closed the door with a noise that electrified the domestics who clustered on the land- ing, and went down-stairs breathing vengeance. " You have put him on the wrong scent," remarked Stretcher. " I hope he will start for Bordeaux by the early train, and not for Calais. If he went to the latter place, he might catch the fugitives and create a scene." " I cannot help it if he does," replied the other ; " I think I have done enough for friendship's sake. So now for packing, and my journey to Ems." 138 WILD DATRELL, CHAPTER VII. "What will Emily say when I tell her all?" was uppermost in Dayrell's mind, when, leaving Paris on the following day, he reviewed the incidents of the past eventful week. But ere the train had reached the second station on the line, his thoughts had wan- dered to a point which up to this time he had for- gotten. Mon ami lecteur will remember that the offer had been accepted at the Dieppe ball, and ratified next morning at the interview witnessed, and rashly com- mented upon, by the commis-voyageur. But nothing further had transpired. I mean Mrs. Trelawney had not invited him to a "morning sitting," or hemmed the conventional pocket-handkerchief, while he broached the subject oi £. s. d, I doubt, even, if the inaugural kiss had been given, previous to which, Lovelace tells me, — and he ought to know, seeing that his experience extends over unnumbered props., — it would be idle to ventilate the topic of finance. Not that the having given or taken the " pledge of WILD DAYRELL. 139 love '^ will influence a parent when monetary matters are discussed. For the, as yet, unmarried Lovelace goes on to complain that, " often as he has arrived at that happy Thule of his wishes — a kiss — it had never, never done him any good — never made a parent over- look the emptiness of his exchequer. His inamorata, spite of the kiss, was again in the market to be sold to the highest bidder." Dayrell, then, had paused on making the tender prop. — had postponed the financial denouement till his arrival at Ems. Now, as he sat in the express train, occurred to him, in full force, this difficulty. How was he to break his impecuniosity to his intended mother-in- law ? '' If," thought he, " Emily's parent had been of the male sex, my task would have been compara- tively easy. Men, I am sure, are not so ambitious as the ladies ; they place less value on the pearl of their domestic circle. ' Let them settle themselves in life,' papa says ; and adds, perhaps, proh pudor, ^ better take him for a husband than none at all.' To papa, certainly, I should have to confide my financial secrets. But I would choose my opportunity. I would begin my tale when the third glass of ruby port warmed the paternal heart, when his walnut cracked com- fortably, and his fire burned cheerily. Then would I talk glibly about reversions, and hopefully about * life interests' — mere temporary stumbling-blocks, I 140 WILD DAYRELL. would call them. I would sketch a pretty story, throwing in here and there a bit of colouring — such as family interest, and the like — and by the time I broached the dangerous topic of 'expectations,' which might — and it is a might with a vengeance ; what would Quilter and Ball say to them in a balance-sheet ? — ten to one the paternal face would brighten, the paternal fist (if he was a pleasant old gentleman) would find out my fifth rib, and the paternal voice would congratulate me with, ' Take her, Dayrell, my boy ; I hope it will be all right. Let 's shake hands, and join the ladies/ When the right time arrived for the admission of a Tales to the conference, a dark cloud or two might darken the horizon. But then the game is my own. Pater- familias would see what the lawyer meant, but would think the aff'air had gone too far : it would be better to smooth over the difficulty than break off the match. The other sex do not offer us the same opportunities. Mammas do not generally drink port wine — certainly not more than a glass or two at a time. Lovelace used to sigh and wish they would have a fete on the evening of the proposal. But in real, sober earnest, the mothers have an awkward habit of putting too high a value on their daughters. Mary Ann, aged seventeen, although her hair may have more than a slight tinge of red, must marry a WILD DAYKELL. 141 baronet at least; and dear Clementina, who ever since she was a baby has been told every day not to stoop so, turns up her nose at anything under 4,000/. a-year — excellent ideas, but seldom carried out. Far oftener do Mary Ann and Clementina descend from their high pedestals, in their sixth and seventh sea- sons respectively, and, without breaking bone or heart, take a quiet parson, or some one who (in equi- vocal language) is said to be not-such-a-bad match. Then a mother's knowledge of business is limited. If I tell her I have a thousand a-year in the Three per Cents, she can understand ; if I mention reversions and residuary estates, I talk a language not un- derstood by the British matron. This is in my favour, you would say. Pardon me, it is the con- trary. For woman is by nature curious. What she comprehends not herself, she asks others to investi- gate, and to explain in very dreary prose. This, in fine, is her ignoble method of probing the financial wound. Premised that the suitor has unburthened himself of his secrets, and been dismissed from the maternal presence with gracious smiles — mamma now pondereth for a while, then sitteth down to her desk, produceth her cream laid note paper, and draws the prospectus of a kind of ' Limited Liability Company' in this fashion. Herself, she appoints chair-woman of the new Co. Members of her family — say, an elder 142 WILD DAYRELL. daughter or two are made director* — maiden aunts and female relatives at a distance constitute the ' work- ing staff.' I, Dayrell, am the mine. Given, as they say in Euclid, me, the mine, it is required to find my value. Working staff receive instructions to prose- cute enquiries as to the quantity of ore the mine can produce now, and how much in futuro. Chair- woman reposeth till answers arrive. One sunny morning she calleth a special meeting, and lays the correspondence before the board. "Answer No. 1, is from an old friend of the family, acknowledging the receipt of company^s com- mission, with congratulations relative to taking pos- session of the mine. *' Answer No. 2, is from an energetic maiden aunt. It says, * We have not yet come to the vein ; but we think it will turn out profitable. We intend to sink the shaft lower, and report in our next.' " Answer No. 3, is from a married aunt, who lives at a watering place. It says, ' We have discovered some valuable quartz, (this is my more venerable than venerated uncle. Query; are they going to ' crush ' him ?) which, some day, should supply a fair amount of gold' — or, No. 3 is unfavourable, and says, ' This mine has been worked before, and aban- doned. You had better put up with a small loss and leave it.' WILD DAYRELL. 143 " Dropping all metaphor, I shall be made over to the tender mercies of divers old ladies, who will glean the history of my past life, and detail it with much unction to my intended mother-in-law. Slangley, when on the point of winning a 30,000/. prize in the matrimonial lottery, was treated in the same way. His fiancee^s aunt gathered some particulars respecting his scapegrace ' doings,' and the match was, in consequence, broken off. ' Sir,' said the stern Mrs. Chamfront, when Slangley de- manded explanations, ' I only did my duty to my relations. I would not allow an impostor to enter our family.' To which Slangley replied, ' It was a pity, madam, for such a good woman to forget her duty to her neighbour.' There Slangley was wrong. He should have avoided the interview. It is no use complaining when the game is over ; no use dashing the cards upon the table when the rubber is lost. " How am I to get over the diflSculty ? Which of my relatives will assist me in the matter of an ante- nuptial settlement — put a twenty thousand pound cheque under my breakfast-plate — or even give me the reversion of it ? and, echo answers, who ? My aunt Fan, owner of the oft-persecuted tabby, also of the room redolent of tobacco (she says) since I slept there, won't do anything for me. Uncle Thomas cannot, and my cousin will not. Yes ; I have solved 144 WILD DAYRELL. the difficulty. How stupid not to think of it before. I will write to my mother when I reach Ems, and tell her all. She is the proper person to undertake such a business. She must enter the breach: when woman meets woman — ^no, that quotation is inappro- priate — when women are made ambassadors in a love affair, they vindicate their character for diplomatic talent. It is their mission " " Place pour un Monsieur y^ said the guard, inter- rupting Dayrell^s conclusions about woman's special mission, and opening the door for a gentlemanly Frenchman, who, with a bow, and profuse apologies for disturbing him, took a seat on the opposite side of the carriage. Unlike that eminent sportsman, the Baron de N., who went to Angouleme on a shooting tour with only a gun and a few shirt collars in a hat- box, or our Breton Chevalier, who started on his travels with no further impedimenta than his pipe, the new comer had luggage and coats in abundance. " Pardouy Monsieur,'' said the Frenchman, *' will you allow me to put that bag under the seat. Merci, I am obliged," he added, apologetically, " to travel with many packages, because I may not return to Paris for some time. I may go to your country. Will monsieur take a cigar?'' proffering his case. " Who can he be ? " thought Dayrell. '^ A govern- ment victim, perhaps, recommended to travel for his WILD DAYRELL. 145 own and his country's good. Still, if that is the case, he is a happy exile." Stranger becomes more cordial, and praises England and the English. '' I only hope he mayn't be a sharper," thought our suspicious islander, 'Agoing to ask me to play at lansquenet or ecarte. Does he look the sort of man to have four kings inside his hat or concealed in his sleeve ? " and Dayrell looked very hard at his neighbour, who, nowise disconcerted, continued the conversation. " I am delighted to hear you are going to Ems. We must travel together. I know the road. We can go by Cologne and Coblentz. But you would, perhaps, like to hear what takes me so far. Ah, Monsieur, it is an affair of the heart. You shall know all some day;'' and he threw himself back in the carriage with an air of sorrowful resignation. His words struck a chord in Dayrell's breast, causing him to warm towards the stranger. He was too polite, however, to enquire further, but changed the conversation. " How pleasantly," he said, " we travel in this express train. I remember, when a boy, going from Paris to Brussels in the diligence ; such a thirty-six hours torture I never underwent before. I was in the interieur with four ladies. One of the latter was a strong-minded governess; another, a little girl under her charge. The former was wakeful during 146 WILD DAYRELL. the night, like Sir Walter Scott's hermit, but instead of minding her beads, she told stories — told them, too, in an undertone far more aggravating to a drowsy- person than the loudest conversation. I awoke out of my first sleep as we entered Cambrai. It was not the town, but the governess who disturbed me. She was improving the occasion by telling the young lady some long story about Fenelon and Charles V. Where she had heard it I don't know ; I am sure I never met with it in any old history. I dozed, and was just becoming oblivious of the regal and Fenelon tale, when the cold air of the Peronne marshes struck me. Again I awoke, and heard the same voice. This time it was prattling about ' La Pucelle,* and the death of the British guardsmen during the siege in 1814. Little girl became excited, must tread on my toes in order to get to the window to see the fortifications by moonlight. 'They are not nearly so big in our church-yard at home,' she remarked, mistaking the earthworks for the guardsmen's graves. ' Now go to sleep dear,' said the preceptress, as the diligence rumbled out of Peronne. Voices were hushed for a time ; but sleep ! no, I could not, — the shaking and jolting were positively awful. At Valen- ciennes, benumbed and cold, we had to get out of the interieur, and go into a fireless vault to be in- spected by gensdarmes. Everybody was xerj jaded^ WILD DAYRELL. * 147 except that governess of the iron constitution ; she was as fresh as paint, and came up smiling, till the gensdarme, turning to her, read a name in the pass-, port, and insisted that she was thefemme-de-chambre described in that document. She fired at this, her colour went and came, but the gensdarme shrugged his shoulders, continued his writing, and when she commenced a speech, told a subordinate to show her into the diligence. Another quarter of an hour's travelling, I was just going to sleep, when she began another homily. This time the subject was rather personal. ' French politeness ! Is it not a mis- nomer?' Here we are at Valenciennes — as gloomy- looking, as on that eventful morning fifteen years ago." " C^est bien triste" replied the Frenchman, as he shrugged his shoulders, and talked contemptuously of its epiders, that abomination to Frenchmen of any rank or position in society. "Nevertheless, I once passed a pleasant three weeks in a chateau about ten kilometres from here, belonging to a friend of mine. A curious incident happened, which nearly brought him into trouble. They smuggle, as perhaps you know, a great deal along this frontier. To carry light contraband articles dogs are used. A man takes five or six with him into Belgium ; the articles are tied to their necks, the animals are turned loose l2 148 • WILD DAYRELL. at nightj and run home as fast as they can. My friend had half-a-dozen dogs, and one especial favourite, called Castor. Castor had made many journeys, the custom-house officials knew him well; but although always on the watch, could never catch, or rather shoot, him in the act. 'I expect Castor to-night,' said my friend, as we sat smoking after dinner. 'We shall hear him scratch presently at the door. There is the plate of bones on the side- board; how the old dog will enjoy his well-earned reward.' He had hardly spoken when we heard the report of a gun. My friend left his seat, and open- ing the door, let in poor Castor, who, dangerously wounded, could scarcely crawl into the haU. The parcel that had cost the dog his life had hardly been concealed, when the douanier arrived to make a search. My friend was so annoyed at his loss, that he entered Siproces, and claimed large damages from the douanier. The case came before the justice of the peace, who said to my friend, ' You seem to put a high value on your dog; what use is he to you?' ' He is a good dog, and a great favourite.' ' But for what purpose do you keep him?' 'As a guard for my house.' ' And you describe him as such in your tax-paper?' 'Yes.' 'Then, according to your evi- dence, you kept this animal to secure your premises against robbers. A douanier met him one night in WILD DATRELL. 149 your grounds. The dog took no notice of one who^ if not a robber, was certainly an intruder. What use could such a dog be ? he was no guard to the house. I cannot award damages to the plaintiff, or even the costs of this action.' '* Thus beguiling the time, they sped through the dreary fog-enveloped lowlands of Belgium — ^past the flag bearers, who stood at attention in the cross- roads, and looked so woe-begone, poor fellows, and so wistfully at the carriages as they rushed by. Their ideas of what those trains carry must be like those of the man who drove the Morlais malle-poste for fifteen years. " It is no use, Monsieur," he said, drearily, " to ask me where such and such a place is, or such a house was, I know no more of the country than yourself. Long as I have driven this cart, it has always been by night — Cre Dieu. By daylight I should hardly know the inns where I stop to change and refresh my horses. No man living sees less of the country and the sun than myself!" The ugly flat plains, however, made no impression on the Frenchman. His soul rose superior to the influences of scenery. It was a mauvais goUt, he thought, to go to Chamouni and Switzerland, and hide oneself amongst barbarians, when it was so much more easy and pleasant to visit Dieppe and Paris, and promenade amongst the belles femmes, l3 150 WILD DAYRELL. ' Great emphasis, mind, he laid on the last two words. Although forty-five, he was still the lady-killer, the irresistible; and, as an echo to the sentiment, he sang the refrain so popular amongst the blouses of the west, recording the successes of the owners of a few sous amongst the fair denizens of the Faubourgs, in the last line of which the patriotic usurps the sentimental element : — " Je suis Fran^ais — mon pays, avant tout." '^ How ugly they are ! " he continued, as the train stopped in the station of Liege, and the girls brought their baskets of peaches to the windows of the car- riages. " Here is one not so bad," he said, alluding to a square-built Flemish damsel, owner of a pair of twinkling wicked eyes. " Not so bad," he reiterated, chuckling her under the chin. Wicked eyes looked slily at the Frenchman, and read his character at a glance. Turning to another peach-seller, she said loud enough to be overheard, " Comme il est beau, ce monsieur la.^' Silver coin is dropped into the peach basket. Wicked eyes retires well satisfied with its reward. Frenchman shrugs his shoulders, and looks at Dayrell, as much as to say, " We are irresistible ; it is always so." Elated with this victory, the Frenchman's spirits rose. First with stories, then with snatches from the WILD DAYRELL. 151 new opera of Orphee, he beguiled the tedious journey, till, fairly tired, he sunk to sleep in his corner of the carriage. It was late in the evening when they ar- rived in the " scented city " of Cologne. They went to the same hotel. Mine host gave them but a sorry dinner. A bottle of Moselle, however, made some amends for the scantiness of the repast. "Monsieur will come to the cafe," asked the Frenchman, " and have ' a grog? ' " — a curious expres- sion, and one of the few Saxon words engrafted into their language. The name even of the Thunderer is changed. In the word " teems'* no one would recog- nise the name of his favourite paper. But " grog ! " "grog" is French. Future dictionaries must men- tion it, more especially, if what a distinguished English traveller says be true, that under its genial influence only does the entente cordials blossom. There was but a " summer" attendance at the cafe. The gay world, young Germany, in fact, were in the suburbs footing it to Strauss' last walse ; only a few of the old stagers remained to smoke their pipes, and work out intricate chess-problems. Even the billiard- Toom was deserted, and the three balls bivouacked together in the top pocket. Josephine, fair dispenser of coffees and grogs, in the absence of victims to her killing glances, was busy knitting; and the waiter, having attended to the few wants of his guests, slunk l4 153 WILD DATRELL. back into his corner, and gloated over a dirty dog's-eared copy of the German " Dame aux Came- lias." The Frenchman, in his character of host, behaved well. He ordered the " grogs/' and when they had disappeared, he ordered a second relay. But the genial lemon, or sugar, or spirit, had lost its power. In fact, the Gaul was miserable. No longer chanting the refrains from Orphee, or boasting of the suc- cesses of his youth, he moodily smoked his cigar, and replied in monosyllables only to DayrelFs queries. The latter thought that the absence of " movement'^ had demoralized his companion, and attemped to draw him into conversation by telling him the names and histories of certain titled dames that he would meet at Ems. The Frenchman listened as though he heard not I till suddenly interrupting his companion, " You have not guessed the reason of my low spirit s,^^ he said. " It is here. Monsieur,^' he added, holding up a letter. " This has been re-directed to me, Poste Eestante, Cologne. It is the same that I wrote ten days since, to the most beautiful — the most ravissante of your countrywomen. Here it is, I say, returned to me. But by whom ? — ah ! that is what annoys me — by her mother ! Cre Dieu ! that woman has always thwarted my plans ; and inside the envelope asks me WILD DAYRELL. 153 never to write to her daughter again. Ma foi ! am I to submit to this, when I know by a thousand signs she loves me. I could tell you, but I won't, how that girl encouraged me. I will see her, when I reach Ems; and I will marry her. They shall not laugh at me again at Dieppe " " At Dieppe ! You were at Dieppe ? '' exclaimed Dayrell, as an idea struck him. " Yes, Monsieur, for many months." " And your name is — is Bellegarde." "The same," replied the Frenchman with a bow. " Good heavens, is it possible ! " thought Dayrell. ^' How, in the name of fortune, have I managed to stumble on this old driveller ; hear his intentions from his own lips; and be engaged to travel — perhaps, in the same carriage — with him to Ems, where he must be a source of annoyance to Emily and myself. The conceited fool, to boast of the thousand signs; but, at the same time, so like a Frenchman, to put an affectionate construction on mere commonplace civilities. Bother the man ! What am I do ? Tell him the true state of the case ? That I would, if I had settled the financial question with Emily's mother. Would that I could leave him, or drop him into the river, or remove him gently — ah, well, the case is hardly desperate as yet. Let me try and convince him that his errand will be fruitless." 154 WILD DAYRELL. "Do you know/* he said to Bellegarde, "that Miss Trelawney is going to be married?" " So I have heard, and to a young Englishman ; but my friend at Dieppe tells me quite a different story." " Hoaxed he is, as I 'm a sinner," soliloquised Day- rell, "this is really too ludicrous." "Let me tell you. Monsieur Bellegarde, that your visit to Ems ■will be profitless ; that Miss Trelawney is engaged; and that by going there you will only annoy her." "It is very kind of monsieur to tell me this," answered Bellegarde. " Monsieur will, perhaps, read this letter," he added, handing one out of a packet he held in his hand. " T can't read this," said Dayrell, petulantly ; " it begins with mon cher, but the rest I cannot make out. Your French MSS. are abominable." " Listen then to me," said the Frenchman, and he read out one of the most unblushing epistles ever penned. Young Terranova, the writer, knew the Count's foibles, and had artfully mixed the cup of flattery and romance. "The Trelawneys had left Dieppe," it said, " so soon — ^much sooner than they intended. Ah ! why did the belle Anglaise leave ? Monsieur Bellegarde could understand. The poor girl was low-spirited, and had refused to dance with any one ; and why, oh Bellegarde ? Bellegarde, why WILD DAYRELL. 155 were you absent from Dieppe? But go to Ems," the writer continued, "where success awaits you; where the heiress is ready to throw herself into your arms ; and where you have the good wishes of your friend Terranova/* " What do you think of that ? " asked Bellegarde, triumphantly. " That you are deceived and taken in by your friend." " Deceived ! he had better not attempt that. No, Monsieur, it is not, I tell you, it is not so. I know that this is all true ; and that before a month is over, there wiU be many to wring their hands and be jealous of the grand success of Bellegarde." '' Good night," said Dayrell, utterly disgusted, and leaving the cafe. " It is no use trying to pierce the rhinoceros hide of that man's conceit. Most people would have thought a ' returned ' letter a broad hint to retire from the contest. But a Frenchman! faugh ! a hint is lost on him. Let him revel in his absurd fancies. He will change his note before the end of next week." Although a foggy morning, the real pilgrims of the Rhine mustered strong on board the Coblentz steamer. From every street that led to the quay they came in ones, and twos, and threes ; some strug- gling under the weight of heavy coats and bags, some half washed, and some half shaved, all unbreakfasted, 156 WILD DAYRELL. and consequently very cross. Comes Briefless, bravely walking, stick in hand and knapsack at back ; Brief- less will blister his feet, but he'll save his money and gain information. Comes our Bagster, of the Foreign Office, on his way to Homburg, with that five-and- twenty pounds he borrowed from, the mess waiter of his club for (must it be owned) a losing flutter at rouge- et-noir. Absent is the genuine chieftain of the hills, but present the mock ditto of Cheapside, in a tartan kilt unowned by Highland clan. Treading the ground delicately, with the air of languid swelldom, comes Noses — our old friend Jedadiah Noses. Take off" thy thistle-adorned bonnet, Noses; that decep- tion won't do, for we know you. Why try to pass for a Highlander, thou scion of an unloved race? And poet Jones, quiet Jones, dreamily passes to the bows of the vessel; he, whose brain is already at work, and who at one p.m. shall produce the four lines that will astonish, nay, move unto tears, suscep- tible maternal Jones. Forgive us, Jones, if we mis- quote them, but to the best of our recollection they ran as follows : — " I love, I adore thee, thou peerless Rhine, From Mayence to Drachenfels I'll sit on this deck, and I'll quaff thy wine Regardless of dinner bells." " I hope he will be late — there is the second bell WILD DAYRELL. 157 —three minutes more and they will cast off," said Dayrell, to himself, as he stood near the paddle-box of the steamer, and anxiously scanned the last groups of pilgrims hurrying on board. " Alas, here he comes, with his light coats on his arm, and the in- evitable bag slung round his shoulders. Ah ! he has a squabble with the porter ; he may yet be left be- hind. No, he has settled with that sleepless man- of-all-work, the night-hawk of the hotel, and steps jauntly on board/' " Bon jour J Monsieur Dayrell, I say that man is a robber; he has charged me forty sous for carrying my little packages to the steamer. It is too bad,'' exclaimed Bellegarde, in his anger at manners, cus- toms, and all things Prussian. But Dayrell, in his disappointment, returned no answer. He looked at Bellegarde with much the same disgust as Pickwick did at the ungainly qua- druped he was compelled to lead along the dusty road. " To be tied to that man," he thought, " is something awful. I must be rid of him. If he would simplify matters, by dropping into one of those boats that come from the shore to meet the steamer, be carried to a village at the top of the mountains, or be locked up because his passport was not strictly en regie. Alas ! no such luck for me. I must listen to his nonsense; I must travel with 158 WILD DAYRELL. him as far as Coblentz ; I must be a Sinbad, a victim to that man of Gaul. Jones is at liberty to ponder with his elbows upon his knees, and his head between his hands, while gazing on the picturesque Drachen- fels, and be unmolested. Noses enjoys himself, sip- ping Johannisberg, price two thalers a bottle. His sorrow is only temporary, when the waiter, who guesses that Noses is no tip, brings him the drum- sticks of a fowl, and explains, ^ For you, for you, ver goot, ver goot.' Even paterfamilias, though his coat- tails are pulled every five minutes by his daughters wanting to know the name of some tower, can find a refuge amongst the smokers at the bows of the vessel. But for me there is no escape. The steamer is small. Bellegarde follows me everywhere, even unto the confined and dinner-scented cabin." Never had Dayrell passed a longer day — never been so thoroughly bored. Cost what it might, he had determined to be rid of the Frenchman. He had no notion of travelling to Ems in such company. Now Hermitage is a strong and soporiferous liquid; more especially the "vintage" which mine host at Coblentz brought from an inner crypt for Bellegarde and Dayrell's dinner. Vachette's ten sou cigars are black, new, and strong. It was of these the Devon- shire parson spoke with much unction ; " They are thick, they are strong, they get into my head, and I WILD DAYRELL. 159 like them." Bellegarde would have one out of DayrelFs case ; he would smoke it on the bridge of boats, and with flushed face, and somewhat unsteady step, he repaired to that sub- Jove smoking-place. The sun went down. The fortress of Ehrenbreitstein was the last to profit by its rays. The twilight succeeded. One by one the lamps were lit along the quay. The tea-gardens began to fill, and the merry voices of the peasantry were wafted across the broad surface of the Khine. Then, from behind Stolzenfels, arose the moon, putting the lamps to shame, silvering the old gabled ends of the houses, and throwing long shadows over the swift running stream. True to its character for strength, the Hermitage had done its work, and mounted to the Frenchman's brain. What the wine had begun, the cool night air and the strong cigars finished. Fain would he have visited the dancers, but his step became unsteady. He was tired, he said ; he would return to his hotel. So a candle and key were put into his hand, and door, No. 76, closed on the partially intoxicated BeUegarde. Dayrell lingered some time by the river, smoked another cigar; then conversed with the landlord, and finally ascended to No. 75. He listened at the Frenchman's door. Nasal sounds, deep, but irregular, proceeded from within. The moon shone through 160 WILD DAYRELL. the casement on Bellegarde's patent leather pearl- buttoned shoes^ and the be-labelled key. The temp- tation was too great. Dayrell turned the latter noiselessly in the keyhole, opened the window — a water-butt stood underneath; into it fell, with little splash, key No. 76. Then in each enamelled shoe he put a stone. Both descended swiftly to the same bourne, much to the comfort of the frogs, who, doubtless, bivouacked that night in a pair of real Parisian bottines. Everything still, quiet, save the irregular snore of the Frenchman, Dayrell retired to rest, delicately, and in much comfort. It is morning, and seven a.m. There is a disturb-* ance in the upper regions of the hotel. Chamber- maids, with dusters and brooms, flock about Carl the blubbering, Carl the wounded boots — partly curious, partly with a view to consolation. Carl relates his short but moving tale : how, instructed by the re- cording slate, he had been to call No. 6 — 76 it was originally, but the 7 had been erased by Dayrell. No. 6, a commercial, but choleric Englishman, had retaliated by hurling a perfect avalanche of weapons at the intruder. Carl, wounded on the side of his head, and with china candlestick broken in his hand, is in full retreat, about to go downstairs and report the case to landlord. All this time Frenchman — our Bellegarde — ^in No. 76 snores unconscious. WILD DAYRELL. 161 Malle-poste is on the point of starting for Ems. Dayrell, clean-shaved and breakfasted, knocks at No. 76, Frenchman, unconscious of locked door and key abstracted, warbles cheerfully as he tumbles out of bed. Dayrell takes his place in the coupe, and is at least half a league from Coblentz, amidst the vines and on the right of the placid Lahn, ere Frenchman finds that he is a prisoner, and vociferates through keyhole, in tones at first angry, afterwards plaintive. M 162 WILD DAYRELL, CHAPTER VIII. Ems, August 14tli, 185—. My Dear Mother, Thus far have I travelled. When you have finished this letter you will say, " I might have gone farther and fared worse." Annie must have already told, you that I met a Miss Trelawney at Dieppe. Without any circumlocution, I have to in- form you that I am engaged to her " conditionally." She is beautiful — a pleasant thing at the breakfast- table ; has money, which will put something on the breakfast-table ; and a good temper, so she will not blow me up over the breakfast-table. You will ask what I mean by " conditionally ? '^ You see, my dear mother, I had an interview with Mrs. Trelawney to discuss the topic of finance. I admitted that my (2s in prcesenti was of ridiculously small amount, but hinted that my ces infuturo might be large. She did not express any decided opinion on the merits of my rambling statement — I wish she had. She only de- su'ed me to write to you. She will not correspond WILD DAYRELL. 163 with her relatives till your answer arrives. She cannot with Tales^ till I give her his address, which may I not do till the last moment, lest that man of best intentions — but unable, like Micawber's boy, to carry them out in any way whatsoever — should send a dry and depreciating answer to Mrs. Trelawney, and, perhaps, in his enthusiasm for legal phraseology, should add the heading, " In re Dayrell." Mother, neglect not this opportunity of settling your son. Smooth away all difficulties in your letter to my in- tended mother-in-law. A subsidy paid annually to the young couple would settle the question. Even this you may be inclined to do, when you remember that most men have but one chance in their lives of bettering their condition. This, my dear mother, is mine. Hoping and expecting, : I am, Your affectionate Son, E. W. Dayrell. P.S. — Beware of two female relatives of the Tre- lawneys — known in fashionable circles as the Kil- kenny cats — and who live near you. They must be unfriendly, Emily tells me, as they have settled that their niece is not to marry any one under the rank of viscount. This letter, still preserved among the family ar- M 2 164 WILD DAYRELL. chives, Dayrell sent to his mother the day subsequent to his arrival at Ems. One remark we who are be- hind the scenes have to make — namely, the writer was a bad judge of woman-kind, and had failed to notice the disappointment his confession had inflicted on Mrs. Trelawney. The vague reports that had reached her ear at Dieppe had led her to suppose that our hero was a most desirable party. True, he was gentlemanly, of good family, might be well off some day, and would probably receive assistance from his mother now. But her daughter Emily, she could not help thinking, might have done better, or, before the affair had gone so far, might have learnt more about his actual position. Congratulating herself, however, on her residence in a quiet place, far from her friends and relatives, who would otherwise have seen, heard, and, perhaps, maliciously circulated news about her daughter s courtship, she determined to await Mrs. Dayrell's answer before she gave her con- sent. For the nonce, she dropped all idea of forming a Limited Liability Company. She would wait, and, in the meantime, warn Emily to be cautious, and not go too far with Dayrell. But in this she was out of her reckoning. Her daughter would not take the hint. Miss Emily had always had her own way, and she intended to have it now. With her, it was " Dayrell aut nullus,'' although she did not say as WILD DATRELL. 165 much to her mother in either Latin or English. The victory over Sandes and the discomfiture of Belle- garde were bearing fruit. It is not the first time that enterprise and pluck are favourably weighed in the balance against rank and the English Fetah — money. A few words about Ems, the quiet and secluded ; Ems nestling amidst wooded hills, the sun-scorched, the paradise of flies. Ah me ! but the latter are hardly less troublesome than our old enemy the mosquito. This little village is not aristocratic, like Carlsbad; nor a nest of gamblers, like Homburg; nor mobbed, like Baden ; nor a refuge for invalids, like Kissingen ; nor ugly, like Wiesbaden. It is es- sentially a lady's watering-place, and generally quiet, its gaiety or dullness depending mainly on the cha- racters and purses of its visitors. There is a kursaal, and there is a band ; there is a gambling table, and there are balls, and immemorial custom has esta- blished for its visitors a programme, like Median law, unchangeable. At one p.m. the Germans and fashionables of all nations (our record has nothing to do with the legitimate water-drinker, whose muffled figure at exercise we have seen from our window a dozen times since day-break) make their first appear- ance at an early dinner. At three p.m. on the pro- menade, but in the shade, the German settles to m3 166 WILD DAYRELL. chess and coffee, not disregarding the ubiquitous meerschaum. English lions, male and female, repose after heavy dinner near the fountains, for the nonce insensible to donkey-boy jargon of "ver goot, ver goot/^ — the epithet the native applies to his sad- eyed animal. Four p.m. sees donkey-boys trium- phant, and pursuing their weight-carriers with shouts unearthly. Stumble not, pony of Jerusalem; lag not, there is a rod in pickle for the offender; whack, whack, we hear it afar off descending on the culprit's back. At six there is the grand promenade of rank and fashion on the Place. At eight the world attends a ball or a concert, or crowds about the roulette table. At eleven the curtain falls on the legitimate drama, the majority of the strangers leave their boxes and go home. A farce (as we shall presently see) may follow, but it will be played to a select audience. In this routine the quasi-engaged couple took little part. They opined that the general public regarded love-making in the light of a bore, as of course that general public does, who, when the excitement of watching the flirting campaign is past, when the offer has been accepted, and the what-he- has-got has been ventilated, look out for the next victim on the high road to the hymeneal altar. *' Le roi est mort '' — the public says, " Vive le roi" Our WILD DAYRELL. 167 king, however, was not dead, but, in spite of Mrs. Trelawney, who insisted on making one of the party, fled with Emily every morning to the other side of the Lahn. We say fled, for Bellegarde had already arrived at Ems. From early morn to dewy eve the Frenchman might be — nay, was — seen by Dayrell " persecuting " the Place, and performing sentry's duty opposite the hotel, in animated conversation with a compatriot. To avoid him required the use of stratagems, only inferior in cleverness to those of a debtor when watched by the myrmidons of the inexorable lord of Cursitor Street. For some days the pair had succeeded in preserving their incognito, longer than that was impossible in so small a town as Ems. It was while wandering from the Place by a cir- cuitous route that Bellegarde pounced upon them. With self-satisfied smile, with cordiality bursting out of every pore, with sweep of hat from head to knee, he saluted Miss Trelawney and her mother. He was so delighted to meet them. It was so long since they were at Dieppe. Ems had appeared so triste without them ; but now, — and he slapped his padded breast, and looked theatrically happy. Then selecting Mrs. Trelawney as the recipient of his compliments, he told her of the news from Dieppe, and how happy he was to hear of Mademoiselle's M 4 168 WILD DAYRELL. engagement. "My little passion/^ he said, — "ah well, that is forgotten; we young men must some- times suffer ! " Then adroitly changing the subject, he prattled of Paris, and his imprisonment at Coblentz, ascribing his misfortune at the latter place to super- natural agency, as neither shoes nor key could be found. As to a practical joke, such an idea never entered his head. Bah ! who would dare to play one off on him ? Emily thought him a strange creature, and laughed as of yore at his absurdities ; but Dayrell felt grate- ful at being released from an awkward situation. So when Bellegarde asked Miss Trelawney to go to the ball that night, and confidentially informed her how utterly " desolate " he felt every evening amongst the ugly stupid people at Ems, she consented ; and the Frenchman, having gained his purpose, retired, waving farewells with his hat, and smiling blandly. One word to explain this change in Bellegarde's sentiments. The thirst after knowledge is as uni- versal in Ems circles as elsewhere. The only excep- tions are the Germans, whose apathy is proverbial. If Clara Smith returns from her ride a little after dusk, or Bagster entertains Josephine with the pearls of his rhetoric for an hour in the avenue of elms, all the world will know it next morning. Alas ! the cha- racter of the former will not be worth an hour's WILD DAYEELL. 169^ purchase, and the latter, unless he elects to go to the hymeneal altar, will be said, by every dowager in the place, to have "behaved shamefully/* But 'tis an oft-told tale, that of scandal being the marrow of existence to small societies. Even the waiter of the hotel (with an eye to his own emolument) adds to the general stock of information, and learns what the soi-disant colonels and captains are doing at the gambling tables. When from his friend the croupier he hears that Carambole is winning, and that Diddle^s losses are considerable, and when the latter, not being of a taciturn disposition, or over wise, makes the chambermaids his confidants, the news, like sweet incense, ascends to the remotest boudoir, and the maid, as she brushes her mistress's golden tresses, tells the results of roulette, adding such trifles as an to a 100, and so on, according as her fervid imagi- nation may happen to dictate. Hence Bellegarde, ere he had been twelve hours in Ems, had heard the petty scandal of the place, and also of Emily's engagement. Such persons as knew not his character, would expect to hear of wringing of hands, of tearing of hair, or at least that the spretce injuria formae would have found vent in forcible expletives. On the contrary, he received the news like a philosopher, and argued with himself after the manner of the French school, that believes 170 WILD DAYRELL. in nothing, and puts faith in neither man nor woman, no matter how serious the subject, how strong the protestation. "She is not a whit better/' he thought, " than her countrywomen. She can walk and flirt with me. She can be amused with my stories, she takes my arm for the Lancers in preference to one oJBPered her by a stupid English boy, whose forte is walking stifily, and most shyly talking pendente quadrille. Yes, she even walks alone with me on the promenade, and straightway the cercle congratu- lates me on my success. Yet, after all, I am only her friend, her good-natured friend. Enter some fine morning one of her rich but unamiable com- patriots. Once in a way he opens his mouth, asks her to marry him, and is accepted. Of no account in the balance are good looks, sprightliness, and devotion, — all is forgotten when weighed against the one thing needful — money ! It is a nation, that England J very philanthropic, they say ; I would rather call it by a name signifying love of money. Cre Dieu! but I should be angry if there were not as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. This Mons. Dayrell is rich, is he ? On that account he is preferred to me ? Eh, bien I let us see if fortune will always stand his friend.^' When Bellegarde talked of " a ball to-night," he spoke figuratively, and simply alluded to one of those WILD DAYRELL. 171 assemblies held twice a-week at the Kursaal. Here, at that date, met convives of every grade, not decked in suit of sable or cloud of gauze, but in the matu- tinal high dress, the frock and morning coat of diverse pattern. In spite, however, of such indiifferent toilettes, the saloon looked well. Gloriously refulgent were the lamps, full was the band, and peremptory the master of the ceremonies in keeping the circle clear for the waltzers, and preventing enthusiastic Smith and Company from gyrating out of turn round the spacious room. It is said that, since the family of Smith, Brown, and other time-honoured English houses have dropped like a cloud of locusts on the scene, the waltzes are mobbed, the quadrilles im- passable, and that the polkas form a confused mass of dancing matter, like unto what we, in our younger days, used to witness on a Derby night at Yauxhall. It is regulated by Kursaal decree that ladies must dance with the first partner who claims their hand. Very pleasant rule for Ellen, plainest of the plain, and Jane, pronounced heavy in hand by her not over- indulgent countrymen, a pair who thirst for waltzes, and are only anxious to be seen dancing, no matter with whom, without an eye to, or a thought of mar- riage. To them is the simpering Fritz, with hair parted down the middle, and on good terms with himself, most welcome. He whisks them round the 172 WILD DAYEELL, magic circle, and talks over his beer afterwards, as we have ourselves heard, of the gushing truthfulness of those English maidens. But by Emily, disturber of hearts, and Edith, usually engaged ten deep, is the rule ignored. What? Lower their banner to some German shopkeeper, be whisked round the ball-room by the possessor of some 30 roods of vine- land. No, thank you. A belle of Bourbon- Vendee may have been sent to a kind of dancing Coventry, because she refused to waltz with the indignant 6l iroWoL Our Ediths and Emilys fear not such a catastrophe. They know that one glance — one wish expressed — will bring a score of Englishmen to their aid. Thus was Emily beleaguered by the foreigner on the first night of her appearance. Carl, of length of limb interminable, the straddler in the noble waltz, hovered on her flank. Rochow, the pensive painter, took her measure from a distance, and waited for the first bar of music, etiquette forbidding him to make engagements beforehand. There was Von Dan- delsen, known in select circles as the falling tower of Pisa, so much out of the perpendicular did his body incline during the waltz, conversing with two companions, and looking askance at the fair English- woman, prepared at a moment^s notice to swoop like an eagle upon its prey. There was yet another on the WILD DAYRELL. 173 watch, — Bellegarde, who, at the first wave of the con- ductor's baton, stepped forward, and offered his arm. Emily hesitated, and would have declined the honour, but recollecting the customs of the country, she took a place with him in the quadrille then forming. The Frenchman plunged into conversation with truly national ardour. " Mademoiselle,^' he said, "will make conquests to-night. She will not be allowed to sit down during the evening. If she only knew how the jeunes gens panted to dance with the prettiest Anglaise ; not that they perform well, or are practically safe. Oh ! no ; Monsieur Rochow is the wildest waltzer in Germany, and the day of Monsieur Dandelsen's fall cannot be long postponed. Command my services. Mademoiselle Trelawney ; use my name, if you wish to say that you are engaged." " Thank you,'' said Emily, smiling ; " I shall not require any one's assistance ; I have a headache, and intend to leave early — after the next waltz, probably." " It is too early to go to bed," suggested Belle- garde to Dayrell, when they had escorted the ladies to the hotel, and bade them good night. " I have a supper in my rooms at twelve — you must come — till then we can smoke a cigar, or go back to the ball- room, whichever you wish. They re-entered the Kursaal. Most of the dancers had adjourned to the saloon and the table, where the 174 WILD DAYRELL. croupiers were reaping an unprecedented harvest from roulette. An Englishman had just arrived. He threw a thousand franc note on the tahle, and calmly awaited the result. The wheel, surmounted by a cross, typical of pain created, revolves : the ball jumps hither and thither, strikes the sides, and crack, crack, flies off at right angles, till gradually exhaust- ing itself, it looks into one or two pigeon holes longing to receive it, and finally reposes in No. 28. One lynx-eyed, green-shaded, yellow-visaged croupier monotonously calls the colour and the number. Two of his brethren rake up thalers, or pay the small fry their winnings with nonchalance inimitable. Senior croupier's hand dives into a strong box, fishes out a yellow note, which he hands to the successful English- man. Again the wheel revolves to the old chorus of the lynx-eyed; at first the ball runs fiercely, then demurely, till it languidly drops into the red. From small fry arises a mingled murmur of astonishment and inquiry. ^^ Won three thousand francs ! who is he ? '* Answer, " Sare Robare — Sare Pale," so they pronounce the name of a sporting baronet. Small fry forgets to stake, and concentrates its attention on the three yellow notes again staked on the red. " He has won again. Oh, Sare Robare — Oh, Sare Pale,'' bursts from the excited multitude; '^he is the luckiest man in the world." Previous murmurs WILD DATRELL. 175 break into a mingled roar of astonishment and congra- tulation, when for the sixth time the colour is red, and the Englishman wins. There is a shuflSing of feet, a confusion of voices, an uneasy wriggle on his stool on the part of the lynx-eyed. When the excitement has partially subsided thirty heads bend forward to see what the owner of the yellow notes will do now. But where are they, and where is he ? Oh ! Sare Robare — Sare Pale — has left with his winnings during the confusion. Did anybody hear of such luck? ^^Faites lejeuj' calls the croupier ; the ball jumps as lively as ever, but the mob have not recovered the shock; there is scarcely a thaler this throw upon the table. "Not so bad, my friend; we have won some Napoleons," said Bellegarde to Dayrell, both of whom had followed the fortunes of " Sare Robare." " The play is nearly finished for to-night ; let us go to my rooms for supper." Dayrell had broken his vow, but the coin jingled pleasantly in his pocket. Just this once can do no harm, he thought. At twelve o'clock at night any excuse will set a man's conscience at rest. To Bellegarde's supper had been invited such a motley party as only Baden Homburg or Ems can produce. The majority of the guests were English, some of them titled, and all owners of good names ; but for different reasons tolerated rather than wel- 176 WILD DAYRELL. coined in continental society. Their presence in foreign parts is easily accounted for. Some, England loves not well; others it loves, but somehow the subjects of its yearning slip from the maternal em- brace, preferring the air of liberty to that of Her Majesty's Bench. Of course if we were to hint at their compulsory absence, the notion would be re- ceived by them with derision and rejected with scorn. Their manner of living is extravagant, and their carelessness about money proverbial; but we who are behind the scenes, remark that a display of Napoleons is only consequent on luck at the tables, or the arrival of allowances from home, at the be- ginning of each month. Included in the party that evening were those dis- tinguished characters Sir Henry Fireworks and Mr. Baillie. The baronet, a wanderer on the Continent these twenty years, was a chronic sufferer from insol- vency and a quick temper. One outburst of the latter they talk of to this day in Paris. Sir Henry was staying at Meurice's Hotel. To that world- renowned hostelry flock every morning such English as happen to be in Paris, to make plans for the day or to read the papers. On one occasion Sir Henry left his bedroom at a late hour. On his breakfast- table in the coffee-room there was no copy of the Times, "It is engaged," the waiter said, pointing WILD DAYRELL. 177 to a youth who sat near the fire, devouring its contents. That boy, unconscious of his crime, had revelled in the leading articles, calculated what in- come 30,000/. invested in '^ Canadas" at 114f would bring, and impartially reviewed the decision of the worthy magistrate in the matter of Mr. Babbage and the organ-grinder, when happening to raise his mild blue eye, it encountered the glaring optics of Sir Henry. " Would you like to see this ?^' sim- pered the youth, offering a portion of the paper. " What on earth do you mean by keeping it ?" cried the irascible baronet. " Do you know. Sir, I was at Waterloo before you were born ?" Baillie, on the other hand, was the reverse of Sir Henry, a quiet, but eccentric old gentleman — a veritable Bedouin. He had travelled and played in every European capital, cheerfully risking his money when he had it to lose, borrowing from others when he had none himself j and, in the absence of sovereigns and lenders, watch- ing the game for hours in a blue military cloak, sole relic, people said, of his Waterloo campaign. Most Frenchmen would have provided sparingly for their guests in the matter of wine for supper. A little Chablais with the oysters, a bottle or so of Jullien dispensed in tumblers, with a thimbleful of Burgundy or champagne to conclude the banquet, would have been followed by a throwing aside of 178 WILD DAYRELL. napkins and a lighting of cigarettes. But Bellegarde produced the different vintages in profusion, and, believing it to be the English fashion, proposed the health of his guests in what the papers would call a neat and appropriate speech. The party was gra- dually becoming noisy — Sir Henry was, in fact, uproarious, when Baillie's clear, ringing voice, the only part of his battered frame uninjured by the de- stroyer, silenced the others — the tone and manner of the narrator indicating how sincerely he believed what he was telling them. "You have asked me for that story, and I will tell it you. I was at Vienna in the year 1825. I was a young man then, and stopped there solely for plea- sure. One night I had a dream. I dreamt that a figure, which I took for John the Baptist, appeared to me, and, calling me by name, asked me what I should like to know? I answered promptly, 'The year of my death.^ The Spirit said, * Follow me.' I was carried through the air, and presently found myself in a vault in which were three coffins, with names and dates inscribed in letters of fire. On the two lowest I read the names of my nearest relations : on the uppermost I read my own, and the year 1832. I turned to John the Baptist, and said, 'What so soon ?' He answered, * Look again.' I did so, and read 1852 ; and again said, ' What so soon T He re- WILD DAYRELL. 179 plied your eyes are dim, look once more.' This time I read 1872, and, turning to the spirit, said, ' I am content/ The dream passed away. I own I was alarmed in 1832, and very nervous in 1852 ; but in 1854, I was convinced that what I had seen would come true. I went to England that year to attend the funeral of one of my relations. It took place at Kensal Green Cemetery. The service over, I went into the vault and saw my dream partially realized. There were the names of my two relatives and the dates of their decease on two coffins, and there was a place vacant. Gentlemen, I shall fill it in 1872.^* " Let Mons. BaiUie live till 72,'' exclaimed Belle- garde, amid the general silence that followed the story. "You all seem very dull," he continued. '' Who wiU say yes to a game of baccarat ? You cannot play, Mons. Dayrell. That makes no diffe- rence : it is the easiest game to learn. Sir Henry says he will make a bank with you. Beginners always win. I envy him his partner." Now, to the uninitiated, baccarat seems to require less skill on the part of the player than any other game of cards, blind-hookey excepted. But the cool, wary speculator knows better. To him its apparent simplicity is a mine of wealth. While young Reck- less declares that " It is all luck,'' and, without con- sideration, throws his Napoleons on the table, the N 2 180 WILD DAYRELL. practised player knows by instinct when to increase his stakes and when to stop. The game has been the ruin of many. When we asked the other day the reason why Mons. T and the Count de V , the cheeriest and pleasantest fellows in Paris, had dis- appeared, we were told that " they played nothing but baccarat, and that only for three years." Fortune has been at times a cruel persecutor, but never more so than on this occasion. The ill-starred bank couldn't, you might almost say, wouldn^t win. If the pair played prudently, and in their deal amassed something trifling, a fatal " banco " would dissipate it before the cards were passed. If Sir Henry growled, and rashly bancoed against Belle- garde, the latter would take the announcement with much the same defiant air as a Finisterre cliff receives the rolling wave of the Atlantic, and turning the right card, invite the chafing baronet to "banco'' the whole amount just this once — only this once. At the end of the fifth round Sir Henry was furious, and his last Napoleon was swept away. " I '11 have my revenge another night," he said, gnashing his teeth, as he left the room. '^ You had better come with me, Mr. Dayrell," he added; "you will lose all night, mark my words, if you stay." Dayrell not only disregarded the advice, but hoping to regain a portion of his losses, borrowed from WILD DAYRELL. 181 Bellegarde, and continued his set. Only introduce the credit system at play, and the end is certain; namely, a heavy loss for one of the party, and (pro- bably) a long-deferred settling. Baillie had up to this time played mildly, but certainly with the luck rather against him than otherwise. His pose plastique in the military cloak, his solitary hover about the tables for the remainder of the month, was, after a manner, predestined. But now, on hearing Dayrell use the words, "borrow,^^ and "that makes so much," his eyes glistened ; he felt his time had arrived. To tell the plain truth, people who knew Baillie well were shy of taking his I. O. U.'s ; but strangers could not resist the winning address of the gentlemanly old man. So, when smiling affably, he offered to fill the vacant baronet's place, and bring Dayrell through in triumph by means of a system that had never failed, the latter unwittingly assented, and the old man chuckled audibly. The latter thought to himself, " if our banks wins, well and good ; if it loses, it is a case of my giving an I. O. U. to one more stranger in the world ; that is all." The system throve well the first quarter of an hour. Bellegarde almost regretted that he had given his guests their revenge, till Baillie, too confidently, covered twenty Napoleons set by the former and lost. From that moment everything went wrong with the firm. No matter n3 182 WILD DAYRELL. how they played, they lost every set, and at the end of the seance two hundred pounds would not have covered DayrelFs losses. Two hundred pounds ! Where was he to get it ? An awkward sum for him to lose just now — very awkward, he thought, a« leav- ing Bellegarde's rooms, he went out into the Place. " What a fool I have been ! Confound that fellow Baillie ; " when looking up, he burst out laughing. There was that old gentleman; his appearance not improved by a hard night and the garish light of day, his wig awry, his complexion yellow, his teeth chattering, his legs unsteady, determined not to give in ; but chirping cheerfully about " better luck to- morrow. My new system, Mr. Dayrell, will win it all back at roulette." Six hours' sleep, — if that could be called sleep, when shadowy forms of kings, queens, and aces danced wildly in the air, — when the ears rung with the exclamations of the players, — when the winning card seemed to leap from the pack, but the stakes were detained by some hidden power, or melted in the grasp, the dreamer knowing not why or wherefore, — when the body turned from side to side of the bed and the head sought in vain a cool place on the pillow — and when the sun shining bright, scarcely dimmed by the white curtains, made the sleeper open his eyes every quarter of an hour to close them again WILD DAYRELL. 183 with a weary, dreary feeling of disgust. Awake, but with ideas misty and undefined, Dayrell saw his watch unwound by his bedside, the hair chain re- clining in the ash of a half-smoked cigar; some small change, evidently emptied out of his pocket in haste, and a paper, with hieroglyphics supposed to represent figures. The last recalled, too vividly, the scene of last evening. '^ How utterly foolish I Ve been," he said, when sitting up in his bed and sipping the coffee the waiter had just brought. " How could I play at all, much less lose such a sum? Here's Bellegarde's name. I owe him 180/., and how am I to pay it?'' He thought for a few minutes, when he remembered Baillie's parting words. " No," he continued, " I won't write to Tales to-day, or apply to that good mother of mine, until I have tried my luck once more. There are still enough Napoleons in that drawer. I will meet my creditors cheerfully — go to the table to-night — try Baillie's system; and, hah, hah, * win it all back.' " He might meet his creditors cheerfully, and make them believe he did not care ; but there was one to whom he did not owe money, but something infinitely more precious, — one who would examine more closely the cause of his unnatural gaiety. Meet a pretty girl, they say, for the first time at a ball, a dinner N 4 184 WILD DAYRELL. party, or a pic-nic, and a man needs some power of speech to make her a listener. Let the same girl be engaged, or let her merely have selected one on whom to turn her heaviest artillery, and mark the difference. From that moment his every word is weighed, his every look is watched. He lives, so to speak, in a glass case; a searching eye peers through and through nature^s bulwark — the outer man. The individual has yet to be born, whose acting can really deceive the woman who loves. Thus Emily perceived instantly the change in his manner. She felt there was something wrong, and hoped by treating him coldly to discover his secret. There was something between her love and him, she could not tell what ; but her altered behaviour did not elicit a clue to the mystery. A fete on a minor scale was celebrated that day at Ems. For it the country people came " to town,'^ and in the absence of other amusements flocked to the Kursaal and roulette. The fashionable visitors were also present. Here was Bellegarde, and there Sir Henry, the latter moving uneasily from group to group like a troubled spirit, not playing himself, but teazing every body that did. Baillie, of course, was there ; but he had hoisted his signal of distress, to wit, the blue cloak of Waterloo memory. He had not a thaler left. But was he unhappy? Not he. WILD DATRELL. 185 He lived in hopes that he would yet break the bank with the very newest and the very latest system invented. The old man still wielded the pin of approved pattern, sharpened point, and malachite knob, with which, for six long years, he had regis- tered the winning blacks and reds. He had kept a weekly, monthly, and annual account. No mer- chant's ledger was so neatly copied ; and the result —a system infallible, only requiring a proper capital to work successfully. By the bye, nine of his systems had already gone the way of all flesh, and been discarded. The one he now cherished was built on the ruins of the Mortui ; in it had the old prophet verily put his trust. Baillie's hearty and cheerful welcome a man of a suspicious turn of mind might have misinterpreted. It savoured strongly of the art of borrowing, and Baillie, as all but the wilfully blind and deaf knew, was not above that. But in this case he aimed at higher game, viz., to persuade Dayrell to test his newest and latest system. To this end, it was first necessary to explain away the mistakes of the pre- vious night. " You lost 200/. last night, did you ? " he said to Dayrell, " and I the same, unfortunately. It was our own fault, we were too rash. It was not the game to banco the sixth time. It was sixty to one against our winning. But we shall do better 186 WILD DAYRELL. to-night. Monsieur Garcia at Homburg, and Madame Adrienne at Baden, have discovered how to break the bank three times a-week, and I know it. Yes; we will do the same. For two million francs, the proprietor of the Homburg bank sent to Paris to pay Monsieur Garcia. We will be content with that, eh ? Some of these boys here learnt his system. They tried it, and won for a time, but becoming im- patient played rashly and lost everything. It is thus " and Baillie commenced an exposition of his theory, making frequent references to his printed cards, and telling off his conclusions on his fingers — most puzzling to a person not sufficiently sagacious to discover the one wanting link. " Did you ever see such luck ? *' he said, calling Dayrell's attention to the table ; " the third time, upon my honour ! " A countryman had elbowed his way to the front. On the single zero he had put a pile of copper coins, representing the lowest stake allowed by the pro- prietors. The lynx-eyed raked together the coins, counted contemptuously, and replaced them on the round 0. Ball revolved with energy more than ordinary, dallied longer with pigeon-holes unwilling to receive it, and finally bivouacked in the country- man's number. Pile of silver is thrust towards him. " Again, the zero, if you please ! " he cries, adding a few words of playful badinage for the special be- WILD DAYRELL. 187 hoof of the lynx-eyed. Ball runs quicker than ever, hops, jumps, skips, and stops suddenly. Croupier has to stretch his hand, and check the inner wheel. It is in — zero. '' Once more," calls the excited win- ner. Ball receives an extra push, rattles, threatens to take a fence, and land on the green sward this side the table, seems to spectators as though it never would stop, rolls in and out, in and out — slower, slower, till, for the third time, it glides into zero. Wriggles on his high stool, as his custom is, the lynx-eyed; countryman retires, gesticulating franti- cally, and receiving an ovation from the multitude, some of whom will presently borrow a gulden from him, as they will say, for luck. From Baillie burst a sigh of regret, because he had reaped no advantage from such a remarkable coin- cidence. His melancholy was, however, quickly dis- pelled. His system was on trial, the interest evoked by that was all absorbing ; but, as the theory is un- likely to be serviceable to futui'e visitors of German baths, an elaborate detail is unnecessary. Suffice it to say — first, that Dayrell's capital was forty Napo- leons ; secondly, that this was to be divided by eight; and, thirdly, that Baillie would select the numbers on which the quotient fixed should be placed. Once in eight times the right number would turn up, at least so said the prophet. The game proceeded : the 188 WILD DATRELL. croupier worked his rake indefatigably — DayrelVs money was being rapidly absorbed into tbe piles of tempting coins representing the bank. His faith wavered, and he looked at Baillie, who, spectral-like, pointed with his finger to a number. " I won't do it," said DayrelL petulantly ; " these five Napoleons are my last, and I wonH do so." " Only this once,'' supplicated Baillie so piteously ; " try it but this once, it must come.'' But pleading was in vain: DayrelFs Napoleons were thrown on the black. The red won, the number came according to Baillie's prophecy, and the rake brought to the bank the last stake. The old man hid his face in his hands, he groaned, and, if the fountains of his eyes had not been utterly dried, for the first time these twenty years he would have burst into tears. Eetribution follows swiftly on the track of the gambler : sad is the morrow of the man who has left his last thaler in the croupier's hands. His is the deadening feehng that Life is a mistake, — when the bright sky appears of a leaden hue — when the joyous river and hill side form a dreary landscape — when the distempered fancy converts a smile into a scowl — and when champagne and claret, erst so gladdening, only add to his gloom. At no moment of his life does a man more earnestly long to " flee from himself." In such a mood awoke Dayrell the morning succeeding the WILD DAYRELL. 189 affair at ttie Kursaal. Besides the loss of the money^ which he knew not how to make good, he had other reasons for wishing the past undone. Emily had heard a version of the story, founded, like scandal generally, on fact, but exaggerated in detail. No sooner did his eye meet hers than he felt that his secret was known. He knew her horror of gambling, and the forced smile he had assumed on entering the room froze on his lips. " Shall I tell her all, and ask her pardon ? or shall I laugh it off as a matter of no consequence ?" he thought. He had not time to do either, for Mrs. Trelawney unluckily entered, and beckoned him into the balcony. "It would not be right for us to conceal,^' she said, " what we have heard about you. They have told us a shocking story about the Kursaal,^' and she gave an exaggerated account of Bellegarde's party, and the roulette, and finished by asking point-blank whether it was true. Although Dayrell was not in the best of tempers, when he came to the Trelawney's rooms, yet he might have confessed to Emily, and there would have been an end of the matter. But, when questioned by the mother in this way, his feathers were ruffled, and he answered, " That he did not see what difference it could make to anybody ; that he certainly had lost a little, but it was a very trifling matter." 190 WILD DAYRELL. "But it is no trifling matter/' Mrs. Trelawney broke in. " I object to it on principle, for I know what it leads to. Gambling ruined my poor brother, as it must everybody who has to do with it. I tell you, Mr. Dayrell, plainly, that Emily shall never have my consent to marry a man who plays at cards, much less one who haunts the public tables." " You are quite unreasonable this afternoon," he said. " All the world play whist, and most of the people play roulette, at least, they do so when they come to these German watering places, and they are not all ruined. For the life of me, I cannot see any harm in a quiet game in another man's rooms." " One leads to the other, Mr. Dayrell. You know that your seance may begin with a quiet game, but what does it end with ? Ecarte, perhaps — lansquenet, not unlikely. I am quite sure of this. My brother told me as much, and warned me a hundred times against men who defended a quiet game of cards. You will think over what I 've said ; and mind, 1 expect you to give me a promise, never to play again." "A promise!" echoed Dayrell, as he left the hotel, fuming at the bare notion of such a thing. "A promise to pay to Bellegarde is another affair ; but to tell my future mother-in-law that I will never touch a card again ; bah ! nonsense. I cease to be a free WILD DAYRELL. 191 agent at once. I have a spy eternally set over me. She will have an excuse for attending my afternoon walks, and haunting the card-room afterwards to see that her dear Edward does not transgress. Gad ! I might as well be tied to her apron strings at once." Here Bailhe, who was taking that modicum of air, supposed by him to be sufficient to clear his smoke- dried lungs, viz., a walk of 400 yards from his lodg- ings to the Kursaal, once per diem, happened to meet him, and offering an arm, received Dayrell's disclosures with the calmness of a man who lived perpetually in hot water, but, somehow, always managed to escape serious damage. " With regard to the first point, you are done, my boy," said Baillie, " if you give in to a woman. Let her once get the mastery, and life will be a burden, that lady's society a bore. This, in your case, is the thin end of the wedge that they in such a hurry always love to insert. You are not to do this, she says, to-day, and you must not do that to-morrow ; you promise not to hunt any more, because it is dangerous ; and you won't shoot a^ain, because you might catch a bad cold ; till, by Jove, Sir, on some pretext, or other, you are deprived of every amuse- ment, and they have gained their point — reduced you to the level of an amiable sheep-dog, fit to fetch and carry, fetch a cab in the middle of hail. 192 WILD DAYRELL. rain, and snow, or carry, like poor Meek the other day, a barrel of oysters from Temple Bar to the top of Regent Street, to the delight of the small boys, and the disgust of the cab-stand ; for his wife, mind you, had made him promise not to incur the expense of an eighteen-penny ride. Bellegarde^s case is different. There you may promise, and your promise will be as good as your bond." This was a long speech for the old campaigner; but he was on his favourite theme. He had thoroughly worked it out, and boasted that his advice had rendered many a hesitating juvenile proof against the persuasive asr saults of women. The pair dined in company that evening, when the old man revelled in the past, teUing stories, aad shifting the scene from one European Capitol to another. ''It is nine o'clock," said Dayrell, returning his watch to his pocket. " It is time for me to go up- stairs. Adieu, till to-morrow." "Good night," said Baillie, hobbling off; "but, remember, don't do it. Listen to an old man^s advice — make no promise." " He is right," said Dayrell to himself, as he left the dining-room. " I'll promise nothing." Fortified with this resolution, he was on the point of proceed- ing to the Trelawney's rooms, which were on the WILD DAYRELL. 193 second floor, when he heard a shriek of the most thrilling, piercing character, and coming from the flat they occupied. He hurried upstairs. On gaining the landing, he met a figure so enveloped in flames, that its mortal identity could not be discovered, save by the waving of its two arms, and the hands clutching at burning portions of its dress. He took off his coat, wrapt it about the body, and with his hands tore off fragments of the gown. Others came to his assistance, some bringing druggets, some water, some blankets, — the first things, in fact, they could find ; while more than one person went in search of doctors. In five minutes the flames were extinguished, the last vestiges of smouldering embers trampled under foot, and the poor victim carried to the nearest bed- room. The usual remedies were instantly applied, but without alleviating the intense agony of the patient. The doctors arrived, and during their ex- amination and consultation, the others left the room. " Ah, poor thing," they said to the groups assembled in the passage ; '^ it must have been the candle which caught her sleeve, for her neck and shoulders are so dreadfully burnt ; besides, we found it alight on her table, when we first went in.^' The doctors, their consultation over, looked serious, and declined answering questions. They only left instructions with the four ladies, who volunteered to watch, o 194 WILD DAYHELL. respecting the proper course of treatment to be used. Dayrell, in the meantime, burnt and half-suffo- cated by the smoke^ had fainted. They put him on a sofa in the adjoining room, and his attendants at first thought that his case was a serious one. For an hour he remained unconscious, when he opened his eyes, turned on his side, and struggled to collect his thoughts. ^' Who is it ? " he asked of the maid, who stood by him. " Who is it, I say ? It is not . . . . '' and the name seemed to stick in his throat. " The doctor said you must be quiet," replied the maid, " and not excite yourself/^ " It is her. I am sure that's her, I hear — I know it is," he exclaimed, starting from the sofa. " Here, dress these hands, put my arm in a sling — I will go and see." The maid, seeing that further resistance would be useless, did as he wished. He entered the room during one of the paroxysms of pain that occasionally convulsed the sufferer. Two ladies were holding her in the bed, another had some medicine in her hand, and a fourth a basin of flour, which she was liberally applying to the burns. The paroxysm over, the sufferer relapsed into a sleepy, half-dreaming state, her heavy breathing being the only sign of life. Dayrell felt shocked, WILD DAYRELL. 195 and sick at heart, the instant he saw the ravages of the fire, partially concealed though they were by the layers of wool, and her eyes so fixed and unlifelike — never closed even when she slumbered, but turned upwards, as if in mute prayer for relief. This feeling, however, the necessity for active exertion on his part somewhat mitigated. The pain again shoots through her limbs. He helps to hold her in the bed until, exhausted, she sinks back upon her pillow. Now her thoughts are wandering — she is in dream-land. She fancies herself in her native county in the north of England. She is walking with her governess by the banks of the Croquet ; at that lady's request she repeats some lines, at first, glibly, then slower, then dwelling doubtfully on each word, as though memory was failing her, when a sudden twinge of pain recalls the fire. She springs forward in the bed. ^^Oh, put it out — put it out,'* she cries, and her struggles are fearful to witness. The ladies call her by name, speak soothingly, and administer medicine. Once more she is quiet, and in the land of dreams. " Will he come, do you think?" she asks, and her eyes glance round the room. " He did not play, I tell you, — I know he did not. What right had that deceitful servant to tell us so ? But he will come this evening to see us ; no, to see me. He will explain all, and we shall be so happy. Yes, he will o2 106 WILD DAYRELL. come. I hear him on the stairs, I said he'd come. Here he is to save me — to save me — from this agony. Oh, my poor head — oh, my poor head." " You had better leave the room," whispered one of the ladies to Dayrell, "and return when she is calmer ; " but he shook his head gloomily, and signi- fied his intention to remain. Never did man pass a more weary night, when time moved so lazily, that minutes seemed prolonged into hours ; when feverish anxiety, the throbbing heart, the sickening, suiBPo- cating sensation in the throat, combined to unhinge the whole nervous system. It would be difficult to say which was the hardest to bear, — ^the delirious ravings of the sufferer, or the deep silence, when the attendants, for fear of disturbing her, forbore to whisper. Hark ! during one of these quiet intervals, there is a knock at the door. A feeling of relief succeeds. It is the doctor. He approaches the bed noiselessly, and examines the patient. The ladies converse with him in whispers, ask him questions in bated breath, and attempt to gather hope from some chance expression he may use. This visit for the nonce removes a load from each breast. The doctor retires, and the watchers again relapse into a melancholy train of thought. During those intervals how changed, how humbled, felt Dayrell. In that WILD DAYRELL. 197 presence, and in that bed-chamber, the artificial crust of his selfishness was broken, his short-sighted views of life were dissolved. Selfish ! Yes ; worse than that he had been, to break his promise, to be only intent on the turn of a card, or of a number ; when one loving heart bled for him, and only- thought how she might best exonerate or forgive the act. How insignificant, how trifling did loss of money, reputation, did anything appear to the chance of having forfeited such love as hers. He had run that risk, and he positively loathed himself. He would have given all he had to undo the irrevocable past j but an accusing conscience has firm vantage- ground, and its punishment is more severe, because such a boon is denied to mortal man. A reaction, however, sets in — calmer, purer aspirations succeed. " If she is only spared," he thinks, — " and she will be spared,'* he mutters confidently, — " this lesson shall never be forgotten. I will make amends not by promises, but by deeds." The first beams of the morning sun shine upon the blinds. The candles in very shame flicker in the sockets. The night-watch is at an end, and that of day begins. The faces of those who stand about the bed may be pale and haggard ; dark rings may encircle their eyes; a tear or two may glisten beneath their eyelids ; but the indomitable courage of woman o3 198 WILD DAYRELL. holds out to the last. What ? give up the post of duty to others. Not they. They will tend the poor sufferer to the last, knowing not fatigue ; they will satisfy her every want, ignoring any inconvenience to themselves. Heaven bless them for thus vindi- cating the moral strength of their sex. Bless them, we say, who, when man is utterly prostrated by the blow, step forward, and unhesitatingly fill the breach. The light falls on this chamber of sorrow. The curtains are drawn. The sun is just peering from behind those wooded hills, and throwing deep shadows as far as the opposite bank. Mist gently disengages itself from the bosom of the Lahn, covering the valley with transitory vapour. Nature, in its own quiet way, is awake ; but all Ems sleepeth, save the devoted band in Hotel . Emily's paroxysms become less frequent, and, as the morn- ing advances, cease altogether. The uninitiated believe this to be a good sign, but those in the con- fidence of the doctors recognise the beginning of the end, the commencement of mortification about to devour its victim silently, and inch by inch. As the pain ceases, her consciousness returns. She begins to talk a little, and she understands all they tell her. " Move my bed nearer the window," she asks ; " it seems such a lovely day. I would like to see our pretty valley once more," and she tries her WILD DAYRELL. 199 old cheerful smile, but it will not do; the attempt is feeble and sickly — it dies frozen-like upon the lips. It is past mid- day, and a great change has taken place. Her colour is of deeper hue, the expression of her face is altered, foreshadowing the end. She is quite calm now : she knows the worst. They have broken it to her by degrees. She is out of pain, and the grim destroyer is stealthily entering the citadel, which may she vacate with all the honours of war. The clergyman has visited her, and left her in a peaceful frame of mind. She has but one more word to say — one more person to address. Her faithful attendants know this by instinct, and leave the room singly. Edward — her Edward — is alone with her, holding her hand in his, and, like a very child, unable to restrain his tears. " Edward, dearest, you must not," she said slowly and softly ; " you must not take it so to heart. I am out of pain now, and, with you, I feel so quiet and happy. Perhaps, dearest, it is better as it is — better for me not to recover ; for the doctors say that the pain during my recovery would be greater than all I have hitherto suffered. I might not be able to en- dure so much. Besides, I should be so altered, so disfigured, you would hardly know me. Then, out of pure compassion, you might express the same re- o 4 200 WILD DAYEELL. gard for me ; but when you compared me with other ladies, you might repent of what you had done ; and that I could not endure. No, Edward, it is better as it is — better to part before we had quarelled, and before we had found out our mutual faults. If, dearest, you should marry another — ah ! you say you never can, and I am selfish enough to hope it too — if you do, I only trust she may prove a better wife than I should have made. Don't make any rash promise which you may repent hereafter. Time and circumstances will soften your grief, and then some one may come worthy to take my place. Yes, there is one promise I should like you to make. You re- member the quiet corner I showed you last Sunday in the churchyard, where the willow is; I should like to be buried there, as it cannot be in England, and you must plant some of my favourite flowers. You will do that, dearest, will you not ? And now I am beginning to feel so tired. I should so like, as I go to sleep, to hear you say a prayer for me ; you know the one I mean, taken from the twelfth chapter of the Hebrews." And while the sands of life were running out, he, with faltering voice, read as she wished. Once more she slept, and when next she awoke she must have felt that her end was near, for she thanked the ladies WILD DAYRELL. 201 who had attended her for their kindness, and gave them some of her trinkets as keepsakes. " It will soon be over/^ she answered to one who suggested a hope of her recovery. "I shall never see the sun rise again. I am out of pain now, and you all know how thankful I ought to be and am for that.'^ Poor Emily was right. Mortification had set in : the Destroyer was already preparing for his last assault. A torpor presently came over her : then yhe sank into a deep sleep, but so peaceful and /noiseless that none of those, who with tearful eyes if surrounded her bed, knew the moment when that meek spirit passed away unto Him who gave it. On the day of the funeral more than half the population of Ems joined the procession. Emily's grave was in the corner of the churchyard, in the place she had selected, and as the coffin was lowered to its resting place, there was scarcely a dry eye in all that crowd ; and, as the earth fell with a hollow sound on the coffin, and the clergyman uttered the solemn warning words, ^' Earth to earth, and ashes to ashes," the very foreigner seemed to catch their meaning. They made the same impression as those of Christopher Wordsworth once did when, in Win- chester Chapel, he preached the funeral sermon of a boy, who, in the heyday of youth and spirits, had 202 WILD DAYEELL. been carried off by fever. I can remember the re- gulated cadences of tbat impassioned voice, speaking amid a silence almost oppressive, and before the saints, who from their niches seemed to our heated imagination to look down approvingly — when the hand of the sacrilegious carver of his name on the oak panelling was arrested — when the sleeper raised his head from the reading-desk to stare open-mouthed at the preacher — when the chorister ceased to turn the pages of his anthem-book — and when a sigh of relief broke from all at those words, " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust/* Moistened was many an eye, we know, and touched was many a careless heart, for those words haunted — yes, followed — each boy from the chapel to the school-room, from the school-room to the bed-room, and caused many an improvised, but heartfelt, prayer to ascend that night to the throne of the Creator. On the right bank of the Rhone, near Avignon, are the graves of two lovers, who, on their wedding-day, were drowned in crossing the river. By a lake in the Pyrenees they show the last resting-place of a newly-married pair, whose boat upset, and both lives were sacrificed sooner than that one should survive the other. Both these are covered with immortelles — gratuitous offerings of the peasantry, who likewise take care that spring or summer there shall be no WILD DAYRELL. 203 lack of flowers. So about the stone, with the simple inscription E. T., the people of Ems have planted roses and evergreens. They will allow no weeds to grow, but keep up the little slip of garden, as though one of their own family slept beneath. 204 WILD DATRELL. CHAPTER IX. "You are always moping, my dear Dayrell; I never met any one half so triste. Isn't the play at Baden high enough, or isn't there a girl in all this crowd pretty enough for you ? or do you want a change ? The season here will soon be over, and then I'm off to my chateau in the Gironde. Will you come there ? You will meet those young Parisian stars, Magnan,La Foix,and Latour,also D'Alen9on, Colonel, and of Crimean celebrity, last, not least, my little nephew Villars, the best boy in our department. I am tired of this myself ; tired of meeting old Baillie every day. He looks so mournfully at me, that is to say, when he does not avoid me altogether. You see, — mind, I tell you this in confidence, — he came one morning to my room, and told me that for six weeks he had tasted nothing but bread and water, that his wife and children in England were in great distress, and had written to him to come home ; and that if I would lend him 500 francs, he would be so much obliged, &c. Flesh and blood could not resist WILD DAYUELL. SOS' such an appeal. I lent him the money, I really- hoped that he would go home, and that we should see him no more. I suppose he has been trying one of his latest ' systems/ lost his money, and is again in his normal state of insolvency. But seriously, Dayrell, will you join us in a fortnight ? There will be some shooting for you, a wolf hunt, a dance, probably, with native beauty — a novelty that, for you used-up men. Now, what do you say ? " '^ Accepted with pleasure. Monsieur le Comte. I am going to Pan for the winter, and shall be happy to take your chateau on my road." More than a year and a half has elapsed since poor Emily's death. Dayrell has been half over Europe since then. He has been to Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome, Naples, and a hundred other places, partly with the view of distracting his thoughts, and partly because he didn't know what to do with himself. He has been staying at Baden for a few weeks, when he met an old friend, the Count d'Artois, and having received this invitation to visit his country- house, the wanderer packed his portmanteau, and left for France. Now, when a man asks you to his chateau, you naturally expect to see something out of the way in residences. The mansion itself ought to be old, and should have the extinguisher towers of the fifteenth 206 WILD DATEELL. century. There should be extensive wings, capable of housing any number of domestics. There ought to be an entrance-hall, hung with armour, or trophies of the chase, and a curiously grained staircase lead- ing to tapestried apartments, and the banqueting- haU — ^never leave that out, please, in your calcula- tions. Then the gardens should be stocked with fruit and flower, swans also should breast the stream in all the pride of feathery whiteness ; or, supposing the chateau to be a modem building, there should be an old castle, keep, and moat handy, and a chapel within which we might see the recumbent figure of an old crusader or two, or of a knight, who fell fighting manfully under the banner of his beloved Henri, but who now slumbers under a marble slab with some expressive epitaph, like " Fortissimo" on it. But he who expects to see this, will, in the majority of cases, be grievously disappointed. The chateau of the Count d'Artois in the depart- ment of the Garonne was " a severe imposition." Viewed at a distance, with its commanding position on the side of a long low ridge of hills, its imposing front, tall pointed roofs and towers, extensive wings and outbuildings, it looked every inch a palace. A nearer approach, however, revealed its many defi- ciencies. At the entrance to the domain there was no lodge and iron gates, but only two lichen- covered WILD DAYRELL. 207 pillars, to which were fastened a couple of wattles, which the stranger had to remove out of his way as best he could. Then the grounds were encumbered with straggling wood, hollow at the bottom, and hardly likely to pay for the clearing. Coarse grass waved on the lawn in the place of the green verdure of old England, and entwined itself so with wild rose bushes and hawthorns, that a divorce a vinculo seemed impossible. Dayrell did not think much of his new quarters, as he drove his tired horse through the grounds and up the avenue (yes, we forgot there was an avenue, the only decent thing about the place), and still less when he entered the court-yard formed by the two wings of the chateau. There was the inevitable fountain in the middle, which, perhaps, threw up jets of water once on a time, but was now choked with weeds, thick enough to cover the image of a marine goddess, whom time or mischief had thrown from her pedestal into the basin. Sickly blades of grass sprouted from between the flagstones, and the very creepers bent towards the ground, in quiet despair of ever scaling the house without the aid of leather and nails. Then the wings of the chateau showed many signs of dila- pidation. Few of the windows had curtains inside ; most of them had broken panes of glass. '' It is a queer establishment,^' thought Dayrell ; " the best 208 WILD DAYRELL. thing I've seen as yet is the view to the south. If that old waiter, who declared that he had not left London these twenty years, and sighed in his hot coffee-room for one ' bit of nature * before he died, could have seen this, his life might have been pro- longed beyond the three score years and ten allotted to man." ^' What are you thinking about, and why don't you come in ?" interrupted the cheery host, as good at the English language as his own, thanks to a pro- longed residence in England. "Three days after time, and yet you stand in the yard and deprive us still longer of the pleasure of your company. Le Colonel D'Alen9on, Messieurs Latour, Magnan, La Foix, and my nephew Villars, let me introduce Mons. Dayrell. Now come upstairs at once, I will show you your room. By the bye, there are not too many that are habitable in this house. Here we are ; large enough is it not ? In your Leicestershire language you will call it a forty-acred enclosure. Now, no dress or ceremony ; just make yourself com- fortable, and, as you see we ignore those modern inventions, bells, call when you are ready, and I will conduct you to the state apartments of my chateau." '^ Very hospitable ; but who would have believed that a particular man like the Count would have lived in a tumble- down place like this ? It is good WILD DAYRELL. 209 enough, however, for a shooting-box. If the others are content to rough it, I am sure I am. The cook too will, perhaps, make up for these short-comings,'^ thought Dayrell, as he followed the Count to the state room of the chateau, surnamed the Octagon. But the cuisine was the rock on which the Count more particularly split : it was worse than indifferent — it was positively bad. How is such a thing pos- sible in the land of cooks? Not easily explained, unless it is because chefs are too volatile and extra- vagant for private establishments, and can only be tolerated in public — still the fact remains. The soup was thin — hot water with slices of bread in it — the entrees were steeped in that abominable brown sauce, and the joint was cold. The wine, too, at dinner was ordinaire; the Chambertin and champagne being kept for dessert, and when most people^s minds were set on cigars and cigarettes. "A glass of champagne, and a welcome to the chateau," said the host to Dayrell as the cloth was removed. " Shall we all move to the fire and smoke our cigars ?" "My uncle is going to tell the ghost story," whispered Villars to Dayrell. " You don't mean to say the chateau is haunted ?" "Is it not?" replied little Villars. "Wait till midnight and see." 210 WILD DAYRELL. " Everybody who visits the chateau/' said the Count, " wonders why it is in such bad repair, and why, as it is our family place, we do not use it for something else than a hunting-box. To tell the truth, I have no affection for it, any more than you will, when you have heard a story I intend to tell you, and a tragical occurrence which happened in this very room seventy years ago. " At the time of the first Revolution, my father was the largest proprietor, and the most influential, if not the most popular, man in the department of the Garonne. He made this chateau his home. He hunted and shot, was hospitable to his neighbours, and did much more for his tenants and the poor than was the habit of our forefathers. At such a distance from Paris, it was scarcely possible for him to hear all that was going on previous to poor Louis XVI being turned out of house and home. Consequently, the news of the king's imprisonment came upon him like a thunderbolt. He hoped, as others did, that his popularity would save him from the fate that threatened all who had a title, and who, in the neigh- bourhood of Paris, were undergoing every species of indignity and insult that popular caprice could inflict. For four months after the imprisonment of the king, my father and his young spouse (he had just WILD DAYRELL. 211 married his first wife) lived in a state of uncertainty, but still very confident that the storm, like many others, vrould eventually blow over. The effects, however, of the Revolution began, ere long, to make themselves felt in even the far-distant department of the Garonne. First, the Count found his servants, one by one, dropping away without any reason ; then, when he rode into the country, he was met by sullen looks, and even abuse, from some whose hearty bon- jour formerly greeted him. Then he received letters from Paris and the provinces describing the enor- mities committed by the sans-culottes, the permanent erection of the guillotine, the burning of chateaux, and all the other horrors that the blood-thirsty Con- vention let loose upon France. ^^At the little town of Villeneuve, no great dis- tance from here, lived my father's lawyer, a shrewd, bold man, who, seeing the turn affairs were taking, mounted the popular colours, and through his agents at Paris was nominated mayor of his commune. No sooner had he effected this object, than he proceeded to carry out a plan that doubtless had for some time been hatching in his brain. One day he came over to the Count, and with well-feigned appearance of regret, showed him a paper signed by the men in power, commanding him, Deslandes, to imprison and send to the capital any aristocrat that might be dis- p2 212 WILD DAYRELL. covered in his commune ; at the same time^ he repre- sented how impossible it would be for him to avoid the execution of his orders. My father was of course thunderstruck at the intelUgence, and, more than all, astonished at the source whence this imminent danger came ; for he had on many occasions proved himself a good friend to the notary, and even assisted him, more than once, in the increase of his business. Every argument was tried to change Deslandes's resolution, but without success, until suddenly a new idea seemed to strike the unscrupulous agent of the national will. ^ You perceive,* he said, ' that I must act up to my instructions ; but in doing so, I can and will serve you, if you consent to foUow the only course by which I can reconcile my duty to the state with my gratitude to the individual. You and your wife must leave the chateau in forty-eight hours ; you must make your way to the sea coast, where a vessel will be ready to receive you, and I will supply you with a sum of money sufficient for your journey and present maintenance in England. At the same time you must make over your estates to me, and I will transmit you, out of the receipts, an annual stipend. Thus you will be more fortunate than most of your other companions in misfortune, who have been only too glad to escape with their lives.' In vain did this new victim to the amenities of ' Fraternity ' strive to WILD DAYRELL. 213 ward off the impending blow. Deslandes knew his power, and was inexorable. At last my father, alarmed at the representations made to him of total ruin, and perhaps of death to himself and his young wife, agreed to the proposal, and prepared to act upon it forthwith. " By the influence and plans of Deslandes, every- thing was satisfactorily arranged. My father and his wife, after narrowly escaping detection in their journey through the country, safely embarked on board a small trading vessel, and were conveyed to England. During their long stay there, they only received one letter and one remittance from the notary, and neither threats nor remonstrances could ever induce that accomplished rascal to perform the most important part of his bargain ; so that if my father had not received much generous aid and as- sistance from some English gentlemen (your health, and your countrymen^ s, Dayrell), he would have been reduced to the greatest penury and distress. Des- landes, in the meantime, continued to perform his functions as mayor of Villeneuve, and as an active supporter of the Revolution. He harangued the mob on every occasion, till he became, by his denun- ciations of the rich, and the great power accorded to him from head-quarters, the most dreaded agitator and tyrant in this department. For a long time he p3 214 WILD DAYRELL. kept aloof from the chateau, contenting himself with the collection of the rents, until after the downfall of Robespierre he found himself gradually more secure in his position, and the country less disturbed ; he then, with his wife and daughter, left the village of Villeneuve, and desecrated with his presence the threshold of his injured benefactor. Mademoiselle Deslandes was now a lovely girl of eighteen, in- heriting all the national beauty of her grandmother, an Irish lady, who had married a Frenchman at Bor- deaux. As a child she was of course a great favourite with her father, — in fact, was the only thing besides money and power on which that worldly man lavished his affection. The heart must have been made of stone that could remain insensible to her beauty, to judge at least from the portrait I have of her. You shall all see the picture, and then you can form an idea of the peculiar style of beauty she possessed. The chateau, as perhaps you are not aware, has always had the reputation of being haunted, arising, I think, more from the noises of the horned owls, than any supernatural agency; so if any of you should hear anything strange in the night, you need not start up and put a pistol ball through my windows or walls. A few weeks after their domestication in the house, Deslandes's two servants began to be alarmed at hearing mysterious footsteps in the corr WILD DAYRELL. 215 rldor at night ; their terrors were of course laughed at by the notary. At length, however, from a window in the wings, the servants declared they dis- tinctly saw what they described as a spectre in white with a lamp in its hand, returning along the passage that connects these rooms with the suite opposite. Of course they raised an alarm, but as nothing could be made out of it, Deslandes was still incredulous, and simply procured other servants in the place of those who would no longer remain. The new ser- vants, however, were terrified by the same noises; whereupon Deslandes, who was a bold man, deter- mined to unravel the mystery. For this purpose he loaded his double-barrelled gun, laid it on a table before him, and took up his position at yonder fire- place, after the family and servants had gone to rest. " At the time I am speaking of, there was no wall between this and the octagon room, the separation being made by drapery only, that could be pulled across, or left open, at pleasure. It was open on this fatal occasion, so that a good view of the second room might be obtained by the watcher. Deslandes might have waited there some three hours, and was already laughing in his sleeve at the absurd fancies of his servants, when he distinctly heard the sound of light footsteps in the corridor. He grasped his gun on seeing a figure in white with a light in its p 4 216 WILD DAYRELL. hand enter through the doorway. He called out first, and receiving no answer, pulled the trigger. This must have missed its mark; but, quick as thought, he fired the second barrel, and with a scream the unfortunate somnambulist fell to the ground. The notary rushed to the spot, and on moving the drapery from the head of the figure, recognised the features of his daughter, who, shot through the brain, lay bleeding at his feet. ^' A frightful scene ensued ; Deslandes, on making the discovery, had fallen down beside his daughter, and was actually covered with her blood. The ser- tants with great difiiculty removed him to his room, where for three days he raved in a delirium of remorse and horror, when he gradually sank into a state of melancholy madness, from which he never recovered, but became the inmate of an asylum, where he died. After the catastrophe the chateau was shut up, and remained so until my father re- turned to France in 1814, and under Royal warrant received back the large estates alienated from him by the decrees of the Convention and the duplicity of Deslandes. Neither he nor I ever had the cou- rage to commence repairing the damage time had inflicted on the old house. Parbleu ! we are lucky to have a few rooms that are anything like habitable, considering how long they were left a prey to weather WILD DAYKELL. 217 and rats. You can see the mark of the first bullet fired by Deslandes in the wall opposite, but as an inspection of that after my story might disturb your slumber, you may as well defer it till daylight. Besides, you will all be called early to-morrow — four o'clock precisely. My wolf-hounds are going to draw some covers about fifteen miles from here, and if you want a decent night's rest, you had better follow my example and retire. Adios ! Bon soir, Messieurs. Punctuality, if you please, to-morrow morning.'^ 218 WILD DAYRELL. CHAPTER X. The Leicestershire enclosure, as the Count called it, was not the room to put an early riser. The wax candle the servant brought made its gloomy recesses still gloomier ; its acre-age was cold to the feet, and perplexing to the sleeper awakened. When Dayrell opened his eyes, and saw the melancholy dip, he turned on his side, slept for five minutes more, and then, with a hazy idea that there was something to be done that day, jumped out of bed. Facilis de- scensus averni, easy for him to get from his bed to the candle ; sed super are gradum, very hard to grope his way back into darkness without breaking his shins over chairs, ottomans, or even his own boot jack; and harder still to see a thing, unless he hap- pened on the exact spot where it was. He drew several covers before he found his socks, button hook, leathers, and gloves, and when he ran his tops to ground in a dark corner, his " who-hoop '* was one of sorrow, on his foot coming in contact with spurs hidden inside. Such difficulties were all the more WILD DAYEELL. 219 provoking, as he wished that day to astonish the French with the neatness of his toilet. He was in the hall, however, as soon as the rest, and better dressed and fresher than any ; for Latour and Magnan had played picquet all night, d'Alen9on had slept in a chair, and De Vismes looked unwashed, and was most certainly unshaved. Dayrell expected some coffee before their long drive, but none being offered, he took a light from the Count's regalia, and smoked like the rest. The morning was so dark that the servant had to bring a lantern to light them into the break, and so cold, that nobody talked, not even Villars, the youngest of the party, who just before in the hall had whispered to Dayrell his determination of " cut- ting down '' in the run that French triumvirate, of whom he further spoke in words disparaging, " They can't get over two fences, no, not if they are tied to their horses." But as the day dawned the party woke up, and by the time they had arrived at the inn where their hunters had been sent the previous evening, Latour and Magnan had rattled their r's in Gallic fashion, and drawn their hunting-knives across the throats of at least nine imaginary wolves. The cover was about three miles beyond the inn. If drawing for a fox, the hounds would have been thrown into it in a body ; but so true is the nose, so 220 WILD DAYRELL. good are the ears of tlie wolf, that if the same tactics were pursued with him he would be in the next de- partment before the pack opened. So Chasseloup, the Count's dapper little huntsman, worked craftily. He learned from the peasantry where the animal was likely to be found. Thither he sent one of his blouse-clad aides-de-camp with half a sheep. The scent of this attracted the wolf; he dined, and where he dined, he slept. This, Chasseloup repeated three successive evenings ; and on the fourth morning, he came stealthily to the wood, where his gorged enemy was. He had only one hound with him, the re- mainder of the pack were coupled, their eagerness being restrained by some piqueurs, who kept them out of sight of the huntsman and cover. The Count was mounted on a clever bay horse. When about five hundred yards from the cover, he stopped his "field,'' and impressed them with the necessity of silence for a few minutes. But in spite of him Magnan, Latour, and De Vismes laughed, chattered, and capered about the road on their weedy hacks. What else could be expected of a triumvirate, who went out hunting in blue shooting coats gathered in at the waist, with fur aprons to prevent their legs catching cold, with conteatuv-de-chasse at the side of their saddles, and French horns slung about their shoulders, making them look like circus bandsmen, WILD DATRELL. ^21 who having blown their best on entering a country- town, sling their instruments athwart their backs, and sit their horses as though tired of the admiration their efforts have excited. Toujours French horns no matter whether it is hunting or shooting they wish to celebrate. Frenchmen would even sound the trumpet after a hard day amongst the larks ! D*Alen9on, in his military trowsers strapped tightly under his boots, in his frock coat made for the Kue Rivoli, and spurs the very thing for the Champ-de-Mars, alone obeyed orders, for Villars and Dayrell were in animated conversation about the best point they should make in case they found a wolf. " AlleZf Fontenoy'' said Chasseloup quietly to his old line-hunting hound ; and the old fellow topped the bank into the wood, and feathered up a ride close to where the mutton had been thrown the night before. Steadily the old hound worked upon the trail of the wolf, and never opened till he was quite sure, . and close upon the animal. A signal from Chasseloup and the pack were uncoupled. It is all right ; they have found, and in a couple of minutes are rattling him round the lower part of the wood in right merry chorus. In those two moments Dayrell, followed by Villars, had crossed the small piece of landes that intervened between them and the wood, had jumped the bank, and gained the ride 222 WILD DAYRELL. near which the wolf had been found. The Count and the others declined the wood^ partly through indecision, partly from fear of the bogs. " They 're on him, now/^ cried Chasseloup, who, when hunting, used French and EngUsh phrases promiscuously, as the body of the pack swept across the ride, and crashed through the tangled underwood. "Mind the branches/' exclaimed Dayrell to Villars, who was behind him, galloping down the overgrown path, "keep your arms before your eyes, and follow me. Hurrah! they^re away/^ he continued, as his horse scrambled on to the rotten bank on the outside of the wood. " Come up, old boy ; " and the apostro- phized animal landed safely on the landes, across which the pack were racing with a scent tremendous. These landes are uncultivated wastes — sickly grass and gorse are their only products. When the latter has been cut by the peasantry, the ground is good galloping, except where the uplands are drained by slips of marshy ground, which often prove a stopper to the uninitiated, and give them a dirty cold bath. The jumps are banks, seldom big, but with ditches on each side, varying in breadth and depth. The hounds were well away ; not a soul with them, but Chasseloup, Dayrell, and Villars, and they were doing all they knew to keep up with the tail of the pack. The two former rode their own line on and WILD DAYRELL. 223 off banks, and then, up in their stirrups, steered across the uplands of the landes. Villars rode pluckily enough, but rather "in the pockets" of his leaders, and often looked back over his shoulder to see if the others were behind. When in bonny North- amptonshire the best men of the hunt have sailed over some frightful fences to shake off the crowd, when the hounds and fox point for some far distant covert, it is a terrible moment of suspense for that gallant six, if the hounds are brought to a stand still, and then sweep round to the right, as though they had returned to the wood. "Is it to be?" is plainly written on every face. The next instant the hounds take up the scent a-head. " Forward, it is,'* shout those half dozen throats. They have ridden for the run, and now have their reward in being the only six with the hounds in one of the fastest bursts ever known in the " shires." So when the French pack, on reaching a long slip of marsh-land, swept away to the right, it appeared as if the wolf had returned to the wood. " What a pity," said Dayrell, turning in his saddle and looking back, when Chasseloup called his atten- tion to old Fontenoy, who was working busily lower down the swamp, heedless of the grey plover who darted at and circled round his head, and of the snipe, who went twit-twitting away from under his 224 WILD DATRELL. nose. " Fo-orrard, it is/' shouted Dayrell, as old Fontenoy took up the scent on the opposite side of the bog. " Fo-orrard, it is," echoed the huntsman, piloting the others over a piece of comparatively sound land. " The old hound footed him across. I could swear to it. Fo-orrard/' he cried, as the body of the pack took up the scent, and raced across the landes. Chasseloup, good enough in the saddle for a short burst, had his equestrian abilities put to the test in the run that followed. Wanting the self-possession of a thorough artist, he, in taking his fences, de- pended on his bridle and horse's mouth for a firm seat in the saddle. Hence his horse, when in trouble from the severity of the pace, being pulled at a bank, jumped short, and, the earth giving way, left his fore-legs on the right side, and his hind-legs on the wrong. Chasseloup, in consequence, was obliged to dismount, and while he was extricating his horse from his inglorious position, Dayrell and Villars pushed on with the hounds. Twenty-five minutes on a close day — the pace tremendous — found out the weak point in the Count's horses, viz., want of con- dition. Had the ground been soft, the hounds would have had it to themselves. As it was, by the time they had thrown up their heads on the opposite side of a valley, bleak, desolate, and covered with huge WILD DAYRELL, 225 boulder stones, Dayrell and Villars found their horses beaten, and unwilling to press them before they had recovered their second wind, sat helplessly watching the pack from the brow of the hill. " It is well. Stay there/* said Chasseloup, riding up at this critical moment. " I will cross the valley and set them right/' and at the same time giving his horse a dig with the spurs, descended the hill by a series of short jumps and slides, dashing in and out of a small brook at the bottom, and was again with his hounds. The check was of short duration — scarcely five minutes ; for Chasseloup, guessing that the wolf's point was the forest, made an excellent cast on his left, and hit off the scent. The hounds hunted slowly down the valley, winding in and out amongst the broken rocks, followed by the huntsman on the left, and our amateurs on the right side of the valley. The character of the country was now changed. Peasants had evidently made efforts to enclose the landes and to regenerate them. The fields were half- cultivated, and large banks had been thrown up and fenced on the top to prevent cattle straying into the corn. For a timid rider the country looked awkward. Chasseloup' s eye wandered in search of accommodating heave-gates, as the hounds, leaving the valley, made across this uncompromising tract of country. Q 226 WILD DAYRELL. " Send him at it hard, and follow me," said Dayrell to Villars, as, cramming in the persuaders, he sent his horse at the first of the banks, and with a scramble landed safely on the other side. " Quelle mauvaise bete ! " exclaimed poor Villars, as his horse, pulled injudiciously at the moment of rising, jumped short on the bank, and fell on his head in the boggy landing, sending his rider into the mire with a thud that could have been heard a mile off. Villars, with a crushed hat, an aching shoulder, and an all- abroad feeling, gathered himself up, as well as a stirrup- leather that had come out of the socket, and stag- gered forward to Dayrell, who had caught his horse, and was leading him back. " This will never do,'* said the latter ; " our horses are too beat for such a country, we must follow Chasseloup through the gates and trust to his knowledge.'^ Poor little Villars again got into his saddle, and humbly followed his leader over a few heave-gates into a green lane, where, when joined by Chasseloup, the three galloped on, as long as the hounds ran parallel with it. The broad line of the forest loomed in front. Not one of the three doubted but that the wolf had reached his home, and that this would close the day's sport. So the two eased their horses up the hill, content to arrive at the top about two minutes after the pack. Now they floundered in wet boggy rides. WILD DAYRELL. 227 the soil readily receiving their horses' feet, and tenaciously holding them ; now they trotted warily over an expanse of lately cleared forest-land, where the sharp stubs and piles of underwood stuck up in every direction prevented them from keeping up with the hounds; now they rode in Indian file through matted briars, with fine timber springing out of the midst — weary, tiring work for horses and men. Sometimes they were close to the pack, some- times they were separated from them for many minutes. In the latter case, Chasseloup, whose powers of hearing rivalled those of an Indian, put his hand to his ear, listened for a minute, then struck down some small ride, and met his favourites as they pushed across a green oasis of the forest. The horses were now almost knocked up, and their riders would gladly have given in. But what was to be done ? Chasseloup was obliged to keep on with the hounds for fear of losing them, and Dayrell and Villars for fear of losing themselves, if separated from the huntsman. The two were seriously think- ing of stopping, and attempting to retrace their steps, when they came to a comparatively open part, where the hounds were running through a few brakes of brushwood and hollies at the same pace as at the commencement. In another minute hounds and horses were again on the landes ; but this time, the q2 228 WILD DAYRELL. country was hilly and rocky, and so barren that the peasants had never thought it worth while to enclose any part with the customary banks. '^ He is gone to the rocks/' cried Chasseloup, in great glee ; " we must hunt him on foot, and walk home afterwards. Allez-donCy* he added to his poor horsC; who seemed anxious to subside into the mildest of trots. But neither his horse, nor those of Villars and Dayrell, could raise a canter. They were dead beat, and trotted on in the spiritless style of half- breds whose powers have been over-taxed. The hounds were leaving them behind, and carrying a splendid head through a belt of plantation on a hill- side. "Farewell, you beauties, for to-day," muttered Dayrell, when— can he believe his eyes ? — the pack suddenly turned, raced down the narrow belt, and, in the ditch below, evidently fixed upon the wolf. True it was, so Chasseloup found, as he struggled up on foot, and with his knife despatched the vieux monstre, as he called him. "Who-hoop," shouted Dayrell, as he tumbled over the bank into the middle of the hounds ; while Villars executed a war-dance round the group, and threw up his crushed and mud- bespattered hat into the air, totally regardless of what became of that ill-used piece of property. This was indeed an ever-to-be-remembered sight in WILD DAYRELL. 229 that primeval valley, — Chasseloup standing with one foot on the body of his prostrate foe, whose starting eyes and fixed jaw proclaimed the bitterness of the death struggle. Villars, whip in hand, and wielding it with unnecessary vigour, keeping the baying hounds at a respectful distance; Dayrell leaning over the wolf, and examining his paws, the state of which cleared up the mystery of the animal's sudden down- fall. They had been completely severed at the joint by some sharp instrument, probably a scythe, left by the peasants (as their habit is) in the long grass of the landes, otherwise no old wolf, such as this one, would have so suddenly succumbed, not even after such a dance as he had this day led them. The obsequies of a fox are quickly performed, the trophies hastily whipped off, and the remains quickly dispatched by the eager pack. But higher honours are always reserved for these old robbers, when chance brings them to hand. The skin (a work of time) must be taken off, and their heads preserved as the spolia opima of a not every-day victory. So, when the flask had gone round, and been duly emptied, when cigars had been lighted, and Chasse- loup sounded as to the whereabouts of the chateau, which he reckoned to be about thirty miles distant, it was decided that their horses were too tired to compass so long a journey, and that the best plan q3 230 WILD DAYRELL, would be to find their way to an inn and farm-house, which the huntsman thought must be in their imme- diate vicinity. Chasseloup therefore ascended the neighbouring hill, and blew his horn, to the sound of which two blouse-clad peasants quickly responded, prepared, for a consideration, to carry the wolf, and act as guides to the party. The procession was formed, the wolf, slung be- tween the two peasants, occupied the post of honour, Chasseloup and the hounds following ; while Dayrell and Villars, leading their horses, brought up the rear. After comparing notes about the general features of the day*s hunting, Villars said abruptly to Dayrell, " Now, confess, was it not a run ? Did you ever see anything like it in England ?" '' I must say," answered Dayrell, " I never have ; but then, you know, fox-hunting is very different to this kind of thing. It is not often that a fox strays so far from home as our wolf obligingly did to-day. Then the foot people and labourers working in the fields spoil many a good thing, by turning a fox from his point ; besides, no animal, now-a-days, could live long before hounds which, in the majority of cases, are bred for simple racing, not hunting, and even then, fast as they are, are repeatedly overridden. It only requires straight running in the wolves to WILD DATRELL. 231 ensure a run, for, with the exception of the young ones, they will beat hounds in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred." "Ah, I see,^' said Villars, "that France, or rather the Count's chateau, is the place for hunting after all. Give me hunting, and such runs as we have had to-day, and no Paris or Bordeaux for me. Don't you think, Dayrell, — and you have seen most things, — that there is nothing like hunting ?" "You are right," said the latter, "I have tried most things in my time, and though I feel the keen enjoyment of my youthful days a little blunted, I agree with you, that the love of hunting will never pall upon me, or, at all events, it will outlive every other pleasure. Fishing is a pleasant sport, when salmon take kindly, or even trout rise freely at your fly; but at the end of the very best day, there is a feeling of incompleteness, brought on, may be, by the recollection of fish larger, of course, than those on your gillie's back, having broke away, or of others that have disappointed you by ' rising short ;' to say nothing of a slight feeling of jealousy if, after all your pains, a brother angler has topped your score. Again, a day's shooting on the moors or stubbles is splendid fun, but, on wending your way home, it is not pleasant to think of wounded birds that have escaped Dido, or of the good beat that you have Q 4 232 WILD DAYRELL. probably spoilt for another day ; besides a kind of difficulty in keeping up the excitement that numerous points and clever doubles have caused throughout the day. I have heard from those who have been in more than one cavalry charge, that there is no ex- citement equal to that which a man feels, when riding at the head of his squadron ; but they tell me at the same time that the reaction is such as the most hardened to such scenes can never forget. Hunting alone seems to me to have no drawback. A two hundred-guinea horse, a splendid run, and a good place in it throughout, can never be remembered without a thrill of delight, whether discussed that same night, next week, or twenty years hence. Listen to two old veterans, who have long since relinquished high Leicestershire for some less dan- gerous country, as they talk over a Hillmorton, or Barkby Holt day, in which, twenty years ago, they held their own in the front rank through a glorious burst over those fifty-acre pastures. Age cannot dim their sparkling eyes, or the enthusiasm, kindled by the reminiscences of a run, in which almost every fence they charged, and every turn the hounds made, is indelibly written in their memories. I believe, too, Villars, that none once imbued with a real love of hunting, no matter how long they may be pre- vented from joining in the sport, ever lose their WILD DAYRELL. 333 attachment to it, and that the words of Mr. Morritt's song are as true as any that ever were put to paper — " ♦ A foxhunter once, is a foxhunter still.' " " Bravo, Dayrell," said Villars ; " upon my word, when I come of age, I will have a huntsman, whip- pers-in, hounds, and all complete, and you shall come and live with me ; when 1 say, is this the inn we are to stop at to-night ? Rather a tumbledown affair, is it not ? And the landlady, what a guy she is ! '' A wayside-inn in France is not an inviting halting place, either as regards its cuisine, or the general accommodation prepared for man and beast. Below stairs it is probable that uneven flags pave the floor ; that a smoky wood fire will cause the tears, so bit- terly complained of by Horace, to start to the eyes ; while the chances are, that the landlady, in addition to other pledges of affection, will have a youthful stranger in her arms who has as yet learnt little else but to suck and cry. Above, there is probably an apartment with two or more beds for the benefit of travellers who may be compelled to stop and "be done for;" there is a fire-place in which, for the reason given above, you dare not apply a light to the wood; and rheumatic drafts enter freely through innumerable holes and crannies. It sometimes happens that the aboriginal managers 234 WILD DAYRELL. of such hostelries can speak no language but their own semi-barbaric patois, *'What are you to do then ? *' asked a young Cambridge man of his friend, a man who boasted that he had walked with his knap- sack more miles than some people had ever travelled on wheels. ''When I want to eat or drink," he answered, '*■ I raise my hand to my mouth in piteous supplication ; when I want to perform my toilet, I go through a singular pantomime of hand-rubbing my face ; and when the drowsy god claims a willing votary, I simply begin to undress, and am bundled ©ff to my dormitory with marvellous celerity." The bill of fare, too, at such establishments, is generally of the most simple kind (I wish I could say simplex munditiis)j consisting of eggs and crepe — a species of pancake, into the manipulation of which we had better not inquire. Lucky shall we be if the latter does not reek of garlic, the custom of using that odoriferous herb having long since crept across the Spanish frontier, and invaded the less civilized depart- ments of la belle France. Cider, sour wine, and the worst possible eau de vie, compose a pleasant list of drinkables. The water, however, is likely to be both fresh and sparkling ; so a health, "five fathoms deep," to Father Mathew. Dayrell and Villars, after seeing their horses cared for as well as the resources of the estabhshment ad- WILD DAYRELL. 235 mitted, entered upon just such a scene as this. By- dint of much blowing, the former coaxed a cheerful blaze out of the smouldering embers on the hearth ; and the good-humoured expostulations of the latter induced the landlady to commence the preparation of a repast, of which our Nimrods stood greatly in need. Their endeavours to make themselves com- fortable were somewhat assisted by the evident par- tiality the landlady showed for Villars. His good looks must have quite won her heart, so anxiously did she enquire if he was hurt, — so often did she call him her pauvre enfant , — so desirous to scrape off some of the red mud that still tenaciously clung to his person. As soon as dinner was ready, Chasse- loup having fed his horses and hounds, came in, ac- companied by Monsieur Michelet, the garde of the forest, a tall gaunt man, of about forty-five years of age. The latter carried the badge of his profession, in the shape of a game bag, across his shoulders, while on his arm rested a long single-barrelled gun, that looked as though it had been buried with its original possessor in case he should need it in " the happy hunting grounds " to which he had been re- moved, and sacrilegiously resurrectionized by its pre- sent owner. They all sat down in company to the improvised dinner, the quality of which did not pre- vent its rapid demolition; a consummation that was 236 WILD DAYRELL. followed by a general move to the fire. In a minute the blue smoke from pipes and cigars curled upwards amongst the blackened rafters. *^ O dura Chasselouporum ilia^^ would the bard have sung with a grimace of sympathetic horror, had he seen our huntsman foaming up his sixth horn of lately-pressed cider, and pledging the company with all the easy freedom of the brotherhood. " Messieurs,^' said Michelet, " au mort des hups ; " and Dayrell added, " May you never have a worse day than this." The toast was duly responded to, and all the events of the run and the kill were detailed for the benefit of the keeper. In fact, the huntsman's tongue was fairly set going, he told many tales of other days, and amongst them, one rather singular story con- nected with his residence in England. " Monsieur Dayrell, you will excuse me," said he, "if I dislike your countrymen for one little thing. I like your country j I like your gentlemen ; I like your hunting ; but I do not like you when you quarrel, and (putting himself in a most unscientific attitude, supposed to be one of self-defence) when you want to box. On my arrival in England I had plenty to do in the stable and the field, and after finishing my work used to go to the house for supper. The even- ings would have been dull enough had I not taught WILD DAYRELL. 237 the other servants dominoes, tric-trac, and cards j but, when they had learnt these games, I became quite a popular character. While hunting one day, a farmer, who had several times seen me nearly break my neck over some big fences, came up to me, and, laying his heavy hand on my shoulder, said, ' Dang it, Frenchy, but you are a good sort of chap ; you stopped them all at that fence. Remember, there 's a horn of beer and a welcome at my house whenever you like to look in.' After this invitation I used often to go there in the evening, especially as the farmer had a pretty daughter, who, I thought, was likely enough to have his money some day. This latter consideration made me desert the servants' hall, and spend my time with Susan (that was her name), who used to make herself very agreeable, and seemed to take great interest in all I said and did. My fellow servants were soon made aware of what was going on, and became so jealous, that they de- termined to play me a trick, the results of which I shall not easily forget. At the end of the hunting season, our master gave a ball to his tenants ; and, amongst others, we were to be present in hunting costume. ' Frenchy,' said one of the helpers to me, the morning before the ball, ' never been, I reckon, to a dancing party in England?' 'No,' said I; 'Why?' 'Nothing,' answered he; 'only you had 238 WILD DAYRELL. better do the same as other people.' ' And what is that V I asked. * Why, only to find the girl you like best,, and kiss her, or else she will not dance with you all the evening/ ' I '11 do that/ I replied, quite unsuspicious of any trick. ' There is nothing I should like better.' I did not appear in the ball- room till after the music had began and most of the people were assembled, when seeing my Susan standing by the fire-place, and her father talking to some one who was standing near him, I walked up to her. She held out her hand for me to shake ; I took it, and then kissed her on both cheeks. She screamed out. I felt myself seized by the collar, and amidst a shower of kicks, and many bad words, was pushed out into the yard ; where it was of no use stopping and trying to explain through the keyhole, for they had locked the door and had no intention of re-opening it. Next morning I went in a terrible rage to the stables, and seeing the helper who had been the cause of all the mischief, began to abuse him, and call him by every French and English name I could think of. He put down the fork with which he was tidying the straw, and said with a grin, ^ Frenchy, can you fight ? ' I rushed at him, but he gave me two blows with his fist, that not only knocked me down, but fairly stunned me for some minutes. When I came to myself he was quietly raking up the litter as though WILD DATRELL. 239 nothing had happened, and seeing me staring about, said, ^ Frenchy, you have made a fool of yourself; you had better hold your tongue in future, or you'll get the worst of it.' Oh, Monsieur Dayrell, if I had known how to fight like one of our roulage carters, that helper would have regretted his attempt to box with me/' They all laughed heartily at Chasseloup's mis- fortunes, except Michelet, who did not see the joke of taking a man in first, and knocking him down afterwards ; when Villars adroitly turned the subject. " Michelet,'^ said he, " you were talking just now about deer, do you think we could get one in the forest if we came and stayed here for two or three days?" '' There are very few left,^' answered the keeper ; " the wolves have killed so many fawns, that I doubt much if you ever get a chance. I am always about the forest, and often don't see one for weeks together." "Look here," said Villars, holding up a gold coin, on which the landlady in her chimney corner fastened her eyes, and, in order to obtain it, concocted a gigantic robbery in the matter of her guests' bill. " This piece of twenty francs is yours, if we kill a Michelet brightened hugely at the sight of money, and changed his tone. " I don^t know but what we 240 WILD DAYRELL. might do so, after the routing the hounds gave the forest to-day ; besides, it has lately been disturbed so much by the wood-cutters. I think we might alight upon them — I am nearly sure we shall — that is if you let me show you the ground, and the way to set to work. At any rate, if there be a deer in the country, I flatter myself I am the man to un-harbour him.^^ "Very well, Michelet," said Villars; "that's set- tled. If you can show us the deer you win twenty francs, and as much brandy as you can stow away in a fortnight ; and if we kill one, you shall have '' " Stop, Villars, that will do," interposed Dayrell ; " you have arranged the preliminaries, so come to bed. What do you mean, you young muff", by show- ing your money, and making such promises ? Don't you know, that the more you promise the more such men as Michelet will want." The landlady led the way to a drafty apartment upstairs — it was the only one she had — where Day- rell and Villars, rejecting the sheets, which smelt damp and musty, enveloped themselves in blankets, and in spite of all inconveniences soon fell asleep. WILD DAYRELL. 241 CHAPTER XI. When bad weather puts a stop to out-door amuse- ments in England, a country-house, full of visitors, is by no means a cheerful residence. When the barometer has steadily fallen to 27 J, and ominously points to " much rain/' a most depressing effect is produced on the British constitution. The perusal of newspapers and letters may, haply, fill up two hours after breakfast ; but even an elaborate report of one of Sir Creswell CreswelFs trials will not stand more than a second reading. The matutinal cigar, and inspection of the stable, may wile away another hour; but no one, unless he is an extraordinary admirer of equine beauty, cares to listen, more than once, to the pedigrees and performances of his host's stud. Billiards and luncheon may kill time up to two P.M., when frequent walks to the window, and disconsolate glances at the falling rain, clearly indi- cate that the resources of the visitors have collapsed, and fallen with the glass. Two or three of the hardiest of the party may in despair envelope them- 242 WILD DAYRELL. selves in waterproofs, and walk out, unmindful of the pelting of tlie unsympatliizing storm, but tlie majority of the party will be uncomfortable and restless, and take their revenge by inflicting dull and misanthropic letters on their friends till the dinner dressing-bell rings, and puts an end to their ennui. Truly, the hostess, should there be one, would become a public benefactress were she jealously to lock up the large chest containing Mudie's latest works, and not allow its treasures to be ransacked, until the rainy day arrives — that damper, in more senses than one, to her unhappy guests. Our neighbours, in France, when imprisoned in a country-house by a similar stress of weather act far otherwise. "Wiser in their generation, they do not look upon out-door amusements as the be-all and end-all of life, but rather as the means of occasion- ally passing away an idle hour. So, when the deluge descends, reducing every thing out of doors to mud and misery, they bring forward their evening amuse- ments into the day. If they cannot hunt or shoot, they arrange the tables for whist, imperiale, ecarte, sometimes varying the proceedings with a bout at fencing, or gymnastics. Throughout the live-long day the same excitement reigns, as they reach " four all,'^ or some other equally critical part of the game. The same old jokes are cut, and the same clattering WILD DAYRELL. 343 of tongues follows the conclusion of each set. No matter whether the stakes are 500 francs or 5, the novelty never seems to wear oflP. They are playing, and that is enough. It is, perhaps, a libel on French- men to say, " Give them plenty of tobacco, and time to play cards, and they require nothing else." StUl there cannot be a shadow of doubt but that these are the two most important items in the sum total of their happiness. Dayrell, Villars, and Chasseloup had returned to the chateau, the splendour of their triumphal entry having been sadly dimmed by the rain, and their drowned-rat appearance. A committee of taste had deliberated at length on the ultimate destination of the skin and head of the wolf, and the Count had great difl&culty in deciding whether he should make a rug or chair-cover of the old veteran's coat. The details of the run had been told all through, dis- cussed bit by bit, and referred to so often, that the subject became a bore. Yards had been added to the breadth of brooks, and feet to the height of banks, that had been jumped by the successful horses, while the run itself was now set down at 50 kilo- metres from point to point ! Magnan and the others, who were thrown out, chafed considerably at their misfortune, and threw the principal blame on the Colonel for leading them up the wood ; to which the r2 244 WILD DAYRELL. Colonel good humouredly retorted, '' That Magnan, at least, ought to be grateful for his life being sparied, as he would inevitably have tumbled off at the second fence. Not that my charity was quite disinterested/^ continued the Colonel ; " for, in the event of a bad accident, I, as the biggest man of the party, would have been expected to carry you on my shoulders to some place where the carriage could pick you up. Oh! the ingratitude of the world, '^ sighed the Colonel ; " I hope another time, Magnan, you will better appreciate my kindness and solicitude for your ribs." For two days after the return to the chateau, the rain fell in torrents, and the Frenchmen played at cards. Dayrell and Villars took no part in the games, — in fact, were only spectators, when the evening put a stop to their occupations. For it was vain to attempt fly-dressing by candle-light, or to work out models of a boat intended for one of the southern lakes. When the weather mended, the Count and his companions, in all the severe panoply of the French chasseur, and not unmindful of the fancifully-worked game-bags, took the beagles to the woods, whence they returned, perchance, with a hare which the dogs had caught, and a couple of rabbits that some of the party had shot sitting at a distance of six yards, and nearly blown to pieces. Dayrell and WILD DAYRELL. 245 Villars traversed the whole country in search of woodcocks and snipe. The latter, under the guidance of his friend, was rapidly learning the art of '^ mow- ing down his bird," and was constantly repeating Dayrell's advice, "I am to fix my eye as quick as I can, — my hand follows my eye. I cut him down before he has time to mount into the air and twist and turn ;" to which his mentor answered encouragingly. " If you only continue to make the same progress, you'll beat the Squire of Holly combe, in time, who teverted to a flint gun to put himself on an equality with his guests." The hounds, too, after the great run, had, of course, little rest. Young France burned to distinguish (or e